In the Name of the Code

A Forever Knight Story

By Sunny LaCountess

This is my first Forever Knight story, and the first of my brainchildren that actually made it onto paper. This story was written and revised over a period of five months during which I painstakingly scheduled my daily RL in a way that allowed me to dedicate at least two hours each day to this project. Staying late at work while the janitor is vacuuming under your feet had never been this rewarding :)

I would like to thank my dear Beta readers Jean Graham and Lucifyra LaCroix for taking the time to correct my spelling and grammar. Jean especially for properly placing my commas (hugs) and Luci for taking apart every sentence and putting every part under her merciless but compulsory microscope of criticism. This story became what it is because of you guys. Thank you.

More thanks to my friends at Softimage Montreal, the francophones for their considerate assistance in the few French phrases that are in the story and the anglophones for being so patient with my weirdness, like asking every now and then—and I mean in the most peculiar occasions like drinking at a bar—for unfamiliar and sometimes medieval English terms (What can I say? Neither of those languages is my own). Special thanks to my two buddies Darryl and Jeff who let me use their joint name for my murder victim, and to my friend Arash who encouraged me to just do it.

Disclaimer: The following characters are not mine. They are characters from the Forever Knight show and belong to their respective owners: Nicholas de Brabant (Nick Knight), Lucien LaCroix, Janette DuCharme, Natalie Lambert, Donald Schanke, Myra and Jenny Schanke, Captain Amanda Cohen.

However, the following characters are mine and I ask you to please let me know if you intend to use them in any way: Lord Acheron, Arthur, Isabelle, Melissa, Vincenzo, Elias, Kaspar, Ivonino, Zavid, Janice and Noayak.

Timeline: The events of this story happen immediately after “Close Call”. There are hints and references to a number of episodes including: “The Fix”, “Queen of Harps”, “1966”, “Only the Lonely” and “Be my Valentine”.

‘In the Name of the Code’ is partially an Enforcer’s story, although the main focus is still on the FK characters and their complex relationships. It’s about how they handle these relationships when a severe and dangerous dilemma arises. I am making a lot of assumptions about the body of the Enforcement, their missions and obligations, the process of becoming an Enforcer and… I would like to point out that neither of these implications, as well as the notions of High Council, the local Councils and the various rules from the Code, have ever been mentioned in the canon and are entirely my own ideas. Also, I don’t deny the fact that Detective Schanke might have maintained his memories at the end of Close Call and was only pretending not to know about Nick’s secret. Only that is not the way I assume it happened in this story.

Finally I would like to ask all who read this story to please be so kind and send me feedback on it. It is my first one and I’m more than eager to know what my readers think about it. Also, unlike some writers, I’m very keen on criticism as long as it is making a rational point and is aimed to help improve my writing. So please send them my way to sunny_lacountess@yahoo.com. Flames will *not* be discarded but I might think about posting them on my soon to be created web site, possibly with my own answers, so if you don’t want something to be read by the public, please don’t send it.

That’s all. I hope you’ll enjoy the story.

Sunny LaCountess

Permission given to archive on the FTP site, Mel’s fan fiction site and the Forever Knight Fan Fic 2 site. Others please ask.

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Saturday June 16, 2001

CHAPTER ONE

“It’s another night worthy of reflections, and tonight’s topic gentle listeners, is the ties of blood.”

“So the question is, what is kin? Is it a conception? Is it legitimacy? Is it simply our heart leaning toward the one and not the other, the one being called our kin?”

He flew high over the city, the wind whipping at his face. The light of the stars covering the sky overhead facing up to the millions of artificial lights ornamenting the streets and houses below made him feel like floating between two zodiacs. He was soaring toward the tower.

“We call them our family, our bond. Childhood is our time of depending on them. Adulthood rises another primitive need in us, to raise one of our own.”

He landed on the tower—the tallest freestanding manmade structure in the world—and looked over the city. He had come a long way here. Not the 4000 miles he had crossed on the 8-hour overnight flight in his tailored private jet from London to Toronto. But the six hundred plus years of his un-life spent in dedication to the cause that he was serving even now.

“But let me ask you my friends, is it a blessing or a curse, this tie that binds us to the people who have created us, the people whom we create? Do we want them still around when the years of early needs have passed? Do we still ask for their opinion, look for their guidance, their protection, love and support? Or do we simply cut the bonds and go our own way as soon as the initial dependence ends? What is the correct choice, to go or to let go? If we leave are we abandoning our kin? If we don’t are we restraining them? I want to hear the answer from you.”

He thought about his mission, if it was he who intentionally chose it, perhaps subconsciously looked for it, or a magical turn of fate that put it at his feet. Would this be deliverance or a rupture of an old wound that had long since healed but remembered by the scar it had left? Most importantly, would it be achievable without blending with the age-old issue that was part of his existence?

“Tell me your thoughts, your yearnings, your wounds. Tell me how you feel about the ones you call your family. I listen, I always have. Because I am the Nightcrawler and sometimes the clandestine relative of your deepest darkest thoughts, in blood or else.”

He took a deep breath as a gust of wind blew in his cape to flap it around his form. His exhalation bore words that were carried away by the same blast of wind, “It’s time to meet again, my family, my blood. And rest assured my dears, this time you _will_ have to answer for your deeds.”

---------------

Detective Nicholas B. Knight looked at the mountain of files piled up on his desk and let out a feeble sigh. Was this a law of physics? Why was it that whenever a case was over they were immediately buried in a mound of unsolveds and bureaucratic rubbish? And what was up with his partner? Wasn’t he to show up at all tonight? He had rehearsed the scene of throwing the bigger half of the pile at his partner many times in his mind tonight, expanding his imagination on the surprised and irritated look his partner would give him each time. To him it was all but fair. If Nick had to do the legwork part of the job, catch perps, break doors, hell even take bullets in his chest, why shouldn’t his partner do most of the other part, the paper work? Nick mused with himself as he mindlessly flipped through the document lying in front of him, looking at the door every once in awhile to catch his partner’s coming in.

Finally the man appeared. Detective Donald G. Schanke of Toronto Metro police, wrapped in what looked like his late grandfather’s overcoat and sporting a Sunday morning hairdo, came rushing through the door of the 96th Precinct…and headed straight for the coffee machine. In an effort to stop himself from running after the man, Nick stood up and started to separate the paper pile into two ‘unequal’ stacks, putting the larger one on his partner’s desk. Schanke, holding a cup of the steaming hot coffee in his hand came wobbling toward the desk, his red rimmed eyes screaming to go shut. He slowly sat down, not acknowledging Nick’s busy-bee efforts in gauging the piles and adding and subtracting documents from one to the other. All he could think of was how much he needed to sleep.

Nick, at last satisfied with his handiwork, looked at his groggy partner for the first time. “My god Schank, something run you over on the way here? You look beat.”

“Yeah partner, I feel like it too. I guess I didn’t get much sleep yesterday.”

“You’re not the type who would skip a good day’s snooze for anything. Unless you’re about to tell me that we have to add insomnia to the other well-known ailments you always whine about,” Nick added with a grin on his face. It was always fun teasing his usually witty partner when he was too tired to respond.

Schanke rubbed his eyes and answered with an added yawn, “It’s nothing like that. It was just this important thing I had to finish before heading home yesterday, and it took me a while. I dunno, I guess I got too carried away with it,” yaaaaawn, “Yeah, it was quite important, had to do it before going home and…hmm sleeping,” he half mumbled.

Nick looked at him earnestly. What important thing? He didn’t remember anything being left from the last case, except the paper work of course. What was it that his partner had to do that was so important he held off going to his favorite Myra and Jenny? A pang of fear churned at the pit of his stomach. Could it have anything to do with…?

“What are you talking about, Schank? What important thing?” he asked almost snappishly.

Schanke, still trying to clear his head by rubbing the top of his bald scalp, didn’t even notice the alarmed tone. He muttered, “I guess…uh let me think, what was it? It had to be done today, otherwise something terrible would have happened. Now, what was it again…?” He looked remote, trying to remember what the important task was that kept him from his precious sleep.

Nick watched in anticipation. This should have nothing to do with the recent events. It had better not. He was sure LaCroix had erased his partner’s memories as far as the past two days. Schanke couldn’t remember anything from what had happened, or at least not from the parts that had made him suspicious. He held his breath in dread, waiting for his partner to continue.

Schanke’s eyes suddenly widened. With the happy smile of someone finally finding the answer, he quickly said, “The Caddy!”

Nick edged forward to make sure he was hearing right. “The Caddy?”

“Yeah, that’s it. I had to wash the Caddy!” Schanke’s bewildered eyes turned to his partner as if not believing it himself.

Nick was stunned for a second or two before he burst into a hysterically loud laughter that made all heads in the precinct turn. He collapsed on his chair, laughing uncontrollably while trying to keep all the paper on his desk from slipping to the floor. His partner’s expression and the serious yet bewildered way he had said those words had caused him to forget all about his worries and bend over in amusement.

Schanke didn’t react to his partner’s merriment at all. It was as if he wasn’t really paying attention, just looking at Nick’s bowed head and shaking shoulders. Nick looked up for a second time, looking at his partner’s baffled expression and ducking his head even more as he laughed harder. At last Schanke replied, “Yeah, that’s it! I even gave it an extra polish. You know, after you asked me to drive your Caddy home and give it a wash, it sorta felt like that was the only thing on my mind. Heck, I don’t even remember what happened after we talked that night!” He shook his head in frustration.

Nick finally stopped and looked up from under the desk. God, Schanke could be such a sweetheart, he thought. The bewilderment that was written all over that lovable face and the fact that he wasn’t even bothered by Nick’s laughter made Nick want to just walk forth and give him a big hug. Nevertheless, he sighed in relief. Apparently LaCroix’s little administration had worked well. He longed to tease his partner with the subject but decided to drop it, considering the unwanted flashbacks that it might cause.

Schanke didn’t seem to pay any heed to the matter either. Instead he had turned to the mountain of paper that his partner had carefully planted on his desk and was exclaiming, “Man-o-man! Look at this stuff. Not those irritating forms again. I’ll be damned to spend the entire shift shuffling through these.”

Nick stole his gaze like a guilty child. He was still enjoying his partner’s weary mood, his occasional giggles giving him away. Not able to restrain himself anymore, he finally broke out, “Maybe you should retreat to the parking lot tonight, Schank, and wash some cars, perhaps?” he chuckled.

This time Schanke wasn’t bemused. He looked at his partner irritably. “It’s not funny, partner. Really, do you think it’s laughable if you are my friend and I feel like doing something for you? Pass off my sleep to wash your car while you’re at home dozing? Huh, partner? Is that funny? No, that’s friendship, you get that?”

Nick’s mood immediately changed from cheerful to guilty as he realized he had gone too far with his last remark and that he had to apologize. After all, it wasn’t that fair wiping out Schanke’s memories to begin with since his partner had practically lost two days of his mortal life because of it. He looked again, stuttering, “I--I’m sorry, Schank. I didn’t mean to be rude. Honestly, I’m very grateful for what you did and I officially declare that I owe you one for it, the car looks sparkling.”

“Oh, so you admit that you owe me now, don’t you Knight? Are you willing to pay your debt any time soon?”

“Yes Schank, I am.”

“Anything I ask for?”

“Anything…” He cut his red-eyed partner off before he could say the next word. “Except extra paper work.”

Schanke didn’t seem to be bothered. With a wicked smile, he said, “Sure, next time you go to that club of yours, I’ll go in with you. And you have to introduce me to all the gorgeous ladies.”

Nick shook his head as he countered, “The ladies won’t mind that at all and neither do I. But I’m not quite sure how Myra would think about that.”

Schanke snorted. It was too bad his partner knew so much about his personal life while he practically knew nothing about his. He scratched his head, not really wanting to back off yet. “Ok, then you will join me and Myra for dinner one night. We can both call in sick and book that night off. How does that sound?”

Nick’s mouth nearly fell open at his partner’s counter attack. He never would have thought that Schanke might turn the reimbursement into an invitation. His partner had asked him many times before to come to his house and sample some of his wife’s exceptional cooking, but he always had dismissed the idea with an excuse. He knew that if he turned down the invitation this time his friend would feel offended. Suddenly extra paper work didn’t sound that terrible at all.

“All right, partner. Whatta you say? Is Tuesday ok? I promise there will be no slouvaki on the menu, but I have to make you taste our new garlic sauce.” Schanke’s voice pulled him out of his musing.

Nick looked at him plaintively, thinking how he possibly could get out of this one. It was troubling to have to worry about something as simple as an invitation to a friend’s house, yet he knew that somehow it would turn all wrong again and Schanke might end up in the same suspicious turmoil he had been in the past two days. Only this time LaCroix might not be that patient.

“Let me think it over, Schank. I’m not really sure what my plans for Tuesday are.”

“Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday. It doesn’t matter when you can, partner. You promised you’d do anything for me and this is what I’m asking. You are in some big trouble this time and I won’t let you get away.”

“Knight, Schanke, in my office, now.” Cohen’s voice cut though their conversation and for once Nick welcomed it with relief. They both stood up and went to the captain’s office. As soon as they entered, she handed them a report and sat down at her desk.

“They have found a body. Polson Street, close to the harbor. You’d better head down there, now.”

The two detectives got their coats and hurried out of the precinct. As they got into Nick’s car, each fell into his own deliberation and a silence much in contrast to their earlier squabble fell over both. Nick was thinking about how to find a way to dismiss his partner’s invitation while Schanke was silently wondering about the strange reason that had made washing his partner’s car so fundamental.

They arrived at the scene in a mayhem of lights, sirens and uniforms. The entirety of the short street was blocked by the police, and forensics and the city coroner, Dr. Natalie Lambert, were already at the scene. Nick saw Natalie’s crouched form beside the bagged body, writing quick notes on a pad, her hair tousled in all directions. Two officers were questioning witnesses and there were a lot of observers standing behind the yellow tape. He went over and leaned down to take a better look. The chestnut haired ME looked up, her round face showing her delight at his arrival although her voice was plain professional as she reported, “Victim is male, Caucasian, about twenty-one. Single shot in the chest, no sign of struggle. TOD yet to be determined.”

Nick looked at the crowd that had gathered around the scene. “How did they get here?”

“The shot attracted the first few. They attracted the others, and suddenly, we have a big audience.” She looked down at the body again. “ Forensics has found two packs of heroin in his pockets. Looks like a regular case to me.”

Schanke came forward, rubbing his hands together. “I vote for a drive-by. Like those Hollywood films. He was a dealer; he didn’t deal well, bang. Right in the chest.” He gestured with his hands, holding an imaginary gun and shooting at Nick.

“Is the murder weapon found?” Nick asked.

“Negative on that one,” Nat answered. “But forensics still searches the area.”

“Told ya,” Schanke put in. “No gun to be found, it is a drive-by, trust me.”

Nat turned her attention to the babbling detective. “No skid marks either, Schanke. By your theory, they must have done it with a helicopter.”

“So what. Some perps are rich; they can afford that sort of stuff. Maybe it was the mafia?”

“What do the witnesses say?” Nick continued his questioning.

Schanke shook his head, “Nothing useful. Most got here after the shot was fired, some even later. No one actually saw it happen, they just saw the body.”

His last words were lost to Nick, when his highly perceptive senses suddenly became alert. A strange tingly feeling started at the back of his neck, telling him that they were being watched by someone of ‘his’ kind. He rose up and looked around as the feeling became stronger and stronger. There was at least one vampire close by, but the frightening thing was that he or she didn’t seem to care to shield its presence from him, even though he was sure he was sensed by it. This was either someone too young and naïve or someone too old and confident, or perhaps—he shuddered at the thought—someone so powerful it didn’t fear exposure.

The blond vampire whirled around apprehensively to survey the taped off surroundings. The presence didn’t seem to advance or back away. It was one steady vibe coming to him from somewhere behind the darkness of a nearby alley. Finally, he decided to walk towards it and try to discover who it was that dared to challenge him so audaciously. From what he had felt so far, the signature wasn’t anyone familiar. Perhaps not even someone from the Community; they all knew how protective he was when he was on the job and never dared to test him. This had to be a stranger, or perhaps a group of strangers. His mind became more restless at the thought and he had to fight the urge to fly toward where the vibration came from in an attempt to hunt the intruder.

“…and I bet you didn’t even hear a word I just said, did you, partner? Nick! Niiiick! Hello…Houston calling Nick! Anyone there?”

Slowly, Nick’s attention turned back to his partner. Schanke was staring at him with a discontented look on his face. He shook his head and said, ”I’m sorry Schank, what did you say?”

“I said I have to go back to the station and give these reports to the captain. You can finish off here and fill me in with the details later. I’m taking off in one of those.” Schanke pointed at the several squad cars lighting up the area with their spinning red and blue lights. Nick took a deep breath as if waking out of a dream and nodded to his partner. “Ok, I’ll catch up with you later.” He watched as Schanke went to a uniformed officer and spoke to him. Soon they were on their way to one of the squad cars before they got in and drove away.

Someone patted him on the shoulder just as he turned away. He looked down and saw Natalie looking deeply at him. Just at that moment, he felt it. The presence was gone. The weird buzzing at the back of his head had disappeared as strangely and suddenly as it had come, leaving a flailing uneasiness in its place. He looked at Natalie, who was still watching him worriedly without saying a word. She knew his current condition had something to do with his preternatural senses and didn’t want to interrupt or further disturb him. He finally managed to respond to her attention with a reassuring smile. “Nothing, I just felt something.”

They drove back together and he dropped her off at the morgue. In front of the building, Nick gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek and waved goodbye. On his way back to the precinct, he turned the radio on to CERK, hoping to release some of that night’s tension by listening to LaCroix’s soothing voice, or just slip into the usual old habit of having his voice resonate in the car. There was only music on. He listened for a while until it slowly faded in the clamor of the streets and the signs and the thousands of heartbeats drumming in the heat of the big city’s nightlife. His thoughts drifted to another place, a place he always ran to when he needed comfort and escape. He contemplated going there now even though he knew there was a heap of work and a deadbeat partner waiting for him at the precinct. He passed the second light and ended up at the intersection that divided the two paths, still contemplating his choices. Finally, in a flash of raw determination, he turned the steering wheel to the left road that led to the gothic nightclub called The Raven.

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CHAPTER TWO

The Raven—a place that offered the creatures of the night relief from their constant disguise from the measures of the human society, and the creatures of the day a hiding place from those same measures—was unusually packed, its lineup snaking around the corner into the dark alley beyond. Nick walked along the queue, observing some unusual faces he hadn’t seen in a long time, vampires considered outcasts in the Community. This in addition to the absence of a Nightcrawler monologue tonight could only mean one thing. LaCroix was not in town

He nodded to the bouncer as he entered the club. It was both dark and bright, disco lights flashing from corners and patrons, man and vampire, dancing undauntedly to the beat of the music. He walked toward the bar, where the bartender greeted him with a bottle of ‘his’ special. He took the glass with an appreciative nod and took his first sip as he turned in the stool to survey the dance floor and the dancers. It always amazed him how the humans tried their everything to look evil, from wearing gothic style shredded clothes to putting on scary looking black makeup while the real demons, the creatures who fed upon them, kept a low profile by dressing like regular humans. But hadn’t that always been the way, all through the ages of history and time, the squatting of the silent predator and the flaunting of the credulous prey?

Only tonight, the atmosphere seemed to be different among the clients.

There was an air of tension in the place, an unspoken dread that ran from one patron to the next through whispers and signs, from the brush through strands of hair to the offering of a drink to the slow sensual movement of the bodies along the floating music. The dread was there and he could clearly sense it.

A hand settled on his shoulder. A glass of crimson liquid made from human blood was held in front of his face as a low mesmerizing voice murmured in his ear.

“So good to see you mon cher Nicola, I must say I didn’t expect you to come here tonight.”

He brushed the tempting drink away and fully turned into a lustful kiss that seemed to merge his present and past for several long minutes, drowning him in waves of pleasure that still captured his senses after so many centuries. As they broke away, Janette picked up her drink and leaned lazily on the bar, her face mere inches away from her lover’s. “I was thinking, now that LaCroix is out of town, perhaps you can provide me with some enjoyment.”

Nick looked at her beautiful face, her ruby lips calling him like a siren to steal another kiss. He shook the thought away and became serious.

“Where is LaCroix? I didn’t know he was leaving town.”

Janette stirred her drink, still as coquettish as before. “I don’t know, some urgent business I guess. I think he went to New York to meet some of the elders there. He is still into his odd political and financial games.” She took another sip and leaned to kiss him again, lips soaked with the reddish liquor. Nick turned his head away this time, concern marring his brow.

“Why is there so much tension in the air tonight? I know you can feel it too, something must have happened in the Community,” he said as he looked back into her blue eyes.

She leaned back, all charisma suddenly gone from her stance. She kept looking at her drink as she murmured, “We may have some uninvited guests.” Her eyes stayed lowered.

“What uninvited guests?” Nick inquired.

“I don’t know if I should upset you, Nicola, but there is a word going around that *they* might be in town” A hint of gold flashed through her eyes as she rose them to meet his.

*They…* Nick tried to consume the information. It has been a long time since he had seen one of them. Ever since that fateful night, when he had driven the burning stake into his master’s chest, they had been in his thoughts. He had anticipated encounters in the shadows of every abandoned street, for them to rise from the darkness and to corner him at his weakest state. He had flinched at the thought of what such an encounter would entail even in the confines of his own home.

They, them, the Enforcers.

The Enforcers were an elite force of fearsome fighters sworn to carry out the directives of the vampires’ highest ruling body, the High Council. As vampire equivalents of the Third Reich’s Gestapo, they spent their entire un-life at their headquarters waiting to be called on missions assigned to them by the Council. Every vampire who had lived more than a few decades knew about their powers and feared their threat. Going through centuries of harsh training and grueling lessons of brutality and ruthlessness, their powers exceeded even those of some of the older vampires. Feared by nearly every individual in the Community, except perhaps the elders, they tended to lead solitary lives aimed at one single goal to which they were eternally vowed, protecting and enforcing the ancient universal canon of their kind called the Code.

The book of laws breached so many times by a certain 800 year old vampire called Nicholas de Brabant.

He turned back to Janette, “What have you heard?”

She hissed, “Je ne connais pas, some rumors perhaps.”

Nick took her face in his hands and looked intently in her eyes, “Tell me, Janette. You know more about this than you are telling. I felt an unfamiliar aura at a crime scene tonight and it didn’t bother to hide. If this has anything to do with me, please tell me so I can watch my back.”

Janette closed her eyes. Slowly, she released her face from his grasp and turned away, her voice a bare whisper,” Oh, Nicola, I’m so scared. I hope it’s not you. I think I saw…”

She shook her head and turned back to him, her eyes glowing once again as her words came barely audible over the club’s pounding music. “Arthur…” she whispered timidly.

Nick’s breath caught in his throat as he looked at her with disbelieving eyes. She continued. “ I saw him last night, here, in the club. He was here with the rest of them for a brief moment. It seemed they where looking for something. I was busy at that time and couldn’t check on them, but like everyone else, I felt the dread of their presence. Before I had a chance to do anything, they left.”

Nick thought about the events of that night, the powerful presence that had left him shaken on the streets. He closed his eyes momentarily, thinking hard before opening them to ask another question. His gaze stayed on the bar table.

“Why him?” He looked up at her. “And why now?”

Janette’s hand came up to caress his face. “I don’t know, mon amour! The Council has the choice to pick anyone they like for an assignment, anytime.”

“Yes, but him? One of our blood?”

“I’ve heard he is an interrogator now.”

Nick raised his eyebrows in astonishment and praise. Achieving any position in the force was a demanding task considering the hardships their job entailed. He wondered how long it had taken the Enforcer in question to reach that rank.

“How did he look, Janette?”

Janette looked at him in surprise, “What?”

“I asked how he looked. Did he look happy? Proud? Sad? Miserable?”

Janette shook her head. “He…um, he looked like…like a…like an Enforcer, of course.”

Nick nodded and lowered his head. Of course there was no way to describe how they looked. All covered in shapeless clothes, all features drawn to an almost stone-like facade. They were almost never heard to speak, except perhaps during the interrogations. And the way they moved, soundless, indiscernible, like the shadow of death.

From the early days of his un-life, while he still had been under LaCroix’s tutelage, he had learned about them. He remembered the time when he was a fledgling and trying hard to learn the principles of the Code his master taught him. They were many, but some very important ones were repeated over and over again as he forced his brain to memorize them, which he soon discovered needless due to the vampire’s perfect memory. They were for their protection and safety against the mortal world, a world that had no knowledge about them and had to be preserved that way to ensure their survival and the continued existence of their food resources. He was also taught that at any point, if he failed to obey those engraved laws, his punishment would be harsh, and in the hands of no other but the Enforcers. God knew how much he had feared them in all those centuries, like every other vampire prone to slip at some point in their life and afraid to be caught because of it. They were the nightmares of his early years, the bogeyman of his dreams which he knew was an imaginary creature feared by mortal children when they were young and naïve. The difference was these monsters were real, and he was still afraid of them even after eight hundred years.

His mind drifted away to a distant time and a faraway place as he remembered his very first encounter with them. It was a time of helplessness and dependence when he was too young to stand on his own and under the fierce protection of his imperious master. LaCroix who made sure nothing of him was ever touched or harmed or possessed by anyone else, anyone other than he himself.

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Flashback

Southeast France

1368 AD

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His Name was Lord Acheron. The lord of “Guerriers des Ténèbres” or “Guetennes” as they were called in his realm of Charente. His castle towered over acres of fertile land stretching to the far frontiers of Cognac and to the south, all the way to the sea. His might was known throughout the whole kingdom to the lords and nobles who owned the lands and ruled the neighboring territories. The Guetennes were feared and respected warriors throughout the realm and highly skilled in wars, always striking in fierce vigor as if supported by a superior hand from above. He was proud of them, as he was proud of his land, his harvest and his peasants. He was like a god, old, powerful and immortal.

Lord Acheron took another sip from the exquisite vintage and reflected. The wine was old, especially selected from his stocks in the west cellar, stored there since the early 1100’s. The blood was young and fresh and it was female. A virgin from the village, crowned as the Flower Queen in the last St. Francis celebrations. He reveled in the taste as he thought to himself. Yes, definitely a unique mixture, just as it should be, and a great choice for tonight’s occasion. He placed the glass on the offered tray and slightly shook his head in approval to the servant who held it. Dismissing him with a gesture of his hand, he looked out the window and over at the road that snaked toward the castle. Night had settled and the guards had already lit up the high torches on either side of the road, causing it to look like a river of flames and lights. He sighed and turned away. He had lived in this castle for 958 years, a significant portion of his un-life. He cherished the land that belonged to him and had once belonged to his father, grandfather and great-grandfather, as the villagers were made to believe. All men of power and nobility, who had the same categorical prominence over the ages and the same mysterious aura creeping into legends and fairytales passing through generations. He smiled at the thought of those fables, about the imperial lord’s immortality and power to twist the minds of those who dared to challenge him, about his ability to fly like a dragon, and one created to scare children into discipline, about his craving for blood. He grinned in amusement; his peasants were intelligent in their insights, considering these were all more or less true. It was good that the stories stayed as they were, in the form of mere fables, and didn’t advance any further to give the wretched any particular ideas. He knew he had to move on if it came to that, and he didn’t want to leave Charente so soon. He was happy here.

He stood up and walked to the window. The servants and guards had finished the preparations for the arriving guests. The castle glowed in vibrant lights emitting from hundreds of torches placed around the walls and battlements. The road sparkled as well and was cleared and cleaned for the coaches to arrive without a hindrance. He could already see the glimmer of the first few coming around the bend of the road. He took a deep breath, he’d been preparing for this night for a long time. His duty as the head commissioner of the Enforcement demanded him to undertake this proceeding for every prominent family of their kind. And to finish the administrative work on a sizeable family such as Lucien LaCroix’s had taken him decades.

He looked down at the arriving coaches, thinking about his main guest. From what he remembered, Lucien was a very adventurous vampire. Unlike himself who mostly liked to stay in one place, Lucien had already been around the world a few many times. He also liked to put his oar in all sorts of political affairs, taking part and interfering in events that in the passing of the time would be considered historical. His children were plenty and going through the records of their backgrounds had taken him several years, but had also rewarded him with facts about the 1300-year-old Roman general. He had learned that although LaCroix was an audacious master in bringing people across to their side, he was also one with exquisite taste. If what he’d learned from his investigation was correct, he was about to be host to one of the more impressive families amongst their kind.

He stepped out of the room and walked down the hall toward the huge staircase that connected the mid-level of the castle to the enormous hall on the main floor, still following his stream of thoughts. No matter how minor or influential a vampire family was, how close together the members stayed, or if they walked apart all over the globe, (regardless of who the master was, male or female, a friend or a foe to the Community), a time would arrive for the family to present itself to the High Council’s delegate and show its acknowledgment toward the Enforcement. That was when they had to meet Lord Acheron. LaCroix’s family was no exception.

He reached the main floor and shouted a few commands to the servants who were running around and attending to the guests who had just arrived. Lord Acheron called to his most trusted subordinate and told him to lead the guests to the throne room until he was ready for reception. He then turned back toward the stairs and ascended them, returning to the special room he had been occupying before, where he continued observing the arriving guests from his obscured position. He didn’t want to start the actual reception until LaCroix himself showed up.

More coaches arrived in the courtyard, from which beautiful ladies in elegant dresses and gallant looking gentlemen with shiny swords and tender manners descended. The dark lord took a deep breath at the sight of the group that was slowly assembling in the bailey to be led to the castle by the servants. It was true that LaCroix’s children were among the most beautiful specimens of their species. They were mostly from superior families, no matter the time and age of their crossing. Of course, that meant not including the ones that the master vampire had brought across accidentally, or for certain circumstantial or political reasons, or simply to avenge an enemy. Those weren’t really considered his ‘children,’ and they weren’t invited to the occasion either. Only the ones LaCroix had ‘chosen’ to be his kin and part of his bloodline, with enough deliberation and personal preference, were called in for this assembly. Lord Acheron’s eyes moved from one arriving guest to the other as he continued with his thoughts. He wondered what it was like for LaCroix to have such a beautiful and patrician family? His own children were far from being part of his household, as all of them joined the Enforcement from a very early age. He had not seen or heard of them since; it was a part of the Code to break all the ties one had with her or his family when they became an Enforcer. Enforcers were to be faceless entities with no alleged relations whatsoever -- they never made any children and never communicated with their masters or their siblings unless it was part of the mission assigned to them by the High Council. The old vampire shook his head in contemplation. Soon, one of these delightful creatures whose laughter was now echoing through the halls of the castle Charente, would be forced to join that same tenacious force that had claimed so many others before, and would be condemned to the same forlorn destiny.

The throne room was nearly full of visitors when LaCroix’s carriage finally appeared around the bend of the road. It was a very expensive period stagecoach pulled by four powerful steaming horses. Lord Acheron straightened in his position for a better look. He knew that LaCroix had been traveling with his two favorite children through Scandinavia when he had received his invitation. He had to reschedule the meeting to this date to ensure the master had enough time to reach the castle without having to take on the dangers of traveling during the day, especially since one of his two companions was still in his fledgling years according to what he had heard. Acheron stared silently at the approaching coach as it raced through the gates, eliciting alarming shouts from the servants to run and restrain the wheezing horses and attend to the arriving guests. He hid himself further in the shadows of the room as he watched the cart’s door open and the tall form of the master vampire appear in the flicker of the torchlights. Lucien LaCroix was shrouded in black as he stepped out, a high-necked shirt with lace edging and black breaches, his long black cloak flapped slightly in the evening wind. Acheron observed him look around the courtyard for a while before his eyes finally rested on the window behind which he was standing. He knew with an intuitive awareness that his guest was able to sense him there regardless of the colossal power he had exercised to shield his presence. LaCroix was very old, almost as old as he was, and he knew all there was to the powers of the mind. He watched as the black clad vampire stepped down from the carriage’s rung and raised his hand toward the open door. A slim black-gloved hand appeared and took the proffered hand as a raven-haired woman emerged from the cart. Dressed in shades of black akin to her master, she too had her cloak wrapped around her. Her face was marble white and emphasized by the darkness of her hair and her clothes. Her cloak shifted away to reveal the fur bodice she wore over her velvet black dress that shimmered in the light. Invisible threads of silver ran through the exceptionally expensive fabric to make it look as if it was speckled with genuine diamonds and authentic gems. The same went for the fabulous gleaming tiara that held the mass of her hair in place above her head and for her hauntingly attractive green-blue eyes. She was truly a manifestation of beauty and grace, Acheron admitted to himself.

“Janette,” he breathed. “The seductress!”

He had came upon more than one story about her enchanting powers of beauty and seduction and how they were used by her master time and again to lure victims and prey to the ominous lair of the master vampire. He had achieved so much through her over time that it was no wonder he still had her at his side, although it was also rumored that there was more going on between them than plain master/child relationship, as it was with all vampire masters and their favorite creations. The old lord watched with a tinge of jealousy as the enchantress stepped out of the coach with the grace of a female cat, her hand still holding LaCroix’s as they both turned back to look at the cart’s open door.

Acheron came closer to the window, braving exposure by the castle lights. He knew LaCroix had already discovered him and the next patron about to emerge from the cart was the one he was mainly interested in. He narrowed his eyes for focus and sharpened his acute night vision to manage a better view.

A young man stepped out of the coach. His remarkably handsome visage looked a little over thirty in mortal years, although Acheron could sense he was just a child regarding his vampire age. A halo of blond hair framed his incredibly innocent face as he poked his head out of the coach and took a confused look around. He was as stylishly dressed as his companions with the exception of his choice of color; it was a mixture of white and beige for his overall attire, apart from his cape: that was black on the outside and light brown on the inside. Finishing out his outfit was a pair of leather knee-high boots and a carved shielded sword that was hanging loosely from his hip. He too held onto his master’s outstretched hand as he descended from the coach, but unlike Janette, he let it fall as soon as his feet touched the ground.

So this was he, LaCroix’s newest get. Acheron raised his eyebrows in admiration. He had to give it to the old man, if nothing else LaCroix’s taste had improved over the centuries; the lad looked like an angel in arms. He didn’t have to do much research on him since he was just under a hundred-and-fifty years old. From what he knew, ever since LaCroix had brought this one across, he had spent most of his time teaching the ways of life to his newborn child, and still it carried on, something that was considerably rare after the fledgling was past his or her first century. The young man looked at his surroundings with astonished eyes before he was led by his master to the entrance of the fort and stepped out of the old lord’s view. Seeing as these were the last of his guests to arrive, he took a deep breath and left the window and the room. It was time to make an appearance.

The great hall was now fallen into complete silence contrary to just a few minutes ago, where all patrons, male and female were indulging themselves in cheerful chitchats and delightful introductions. It was apparent that the master’s presence had affected even the most jovial and rebellious in the crowd. As he approached the throne room, Lord Acheron saw the scene being played there through the tall carved twin doors that stood open on each side of the arched entrance. LaCroix was sitting in a mighty chair with the air of an emperor, leaned back, his hands resting on the arms and his legs crossed in front of him. Janette was standing behind him at his right, straight-backed and unmoving. Nicholas, as he recalled the new fledgling’s name was, was standing on his left. One by one, the other children came forth to kneel in front of him and kiss the large ring on his hand before he put the hand on their shoulder and called them by their names to acknowledge their presence. The ceremony continued in that fashion even after he entered the room, the only response being LaCroix’s silent nod of acknowledgment towards him. He wasn’t bothered by it, since certain rules sealed by the Code entailed that when a master met his creation after a long time without any sharing of blood, there had to be a ceremony of some sort to confirm and demonstrate the master’s authority and the child’s acceptance of it. The host stood silently in one corner, watching the service proceed until all of his younger guests finished paying their heeds to their proud creator and stepped to one side. He looked at LaCroix, who was still sitting in his chair with his hands now in front of him, the fingertips resting against each other. The room was silent for another while before he rose from his chair and took a few steps to greet their noble host. His radiating aura made everyone shrink in the room.

“Good evening, my lord. It is a most pleasurable occasion to see you after such a long time. Was it, my friend, five centuries ago?” LaCroix extended both arms in either direction as if to embrace the ancient lord.

Acheron slightly bowed in response, making the traditional head-tilt that was customary at the time.

“General Lucius! It is always a joy to meet old friends. I am happy I have been given the honors to play host to you and your highly regarded family on this occasion. I must admit it has been a while since Charente has been house to such a beautiful assembly of powerful and aristocratic patrons.”

LaCroix’s nostrils flared at the compliment. He looked around the room in approval. His children were in fact remarkable, he thought as his eyes rested on his two favorites, still standing behind the now unoccupied chair like marble statues.

Lord Acheron extended his arm, patting LaCroix on the back as he said, “Let’s move to the dining room first and have a little meal. I hope you had the chance to enjoy my so-far served vintages. But like they say, nothing compares to the liquor that comes straight from the source. You need the body to keep the spirit hot, and the skin to resist the bite.” He smiled as he led his guests toward the adjacent room where several tables had been set, a young unconscious maiden resting on top of each of them.

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