Chapter 4
Nick slid the elevator door closed and leaned back against it as he ran a hand over his weary eyes. What the hell did he think he was doing? Pushing himself off the door, he went to the refrigerator, jerked it open and reached past two protein drinks to grab a bottle of blood. He yanked out the cork and downed half of the contents. Lowering the steadying liquid from his lips, he closed his eyes as its soothing effect penetrated his hungry body. His body, however, hungered for much more than cow's blood. Knight looked down at the hand that, not long ago, had caressed Natalie's and remembered the delicious warmth. The softness of her skin. The feel of the pulse in her wrist as it beat steadily, if not a little too quickly, beneath his fingers. Her captivating scent. Her... His shout of "No!" cut through the disturbing thoughts and the silence of the loft.
He pulled out another bottle and slammed the refrigerator door shut. The vampire carried his meal into the living room and sat it on the coffee table. The remote button shut out the cleansing rays of the new day that danced on the horizon. After pulling off his coat and throwing it on the back of a chair, he fell onto the couch and picked up the open bottle. Another long drink almost emptied the container. He leaned back and once again closed his eyes. What he'd done this morning was unforgivable. What happened? Why had he had such a complete lapse in his control? He hadn't seen it coming. It had not been a conscious decision. It had somehow just happened.
Nat's delicate warmth had touched his hand, and the craving for more intimate contact took charge. He listened to her heartbeat, sensed her desire for him and wanted nothing more at that moment than to take her inside himself. Feel her softness against him. Taste and experience her life's essence as it bathed his mouth and spoke to his mind. He loved her, and the desire for the physical side of that love had reared its head and usurped his unsound control. How could he have let it happen? The physical side of love for a vampire meant certain death or eternal darkness for the mortal object of that love, and he would inflict neither on Natalie. But hadn't he come dangerously close?
Nick had gazed into Nat's lovely eyes and begun gently pulling her to him. Softly calling to her heart. Playing on her need. Pushing aside her better judgment. Even though she was a resister, the strong feelings they shared for one another made her very susceptible to his subtle persuasion, and he'd found himself using that persuasion to break through her common sense and poise. It was beyond wrong! Was he really that weak? So weak as to let his darkness threaten the one true light in his life? Had he slipped that far down the peak? Had the circumstances of the past year battered his resolve that badly?
Worse than anything, he had betrayed her trust in him in the most base way possible. The vampire had taken over and used his powers to achieve what he wanted with consideration for nothing else. It had used her faith in his control. It had manipulated her belief in his determination. She knew what he was and did not fear him. She accepted him, and, God help her, loved him. She believed that his desire for the goal kept her safe from the evil that lurked within him. She had faith that he despised his darkness so much that he would never let it touch her. That belief and faith had made her vulnerable to the malignancy that had once again started to slowly reassert its control, and it frightened him. His weakness disgusted him.
Knight felt a chill move down his body as he opened his eyes to stare unseeing into the dark fireplace. He'd stood in the morgue holding Nat's hand, one minute relishing the closeness, and the next feeling himself trying to mesmerize her. It was inconceivable. He loved her, yes. He wanted her, yes, but he would never sacrifice her life or mortality for that desire. Never. What the hell was the matter with him? He had to get his act together, get hold of himself. This was insane.
The steep slope on which he balanced himself was becoming slippery once more, and he felt his feet slide back another fraction. As he again recognized his faulty stasis, he vowed never to take Natalie with him.
Emptying the bottle in his hand, Nick returned it to the table and uncorked the second. The hunger had subsided only slightly and he took another long drink of the life sustaining blood. Nat would be arriving anytime and he had to get a grip on himself. After what had happened, he wondered at his apparent lack of wisdom in asking her to come to the loft. He had been trying so hard to regain some normalcy and hide his shame and guilt over what had transpired moments before that he'd impulsively let the question fly. He did want her to see the flute, but he could have picked a better time and place to show it to her. He took another drink and felt the hunger subside a little more. With the blood in his system and the shock and fear the earlier incident had instilled in him, he was fairly certain Nat's visit would go smoothly, but he would be very careful.
Nat. What have I done?
Nick got up from the couch and started to pace around the room as the need to escape suddenly moved over him, the desire to retreat fiercely gripping his mind. He wanted to withdraw. To run away. To find refuge from the shame and guilt. To retreat to a place where he could lose himself and forget. Forget the struggle, the weakness and the self-loathing, if only for a short while.
The vampire walked back to the coffee table and finished off the second bottle. The hunger was easing; at least that was something. He looked at the bottle in his hand and then at the one sitting on the table. Natalie knew he had been drinking more blood, but having two empty bottles sitting out when she arrived was still not a good idea. He carried them into the kitchen.
The blood had helped calm his hunger, but had done little to ease the need for escape. If anything, the twinge of guilt he felt every time he drank the nourishing substance had increased his longing for relief. As he lifted the bottles to put them in the garbage can, he admitted to himself that it wasn't really a place he longed for, but a person. A companion. He needed to be with someone who completely understood what he was experiencing. Someone he could talk openly with and not fear seeing the disappointment and disgust he would see on Natalie's face. One of his own kind. A friend. A wife. A lover. Janette.
"Janette." The name left his lips as her beautiful face entered his mind's eye. In the same instance, one of the bottles slipped from his grasp and shattered on the kitchen floor. "Damn." The irritated exclamation was no more than a whisper as he put the remaining bottle in the waste bin and retrieved a broom.
Nick stared down at the broken glass on the floor as the feelings he had experienced when LaCroix told him Janette was no longer in Toronto came flooding back. She had left him again, and this time he had gotten no good-bye and no explanation. His master had told him that it was her time to leave, and maybe it was true, but it was a hollow, sanitized excuse and did nothing to ease his pain. He'd gone to Janette for companionship. He'd needed to talk to her. Tell her how he was feeling after his mortal friend's death. He'd needed her comfort. The guilt and hurt had closed in around him, and he'd needed an escape. Instead, Nick had been faced with the discovery that his closest friend throughout the centuries had also left him. The realization had almost been too much to bear. Janette's sudden departure had made him feel abandoned, alone and lost. He still found it hard to believe that she was gone, and he still asked himself why. He wasn't certain how long he would have to wait to hear the answer to that question, but he would, one day, hear it from Janette. She would tell him why.
Knight finished sweeping the glass onto the dustpan and tossed it in the trash. With the broom and pan back in their place, he glanced at his watch. He decided he'd better make sure the flute was where he remembered packing it away, and climbed the stairs to his bedroom where he pulled a small crate from the closet. Kneeling in front of the plain wooden box, he raised the lid to reveal the small treasures he kept tucked away. Most of the articles were treasures only in the personal sense. Several old letters, a few sketches and a photograph or two. He knew the flute was somewhere in amongst the collection. Probably on the bottom.
He pushed aside an envelope, and his search for the instrument was interrupted when he caught sight of an old picture of Janette. It had been a long time since he'd looked in the chest, and he didn't remember the picture right away. He picked it up to examine it more closely. Running a gentle finger down a faded, crinkled cheek, the moment in time came surging back. He recollected the cool, spring evening 75 years ago in Paris when she had insisted they stop at the small riverside booth so she could have it taken. She was so lovely. A smile touched his mouth as he remembered the joy of that moment. For a while, they had been happy.
The smile faded as quickly as it had appeared, as the memory made him realize just how much he missed her. She was his friend and he loved her, but their closeness went even further. She had brought a stability to his shaky existence, the strength of which he was only now beginning to comprehend. She provided a comfort and release that he had found himself longing for several times over the past year.
'I like it when you need me.' He recalled her words as they stood by the waterfront. He could still feel her touch and the weight of her head as it rested on his shoulder. She had forgiven him his selfishness and offered her support and compassion with a complete understanding of his need. She hadn't judged him. She had wanted nothing more than to soothe his anguish. The close call in the morgue earlier that morning flashed in his mind, and the desire to retreat rushed back to the fore. He needed her now.
The photograph slipped from Nick's fingers and fell back into the box. With that need came the guilt. Janette was part of an existence he was trying to leave behind, and it was impossible to separate the two. His love and need for her helped keep him tied to the world of darkness. Even though she was gone from him now, he knew they would someday meet again. Did he want to cut himself off completely? Could he? The questions, and the doubt they revealed, weighed heavily on his heart.
And what about Nat? His uneasiness increased as he speculated on how she felt about his feelings. She knew what kind of relationship he shared with Janette, and the knowledge was a source of pain for her.
Nat, I've never wanted to hurt you.
He lowered his eyes back to the picture in the box. She knew about the relationship, but she didn't completely understand the complexity of the connection. How could she? She wasn't a vampire. She wouldn't want to hear that Janette's presence had gone a long way toward shoring up his control, especially where his mortal love was concerned. It was hard to admit even to himself, but he could not deny the truth. The release Janette had provided gave him the strength to resist the temptations of his fictitious mortal existence. She had been a buffer. An ironic type of protection for Natalie, and a safety net for him. The net, however, was no longer here, and he had to adjust to its absence. He had grown to depend on it too much over the past several years, and now he would have to function without the support.
He ran a tired hand through his hair. Support or no, he could not endanger Nat again. What happened at the morgue this morning would not happen again, no matter what he had to do to prevent it. Natalie was everything bright and good about his search, and he would not soil her with his darkness. She was the goal. Just as Jacob and his family were the goal. They were what waited for him should he ever reach the end of his quest. He would not tarnish them with the evil that held him captive.
Nick closed his eyes. The end of his search. Would he ever reach the end? The end that he wanted? Nat's lovely, trusting face appeared before him. He longed for a mortal life with her. He'd dreamed about their children. Their son. But was it really possible? Again the doubts crowded his thoughts. Could he ever break free of the darkness that shrouded his soul and kept Natalie beyond his reach? No matter how much he fought it, he couldn't prevent the uncertainty from building.
Opening his eyes, he banished the nagging apprehension. Nick moved the picture and several other objects aside as he dug deeper in his effort to find the pipe. Just as his hand encountered the carved piece of wood, he heard the sound of an approaching heartbeat.
Nat.
She was in the elevator on her way up to the loft. Nick pulled the old instrument from its hiding place at the bottom of the box and pushed the closed case back into the closet. He straightened and took a deep breath. His heightened awareness gave him a guarded confidence in his control as he turned and headed downstairs to show Natalie the beautiful flute.
LaCroix took another sip from his glass. As he set his meal down on the end table, the satisfied smile moved back into place. Of late, his son's thoughts and feelings had been a source of delightful encouragement for him. The battle raged more fiercely than normal this morning, and the general reveled in the chaos as a flood of jumbled emotions washed over the connection between the two vampires. Confusion. Fear. Love. Doubt. Anger. Sorrow. Determination. Longing. And, of course, the ever present guilt. What had caused this particular elevation in the struggle, he was not sure, but he welcomed the incident, whatever it had been. It, along with the overall increase in Nicholas' inner conflict, gave LaCroix reason for a renewed hope that his son would finally see the futility of his search for mortality and come back into the fold. Nicholas had faced obstacles and temptations that steered him back toward the direction of his true nature, and the master vampire happily anticipated the ever-growing influence of the events. The restored civility he now shared with his child also gave him reason for optimism, but he did not allow that optimism to fog his reasoning. His protege was stubborn to the extreme, and the elder vampire knew that Nicholas would fight to the bitter end. Still, the heightened turbulence was a good sign. He felt his son's resolve slipping away ever so slowly. No more than a trickle really, but the loss was definitely palpable.
Closing his eyes, LaCroix pulled on the thread. Let it go, Nicholas. Stop this constant torture and release the guilt.
He only wanted what was best for his favorite creation, and relinquishing this silly quest, and the torment that went along with it, was most emphatically the best thing for Nicholas. Opening his eyes, Lucien retrieved his glass and drained the contents. He rose from his chair and moved toward the bedroom. He would rest this day with a sense of great anticipation.
End Chapter 4