Chapter 15
The sun hovered just beneath the horizon on its journey back into hiding, its disappearance allowing for another vale of black stillness to blanket the earth. The vampire stood across the street in front of the Simmons' home listening to the cheerful chatter as they prepared for dinner. He'd wanted to check on the family before starting his search for the being who would seek to end their happiness.
The somber frown carved on his face conveyed the feelings that burdened his heart. Another child had gone missing last night, and if not for his weakness, it never would have happened. In between the rare minutes of sleep Nick had tried to get through the day, he'd called the taskforce that had been set up to investigate the disappearing children. He was informed that a little girl had vanished from her bed the previous night. Sleep had deserted him entirely upon hearing the news, second guesses and self-recriminations taking up the rest of the daylight hours.
As soon as the light had retreated enough for him to tolerate, he'd left the loft and come here. He'd booked off work, taking a personal day, in his preparation to confront Andrew Fisher. He expected to find the fledgling tonight and put an end to the sequence of misery that Fisher unwillingly spread. And although Nick believed the young immortal's death was the only way to insure the well-being of the children of Toronto, he still felt a twinge of shame, a modicum of hesitation, over the prospect of killing an innocent in order to get rid of the guilty.
But.... Nick's scowl deepened as he challenged his choice of description. Innocent? Was Andrew innocent? He was a vampire after all. Could a vampire be innocent? No. Vampires were evil incarnate. There could be no innocence in evil. However, in this case, he had to concede that the circumstance of Fisher's guilt was not enough to make Nick comfortable about having to terminate the youngster's existence.
A bitter sneer tightened Nick's lips as a cruel conjecture sprang to mind. If Andrew really believed in the true immortality of the vampire soul, his death in this life wouldn't be an end, but the opportunity for a fresh beginning.
The sneer faded while another thought occurred to Nick. Would there also be an opportunity for future revenge? Would Fisher return years from now seeking to avenge his death? Would Antonio?
A slammed car door two houses away halted the bothersome contemplation, and Nick dismissed the questions. Even if it were possible, it didn't matter. Elliot's safety was the only real concern at this point in time.
Focusing his attention back on the house, he realized that the family was seated at the kitchen table and had begun to eat their meal. He started walking down the street, and when he found a spot out of sight, he took to the air. Andrew's condo was his first destination.
As he flew, Nick thought again about what he'd learned from his phone call earlier in the day. Antonio had indulged his obsession last night. There could be little doubt the Italian was responsible for the newest addition to the list of missing children. And if he delved further into the girl's whereabouts within the last 24 hours, Nick was certain he would discover that she'd been at the concert last evening. The guilt had been eating away at him since he'd learned of the girl's disappearance. He could have prevented it. But, he sadly admitted, her horrific sacrifice had, perhaps, bought him a little time to find Fisher and destroy him before the young vampire was pushed toward Elliot.
There was a pattern to Antonio's obsession. The disappearances started a little over a month ago. There were now five unsolved cases all with the same MO, and they occurred about every five or six days. And not a single trace of any of the children had been found. If Tony stuck to this timetable, Nick should be able to end this before any more innocent mortals died.
He would look for Andrew tonight until it was Elliot's bedtime. Nick felt certain that as long as the boy was awake and with his parents he would be safe. If Nick couldn't find Fisher before nine o'clock, he would go back to the home and watch again tonight. He couldn't take the chance that Antonio might change his habit and decide to take another child before his normal time.
But Nick was hopeful that a watch tonight would not be necessary. Finding Fisher shouldn't be too difficult a proposition. The younger immortal wouldn't have remembered what had happened last evening and would have no reason to think Nick wanted to see him. The loss of another night, however, might panic the fledgling, now that he knew for sure what the missing time meant. Also, Nick's threat of several days ago could possibly go a long way toward spooking Andrew. And rightly so, Nick had to admit.
Landing in the same spot he had the first time he'd visited Fisher, Nick stood silently and scanned for the young vampire's unusual aura. Nothing. He walked around the bushes and up to the door of number two. Still no sign of Andrew. The lock gave way easily under his superior strength and he entered the condo. All was dark and still.
"Damn!" Nick's frustration came to the surface. He knew finding Fisher at home would be too easy.
He left the apartment and headed for the Raven.
When he entered the club, the music was loud, but the level of activity normal for the nightclub had not begun to reach its expected heights. It was early yet. And, unlike his last visit, what patrons there were in the place were human. It was a little too soon for most of the preternatural population to make an appearance, but Nick hoped he would find Fisher here nevertheless. Although, his expectation quickly grew faint as he was unable to sense the object of his search.
Making his way to the bar, he ignored the female hands that greedily reached out to him, not once but twice, in separate invitations to dance. He took a seat at the end of the counter and surveyed the dance floor. His hunt then concentrated first on the tables and next on the darkened corners of the room. Not surprisingly, he saw no trace of the fledgling anywhere. He would take a look in the back rooms, but he already knew he would come up empty handed.
"Nicholas." LaCroix spoke from behind Nick's shoulder. "What a pleasant surprise. Twice in one week. You're starting to make yourself right at home, aren't you?"
The sarcasm in his master's voice was mixed with a genuine pleasure that Nick felt across their link. The wash of delight was, in an odd way, comforting, and some of the anxious disappointment left the protege as he turned concerned eyes to his maker. "Not quite home, LaCroix."
"Not yet." Lucien continued to tease.
But as Nick looked into the blue stare of his sire, he sensed the response was not said entirely in jest. There was a resolution in the cool depths that conveyed a clear belief in Nick's return to his family, his father.
Soon, Nicholas. Soon.
The silent impressions embedded themselves in Nick's head with such passionate force that it took him aback for a moment. He dropped his eyes from the intense gaze of the elder immortal and centered his sights on the ever-familiar silver sword pin on the Roman's collar.
LaCroix's powerful declaration was followed by a bittersweet flow of love and longing down the thread that would forever bind them together. The unexpected barrage almost swept Nick away. After his long, sleepless day of guilt driven self-loathing, he would have found it easy to lose himself in the tender feelings; to forget everything and submerge himself in his father's offered consolation. As it was, he let himself bathe in the sensation only a moment or two before pulling back. The much-needed solace was an agonizing luxury he could not allow himself to enjoy. The mesmerizing draw of his father's comfort was a further incitement away from his quest.
Nick closed his eyes against the tender assault on his weary mind. He flinched inwardly as a cynical barb from the inner voice found its way into his conscious. Quest? Your quest is all but forgotten. You play at the search, but do you really want to find the prize? Or are you willing to hold tightly to the gifts you already hold in your hands? Your immortality. Your family. Your father. Accept the compassion. Wrap yourself securely in its embrace. It would be so easy to let it cradle you--so very easy.
You will come back to me, my son.
Nick knew that LaCroix had never abandoned the hope that he would one day return to him, to live as a vampire freely and willingly by his father's side. But the protege continued to reject that possibility even as he began to appreciate his growing closeness to his master.
Looking back into LaCroix's face, Nick's sad frown deepened as he slowly moved his head from side to side. I can't, Lucien. I won't.
"You can and will, Nicholas. You can and will." Without waiting for a response, LaCroix motioned for a glass and abruptly changed the subject. "You're hovering here for a reason I suspect. Looking for someone again, Detective?"
Their sparring match was apparently finished for the evening and Nick was relieved, glad that his weakening resolve had not completely deserted him. A faint smile touched his mouth. The feeling of warmth, however, had not dissipated, and it continued to drape about him like a well-worn coat. And for that, he was also glad.
He moved his eyes back to the dance floor. LaCroix's question had once again set his task before him, and the grave feeling it instilled echoed in his voice. "Yes, I'm looking. I'm looking for Andrew Fisher."
"Andrew?" The club's owner took a seat on the stool next to his creation.
"I was right, LaCroix. About everything. Andrew. Antonio. The missing children. Everything. I have to find Fisher and stop him." Nick's solemn tone was flecked with a renewed urgency.
"Antonio is indeed quenching his thirst for children through Andrew?" The Roman's eyebrows rose slightly with the question as if he were a little surprised by the confirmation of what, up until now, had been merely speculation.
"Yes." Nick's eye fell back to the bar, his voice precious more than a whisper. "He's killing children and I've got to stop him."
"Stop him? You mean destroy him. Kill him."
Nick's gaze shot from the counter to again confront his master's crystalline glare. He saw the same condemnation there that he heard in the ancient vampire's voice. He was seeking to destroy a vampire in order to spare mortal lives. Somehow, Nick knew, that did not sit well with his maker. Unless they were a danger to the community there was no reason to prey on one's own kind. And if a vampire was fastidious when he killed and not suspected, then he was not a danger to the community.
But whether he was a threat for discovery or not made no difference to Nick. Andrew was killing young mortals and Nick would see an end to it. "Yes." He barked back at the Roman. "I mean to destroy him. He's taking children...children, LaCroix. I have no choice but to destroy him."
Nick watched as the edge of his master's disapproval dulled. It appeared as though his point about the child victims had not fallen on totally deaf ears. It didn't come as a surprise to Nick either. He knew his father couldn't approve of this particular brand of killing.
"Yes...well...." LaCroix's eyes left Nick as his drink arrived. "I suppose you do have a point."
"Thank you." The begrudging response left Nick as he stood.
The glass of blood-wine was placed in front of LaCroix, and Nick fought against the dull ache it encouraged. But, because of his earlier indiscretion at the loft, the painful need was not as intense as it might have been.
He looked on with a subdued craving while LaCroix took a drink, waiting for the elder to finish before he spoke. "Andrew isn't here and he isn't at his condo. I don't have any idea where else he might hang out. Do you know of any of his friends around here who might be able to give me some idea where he could be?"
LaCroix shrugged, his eyes once again concentrating on Nick. "I don't know, Nicholas." He paused thoughtfully for a moment. "Although...yes, I do believe I've seen him with--"
The beckoning ring of Nick's cell phone interrupted LaCroix, who sneered at the inconvenience.
"Sorry." Nick apologized before pulling the phone out and taking the call. "Knight."
"Nick?" The tentative voice on the other end belonged to Jacob, and Nick felt a paralyzing fear start to grow in the pit of his stomach as he read the bewildered terror in the mortal's tone.
"Jacob? What's wrong?"
"It's Elliot, Nick." Jacob paused as a dreadful sob caught in his throat. "He's gone...missing. We can't find him anywhere. We've been looking for over half an hour. We've been to both neighbors' houses, up and down the street... There's just no sign of him. I know it's too early to call the police. I don't know what to do."
Nick's fear was well on its way to becoming full-blown panic as he listened to his friend and struggled to understand what could have happened. "But he's been with you tonight, hasn't he?" Nick looked at his watch, 8:30. "He hadn't gone to bed yet, had he?"
"No. Well...after dinner he wanted to go up to his room to practice his flute. He was there for a short while when I noticed I didn't hear him playing anymore. I looked in his room and he was gone." There was another stifled sob before he continued in an almost hysterical voice. "Oh God, Nick. I can't find him! I can't find him!"
No! No! No! No! The word flashed over and over in Nick's mind as he fought to reject what he already knew had happened to Elliot. What he'd let happen to Elliot. He couldn't think. Elliot! What have I done? Elliot!
It wasn't his master's supportive hand on his shoulder, or the desperate plea in Jacob's voice as the mortal repeated his name, but the gentle sound of Beth's tears in the background of the call, that slapped him across his common sense and pulled him from the shaky edge of hysteria. She cried out of fear for her missing son. She cried out of hopelessness for someone to help them. She and Jacob needed him. They needed his strength, his help. Not too much time had passed. Maybe he could get to Elliot before it was too late.
"Nick?" The distraught father implored in Nick's ear.
"I'm here, Jacob. I'm here. Look, I'm going to call a special unit in the department and send them out to the house. Tell them everything they want to know. I'm going to look for Elliot."
"But, where? Nick, I want to go with you."
"Jacob, listen to me. Stay with Beth and tell the officers everything you can. I'll talk to you soon." Pausing a second, Nick then added, "We'll find him, Jacob. We'll find him." He closed the phone and stuffed it in his pocket. His pained eyes settled on LaCroix. "Who, Lucien? You said you knew someone...."
"Yes, Nicholas. Urs. I've seen him with Urs on occasion. But she isn't here right now." The sympathy in the elder vampire's gaze was unmistakable. "This is not your fault, Nicholas."
"I should have killed Fisher when I had the chance. This is my fault, LaCroix." Nick angrily poked himself in the chest. "I'm the reason Antonio knew Elliot even existed. It is all, and only, my fault."
With that damning proclamation, Nick ran blindly from the club in a frantic search for his friend.
Sadly, he watched his son rush from the building, his distress over the boy a dark scowl etched across his brow. The anguish he sensed in Nicholas was all but debilitating, and he cursed every god he could think of for its stranglehold on his precious child. The self-loathing was excruciating. The worry was agonizing. And as the tumult of negative emotion cascaded over their cord of connection, its force pushed LaCroix back down into his seat.
He closed his eyes against the unwanted, excess moisture that started to pool. Tears were not an indulgence he allowed himself. Even tears of pain for his beloved son were a weakness that could not be tolerated. But the grief-laden impressions he gleaned from his protege were almost more than he could bear. The misery Nicholas suffered was beyond compare.
Nicholas, don't do this to yourself. Please. They aren't worth it.
Lucien hoped, for Nicholas' sake, the child would be found alive.
Nick was in the air--searching. Listening. Looking. For anything. Anything that would lead him to Elliot. Time was running out. Antonio didn't toy with his food for very long. Nick had to find them soon, or it would be too late. The thought of Elliot in the hands of that beast made Nick pulse with anger and tremble with fear.
Dear God, please let him be all right. Nick hadn't prayed in a very long time, and he wondered if prayer from a vampire would help. But he hoped Elliot wouldn't be punished for his lack of grace.
He continued to fly over the area of abandoned buildings, straining for any sign. It was the third such group he'd scanned and still no luck. At this rate he would never find Elliot in time. The panic started a slow, steady rhythm in the back of Nick's mind.
Urs, when he found her at the church with Vachon, hadn't been any help. She knew of no special places that Andrew liked to go. She'd only seen him at the Raven. Nick had, however, been grateful when the two young vampires offered to help him search. Both were familiar with the unusual aura Fisher put out, although neither understood it. They had started to look on the opposite end of the city.
After his trip to the church, Nick had returned to Andrew's condo just to make sure he hadn't taken Elliot back there. After being disappointed yet again, he'd begun scouring the city. He had started his search in the rundown areas of town--places where an obsession could be indulged with minimal threat of discovery. The old factory buildings he was passing over now were such places, but still he neither sensed nor heard anything. He hoped Urs and Vachon were having better luck.
As his hunt continued, his anxiety for Elliot increased its wear on his fragile composure with each passing minute. By the time he started to move toward one last building, it was a thin thread ready to snap. As he approached the deserted structure, he slowed, sound and sensation hitting him at the same time. The melody came from the flute, while the feeling came from a vampire with a dual identity. Zoning in on the origin of the music and the presence, urgency guided his movements as he pointed himself toward the top floor of the building.
A heartbeat--he didn't hear a heartbeat. The realization hit him as he crashed through a metal-screened window.
The room Nick landed in was empty. He began to run--out the door and down a darkened hallway, his vampire's eyes not impaired by the absence of light. The music of the flute continued to fill the silence of the long-dead building, and Nick followed it. But still, he heard no heartbeat.
A sickening dread knotted in his stomach as he reached a closed door and heard the music float from inside, felt the strong presence of one of his own kind. A blow from his fist sent the door flying off its hinges and crashing to the ground. Stepping into the room, Nick's eyes gravitated to a corner opposite the doorway. There he saw them. Andrew sitting on the floor, legs crossed, blowing on the flute as if nothing was out of the ordinary. And Elliot, his small body laying face up on the floor next to Fisher, feet together, hands at his sides, quiet. Oh so very quiet.
No. A numbing haze of disbelief descended on Nick as he struggled to close the distance between himself and the pair. Slowly, as if walking to his own grave, he moved to stand over Fisher and Elliot. Still the music drove the would-be silence from the tomb. His eyes didn't leave the small, lifeless body of the child he had called friend, now so silent, so still, so cold. Beautiful brown eyes saw nothing as they stared, fixed, up into Nick's face, the horror of their last sight reflected in the anguished repose.
"No." Nick whispered the denial as he shook his head. This wasn't happening. It just wasn't happening.
The music stopped.
"Nicholas." The greeting held a touch of awe, but nothing else.
Pulling his eyes away from Elliot's body, Nick looked at the unrepentant vampire seated on the floor. This tragedy was Antonio's doing, and that's exactly who he saw when he gazed into the steel-gray eyes. He was still all but paralyzed by what he was witnessing and could do little else but stare at Tony in painful shock, a red mist forming in front of his eyes.
"Nicholas, don't look at me like that." Antonio gingerly rose to his feet. "I realize you were fascinated by the child, but he was a mortal. Your preoccupation with them isn't healthy. You'll have to learn that sometime, my boy." He looked over at the body and smiled. "When I saw him the other night, I knew I had to have him. He was perfect." He turned his attention back to Nick, a subtle frown darkening his face. "But you took it upon yourself to act as guardian angel and deny me. I will not be denied, Nicholas. And I was right...he was a perfect delicacy. Very much worth the extra effort." The satisfied smile returned.
As Nick listened to the vulgar words and watched the pleased smirk turn Antonio's mouth, the paralysis vanished and something in him shattered. The outrage and hatred surged forward in a deafening scream. "Nooo!!!"
Outside, a couple involved in their neighborhood-watch program froze in their tracks, petrified by the anguished wail coming from inside the abandoned building. After a second or two, the man pulled out his cell phone and called 911. They waited for help to arrive.
Nick lunged for Caproni and they both ended up on the floor, Nick on top of Tony, his hands around his enemy's throat. His eyes were red as he hissed through extended fangs. "I'll send you to hell, monster."
The intense rage and sorrow flowing through Nick gave incredible power to the vice his hands created around Antonio's neck. He didn't know if he could decapitate the vampire with his bare hands, but at that moment, it almost seemed possible. He continued to squeeze. But the complacent smile on the Italian's face gave Nick pause as he suddenly recognized the futility of his efforts. The wicked condescension lurking in Tony's eyes only added fuel to the detective's anger, and he pulled his gaze from the infuriating smugness. His eyes fell on the once precious flute that Antonio still held in his grip. Now soiled by the Italian's touch, it was nothing more than an adequate weapon.
Releasing Caproni's throat, Nick ripped the instrument from his hand. He would see an end to this demon. He would avenge Elliot's death. He would make Tony pay for what he'd done.
With both hands tightly around the flute, Nick lifted it over his head like a dagger. Looking down into his victim's face, he was disappointed not to see the same paralyzing horror he'd witnessed fixed in Elliot's eyes, not to behold an equalizing fear of impending death. The self-satisfied expression was no longer there, but there was no fear or remorse reflected in the features either. Instead, much to his dismay, Nick noted a calm confidence, a settled resolve. And when he spoke, Tony's voice was as tranquil as the look on his face. "Do what you feel you must, Nicholas. But I will see you again." He smiled--a confident, superior smile.
The words of defiance, and the look of complete satisfaction, heightened Nick's outrage and spurred him on. Without any more hesitation, he plunged the ancient piece of wood deep into Antonio's heart.
It was at this precise moment that Nick finally saw the pain he'd wanted to see as the features of the vampire beneath him contorted in genuine agony from the blow. But the gratification he'd expected to feel from the sight eluded him as he heard a strangled "Knight?" break the silence, and he realized that it was Andrew who was experiencing the brunt of his wrath, not Antonio. The perplexed, tortured expression on the fledgling's face stole any triumph Nick might have felt. Rather, as he watched the last embers of existence fade from the body beneath him, Nick felt shame for Fisher's murder and cheated by Tony's apparent escape.
Repulsed by the scene before him, Nick scurried to his feet and turned his back on the dead vampire. But what filled his eyes when he looked away from Fisher repulsed him even more. He was confronted by Elliot's lifeless body. The hideous picture brought forth a sorrow and devastation that rocked him to the very core. Elliot was dead. No. It can't be. It just can't be. But it was.
Staggering the few steps to Elliot, Nick fell to his knees, the tears streams of red down his face. He gathered the small body in his arms and held the boy close, his head resting on top of the silky, blond hair. As the grief consumed him, Nick slowly rocked the body back and forth in a gesture of belated comfort. He sat lost in the black vacuum of his suffering for several long minutes, unaware of anything other than the pain that ripped at his heart.
After those first few minutes, something began to slowly pull him back from the pit. He became aware of a sound. Sirens. He heard police sirens in the distance, but they seemed to be coming closer. The realization cleared some of the anguished fog, and he looked over at Fisher's body, a trickle of rational thought finding its way into his head. The sirens were right outside the building now, and he heard voices, several voices.
How did they know? He shook his head. It really didn't matter. What did matter was that he had to think straight. He had to get Andrew's body out of here.
Nick looked back into Elliot's face. Gently, he closed the horrified, brown eyes and hugged him close again. He would have to leave the body here to be found. Jacob and Elizabeth deserved some sort of closure, no matter how painful, and a chance to heal. Having Elliot's body to lay to rest was the only way that could be done.
He spied the fang marks on the child's neck and eight hundred years of programming took control. He searched for something to hide the marks and protect the community. A piece of glass on the floor next to him would do. Through tear-filled eyes, he ran the sharp glass over the marks, cutting the skin and distorting the evidence. The lack of blood would be a problem if Nat didn't get this case, but he wasn't to the point of caring that much about it right now.
He heard movement on the lower floors. The officers had entered the building and were starting to search. He had to leave.
Kissing Elliot tenderly on the forehead, Nick reverently laid the body back on the ground. A scarlet tear fell on a small, pale cheek, and the vampire carefully wiped it away before standing.
Walking back over to Fisher's body, Nick picked it up and flew from the tomb.
A smelting plant served him well as he deposited the body and the instrument in a vat of molten steel. He watched as the body, and the once sacred flute, sank into the liquid metal. Then, the numbness starting to overtake him again, he took to the air.
He'd flown all night, trapped inside the cage of sadness, anger and self-incrimination he'd built around himself. Now the heat of the morning sun pricked Nick's skin as he flew. It was just below the horizon. He had precious few minutes to make it to safety. But did he really want to protect himself, save himself? It would be so easy to meet the new day and stop his torture, spare the humans around him.
He'd been the cause of yet another innocent mortal's death, a beloved child, no less. His own death seemed the logical way to end everyone's suffering, including his own.
But would his suffering end? Or would he sully another mortal soul with his thirst for human blood? Would he continue to exist and never find the release that true death could offer him?
The doubt that festered within him pushed Nick back to the loft before it was too late.
He punched in the security code and stepped into the elevator. The heartbeat he heard told him that Natalie waited upstairs. She was not going to like his decision, but it was the best thing for everyone involved. He had to make her understand.
End Chapter 15