Chapter 21
It was snowing again, the fluffy crystals falling quietly to rest in his hair and on his shoulders. A harsh wind whipped around the corner of the building with an angry howl, but he didn't feel the cold. He never felt the cold--the cold around him, that is. The chill deep inside him was another matter, his body's lack of warmth something he felt every hour of every day, another bleak reminder of his unnatural state.
He hovered at the window a few feet off the ground, a painful sorrow gnawing at his heart. The room was full of people, mourners. Some standing, huddled in small groups. Some seated. Handkerchiefs and Kleenex were in abundance as tears flowed freely. Grief permeated the air like an icy fog, its bitter tentacles holding everyone in its unforgiving grasp. Nick lingered outside the window, detached from the humans on the other side, but not separated from their grief. In that one terrible reality, he felt a kinship with them. They shared the agony of loss.
A lump formed in Nick's throat as the sorrow in the room reached out and grabbed him by the heart. He couldn't bring himself to go inside, to soil the cleansing gathering. Beth had asked him to come, but he had no place among the innocent mortals. All he could do was stand on the outside looking in at the devastation he'd caused, wishing with all his might he could somehow make it go away.
Scanning the picture before him, he spotted his two friends. Jacob and Elizabeth stood at the front of the room surrounded by a group of people. Through the small crowd, Nick could see their faces. Both were red-eyed and solemn as they received condolences from their friends and family.
Condolences. He could offer none. Nothing he could say or do would ease their pain, halt their suffering. The lump in his throat tightened as he watched the grieving parents. They were trying to be strong, but the brave front crumbled under the pressure of the tragedy they found themselves under.
Nick's eyes followed Beth's as she wiped away brimming tears and glanced behind her. There, he spied the one thing he did not want to see, the one thing he could not face. A small, white coffin sat at the very front of the room flanked by dozens of flowers. It was open, but Nick couldn't see what he knew lay inside. The darkness of a black misery closed around him as he confronted the obscene reality. All he could see was the coffin. All he could feel was the painful grief.
Elliot! The silent, anguished cry echoed in his head as a tear escaped his eye. I'm so sorry. So sorry. Through the thickening red mist, Nick stared, almost dazed, at the tiny casket. Tomorrow. Tomorrow it would be placed in the ground. Tomorrow.
A tortured sob passed Nick's lips as he turned from the unbearable scene, and lifted himself into the chaos of the frosty night wind. It was too much. Once again, the consequence of his failure was too appalling to face.
He stood, as still as death, watching her. Dressed in green scrubs, she leaned over the body laying on the stainless steel table, intent in her examination, so immersed in the task she had neither seen nor heard him enter the room. But he had used his unearthly skills to gain access to the coroner's office, so he didn't expect her to notice his arrival. At least, not right away.
He waited, standing behind her, for an opportune moment to alert her to his presence, a sinister smirk lifting one corner of his mouth. The greater the surprise, the better. Intimidation was his purpose. Fear was his weapon. But would the proud mortal be intimidated? Would she give in to fear?
The memory of last night's meeting in the loft surfaced, and the grin dissolved into a bitter scowl. The strength of purpose he'd glimpsed in Dr. Lambert made him answer no to both of his unspoken questions. She'd stood up against him, refusing to back down, stubbornly asserting her place in Nicholas' life. She'd done her best to hide the apprehension, but her fluttering pulse had betrayed her. Still, she had put up a very convincing front, and to be sure, the audacity had been genuine. She'd been determined not to give him the satisfaction of seeing her ill-ease, and he had expected no less. The show of grit, however annoying, was commendable, he supposed. But....
The scene he'd witnessed upon entering the loft flashed in his mind's eye, his frown deepening. Natalie Lambert had a soothing effect on Nicholas. Some would say she was good for him. The muscles in LaCroix's jaw tightened. Some would be wrong. As with Nicholas' bout with amnesia, she had proven herself a hindrance. She was the perpetuator of a lie, the weaver of false hope. In the end, she would be Nicholas' undoing. She would cause him nothing but more pain. Her misguided beliefs nourished the boy's delusions of mortality, and it was time to put an end to the silly dreaming. Nicholas was finally realizing the futility of his search. Dr. Lambert could not be allowed to blur that realization.
LaCroix continued to look on in silence as Natalie lifted a scalpel from the nearby instrument table while speaking to the small tape recorder also situated on the table. "Cause of death--two gunshot wounds to the heart. The amount of tissue damage would indicate the shots were taken at close range."
The doctor remained quiet as she appeared to be removing the bullets from the corpse. Now was as good a time as any. "Hello, Doctor Lambert."
The softly spoken greeting might as well have been a cannon blast, if the good doctor's reaction was any indication. She jumped at the sound, dropping the scalpel in the process. A wicked tingle of success passed through LaCroix. If she'd been a cat, she would be hanging from the ceiling right now, all four paws clutching the tiles with extended claws. But instead, she abruptly spun around to stare, wide-eyed, at her unexpected visitor. The astonished expression on her face was priceless, but it quickly gave way to one of burning anger.
Lucien watched her eyes narrow as her mouth formed a hard line. His voice was all humble innocence as he spoke again. "I hope I'm not disturbing you, Dr. Lambert. But I thought perhaps it was time we had a talk."
Taking a deep breath, Natalie's eyebrows rose slightly as she answered. "A talk?" An incensed distrust colored the short reply. She had regained her composure, but the irritation was still plain to see.
"Yes." LaCroix finally moved, taking a step toward the shaken mortal. "I think it's time we came to an...understanding, don't you?"
"An understanding? About?" Natalie now played the innocent.
"Don't play coy with me, Doctor." Lucien found her attempt at naivete annoying. Turnabout was fair play, he supposed, but that didn't make the game any easier to tolerate. He took another step toward her. "You know very well about what. Or should I say, about who?"
"Nick." As she said the name, a worried frown turned Natalie's mouth while she tried taking a step backward. The autopsy table, however, thwarted her attempted retreat.
The subtle display of unease pleased Lucien, greatly. Her anxious frown should have done the same, but it didn't. Instead, it only served to reinforce the need for this visit. The doctor's concern for Nicholas was strong, very strong, and it was what had brought LaCroix here. Her interference was a result of that concern, and the bothersome intervention was not something to be pleased about.
"Yes...Nicholas." Smiling, Lucien hid his uncertainty as he confirmed her statement.
A small muscle in the doctor's jaw worked furiously as her frown deepened, LaCroix's confident smile seeming to cause her further exasperation. But it only took a second for her to brush off the anger, her face relaxing into a mask of unconcern. Her heart, however, continued to betray her. With a casual shrug, she shook her head. "I don't see any need for us to talk, LaCroix. I think we both understand one another very well." Slowly, she turned, picked up the scalpel and walked to the other side of the table. She appeared to be more comfortable with the distance between them, and LaCroix was encouraged further by the withdrawal.
"Ah...but, do we?" Lucien's smile disappeared. "Do you?"
"Of course, I do." Natalie's expression held a faint surprise. "I want...what Nick wants--his mortality. You, on the other hand, want to hold him to a life, an existence, he detests." With the last word, some of the doctor's courage seemed to return.
LaCroix felt his own anger rise as he digested the mortal's words. 'A life, an existence, he detests.' Detests. It was a harsh word, and he one didn't like hearing when discussing Nicholas and his chosen lifestyle. Whether it was true or not made no difference. Besides, it wasn't true anymore, not really. His fury dissipated. Nicholas was finally coming around. He was finally accepting what he was, and LaCroix drew great satisfaction from the knowledge. He had convinced himself that what brought Nicholas to this point didn't matter. The pain was something his son would have to endure. In the end, it would make him stronger. And, when he left his precious humans behind, he wouldn't have to experience it any longer. Nicholas was prepared to return to his life as a vampire--that was the only thing of any consequence. LaCroix wasn't going to allow this measly mortal to steal the joy he felt at this impending triumph.
"But does Nicholas really want mortality anymore, Doctor?" Lucien walked to stand directly next to the table, its width the only distance between himself and Doctor Lambert. He saw the doubt cloud her eyes as he continued. "As I understand it, he has decided to give up on the ludicrous dream. He is prepared to forget the impossible and move on. He believes it is for the best, and so do I."
Natalie shook her head, as if to dislodge the uncertainty he had brought to the surface. "He's confused right now. Elliot's death has turned him upside-down and inside-out. He just needs some time." The pleading note in her voice surprised LaCroix. Did she really think she could make him sympathetic to her cause? "I still believe he wants mortality." Sharp determination entered her voice with the last words. "He's just afraid." Her eyes met Lucien's in an unfaltering challenge. "I can help him with that fear, with the confusion."
My, my but you are stubborn, Natalie. Not a good thing. LaCroix acknowledged silently as his smile widened.
"Ah...and that's where the understanding between us appears to be a little...foggy, Doctor Lambert." LaCroix moved around the table and stood a few feet in front of Natalie. "You see, I don't think Nicholas needs any further...help from you. Your influence is the only thing that's confusing the boy. He's made a decision, the right decision, and he doesn't need you trying to convince him he's wrong."
"He is wrong." The defiant statement shot from Natalie as she stood her ground, not giving an inch. She put on a good show, but again, the rapid beating of her heart gave the game away. She was...nervous...frightened...angry? Perhaps all three. "Anyway," a confident smile suddenly appeared on her lips, "if Nick felt that way, I'm sure he'd let me know. It seems to me that you're the one who doesn't like the idea of my hanging around Nick. Maybe he doesn't want to leave this life as much as you think he does?"
LaCroix smothered the tiny flame of doubt that flared in the back of his mind. "No, doctor. Nicholas knows what he must do. As soon as this idiotic promise to you is fulfilled, he will do it. He will leave."
Natalie's smile grew a little bolder. "Well, if you're so certain of that, why all this concern about me?"
Lucien took another step closer to her, an unforgiving harshness entering his voice. "Because I will take no chances, stand for no interference. As you say, Nicholas is confused, and the confusion has made him weak. I don't want him swayed by flowery words of misguided hope whispered to him by you."
The doctor's air of confidence appeared to slip a fraction as she nervously wet her lips. "So you admit that his leaving is not set in stone?"
The vampire slowly shook his head. "I admit that he is vulnerable to the likes of you. I am taking steps right now to protect that vulnerability."
"Steps?"
"Yes, Doctor." LaCroix took one more step forward. He stood less than a body's width from Natalie as he continued. "I am offering you a simple word of advice. Leave Nicholas alone." He bit out the last words with quiet force.
Natalie's eyes widened as she heard the 'advice'. Taking a step back from LaCroix, she looked over at the body on the table. Her heart continued to hammer in her chest as she stared at the lifeless form on the cold steel, a shocked blankness in her expression. After a second or two, the apparent numbness seemed to thaw, and she threw a furious glare at her visitor. "Or what? Are you threatening me, LaCroix?"
A short bark of laughter left the Roman. She was scared to death, but she wasn't going to let him see it. "Hardly a threat, Doctor. But...take it which ever way you choose. I will see Nicholas back by my side. Your interference is neither welcomed nor needed. Leave him be."
Smiling, Lucien bowed his head. His message delivered, and he believed, understood, the ancient immortal didn't wait for a response. He turned and walked out of the room, leaving Doctor Lambert staring after him.
Natalie was so angry, she was shaking. Just who in the hell did he think he was, telling her what to do? Well.... Her thoughts wavered a moment. He's a 2000-year-old vampire, that's who. And probably the most powerful being you are ever likely to meet. She thought about it a little more. Was she shaking just because she was angry?
A sigh escaped her as she walked over to the desk. Her knees weren't supporting her very well at the moment, and she settled into her chair. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath in an effort to calm her racing heart. No. Her stomach lunged as she admitted the truth. It wasn't just anger that was causing her body's erratic behavior. She was frightened. And as far as she could see, she had every right to be scared. LaCroix was a formidable adversary, to say the very least. He could kill her in an instant, and no one would ever know what happened to her.
Her stomach did another summersault. Was that what he'd done? Threatened to kill her? She couldn't be completely sure. He hadn't actually said he was threatening her, but he knew his words could be taken as nothing less. Bastard. He'd come here for the express purpose of intimidating her, and, unfortunately, he'd succeeded, but only to a point.
The more she thought about it, the more her fear gave way to anger. He had no right to interfere, no right at all. It was Nick's life they were talking about. No one but Nick had the right to tell her to get lost. No one.
But.... The dread, once again, churned her stomach. Was she willing to risk her life to maintain the battle? Was Nick worth that possibility? Well, she wasn't sure if death was one of her choices, but even if it were, the fight would be worth it. Besides, she wouldn't know how to just stand by and watch passively as Nick left her life. Fighting was one of the things she did best. No matter what the obstacle, there was really no question as to whether or not she was going to continue the battle. The automatic answer was yes, regardless of the outcome, yes. Yes, Nick was worth it. To her, he was worth anything.
Opening her eyes, she looked over at the job still waiting for her on the table. She had to at least get the prelim finished tonight. Taking another deep breath, she rose from the chair. Her legs were much more stable now, as was her heart. As she walked over to the table, she wondered to herself, Should I tell Nick about this little visit? The answer was a quick and resounding no. If he knew about it, the knowledge would only serve to give him another reason to push her away. For her own safety, he would tell her to stay away. No. She wouldn't give him anymore ammunition to use against her.
Looking down at her hand, she realized she still held the scalpel she'd picked up from the floor earlier. She glanced at the tape recorder. It was still running. Picking it up, she hit the 'rewind' button. After a minute or so, she played the tape. "Hello, Doctor Lambert." LaCroix's rich voice mocked her from the recorder.
An icy ripple of dread slipped along Nat's spine. "Damn," she cursed as a shaky finger hit the 'rewind' button again. A few seconds ticked past, and she hit the 'play' button. "...at close range." Her own voice filled the room. Again, she stopped the tape. Setting it back on the instrument table, she pressed the 'record' button, and turned to her patient. She ignored her still unsteady hands as she resumed trying to extract the bullets from the body on her table.
End Chapter 21