Chapter 10
Nick pulled open the door of the Raven. It was late, almost five AM, but that didn't matter. The music, as always, pounded loud and hard. It hit his sensitive ears like a bomb blast as he entered the club, but he welcomed the momentary distraction. Stopping at the top of the stairs, he quickly scanned the room. The usual sea of bodies had started to thin. He only heard one or two mortal heartbeats over the resounding drum of the music, the vampire number far outweighing the human. Making his way down the steps and toward the bar, he didn't notice the hungry scrutiny of several pairs of preternatural, female eyes. The greater part of his attention was still fixated on what he'd heard earlier that morning, Hardwick's words running over and over in his mind. He couldn't get them out of his head. He'd been stunned by the mortal's remarks and accusation, the recognition that the accusation implied throwing him for a considerable loop.
Damn!
He'd had a couple of good days since Elliot's birthday. The child's delight with his gift had made him feel more content and at ease than he had in weeks. Why was he letting this one incident with Hardwick disrupt that contentment? But was it just this one incident? Not long ago, Shear had recognized him as a killer, and the awareness had rattled him more than he wanted to admit. Now Hardwick had appeared to have seen even deeper with his observation. Evil identifying evil? Nick had recognized it in the suspect's granite eyes. Why shouldn't the mortal have seen it in him?
When he'd left the precinct, he'd told himself he was going to the club to find Vachon and ask him what, if anything, he knew about the disappearing children Tracy had mentioned several days ago. But the inner voice had been much more honest about his motives. It wasn't police business that had brought him here. It was desperation, a desire to escape. Hardwick's recognition had made him feel caught, trapped. He was retreating, seeking relief.
He could have gone back to the loft and indulged in LaCroix's offering, but he found he couldn't bring himself to be alone just yet. Even though Janette was no longer here, he'd once again been drawn to this place. He still had family here, extremely important family.
His thoughts faltered, an unexpected calm washing over him as the reluctant admission surfaced. Important. Yes. No less than pivotal, really. Surprise rippled through the calm as Nick permitted the acceptance to take hold. After almost eight centuries, he was slowly beginning to come to terms with what LaCroix meant to him. Oh, he knew, of course. He always knew. But he'd never really allowed himself to completely accept the high degree of significance his master held in his life. He'd always been too busy loathing, fighting and blaming to permit such a recognition. Denial and hatred had been his constant cohorts. But fighting LaCroix's close connection and influence no longer seemed important or possible. Maybe because the loathing was no longer there. The embers of resentment still lingered, but their glow was fading. And as the bitterness shriveled, so too did the will to keep struggling against their association. Their relationship had been through too much to continue as they had. Neither he nor LaCroix were the same beings they'd been a year ago. As Nick reached the bar, he acknowledged that he was still lured to the Raven, not only because this was the one place he could come and not feel foreign or displaced, but because his master, his eternal father, was here. The admission took him aback, but it also provided an unexpected, steadying comfort.
"What can I get you?" the vampire behind the counter asked.
Nick, who was still digesting his concession, didn't hear the question. He stood silently staring down at the bar.
The barkeep snapped his fingers and tried again. "Can I get you something?"
Detective Knight heard him this time. Pulling his attention away from his meditation, he ordered. "A glass of the house stock." Ignoring the bartender's raised eyebrows, he took a seat.
A goblet was placed in front of Nick, the intoxicating scent of its contents bombarding his senses. He looked intently at the glass for a moment. This was what it all came down to in the end. This was what Hardwick had seen. The drinker of human blood. The taker. The killer. The evil. He picked up the glass and held it in front of his face as he continued to stare into the thick darkness. Would these few minutes of sensation and escape be worth the regret? Would he allow Hardwick's insight to push him further down the slope?
He started to slowly bring the glass to his mouth. As the luscious scent of the human blood saturated his every fiber, he remembered the ambrosia LaCroix had brought him a few weeks earlier. He had indulged the hunger the VR game had stoked by accepting the blood and glorying in the strength and control it had provided him. For a short time, he had forgotten about everything but his prey. He had been the superior vampire and very adept at the hunt. His quarry hadn't had a chance. But it hadn't been long after the game was finished before he started to feel a twinge of regret for his weakness. Never mind that he had caught a killer. He had stumbled badly while doing it. But... he silently admitted, heaven help me, it felt good. A shudder rushed though him at the forbidden confession.
But as he made the blasphemous admission, the stab of guilt returned, and his own reassuring words to Natalie came flooding back to haunt him. 'It may not look like it sometimes, Nat, but we are trying.' The glass' movement stopped just as it reached his lips. He gazed down into the life-giving liquid, a somber shadow of shame clouding his face. Was he? Was he really trying? He sat the untouched nectar back on the bar.
Yes, dammit! He was trying. But was he trying hard enough?
"Something wrong, Nicholas? Is the vintage not to your liking?" the club's owner questioned.
Nick started as he heard the familiar voice. He'd felt the sensation of family somewhere back in his subconscious, but hadn't paid much attention to it as the conflict and guilt consumed him. His eyes left the blood-filled glass to settle on his master. The slight frown, along with the hint of irritation he felt over their bond, told Nick of LaCroix's disappointment in his last-minute refusal of the nourishment.
"I'm sure it's fine. I've just...changed my mind." Nick forced a tenuous smile.
LaCroix nodded in apparent acceptance of the response, but the look he gave his son could only have been described as skeptical. "Mmmm. Pity. You don't know what you're missing. This recent acquisition has been most delightful to the palate." He opened his mouth as if to add something more, but seemed to quickly decide against whatever it was he was about to say. Instead, he flashed Nick an uninspired smile.
"I'm looking for Vachon." The detective used the half-truth as he stole a sideways glance at the telltale glass sitting in front of him. "I have a question or two for him."
"Indeed." LaCroix's eyes followed his son's to the goblet before settling on the boy's face. Nick read the comprehension in his master's features. The ancient vampire knew what had really brought Nick here, but he seemingly chose not to pursue it. "Not on a business matter, I hope? Has Vachon been a bad vampire, Detective Knight?" The sarcastic question, along with the mocking grin, irritated Nick, but only a very little. He was used to LaCroix's amusement at the expense of his latest incarnation.
The detective shook his head. "No. Not Vachon. But possibly another of our kind. Have there been any recent additions to the population that you're aware of? Any new vampires come to town in, oh say, the last three or four weeks?"
LaCroix took the stool next to his protege. Motioning for a drink, he shrugged his shoulders. "You know as well as I do that there is a constant fluctuation in the population, Nicholas. We come and we go. It's impossible to stay abreast of the movement, even for me."
It was true. But even so, if there was one place new arrivals would come, this was it. LaCroix was well aware of that, just as most vampires were. "I know," Nick explained. "But I thought perhaps you might have noticed any new faces that have shown up here recently."
Lucien's drink was placed before him. Nick watched, almost spellbound, as LaCroix took a long, slow swallow. Closing his eyes, the elder held the blood in his mouth for an extra second or two as he appeared to relish the taste before allowing the elixir to slide down his throat. Nick pulled his eyes from the tempting performance as he fought back the consuming hunger. Letting his gaze rest on the bar, he waited for his father to finish. But it only took a second for Nick's eyes to once again be lured to the untouched blood in front of him, the gnawing thirst pounding at his unstable resolve.
LaCroix set his glass back down on the bar, and Detective Knight felt a sudden, sharp tug on their link. Without saying a word, his master encouraged Nick's craving, the creator's strong impressions ringing clearly in his creation's head. Yes, Nicholas. Take it. You need it. You want it. Allow yourself the renewed strength it will give you. Let it quench the unrelenting thirst. Permit it to soothe your troubled mind. It's for your own good, for the sake of your sanity.
No. Nick pushed back across the connection as his eyes locked with those of his maker. Leave it alone, LaCroix. He quietly glared his resistance and determination.
"As you wish, Nicholas." The elder voiced his response as he bowed his head and relented. "But...can you? You know I'm right."
The protege looked away from the superior gleam in his master's eye. The smug supremacy was annoying in and of itself, but it became even harder to endure as Nick had to acknowledge the ring of truth surrounding the statement. As much as it pained him to do so, he had to concede that LaCroix was right. He did want the blood. And his increasing need for it continued to be a strain on his control. But he couldn't give in to the need. He couldn't let his growing acceptance of his master sway him. He wanted his mortality more than anything. Didn't he? Didn't he want to banish the evil that had been so easily spotted by Hardwick? It could be banished. It was possible to defeat the darkness, wasn't it? He closed his eyes against the doubt that continued to seep deeper and deeper into his heart.
"And as for any new faces in the club...." LaCroix put the conversation back on track, a satisfied smirk lifting his mouth. "Yes. There have been a few over the last month or so. Why the sudden interest?"
Opening his eyes, Nick focused his attention on the question and the vampire who'd asked it. "There've been several child disappearances recently that look very suspicious. I was curious as to whether any of the new arrivals had a taste for young, very young, blood. One of us could be taking the children."
"Children? Young children?" LaCroix raised an eyebrow in surprise. "How young?"
"Five to eight years old," the detective offered.
"Not much more than a light snack," the older vampire noted matter-of-factly. "Hardly worth the effort, I'd think. However...." He picked up his glass and took another drink. "Blood from someone so young can be quite intoxicating and...addictive, or so I've heard. But you know about that already, don't you, Nicholas?"
"Addictive...yes." Nick whispered the agreement while his eyes moved from his master's face to stare unseeing over the other man's shoulder, an unpleasant image from centuries ago flashing through his memory. He felt a sickening sadness grip him as he recalled the short period in his life. He'd had firsthand knowledge of such an addiction, and if this was what was going on now, he had to put a stop to it.
"Antonio." LaCroix's observation brought Nick back to the conversation. He looked into the now concerned eyes of his immortal father, the elder continuing. "You never did tell me much about him, Nicholas. He is dead?"
Nick nodded. "Yes. He's dead."
"Well, it couldn't be him then," LaCroix stated sarcastically, but the uneasiness still lingered in his eyes. "Why do you think one of our kind is responsible for the missing children?"
"I'm not certain it is a vampire. There's no evidence to indicate that it is. Actually, there's no evidence or witnesses at all, and that's what makes me suspicious. The children are vanishing from their beds without a trace. The perp could be mortal, but a vampire with a taste for youth could more easily be responsible."
"Well, Nicholas, most of us aren't prone to bragging about our particular feeding habits. So I think you'll find it difficult to confirm your suspicion. If this is a vampire, and if he or she isn't messy, you'll only have your suspicion, nothing more."
Just as LaCroix finished the statement, the flash of something to the right caught Nick's eye. He looked to see a man approaching them. But the detective didn't even bother looking at the young vampire's face at first. Instead, his eyes were drawn to the movement that had grabbed his attention. He watched the Tooney roll across the backs of the fledgling's fingers with a practiced ease. As the dual-colored coin flipped from finger to finger, the golden center caught the sparse light and flashed brightly in the dusky surroundings. The glint disappeared as the piece of metal made its way into the man's palm, but quickly flashed again as the coin started another journey across the back of his hand.
The sight was familiar, and for the second time in almost as many minutes, Antonio Caproni touched Nick's thoughts. But it was nothing more than coincidence, surely?
The young vampire stopped in front of the two older immortals. Nick's eyes left the coin to examine the visitor more closely. He was about Nick's height and a little on the thin side. His face was pleasant, one might even say handsome, with strong, chiseled features. Clear, gray eyes reflected the friendly smile on his generous mouth, while his shoulder-length, brown hair was neatly tied back in a ponytail. He looked to be the perfect example of a successful member of Generation X. But looks could be deceiving. His mortal appearance put him in his early twenties, but his immortal existence had been several years longer. Although not that much longer. Knight was certain the stranger was not too much older than one hundred years.
As Nick read the aura of the new vampire a little more closely, he picked up the sense of something else. Someone else. Strange.
The feeling was faint, but definitely there. And stranger still, this dim presence not only felt much older than the fledgling's single century, but it also seemed familiar somehow. The essence of an unidentified vampire from his past? Impossible.
But he couldn't shake the feeling. There weren't two vampires standing in front of him. However, that was exactly what he sensed. But how? It was inconceivable. There was a duality in this young immortal that Nick could neither understand nor explain.
"LaCroix," the new arrival focused on the ancient Roman, "I don't wish to intrude, but I was on my way out and I wanted to congratulate you on tonight's excellent show before I left. You have a true gift for insight. And for getting people to think."
"Well, thank you, Andrew. I'm pleased you found the show so stimulating." LaCroix looked at Nick as the compliment curved his mouth. "Tonight's meditation concerned facing and dealing with the crossroads in our lives, Nicholas. Making the right decision can be difficult. Sometimes we need a little...guidance. Did you, by chance, get to hear any of it?"
Nick read the meaning in his master's eyes. LaCroix had been speaking to him tonight. Exerting his influence. Not unusual. The elder vampire was leaning even now. Nick felt the very subtle pressure as a question pushed its way into his consciousness. Was he at a crossroads, a turning point? "No." He answered both LaCroix's and his own questions. "I was working."
"A shame," the Nightcrawler declared. "I think you would have found it most beneficial."
"I somehow have my doubts about that." Even as he was beginning to tolerate his master's influence, Nick still couldn't give in to it completely. The instinct to rebel against the effort still flickered within him. "But, apparently Mr.--Andrew?" Nick indicated the fledgling with a gesture of his hand, "...wouldn't agree."
"Forgive me, Nicholas. I've been rude." LaCroix offered the apology before the introduction. "Allow me to present Andrew Fisher. Andrew, Nicholas Knight."
Andrew held out his hand as Nick stood. "A pleasure to meet you, Nicholas."
"Nick, please." Detective Knight grasped the friendly hand, and another jolt of cognition bolted over him. The second presence was suddenly much stronger. An eerie chill ran down Nick's spine as a name swept into his mind. Unbelievably, Antonio Caproni again pushed his way back to the forefront. The impossible was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore, as the presence of the centuries-dead vampire became more apparent. He was here. Incredibly, somehow, Caproni was here. Nick was certain of it. It was his spirit, for lack of a better word, Nick felt through this young one. His being. His soul, perhaps?
Knight looked into Andrew's gray eyes as they shook hands and saw what he thought was recognition lurking there also. As though something in this fledgling knew him very well. Nick noticed something else, too. Instead of seeing a shared surprise and confusion in the stranger's face at the unusual circumstance, Detective Knight gleaned only a tranquil, understanding acceptance. It was as if this situation was not entirely new to Fisher, and, as a result, he wasn't startled by it.
"Nick." Andrew corrected himself as he released Knight's hand. "And you're right, I would have to disagree with you. LaCroix's wisdom would be a benefit to most everyone. Mortal and vampire alike." The younger immortal stared intently into Nick's eyes. "Prudence should never be taken lightly, Nicholas."
The words echoed in the detective's head as they sent his thoughts back in time.
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ITALY 1520
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"Prudence should never be taken lightly, Nicholas." The aristocratic vampire shook his brown head as he watched the beautiful, auburn-haired woman glide away from the table, disappointment evident on his scowling face. "Nor should it be taken for granted." Turning his attention back to Nicholas, he followed his companion by returning to his seat. "Heed what I say. You've been hurt, but you can't give up on the fair sex all together, my young friend. Feeding is one thing, but spending time with one of your own kind is quite another. And it is something for which you are in considerable need."
A tolerant smirk tugged at the corners of Nicholas's mouth while he listened patiently to the familiar words. He could recite them backward for as many times as he'd heard them over the past six months. Since meeting Antonio Caproni and confiding his recent loss, Nicholas had been subjected to more than one lecture on the need to move on. Tony meant well. And Nicholas did appreciate the concern. But he just wasn't ready. Not yet. It was still too soon.
With a nod of his head, Antonio indicated the door through which the lovely vampire had just exited the small pub. "She wanted you. Very much. And you need her. Very much. You need to lose yourself in her. Forget. Heal. Move forward."
"I can't." Nicholas shook his head. "Not yet."
"Ah, well." The Italian took a deep, resigned breath. "I'm only expressing what I think is best for you, my friend. I'm older and have experienced more. You should listen to the wisdom of age and experience, young one. It has no equal." He paused thoughtfully for a moment as a wistful smile lifted his lips. "I must say, I look forward to meeting this Janette one day. She must be very special indeed."
A sharp pain shot through Nicholas' heart at the sound of his lost love's name. A day hadn't passed since she'd walked out on him that he hadn't thought of her at least once. But after confiding to Antonio what had happened, neither had spoken her name. There had been no need. Whenever Tony brought this subject up, they both knew the source of Nicholas' pain and reluctance.
Hearing her name now only served to bring the hurt closer to the surface once again. Janette's departure had devastated him. It had also angered him more than he'd thought possible. She had deserted him, and he would find it difficult to forgive her. But as with most things in life, time was taking its toll on his ire. The fury was starting to dim only to be replaced with a deep sense of loss. A painful emptiness shadowed his existence now, but he had no desire to try to fill the void. And he wondered if he would ever be able to repair the gap. As he viewed the prospect now, he truly didn't believe it was possible. His love for Janette still had a tight grip on his heart.
"Yes, she is...very unique."
The solemn tone of Nicholas' voice brought a short, incredulous laugh from his comrade. "Oh, come now, my young friend." Raising a hand, Antonio indicated the window over their table. "The beautiful, spring night lays before us with an exciting promise of luscious adventure and satisfaction. Don't let melancholy thoughts of the past put a damper on that promise. You are too easily disheartened, Nicholas. Sometimes it is simple to understand why LaCroix felt it necessary to leave you alone for a while. You have a way of bringing one's spirits down, my boy."
While unburdening himself to Antonio, Nicholas had also mentioned his master's impatience with his attitude. He couldn't help the rueful smile as he remembered LaCroix's chiding words. 'You've been moping for over a month now, Nicholas. If you don't snap out of it soon, I'm afraid I shall have to leave you to your own devices for a time. You really are much too gloomy to be around.'
It hadn't been long after that declaration that his father had done precisely what he'd threatened. But Nicholas knew the separation wouldn't last long, and he drew solace from the knowledge. At first he had been grateful for the solitude. But it hadn't taken too much time for him to grow tired of his own company. It was then he met Antonio and forged this new friendship.
"I apologize, Tony." Nicholas' smile brightened. "I promise. No more despondency tonight."
"Splendid. Now, I don't know about you, but I'm famished." A wild, passionate gleam entered his brown eyes while his voice softly reverberated with a vivid, barely-controlled urgency. "And I've picked out a special treat for myself to which I am anxiously looking forward. A tender morsel guaranteed to stimulate seldom reached heights of sensation."
Nicholas watched as the profound anticipation of the night's feeding momentarily consumed his friend. The thrill of the hunt, followed by the indescribable fulfillment achieved when the lucid ache of the hunger is finally calmed by a mortal's warm blood, were things every vampire experienced. It was a possession, an addiction, Nicholas knew all too well. But the untamed intensity that emanated from Antonio on occasions such as this was disturbing even to one who understood the thirst. And these displays of powerful almost demented arousal were becoming more frequent. Tony's 'special treats' were apparently becoming more than an occasional indulgence and Nicholas' curiosity about the objects of his companion's desire was starting to build.
"Well, it sounds as though you have an interesting evening planned. Shall we hunt together tonight?"
At the suggestion, the elder's expression and demeanor suddenly changed. He appeared reluctant and somewhat...nervous? As he shook his head, he pulled a lira from a pocket and began to walk the coin over the backs of his fingers. It was a habit with which Nicholas was well acquainted. "I...I think not, my friend. Not tonight. Why don't I meet you back here in a few hours? We can amuse ourselves at one of the minstrel shows on the outskirts of town."
Nicholas was not surprised by the negative response. He and Antonio rarely hunted together, and never on the nights when the Italian mentioned his 'special' prey. Even though Tony's unease piqued his curiosity further, Nicholas wouldn't push himself on his companion. If his friend didn't want his company, he wouldn't force or badger him. "As you wish, Tony. I'll see you back here in an hour or two."
Antonio smiled as he stood, the relief on his face plain to see. The coin continued its unrelenting journey over the back of his hand as he spoke. "Wonderful. Until then, my friend." He bowed his head and took his leave.
As he watched Antonio walk through the door, Nicholas' curiosity poked him again, and the deceptive thought of following his friend entered his mind.
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"You should listen to this young one, Nicholas. He is wise beyond his years." LaCroix returned Andrew's compliment and pulled Nick back from his recollection.
The detective simply smiled his response, not wishing to get into the validity of his maker's statement in front of the subject of said statement.
Fisher boyishly grinned his pleasure at LaCroix's words. "Well, I really must be going. The sun will be rising soon, and I have a few things to do first. Again, congratulations on the show tonight, LaCroix." He looked at Nick. "It was a pleasure meeting you...Nick. Maybe we can get together again sometime. Discuss the wisdom of the Nightcrawler, perhaps?"
"Yes. It might prove very interesting," Nick agreed. Although he had no real desire to debate the virtues of LaCroix as the Nightcrawler, he did want to examine his peculiar reaction to this vampire a little more closely. Maybe ask Fisher a few questions. Try to get some insight. Confirm his suspicion if possible.
Andrew bowed his head to both of his elders before turning and disappearing into the crowd. Nick stared after him, still confounded by the feeling he'd just experienced. Had LaCroix sensed anything unusual in the fledgling?
Turning to his master, Nick questioned. "Did you feel that?"
LaCroix looked at him, the hint of a perplexed frown creasing his brow. "Feel what? Really, Nicholas, do you always have to be so vague?"
The detective took an impatient breath. Even though LaCroix appeared slightly confused by the question, Nick still got the impression he understood what he was being asked. "The presence. The other vampire. I sensed two distinct auras coming from young Fisher. His own and someone else's. A much older incarnation. Did you feel it?"
Lucien shrugged. "Of course I felt something different about him. Exactly what it was I can't be sure. But it was probably just the strong influence of the one who brought him across. It is unusual, but not completely unheard of. He is still quite young."
"No. It was someone different." Nick insisted.
"And how would you know, Nicholas? Are you familiar with Andrew's master?" LaCroix took a quick sip from his glass, his growing impatience visible in the movement.
"No. But I am familiar with the older presence I felt, and the vampire I sensed couldn't have brought Fisher across. He's been dead for over 400 years. Or so I thought." Nick listened to his own words and had to admit to himself that even he found them hard to believe. But he knew what he'd felt.
LaCroix chuckled softly as he focused cynical eyes on his creation. "Oh, come, Nicholas. Are you trying to tell me that you believe Andrew is sharing his body, his consciousness, with another vampire? A vampire who died 400 years ago? Don't be absurd. You must be mistaken. It's not possible. Dead is dead, even for a vampire. You know, my boy, you really must stop drinking that bovine swill. It's starting to affect your reason."
Nick sat back down and gazed unseeing into the thinning crowd on the dance floor. Hearing his suspicion voiced in such a way made him hesitate. Maybe he was mistaken. His state of mind hadn't been the best of late after all. Two vampires sharing one body? One vampire possessed by the soul of another? It sounded ridiculous. More than ridiculous, it sounded mad. But mad or not, he had sensed two individuals, one of which he knew well. He turned his attention back to his maker. "I know it sounds crazy, but I'm telling you it was him. It was Caproni. I don't know how, but it was."
"Caproni?" LaCroix's mocking tone disappeared as the urgent note in Nick's voice seemed to sober him. "You're convinced the presence you felt was Caproni? You can be that certain?"
"I'm almost positive." Knight captured his father's gaze and held it with a serious intensity. "As impossible as it sounds, I felt him almost as strongly as if he had been standing here in the flesh. His being. His essence. His...soul? It was here."
The elder sat quietly for a moment as he appeared to contemplate his son's steadfast assertion. After a minute or so, his features softened. He placed a reassuring hand on Nick's arm. "If you feel that resolute about it, Nicholas, I believe you."
Nick hadn't realized how much he'd wanted his mentor to believe him until he heard the words of acceptance and felt the calming mantle of contentment settle over him. "Thank you, Lucien."
He watched his gratitude bring a delighted sparkle to LaCroix's eyes. And as he studied the contented expression on the ancient vampire's face, he was overwhelmed by an amazingly potent wave of approval flowing over their link. His father was reinforcing his assurance, and it afforded Nick a soothing strength. At the same time, he experienced a healthy dose of the pleasure he detected in LaCroix's eyes, and the satisfaction spread through Nick, as well. It was moments like this when he felt closest to his eternal father. Moments when Lucien wasn't objecting to him or his actions, but was understanding and supportive. Instances such as this were few and far between, and Nick appreciated them greatly when they occurred. Even though he was trying to break free of the existence LaCroix represented, Nick still, deep in his heart, craved his master's regard. It was an extreme contradiction, but he just didn't seem to be able to help it.
LaCroix gave his son's arm a gentle squeeze before breaking the contact, an amused smirk crossing his face. "You realize, of course, your discovery means Caproni is truly immortal. He does indeed go on forever. A droll little twist in our reality, wouldn't you say? It makes one wonder how many others of our kind still walk the earth outside of their own bodies. What are the chances, if these bodies are destroyed," he motioned from himself to Nick, "that our essence will find refuge, life, in the flesh of another? An intriguing question."
Nick was struck by the question and the possibility it considered. What consequence, if any, could this 'twist' hold for him? If he regained his mortality, probably none. If he didn't, would he never be able to find release, even in death?
The pounding of the music suddenly stopped as the last song of the morning came to an end, indicating that the close of the club was imminent. An abrupt silence blanketed the room and served to pull Nick away from his thoughts. Sensing the intrusion of the sun as it inched higher and higher toward the new day, he acknowledged the need to head home, but he had one more question for the Raven's owner. "Do you know how long Fisher's been in town?"
Picking up his glass, LaCroix took another drink before answering. "I'm not really sure, Nicholas. As far as I'm aware, he's been coming to the club on and off for about the past two months. What are you suggesting? That he might be your child snatcher?"
Rising from his seat, Nick nodded. "It's a possibility. You wouldn't happen to know where he lives, would you?"
"No, I wouldn't. I'm not the address book for the community, Nicholas. You'll have to discover that on your own, Detective."
Nick smiled at his master's insinuation. He never missed an opportunity, and, of course, he was correct. He wasn't the address book for the community. "Very well. Good-day, LaCroix."
"Good-day, Nicholas."
As he made his way to the door, Nick was once again all but oblivious to the happenings around him, the fledgling and his 'condition' dominating the detective's attention.
Once the music stopped, the remaining occupants of the Raven had quickly begun to disperse. There were only a few left, and they were on their way to the exit, as was his son. LaCroix watched Nicholas' retreating form with a continued sense of encouragement, but he couldn't ignore the subtle apprehension that mingled with the optimism.
His favorite creation had sought out the club this morning in order to indulge his nature. Well, perhaps he hadn't been driven so much by the need to indulge, but by the desire to retreat. But the reason was of no real consequence to LaCroix. The effect was all that concerned him, and he was most definitely pleased with the effect. Anytime Nicholas found it necessary to recoil from the mortal world, he celebrated the withdrawal and took the opportunity to push his influence a little further into his protege's psyche. The more Nicholas experienced the compulsion to escape from humanity, the more he found refuge with his own kind, and the stronger the hold of his true nature became. This morning had been such an occasion. And although Nicholas had once again summoned the will needed to resist the temptation of the blood, LaCroix knew his son was finding his self-imposed abstinence increasingly difficult to maintain. Hadn't Nicholas 'fallen off the wagon', so to speak, several times in the last few months?
But the Raven's owner had an even more important reason to be enthused by his son's late morning visit. In addition to this most recent display of desperation, LaCroix had sensed an acceptance and affection from his offspring that had sent a delicious thrill moving through him. The feelings weren't altogether new. He'd gleaned his creation's devotion on other recent occasions. He and Nicholas were growing closer. It was a gradual process, but it was happening. The intensity of those earlier feelings, however, didn't compare with what he had felt this morning. Not at any other time during their slowly, but steadily, renewing affinity had Lucien sensed this strong a tenderness, this forceful an understanding. Nicholas seemed slightly dumfounded by the emotions, but his master couldn't have been more pleased by them.
The unconscious grin dissolved from LaCroix's face as the ill ease he'd acknowledged only moments ago subdued his enthusiasm. Nicholas' bizarre claim had rattled him more than he wanted to admit. At first, he'd thought the guilt had once again robbed Nicholas of his delicate sanity. And even after having dismissed that as a possible explanation for his son's off-the-wall declaration, LaCroix had been nonetheless prepared to discard the ridiculous assertion without much consideration. Nicholas had allowed his all-too-human emotions to get the better of him. It certainly wasn't the first time. In fact, it had become much too familiar, not to mention tedious, over the last several centuries. But the conviction with which the boy had confronted him had made him stop and reevaluate his initial reaction. After all, he himself had felt something out of the ordinary. And he'd been forced to concede that his explanation for the sensation, although very plausible, didn't really ring true in this circumstance. The presence had been very strong, and he believed there had to be more at work than simply a master's influence emanating from the fledgling.
But possession by the soul of a dead vampire? No, not soul. Vampires no longer had a soul. What then?
Was he foolish for believing in Nicholas' interpretation? His knowledge and experience whispered yes, but his trust in, and love for, his son told him no. Nicholas had been sure of his impressions, and LaCroix had confidence in those impressions.
The idea of possession was something he had not even considered credible until a few months ago. That night at Vanderwal's had been enough to change LaCroix's perspective forever. The battle to reclaim his beloved child from whatever entity had taken Nicholas over had opened the general's eyes to the possibility and the reality.
An uncharacteristic shudder swept through Lucien as he recalled the feeling of utter helplessness that had held him captive while he watched the demon steal from him his most prized creation. There could be no worse sensation in all the world. To look on as someone you love beyond measure is ripped from your life while you are forced to stand by powerless to do anything about it. The recollection, even now, made him seethe with anger. Helpless was a state he hated beyond all others. Especially when it concerned his protege.
But in the end it had not happened. The spirit had not won. He and Nicholas had defeated it together. Their belief in the good that still dwelled inside Nicholas had finally been enough. For once, LaCroix had been grateful for his son's lingering morality. The fact that he'd acknowledged its presence at all spoke loudly as to how desperate the ancient vampire had been to hold on to his Nicholas.
Lucien's thoughts wavered a moment. Had he really told Nicholas there was God in him? God? Yes, he supposed he had. Oh, well. No matter.
No one or no thing would take his son away from him without a tremendous fight. He'd done what he'd had to do to keep Nicholas with him. That was the bottom line. That was all that mattered.
A triumphant smile lighted LaCroix's distinguished face. If it hadn't been for that experience, he may never have accepted the boy's explanation tonight. But as it was, even though he still found the whole prospect uncomfortable, Nicholas' insight could not be ignored.
His gaze fell from the door to quickly scan the club. The place was empty now. Lifting his half-full glass, he finished the contents in one long gulp. He sat the empty container down and looked over at the bartender who was well on his way to getting things cleaned up and ready for closing. "William, I leave the locking-up to you."
The other vampire silently nodded his agreement.
LaCroix walked to his private domain at the back of the Raven. As he closed the door to his apartment behind him, he wondered further about Nicholas' discovery. In all his 2000 years he had never run into a situation such as this. The possibility intrigued him considerably. Did vampires possess the strength to transcend physical death? Could their will to survive be that powerful? How intense did that desire have to be? At his age, he'd been able to cheat death more than once. But should he ever fail, would his life-force be strong enough to find refuge in another? It took him no time to conclude that yes, yes it would. If it were indeed possible, he could do it. Particularly if his departure meant leaving Nicholas behind.
Straightening from the door, LaCroix moved toward the bedroom. With a heightened sense of his vampiric power and invincibility, he looked forward to a renewing, strengthening sleep.
End Chapter 10