"Forever Knight" season two characters beloved creations of James L. Parriott and Barney Cohen.
'The devil' is taken from the series "Brimstone", creation of Ethan Reiff & Cyrus Voris
Story idea copyright M.J.Hughes, 1999.
Lyrics by David Bowie, from 'Labyrinth'
With honey sticks and naked vampires to Amie for the French translations, and Sue for the beta read.
Set after "Killer Instinct" but referencing the episode "Near Death". I know ND is season three, but I needed it that way!
Note, I don't know if a precedence has already been set for exactly what happened to land Nick on Nat's table. I apologize if my explanation goes against anything that has been previously written and/or agreed upon.

-------

Ancient Embers by elfin

"How you turned my world you precious thing.
You starve and near exhaust me.
Everything I do I've done for you...."

"Bite!"

The command, spoken in velvet tones, caressed the ancient nerves already aflame with desire. LaCroix felt a razor sharp tip trace a line over his straining cock, threatening to pierce. His fingers gripped the deep white rug, trying to keep from reaching for his lover's head. The pale wrist being offered to him wasn't what he wanted, but it seemed all he was going to get.

"Bite!"

LaCroix roared in rage and need, grasping to the arm so forcefully that the bones snapped in his grip. He sank his fangs into the pale flesh, jerking as the stream of blood flowed over his tongue and down his throat.

At the moment of the bite, the other vampire slid the tip of that tantalising fang into the pulsing vein running the length of LaCroix's turgid penis. The ancient released his lover long enough to howl his pain and ecstasy, the spray of blood covering his face before that font of elixir called him back. Blood mixed with semen in the sucking mouth of the other, causing his own hard orgasm despite the lack of ministrations to his cock.

The peace of feeding was a stark contrast to the violence that had gone before. All around them furniture lay broken, china lay shattered. In amongst that chaos, a fragile accord had been found.

LaCroix retracted his fangs, gazing down at the wondrous sight of his child feeding at his genitals. "Nicholas." His son's head rose, and in a moment the vampire had crawled up the old body to rest at last in his father's arms.

Nick lay still, clasped to the man he had thought gone from him forever. He wound his arms around the pale neck, listening to the cold chest to hear the slow heartbeat of the vampire he had believed lost to him by his own hand.

Seeing him standing in the warehouse, hardly able to believe he was real, had brought back a flood of memories once buried. They had fought there, amongst the pottery. But it hadn't been a serious contest, each teasing the other rather than trying to inflict any lasting damage. Not like the fight a year ago. Not like the fight they had had an hour before in Nick's loft when he had returned home to find LaCroix waiting for him.

LaCroix had broken three of Nick's ribs with an iron lampstand. Nick had thrust a fire poker through his master's stomach. They had sliced through each other's flesh with various articles from Nick's antique collection until the blood scent had driven them to attack each other, fangs bared. They had crashed together into the fireplace, and LaCroix had wrapped his arms around his protégé to stop him falling as fangs pierced throats.

They had tasted one another and only truth could stand in the face of such intimacy. Nick's relief. LaCroix's overwhelming love.

The sex that had followed had been vicious. They had exorcised demons that had still remained even after the fighting. Now, there was just a peace between them. The calm in the eye of the storm.

Nick stirred, lifting his head slightly to look up at his sire. LaCroix's hand stroked over the blood-splattered ragout of blond. "Mon petit...."

"LaCroix." Nick settled back, just wanting to enjoy the strength and certainty of his father's body for a little longer. "Where have you been?"

"Paris, mostly. A good place to... heal." The elder felt his child stiffen slightly. His apology had been in his blood, in his sacrifice of his body - his ass and his mouth. He did not have to speak the words.

"I'm sorry."

LaCroix chortled, briefly squeezing his son tightly. "No, you're not, Nicholas. You might think you are, but you needed to do what you did."

"I... I missed you." Admitting it somehow made it real. So many times he had thought of his master, remembered things from the hundreds of years they'd spent together, even seen his ghost once standing on the mezzanine above the lounge.

LaCroix's voice was quiet when he answered. "Habit, Nicholas, nothing more. Eight hundred years is a long time to have someone with you and then suddenly gone." He swept his hand once again over his son's hair.

"Did it take you long... to recover?"

The ancient hesitated. "For a few days there was a hole in my chest large enough for me to put a hand through. It healed eventually. It always will for someone my age. Even you, Nicholas, would heal were the stake removed in time."

Nick looked around them. From their position on the rug before the fire, he could see the wall against which he had staked LaCroix. He had taken Elise's body from the loft, leaving his master's flaming corpse. When he had returned.... He had expected the loft to be ablaze. But the fire, and the ancient vampire had gone.

Some time passed before Nick murmured one word in his exhausted state. "Stay."

LaCroix shifted himself under his child's blanketing body. "I had no intention of leaving, Nicholas. But... maybe we could lie somewhere a little more comfortable?" He knew the question was mute before it was out. His son was asleep.

***

"I move the stars for no one.
You've run so long, you've run so far...."

Both vampires woke to an incessant banging on the elevator door. The sun had only just set beyond the strengthened blinds. Nick didn't need the added clue of the raised voice to tell him who his visitor was. But LaCroix looked at him with a look mixed of confusion and anger.

Nick smiled down at him. "It's just Schanke, my partner."

"Get rid of him." But Nick was already moving off his master's solid form.

"No. I'm going to get rid of you. I have to work. After the last few days, I owe him."

LaCroix snorted, but rousted himself enough to pull on the clothing that his child handed to him. "How do you intend to explain this?" he asked, indicating the bomb-site that was Nick's loft.

"I'll think of something." Nick glanced at LaCroix as the ancient looked around and up for an escape route. Just before the elder rose, heading for the skylight, Nick reached out and touched his arm. "Where will you go?"

LaCroix's smile, for once, was gentle. "To Janette's club."

"The Raven."

"Yes." He hesitated before returning the simple gesture of a touch. "I will see you later."

Nick nodded and watched his master go.

"Finally!" Schanke was inside the loft in a second. "I was starting...." he stopped in mid-sentence as he saw the mess. "Jeez, Nick.... What happened here? Are you okay?" He turned his full attention to his partner now, looking him up and down. Nick had donned his shirt and trousers, but he hadn't figured on the damage inflicted on his outfit during the fights and the blood still in his hair.

He tried to formulate some explanation, but he couldn't. He just looked at his friend with such an expression of peace that Schanke had almost touched him before coming back to himself. "Sorry... I...." He shook his head. "You just look so... different. You're sure you're okay?"

Nick nodded slightly, smiling shyly. "Can you give me a couple of minutes?"

"Yeah. Whatever." His gaze drifted around the lounge. Nick waited another moment before heading upstairs.

Schanke looked around him, bending to pick up a few of the unbroken objects lying at his feet. He moved further into the room, straightening things, trying to find the antiques that had survived. He asked himself if he would have been doing this had the lounge belonged to anyone else. What was it about Nick that made that, which should have been strange and bizarre, seem commonplace?

Amongst the wreckage, Schanke's fingers connected with something cold and metal. He grasped it, picking it up gently, pulling it out from under the shards of glass that lay over it. Turning it in his hand, Schanke saw the photograph held in the frame. The glass shattering had seared shallow cuts in the sepia, but it was still a beautiful picture.

It was an old photograph, with rich and deep colouring of the paper; a smooth, soft capturing of a moment a very long time ago. Had he asked, Nick would have told him that it was a photo of his grandfather and his great-grandfather. But somewhere within him, Schanke knew it would have been a lie. The picture was of Nick. And of his father. He just knew.

Nick reached around and took the photo from his partner's fingers. "My...." He saw the expression on Schanke's face and closed his mouth. "It's best that you don't ask too much, okay?"

Schanke nodded. But as he handed over the picture he brushed his fingers over his partner's hand. So cold. Always so cold. "I know I'm safe with you." Schanke spoke the words so quietly, even Nick was unsure that he heard them. But he nodded. "Okay."

***

They'd barely driven a hundred yards when the call came in. 81-kilo was summoned to the island ferry docks.

Nick knew what the victim was as soon as he climbed out of the car. He could smell the death that had occurred. But the sight, as he approached, upset him more than he had imagined it would. Schanke was already turning from the scene as Nat pulled up next to the Caddy. She caught up with them where they'd stopped, as close as they were going to get, they'd decided. Nat did not have that luxury. She stepped passed the two detectives and had to force herself to go closer.

A charred skeleton, dripped in the bloody remains of the flesh it once inhabited, lay spread-eagle on the wet ground. The bony fingers were clutched around a thick wooden stake that protruded from the chest cavity. At first glance, any onlooker would have said they had discovered a corpse long dead. But Nick knew from his senses that this was a vampire who had lost his eternal life only a half hour ago. They didn't need Nick's senses to tell them that. A watch - that had obviously been around the wrist - was now hanging from the elbow where it bent upwards to take the hand to the stake. The time on it read thirty three minutes earlier, and the date window showed today's date.

Schanke busied himself with the relatively pleasant task of interviewing the ferry worker who had discovered the 'body'. Nick was finding himself to be frighteningly out of control. Vampire struggled against the bounds that held it in check as he unnecessarily sucked in the foul air surrounding them. He knew the dangers here were real to his kind. To him.

"Nick?" He looked up, gold flecked eyes resting on Nat. "Nick!" He blinked several times, trying to leash his escaping control.

"I can feel it," he spoke roughly. "I can taste the blood. The whole area wreaks of his death."

"I thought vampires turned to ashes when they died." Her whisper was urgent.

"Only if they're exposed to the sun."

"So this is normal?" She pointed back to the body being carefully lifted into the body-bag.

"No. When a vampire is staked, the body remains in tact. We too have to bury or cremate our dead." There was pain in his voice, and that was confusing Nat.

"Nick, what's wrong?"

He shook his head, fighting to stay in control. But he was quickly losing that fight. He had to get away from the death that surrounded him here. "I have to go. Bring Schanke back to the precinct?" He was at his car before she could say another word.

With his hand on the car door, Nick looked up. Someone - something - had called to him; not in voice, but in mind. Fear and repulsion curled his vampire features, pulling his lips back over extended fangs as he growled a warning to the night sky. He cursed, then, what he had become; the expectations of those close by. He wanted to take flight, to hunt out that which threatened him. Or maybe to flee from it. He could do neither.

Instead he yanked the door open hard and dropped into the bucket seat. The engine fired up and he reversed, swinging the heavy car around to head into the city. ***

Several blocks away, in the back rooms of the Raven, LaCroix was finishing his meeting with the CERK radio controller. As he shook the strong hand of the mortal man, LaCroix heard the voice in his mind. He closed the office door, leaning back on the hard wood and snarling viciously into the air.

This was not new to him, yet it had been centuries since he had last heard it. A call... to someone. And yet he had felt it so strongly that he knew it had to have been to one of his children. It did not take long to discover the most likely candidate.

Not too far away, Nicholas was driving his vehicle like a maniac. The younger vampire was fighting his own nature as a point of necessity, and fearing for his son's safety, LaCroix left the club.

He hesitated in the air, following Nick's car high enough above it to avoid being spotted by anyone casually glancing upward. Their surprising reunion had shaken LaCroix more than he cared to admit and despite himself he found that he did not want to risk the stay of fighting.

He watched and waited.

Unaware of his sire's presence high above him, Nick swung the Caddy to the curb and stopped. He killed the engine and slumped against the steering wheel. The car's top was down, and the slight breeze toyed with his hair, seeming to whisper in his ears.

Pulling in deep breaths to relax his body was a mortal habit he had never lost. Even though the effect was merely placebo, he slowly regained control, succeeding in pushing back his vampire nature. He glanced into the rear view mirror. His eyes were still flecked with gold, but they were mostly his usual blue. His fangs had all but receded and the bloodlust had died down, making it possible to think.

The moment his mind settled, he felt LaCroix close by. A moment later, he looked up.

Spotted, the ancient vampire lowered himself gracefully into the passenger seat of the Caddy. He ensured his poise and expression were neutral, erring on the side of concern. Nick was glowering at him. "LaCroix, one night of emotional fucking does not entitle you to follow...."

LaCroix cut him off with a short wave of his hand. "I wasn't following you, Nicholas. I was merely concerned for your well-being. I can feel when you are in some way upset. Remember?"

Nick nodded sharply. He reigned in his anger, knowing that it was born more of habit than any real fury toward his master tonight. "Sorry."

"Would you care to tell me what has upset you?"

Nick hesitated. He didn't want LaCroix involved with his mortal incarnation. Not this time. Yet he could still hear the echoes of the call to him. Only LaCroix had ever been able to communicate with him in that way. Having another speak into his mind was disturbing.

"I heard... a voice. But not with my ears."

LaCroix made sure that none of his sudden fears showed in his features. "You sensed it, as you can sense me."

"As I can sense you when we are at our closest, when we are strongly bound by blood."

Nick watched his father closely, feeling a subtle concern emanating from him. LaCroix's expression was blank, and Nick knew he was searching for the one who had spoken to him. For a while they sat quietly, until LaCroix blinked once and pinned him with a determined stare. "If you come across this creature, you must not go near him, do you understand? He is very dangerous to us."

Nick nodded, thinking that maybe he understood. "There was a body, by the ferry station. It's more of a skeleton, actually. With a stake lodged into the chest cavity."

"A skeleton? Or the melted remains of a vampire only recently murdered? Recently burned?" Nick did not have to answer. "Please be careful, mon fils, your mortal friends will not be able to stop this one. Only we can do that."

***

LaCroix knew Nicholas would be furious if he found out. And he knew there was a very great chance of him finding out. But he went anyway.

The ancient vampire stood by himself in the morgue. The lights were still on, indicating that someone was around somewhere. He hoped against hope that it wasn't the coroner who had been assisting Nicholas in his eternal quest.

For a moment he wondered if their current accord would stand in the way of Nicholas' search for mortality. He somehow doubted it, as much as that hurt.

Shaking off the despair he always felt when he thought of his son's ongoing betrayal, LaCroix looked around him, searching for the remains he knew they would have brought here. There was one gurney in the corner of the room. LaCroix stepped up to it and rested long fingers lightly on the edge of the body bag that had been wheeled in.

And he remembered.

** flashback - Toronto 1989 **

Nicholas did not even realize his master was there. That knowledge at once angered and amused LaCroix. The robbery had begun with two rough-looking kids entering a general store. The ancient's son had been close by when the screams of the people inside the store had alerted the neighbourhood.

LaCroix perched on the low roof of a shop opposite the scene. From there he had a good view of the kids inside, and of his wayward son, who was furtively looking through the window behind where the would-be thieves were standing. He thought briefly about distracting Nicholas, but decided that it would be more fun to wait. His child had come to the city only weeks before, running once again from a rumour that LaCroix might be in town.

The rumour had been true, and LaCroix had followed him here. But he wasn't sure whether or not to make his presence known. A century spent chasing his favourite around the globe had left him in desperate need of a break from the war and he was considering leaving this city, letting Nicholas settle for a while before uprooting him.

So LaCroix simply watched as the blond vampire stepped boldly into the store and confronted the two kids. Only one had, as yet, produced a weapon. A sawn-off shot-gun was pointed in Nick's direction as he moved into the shop. Even from this distance, LaCroix could clearly hear the velvet voice telling the teenagers to drop the weapon and to leave.

The kid with the gun did as he was told, unable to resist the words of the stranger speaking to him. Next to him, his friend watched in confusion, but he too exited the building when Nick told them again to leave.

LaCroix sighed dramatically, standing when he believed the excitement to be over. He glanced back down at the entrance to the store and watched Nicholas walk out. Two steps onto the pavement, one of the kids shouted something that LaCroix missed, and threw a narrow cylinder in Nicholas' direction.

Nick caught it.

LaCroix screamed - for Nicholas and for himself - as the bomb exploded in Nick's hands.

The explosion blew in the windows of the store and rocked the cars parked at the curb. LaCroix crouched on the rooftop, his head in his hands, trying to stop the echoes of his son's agony from streaming through his own nervous system. The street filled a moment later with sirens and lights, ambulances and police cars.

The initial explosion over, some brave soul had thrown a long coat over Nicholas' flaming body. When the paramedics had lifted it, what was left underneath barely resembled anything human or vampire. LaCroix could do nothing but watch as his son's healing body was removed from the scene and taken to the morgue. It was a long time before he could move from the roof.

** end flashback **

The events of the previous night went far in banishing the terrible memories he had of the past few years. If he was careful, if he did not push Nicholas too far too fast, he knew he could get his son back. He had to.

Bringing his attention back to his task, he unzipped the body bag that lay on the gurney. The stench of rotting flesh filled the room, stinging even the ancient senses. The majority of the stake had been removed and sent to forensics for finger printing. LaCroix knew that even though they would find some, they would not be able to match them with any found on their computer databases.

The rib cage was visible though the reddish sheen of fluids that remained on the skeletal frame. The white of the skull was clear, the eyeballs having sunken in to rest against the brain. It struck LaCroix that the victim had been naked. Except for his watch. It seemed that it had been left on his wrist. That surprised the ancient. The body had been burnt. Yet the brain remained. And the watch remained. Almost as if this were some devilish practical joke. He closed the zip and turned from the body.

At the same time, Nat pushed open the door and stepped inside. She almost dropped the mug of coffee she was holding. "Who are you? How did you...?" She stared at him as he came closer, knowing somehow that he was another vampire.

Hands clasped in front of him, LaCroix tried to smile in her presence. "Doctor Lambert, I believe."

Nat took a step back, ready to do anything that would get her out of the way of this one. "Who are you? What do you want?"

"I have what I want. My name is Lucien LaCroix."

Her eyes widened, and LaCroix was pleased. She recognized his name. Nicholas had been inclined to tell his mortal friend about him then. He wondered just how much she knew. "LaCroix." She parroted his name. "Nick's...."

"Father. Master. Servant. Choose whichever one you feel you can deal with best."

"Oh my...." Nat knew she shouldn't be staring, but something within her was making it impossible for her not to. Nick had spoken of LaCroix, of course. On some days he was the root of all evil, on others he was simply an overzealous parent. It depended on Nick's mood and the circumstances at the time. But she had imagined... a big man. Physically overpowering.

He was physically overwhelming, but not as she had imagined he would be. His presence was powerful. His eyes were the most brilliant blue, an icy reflection of Nick's. He stood before her, a tall, slim man in a long dark coat, dark trousers and a black shirt. His pale face and stark red lips were what her eyes were drawn to. What they were staring at now. He glanced down - a gesture she would have taken in any other man to signal shyness - with LaCroix it simply looked omnipotent. When his eyes locked with hers and he smiled, she felt her heart rate increase.

"As I said, Doctor, I have what I came for. I shall leave you."

Nat tried to stammer out a question, but she only got so far as "Does Nick...." when he nodded.

"Oh, yes. Nicholas knows that I have returned. I would say that he was... very pleased to see me." He tilted his head gently. "Goodnight, Doctor."

Nat stared at where LaCroix had stood. She could feel herself blushing at her own unintentional reaction to the man. Vampire. Master vampire. Nick's master. She remembered Nick telling her about his being brought across. At the time, his use of the word 'sensual' to describe the experience seemed odd to her with her mental image of the vampire whose wrist Nick had attacked that night so very long ago.

Now though... now it made sense. Now she knew why and how it had been sensual. And to think of Nick drinking blood from that man, sharing his life for so many years, Nat found herself more jealous of LaCroix than she had been of anyone else. Ever.

Yet her treacherous mind refused to let go of the image she had of Nick latched to that pale flesh, with those piercing blue eyes watching his every move, and those stunning red lips moving over his smooth, exposed neck....

***

"Your eyes can be so cruel.
Just as I can be so cruel."

Having picked up a bottle of Janette's private stock, from his very surprised and very pleased sister, Nick finally felt ready to return to work. He called in to be told that Schanke was at the morgue still with Nat, presumably waiting for him. In fact, by the time Nick got there, Schanke had left for burgers and shakes.

Nick strolled into the morgue and glanced around. "Nat?" He leaned on the desk, smiling, watching her as she stopped day-dreaming and seemed to notice him for the first time.

"Nick! Where did you go?" She wanted to tell him about LaCroix's visit, but something was stopping her. A little green-eyed monster was sitting unseen on her shoulder.

"I had to get something to eat." He caught her frown but didn't try to apologize or explain. "Any luck with the... body?"

She looked passed him at the gurney still standing in the corner where the porters had left it. "I... I haven't had a chance to start yet."

Nick's eyebrows lowered. "Nat, are okay? You seem... distant."

She nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine."

The door slammed open and Schanke burst in on them, burger in one hand, fries and two balanced shakes in the other. He handed the fries to Nat, along with one of the shakes. "Sorry it took so long. Traffic's terrible tonight." He dropped her car keys back onto her desk. "Thanks, Nat. I could have died of starvation waiting for this guy." He jerked his thumb at Nick, but his accusation didn't hold the sting it usually did. And his expression was still one of worry.

"Sorry, Schanke." Nick smiled one of his winning 'please forgive me' smiles and Nat was astonished when Schanke seemed to go for it.

"S'okay, Partner, I'm getting used to it." He polished off his burger and put down his shake. "Give me two minutes and then you can drive me to work. Finally." He turned and disappeared out of the doors.

"Nick?" He perched himself on the edge of the desk, all ears. She swallowed once. "LaCroix was here."

His smile vanished, and she watched as his eyes darkened. But whether it was anger, or something more complex, she wasn't sure. His tone didn't betray it either. "He spoke to you?"

"He introduced himself. When I asked what he wanted, he told me that he had what he wanted. Then he left." She seemed to want to say more, but instead she picked at the fries.

"Nat?"

Unexpectedly, she pushed her chair back and looked at him in frustration. "I gotta tell you, Nick, he's not what I expected."

Nick smiled a frown. "What did you expect?"

"Not him." She waited a beat. "You said you'd killed him. A year ago. In your loft."

He looked away, and then up, in that way he had that always made her think she didn't really know him at all. Not really. How could you know someone who has 800 years of experience? Unless you were there with him throughout history.... "I thought I'd killed him," Nick admitted. "I was... glad that I hadn't."

He looked straight at her then, and his eyes were back to their usual blue. So gentle in comparison to the other's....

Once again Schanke broke the conversation, and the tension. "Come on, Partner. The world awaits."

Nick threw one more odd look in Nat's direction before they left. He was angry with LaCroix for going there tonight. He just wasn't sure why.

***

The Raven was busy tonight. Janette saw him winding his way through the crowd, her eyebrows rising. "Twice in one night, Nichola?"

Nick leaned on the bar. "Same again."

Janette poured. "Is everything all right, amant?"

He nodded, sipping the drink this time. "Is LaCroix here?"

"Oui, Nichola.... What happened last night?" Nick avoided her eyes. "I felt certain... vibrations in our link. Before he disappeared, there was only terrible anger between you both. Last night..." she leaned loser to him, her lips next to his ear, "last night was like the old days."

Nick turned his head slightly and touched his lips to her mouth. "Is he here?"

"Don't you know?"

Nick pulled back slightly. He closed his eyes, searching for his father. As he found him close by, he felt his sister's lips touch his eyes, first left then right. Nick met her mouth in a long kiss before picking up his glass and moving away toward the back rooms.

Out of the club beat, LaCroix's soft violin playing was clear in Nick's senses. The piece was one that Nick could remember from very long ago. Was there ever a time when music had not filled their homes?

Nick pushed open a door ajar at the end of the corridor. LaCroix finished his playing and turned, schooling his expression carefully. He knew that his son knew about his little visit tonight.

"Nicholas." Nick smiled, closing the door behind him and sipping his drink. LaCroix immediately picked up on the scent of the blood. Human. He said nothing, but placed the instrument and bow carefully onto the table. "I know why you're here."

Nick nodded. "Good."

LaCroix took a couple of steps closer. "I wanted to see the body."

"And did you?"

"Yes, mon fils." LaCroix did not like his son's tone, but he had to allow Nicholas to lead this conversation. Payback would be collected later.

Nick stepped up to his sire, still sipping his drink. "What did you say to Nat?"

LaCroix's eyebrows raised, more with feigned innocence than any surprise. "I simply introduced myself to her."

"I see. As what?"

"As your father, Nicholas."

"And that's all?"

LaCroix reached across the short gap between them and stroked his child's shoulder. "Believe me, my child, I would not risk what we have found for such... simplistic pleasures."

Nick almost shrugged off the touch, yet he held himself in check. Both had to give so much if this accord between them was to stand any chance of lasting. LaCroix sounded sincere, and Nick knew he believed him. He waited a beat before stepping away, breaking the contact. "I have to return to work."

He did not look back as he reached for the doorknob, but LaCroix stopped him. "I do hope that after one night of... emotional fucking, you are going to give us a chance to talk."

Nick nodded, and after a moment he cast a glance over his shoulder. "Will you be here?"

"Janette has kindly allowed me to take rooms here."

"I'll come back before sunrise, we can spend the day together."

LaCroix nodded his acceptance and allowed his son to leave.

***

Schanke watched his partner across their desks. He had the end of his pen between his teeth and seemed to be gnawing at it gently as he stared off into the room with unfocused eyes. "Nick." That unfathomable blue gaze turned on Schanke, questioning. "You'll get ink poisoning if you bite through that."

Nick pulled the pen from his mouth and dropped it to the desk, playing with it now in his fingers. "Any word from Nat on cause of death?"

"Nope. But I think we can rule out suicide."

Nick smiled. Cop jokes were what kept mortal officers sane. He had found the same stress relieving habit in all the most difficult professions. He wondered if there were any for immortals.

Nick's eyes once again clouded over. Schanke had often wondered where his partner went when he zoned out like this. On this occasion it was best he didn't know.

** flashback - 1228 **

Nicholas released the girl, letting her fall back to the stone slabs beneath him. As he blinked away the red behind eyes, he became acutely aware of his master's presence nearby.

LaCroix knelt beside his week-old son. "Nichola?"

"Pere...." Nicholas turned into his father's shoulder, looking up. The ancient was again taken aback by the effect of those sapphire eyes on his iron control.

"Mon petit.... Je suis ravi de toi."

"Maitre." LaCroix felt it again, as he had on so many occasions over the last week. His son was emanating waves of confusing emotion; fear, uncertainty, disgust, repulsion, excitement, and a deep passion that LaCroix knew Janette was working to release.

Nicholas was burrowing closer, his face lifted to gaze at the patrician features that regarded him. Experimentally, LaCroix put his arm around his son's shoulders, stroking lightly. "If you have something to say to me, it's all right, just say it."

"I... I'm feeling... odd."

"The hunger?"

Nicholas shook his head. "No. I have almost mastered that." He smiled shyly. "You taught me well."

LaCroix felt a little more of his heart start to belong to this beautiful, fallen crusader. "Then what is it, mon fils?"

Nicholas opened his mouth, but he was unsure of what to say, whether he should broach the subject. In his past life his frightening desires had had to be buried, denied. They were sick and depraved; he had thought himself to be in the wrong. But the night LaCroix had brought him across, he had felt so drawn to the tall figure standing in the room with his Janette. He knew his reaction to LaCroix's presence had been wanton, lying back, almost inviting the stranger. He remembered, with absolute clarity, those cold hands brushing his neck, pushing his head to the side and the cool lips kissing his throat with reverence before the white hot pain had soared through him.

Sitting so close to Nicholas, LaCroix reached up to touch the other's chemise. "Mon frere, dis-moi."

"Je ne peux pas."

Gently, LaCroix probed the fragile new bond that linked him to his child. Not even aware of the mental link between them, Nicholas fought everything he had been taught to try to find the words within him.

A moment later, LaCroix knew. His ancient soul flooded with warmth. "Nichola... mon coeur." He drew his child closer, stroking his cold hand over the soft hair and smooth face. "There is nothing wrong with what you desire. For us, for two vampires to join together is the most intimate of acts. We have no sense of sexual morals, Nicholas. Any who consent are free to do as they please without persecution. Why should it matter?"

"I can... love you?"

"As fiercely as you wish."

LaCroix's smile mirrored Nicholas' own delight as the young vampire nervously reached up to touch the pale throat he had fed from often in the few days gone. LaCroix let his child lead this encounter. He was stunned that Nicholas felt this for him, enthralled by his new son, and exquisitely excited by the prospect of having the blond knight in his bed.

Hesitantly, Nicholas offered his mouth to his sire, and was relieved beyond words when LaCroix's lips lowered to touch his own. A moment later, the tentative movements were gone and Nicholas moved up to his knees, leaning in to his master's kiss, opening his mouth willingly under the gentle attack.

His son's enthusiasm was infectious. LaCroix wrapped his arms tight around the gorgeous body, hugging his child to him, pressing them both together before gathering him up in his arms and standing, heading for his bedroom without interrupting the deep kiss.

** end flashback **

The phone's incessant bleeping pulled Nick from his memories. He shifted uncomfortably in his jeans, reaching for the handset. "Yeah, Knight."

"Nick? You okay? You sound... flustered."

"I'm fine, Nat." He tried to take the rough edge from his voice. "Do you have the results?"

"I have some results if you want to come over."

Nick looked around for Schanke, finding him at the coffee machine. "I'll grab Schank and we'll be right over."

***

"I do believe in you,

Yes, I do."

LaCroix sat gracefully on the white leather sofa and placed his refilled glass on the low coffee table before him, picking up his book once more. The table and couch were close to the left wall of the room. Flames leapt in the grate. A large, thick rug in front of the fire was the only carpeting on the light wood floor. The fire, and the multitude of candles burning in the corners of the room were the only lighting.

LaCroix was already looking for a townhouse for himself, but for now he was happy to live in the furthest rooms back from the main club. The music was barely a background hum, and the small Denon stereo system playing quiet, soft classics could easily drown it out.

For the third time that night, Nick stepped into the Raven. Janette smiled at him, expecting him to come and lean close to her as he had on the last two occasions. But this time he merely waved at her as he headed for the back of the club, and the heavy door that led through to the rooms beyond. To LaCroix. She surprised herself with her jealousy.

Nicholas and LaCroix had been intimate since the beginning, when her lover had turned to her master after a week of longing for him. The intensity of his desire for LaCroix had been clear in his blood almost from the start. It had not surprised her. LaCroix had been the one to insist on bringing Nicholas across. He had wanted Nicholas to be his child of blood. And despite all their fighting and bitter feuding, they were still father and son.

Nick closed the door, looking around. LaCroix smiled up at him, indicating the bottle on the table and the spare glass. Nick kicked off his shoes and dropped his coat over a chair against the opposite wall. He sat himself down on the floor, his back against the centre cushion of the sofa, next to his father's crossed legs. He poured himself a drink and leaned back, closing his eyes.

"Difficult night, mon frere?"

Nick noticed the endearment with slight surprise, but did not react. Instead, he simply nodded. "Nat finished her examination of the remains you saw." He could feel LaCroix's discrete yet intense interest. "She doesn't believe the stake was the cause of death."

He was stopped by LaCroix's touch on his shoulder. "He was burned first. And then the watch was replaced, and the stake thrust into him."

Nick turned to face his father. "You do know who's doing this."

LaCroix hesitated. "Yes." The ancient reached out to stroke the backs of his fingers softly over his son's hair. "You know that I won't allow anyone to hurt you, don't you? If I've failed in the past, I give you my word now."

"You think whoever did this is a danger to me?"

"To us. To our kind." LaCroix leaned back again, removing his hand from his son's shoulder. "He will be dealt with."

"And meanwhile I'm left clearing up gruesome bodies."

"I apologize, mon fils, for any inconvenience." There was only a touch of sarcasm and it made Nick smile.

"I'm sorry about earlier. To have you around and not to be fighting with you takes a little getting used to."

"I have to say, I prefer it this way. As I'm sure you do."

Quietly contented, Nicholas shifted slightly to lean against his father's legs. LaCroix was pleased by the gesture of affection, and rested his hand once more on his son's shoulder. "When do you resume your broadcasts?"

"Tomorrow night." LaCroix tightened his hand slightly. "Will you listen?"

"Will I be able to resist?"

The ancient smiled sincerely. "My will may be strong, Nicholas, but I doubt even I could coerce you in to tuning to a particular radio station."

Nick laughed. "I'll listen."

They sat for a while in a companionable silence. The quiet music was soothing, his sire's presence comforting. LaCroix finished his drink and picked up the bottle. "I shall find another, Nicholas."

Nick nodded, smiling up as LaCroix rose and headed out for the cellars. Stretching his legs, Nick put one hand up onto the sofa behind him and sat up on the warm leather. When LaCroix returned, he poured them both a glass of the bloodwine and settled back into his seat. Nick dropped his head to the couch and turned to face LaCroix. The message in his eyes was clear, and the ancient vampire did not need any other invitation. Leaning forward, LaCroix met Nick's open mouth in a deep kiss.

When both pulled back, LaCroix took his son's glass and placed it, and his own, on the table in front of them. That done, he dropped a hand to Nick's leg, smiling as his child leaned over him to kiss him once again. Nick's tongue swept slowly over his master's cool lips, parting them easily to slip inside the warmth of his mouth. He'd always thought LaCroix's taste to be bittersweet - like cinnamon and ginger. Janette had never agreed, even when they had tasted him together.

LaCroix picked up on the stray thought, and when they separated again, he murmured, "Would you like me to call her?"

Nick shook his head. "No. I want you to myself." He turned on the sofa, reaching his hand over LaCroix's lap to balance himself, his other arm wrapping around his master's neck. LaCroix teased the willing mouth with his tongue, holding back his true nature so that he may enjoy for now the simple pressure of his child's lips locked over his own.

Arousal drew Nick's own change out, and he broke from the kiss, dropping his mouth to LaCroix's neck. His fingers made light work of the shirt fastenings as he nipped and kissed a path over the cool jaw, throat, and collar bone. LaCroix let his head fall against the back of the sofa, peering down to watch his son pushing his shirt open to lick over his right nipple.

Realizing what his child was doing, LaCroix allowed the change to take him, then wrapped his arm around the boy's torso to support him. He brushed his other hand over Nicholas' hair, his cheek, to his chin. Gently, he moved the blond head until the lips were over the moist nipple.

Nick attacked at once, slicing the delicate bud with the razor sharp point of one fang. With a second, quick motion, he dug his long teeth into the puckered skin around the nipple and started to drink. LaCroix groaned softly, his fingers clutching in the soft blond hair. Nick shifted slightly, tearing the flesh to get a better feeding bite.

LaCroix could feel his erection trapped in his trousers, crushed between their bodies. It was a minor sensation compared to the gushing of his blood into his child's eager mouth. He worked Nicholas' shirt open, tearing the material in order to expose his throat and thus his jugular. Lowering his head, LaCroix licked the pale neck before slicing in with his fangs.

Nicholas' ambrosial blood splashed against the back of his throat, burning a trail of desire down into his belly.

This symbolic act was one they had not shared in the longest time. It was a feeding position LaCroix had used in the first days of Nicholas' new life, to comfort his son when he awoke from the nightmares that haunted him. That Nick had instigated this stunned LaCroix. This was more than a typical, temporary reconciliation. Now, the ancient was not sure what this was. Nicholas was contentedly lying in his protective, possessive embrace, accepting him.

The blood circled between them; father to son, slave to master, brother to brother, lover to lover. No label could clearly define them. As the cycle continued, they slowly became each other. Hopes and thoughts passed from one to the other, telling hidden secrets and unspoken desires.

Yet despite his deep feeding, and all he read in his father's blood, Nick could feel something just beyond his reach, a truth LaCroix was deliberately holding back from him. He tried to go toward it, but LaCroix blocked him, not viciously as he could have done, but gently, guiding him away.

LaCroix pulled his teeth from his son's throat after an indeterminate time. He licked the wound clean as it rapidly healed, and lifted his head. Combing his finger's into Nicholas' hair, he pulled the vampire's mouth gently from his nipple, watching as Nick bathed it with his tongue.

The ancient turned them both so that his child could stretch out next to him on the couch, Nick's back to LaCroix's front. His son clasped his hand when he wrapped his arm over him, kissing the fingers reverently.

"What are you keeping from me?"

After the intimacy of the intense feeding, it was difficult for the old vampire not to be honest with Nicholas. "It's nothing you need know about, mon petit."

Not wanting to start an argument, Nick accepted that for now. He had read fierce protection in his father's blood; if anything were a real threat to them, LaCroix would mention it in his own way.

In an attempt to get himself comfortable, Nick wriggled slightly. The movement inadvertently brought his ass into contact with LaCroix's groin. His erection was still prominent, demanding some attention from either one of them. LaCroix gasped as Nicholas deliberately arched back against him; Nick just smiled. "I'd forgotten how much it takes to satisfy you," he quipped softly.

"You seemed to remember quiet well last night."

"Last night I was acting on instinct."

LaCroix turned Nick over onto his back, cradling his head on his arm. "Then why not do so again?"

The ancient pressed one leg between Nick's as he bent to kiss his son. Nick turned further, pressing himself against the firm body holding him. In the sexual frenzy of the previous night, they had spent hours fucking one another, causing orgasm after orgasm, each erupting in the mouth and ass of the other. Tonight, LaCroix suspected that Nicholas needed something more gentle.

He wasn't expecting his son to suddenly shift his weight to bring himself over his father. LaCroix found himself lying on his back, his child straddling him, still locked in the deep kiss he had initiated.

Nick pulled back, eyes dancing with ochre flecks, teeth once more extended. LaCroix could feel the mirror of his own desires pressing against his stomach. He growled, tearing Nick's shirt open all the way, running his hands avidly over the pale, cool skin. "Mon d'or ange."

Nick captured his hand and held them. "I once called myself your slave. I was wrong. It is you who are my slave."

LaCroix's icy heart filled with a heated desire and a cold dread. "There is nothing more that you can use against me."

Touched, Nicholas slid down his father's legs and lowered his head to place a lingering kiss to his crotch. "There's is no need to be frightened anymore."

LaCroix did not have time to think about his son's words. In a moment, Nicholas had his trousers and briefs torn from his ass and had engulfed his phallus with a skilled mouth and tight throat. What did frighten the ancient was his child's unequalled skill of bringing him quickly to such a high precipice. Nick released him, leaving him on the brink as the experienced vampire disposed of the rest of his master's clothes and his own.

Last night, blood had been their lubricant. Tonight, Nick used the same, changing only the technique in drawing it. He straddled his father again, biting his own fingers and reaching back to coat his own sphincter. LaCroix's hand captured his wrist as he did it, and slowly he forced three of Nick's fingers up inside himself. Nick bit down savagely on his lip as his muscles instantly tried to reject his invading digits. But Nicholas' thick cock was clashing with LaCroix's, and the ancient was no longer in the mood to be patient tonight.

His hand released, Nick took a firm grip on his master's shaft, and positioned it, lowering himself slowly onto that glorious impalement. He stilled once LaCroix was all the way in. His ass was flush with his master's firm thighs. Spikes of pain shot through him, accentuated by LaCroix's cock jerking within him.

LaCroix's hand grasped Nicholas' phallus, his eyes locking with his son's as he started to massage Nick to orgasm. Nick did not move. But he gripped, as tightly as he could, his rectal muscles around the invading penis within him. LaCroix groaned, his eyes closing as the sensual massage began. The ancient slowed his masturbation of his son to a maddening pace, one that mirrored his own approach to release.

They rode the crests of one another's arousal, their minds linking easily after the long feeding. Nicholas knew he couldn't last much longer. Last night had been the first time in a very long time, and his control was not as it could be. He growled ferally at LaCroix, and when the pace did not increase, he started to lift himself off his master's cock. Just before it left his body, he dropped onto it again violently.

LaCroix screamed, grasping his son's wrist and biting into it before Nicholas could stop him. The bite sent Nick reeling over the edge, his orgasm crashing down upon him as his collapsed onto his master's body, his teeth blindly finding LaCroix's throat and sinking into the yielding flesh.

Time passed unnoticed as the vampires fed. This less intense exchange was lazy, each drinking slowly from the source of their eternal life. LaCroix could only pour into his blood his need for his son, his love, and his pain whenever Nicholas left his side. //you are my eternity, Nicholas//

Not quiet ready to cope with the deep emotions, Nick let his blood comfort his father. Only like this could he ever see LaCroix's bared heart. When the circle was broken, the real world would encroach on the truth once again, and it would be contorted, reshaped into something they could both live with.

The sofa had not been big enough or comfortable enough for both of them. They lay together on the large, thick rug in front of the fire, LaCroix on his back, Nicholas draped over him, their legs entwined. They had adopted this position after the first time they'd made love and easily slipped into it now.

** flashback - 1228 **

LaCroix dumped Nicholas unceremoniously onto the large bed. His young protege smiled up at him with such a deep love and need in his eyes, it almost broke the ancient's heart to see it.

"Mon petit, comme tu est beau. J'ai choisi avec sagesse."

"Oui, mon pere. Je serai toujours avec vous."

LaCroix slowly removed his clothes, Nicholas' intense gaze burning him. "Nichola...." Finally, the master lay down on the bed next to his precious child. Strong arms reached for him, touched him, fascinated fingers ran over his body. LaCroix entangled his fingers in his son's hair, pulling his head back gently to plunder the open, willing mouth with his tongue.

Nicholas pressed himself close to his father, wanting to touch every inch of his body to the cool form of the one that had given him this eternal gift.

"None have ever had such desire, Nicholas."

Holding his son close, their limbs twisted together, LaCroix stroked his thumb over the blond temple. The overwhelming need was clear in his face, but the ancient held him back for a short time, just wanting to look at him. "You will always be my protégé, Nicholas, my only son. Never doubt my love for you, even when you believe I do not care for you. I am yours for eternity."

Nicholas' emotion shone bright in his eyes. "Mon maitre...." His lips parted for his father, and LaCroix could no longer resist the temptation of his golden child.

** end flashback **

"Did I make a mistake, mon fils? Taking you so early on?"

Nick snuggled closer, turning his face to kiss LaCroix's chest. "No. I was practically begging for you that first night. I have no illusions about what started us on this path."

"Then what happened? Where did I go wrong? We were so close."

Nick leaned up on his elbow so that he could meet his sire's gaze. "We've always been close, that's never changed. That's why we fight so viciously, why we're always so brutal with one another. If our... feelings didn't run so deep, neither of us would care so much."

LaCroix stared, stunned, at his child. "That's very... perceptive, Nicholas."

Nick smiled. "What brought that on, anyway?"

"I like talking to you during peacetime. These conversations make it easier to cope when we're not speaking."

They fell quiet again, Nick resting back on LaCroix's body. "Je t'aime, Lucien."

The ancient tightened his arms around his son. "Je t'aime ausi, Nichola."

***

He stood in silence on the pavement outside the club. The smile that usually creased his features was gone. The young vampire was with his sire. That would make his task more difficult, if not impossible. He had been led to believe that the two were at war.

Turning from the entrance, he walked back toward Queen Street, looking for more bait to draw out his true prey.

***

Nick woke late in the day. The sun was setting outside. The fire was still burning low in the grate, and the warmth from the flames and the heat collected between them made it too easy to snooze. He lay still for a long time, until a quiet beeping started to drive him nuts. It took a while, but he eventually found his phone in his coat pocket.

'Message waiting' was flashing at him. Sitting on the floor, he listened to Schanke's pissed-off tone. "Hey Nick, there's another of those corpses, this time in the park. Sorry Partner, but we gotta look into this. Come in when you can, okay?"

Nick switched off his phone and looked up. LaCroix was leaning on his elbow, watching him. "Work calling?"

"Yes. There's another of those bodies in the park." Nick caught the worried look on his father's face. "LaCroix, please tell me what's going on?"

"As I said, Nicholas," the ancient reiterated gently, "you do not need to know."

"You also said that the bodies wouldn't continue to pile up."

"I said it was being dealt with."

Nick sighed, and moved back across the room on his knees to settle back in front of his father. LaCroix reached out to touch his son's face. "Please be careful, Nicholas. These are vampires who are dying, not mortals."

"Why are they dying?"

LaCroix thought for a moment. "Because he is pissed off."

"Who? Tell me."

The elder gazed at his son. Nicholas should at least know who is behind this, he reasoned, then he can best protect himself should it come to that. "All right, Nicholas."

** flashback - 1228 **

LaCroix held his sleeping child close, marvelling in the wondrous weight of another vampire draped over him. He had promised his new son his eternal protection, to be forever at his side. He would not break that promise.

A little later on, LaCroix rose, leaving Nicholas sleeping. Newly born vampires often needed more rest than they would later; his son's dead body was still changing, LaCroix's blood helping his system make the alterations to its biology.

The ancient stepped down into the great hall of the castle. He knew the other presence was there, standing by the open fire that would have started at his command. LaCroix swept further into the hall, his power evident in his stride.

The uninvited guest was clothed in the apparel of the time, LaCroix noticed. Trying to fit in as the vampires were forced to do for their own survival. He idly wondered why this one bothered. Staying in the shadows cast by the flames, LaCroix greeted his guest.

"Lucifer."

"Lucien." The cool voice held an accent not his own. The grin, when he turned from the fire, was chilling.

"What can I do for you?"

"I believe you have taken something of mine."

LaCroix titled his head, crossing his hands before him. "And what would that be?"

"A young crusader by the name of Nicholas DeBrabant. I have followed him back from England and I did not expect to be challenged for ownership." A small amount of anger entered his voice. "By you, of all, Lucien."

"You're too late. I took him almost a week past."

The other glided toward LaCroix, seemingly becoming taller as he moved. "It is not too late. You know that. I can still have him." He moved around the ancient vampire. "Surely he's not your type, Lucien? A blond, doe-eyed beauty. You like them more rugged, more passionate and less emotional. Come, give him to me and I shall think no more of it."

LaCroix turned slowly. "I will not give up my son, and I know you would not take him from me."

The other's anger flared. "He is mine!"

"He is no such thing."

"Father?" Both ancient creatures turned to look at the young vampire standing in the doorway. LaCroix went to Nicholas, holding out his hands for his son to take. "What's happening? Who is this?"

The other closed in on the two vampires. "Nicholas." He too held out his hands. "My name is Lucifer. I'm here to offer you another choice." LaCroix looked on, but wisely stayed silent for the moment. "I am ruler of lands you cannot imagine. I can give you eternal life without the need to kill, to drink the blood of the mortal men and women whose paths cross yours."

LaCroix watched over his son, concerned when Nicholas smiled. "Thank you, Sir. But LaCroix has given me a gift I can never turn my back on. I gave him my word that I would repay him, and I shall."

The air in the room became heated for just a moment, and then the other released the young vampire's hands. "Your loyalty is touching, Nicholas. I shall leave you alone. But please remember, my offer will stand for all eternity."

Nicholas smiled and nodded. He watched carefully as the other creature turned from him and walked toward the burning grate. As he stepped into it, the flames licked his body before taking it. The fire went out.

** end flashback **

"I remember him." Nick lazily drew a filed nail down his father's chest. "He walked into the fire."

"He belongs in the fire."

"Who was he?"

LaCroix sat up, taking his son's hand. "Lucifer. Diablo. The devil." Nick frowned. "Whether you believe or not, doesn't matter. He believed he was coming for you. You've been running from me for so long, I think he thought he had a chance at last. He has waited 800 years for you."

Nick frowned at his sire. "He can't... make me go with him, can he?"

LaCroix shook his head. "As a mortal he can only take the newly deceased. Now you're a vampire... my vampire... he can only take you from me."

"You have to hand me over to him?"

"Yes. And that is not something that I intend to do." Nick smiled, more than a little relieved. "When you said he was being dealt with...."

LaCroix sat back. "That is something I do not want you to concern yourself with."

Slightly taken aback by the sudden change in LaCroix's tone, Nick frowned. "Why? What can you possibly do against... the devil?"

"Please, Nicholas, stay away from this. I meant it when I told you that he was a danger to us all. He can be. The Enforcers will ensure, in their own way, that he does as least damage as possible."

***

"Live without the sunlight,
Love without your heartbeat.
I can live within you."

Nick stood at Nat's side, waiting for Schanke to finish interviewing the woman who had discovered the corpse. Her emotional state wasn't making the task any easier and Nick was being impressed with his partner's patience. Usually he didn't have any.

He could hear the voice in his head. It had been there since he had stepped foot in the clearing that surrounded the body. Nat had noticed him hanging near her, but she hadn't said anything about it. In truth, the echo of the words in his mind scared him. It was an intimate contact. The voice caressed him in a way only one ever had; only one ever should have.

"Well," Schanke began as he approached them, "besides the water works, she says she was walking her dog, she let it off the leash and it came back with a bone."

"The deceased's left tibular." Nat put in.

"Yeah. Well she said she thought it looked a little odd so she investigated."

"Brave of her." Nick tried to take notice of what his partner was saying, but the voice stroking his mind was more than distracting. It was attention-seeking.

Schanke just looked at him. "Yeah, well when she actually found the body she went screaming to the phone."

//Nicholas....//

Nick looked around. The words were becoming clearer in his head and somehow he could feel the presence of another. Nick liked to call them 'vibes' - the feelings he got when sensing other vampires. LaCroix had his own set of vibes, intimate and very familiar; Janette also was instantly recognisable to him when she was close by. Vampires who were friends to him and those who were strangers could be sensed by their very nature. What Nick felt now was almost a mask, a creature using the familiar vampire signature to disguise his own darker reality.

Schanke was about to read off a few more statements taken from those who were hanging around the scene when he realized he no longer had the attention of his partner, or the medical examiner. "Nick?" He reached out to tap his friend's arm a moment too late; Nick turned from them, starting off toward the trees to their right. He had taken three steps when he looked back.

"Don't follow me. There's someone here and it could be dangerous." He waited for Nat's nod, and Schanke's silent agreement. Suddenly he was glad for what had passed between them in the loft the previous evening. Even if Schanke did not understand, he could accept.

//Nicholas.... Come to me//

Nick did not need to see his path through the trees. He simply followed the voice in his mind. LaCroix had taught him this. Yet he was sure his father had only meant for them to hear one another. His sire would not take kindly nor lightly to another calling him in this fashion.

The thicket opened out to reveal an old mill of some description, long ago abandoned. Nick pulled his coat closer around him, oddly cold. From the shadows of the crumbling walls, a dark figure stepped. Nick recognized him in a moment, despite having only laid his eyes on him once before, almost 800 years ago. The clothes were different, not of the times perhaps, but still striking.

A broad-brimmed hat, like Nick imagined fantasy writers to wear, covered the long dark hair that would never grey. A white shirt of thick cotton was fastened all the way up to the collar, neatly pressed and tucked into dark trousers. He wore a long coat that almost touched the charred ground around his dull shoes. His hands were thrust into the pockets of that coat, giving him an air of casual style. Yet his eyes flamed with gold and he looked at Nick with an expression the vampire did not dare define.

This was the human figure assumed by he whom LaCroix had called the devil. Nick wasn't sure what he believed, but this creature belonged on the earth even less than Nick himself.

"You came." That same low, caressing accent was tinged with a southern lilt so unnatural that Nick found himself wanting to hear the true sound of that voice.

"You called to me." He took another, hesitant step toward the dark figure standing several feet in front of him, face still hidden for the most part in the shadows.

"I could feel you. I knew you were close." He lowered his head for a moment, and then came forward into the moonlight that spilled through the trees surrounding them.

Nick let his eyes sweep briefly over the youthful features; the deep set eyes, the sharp cheekbones and warm smile. "Who are you?"

"You already know. You may call me what you will. I have had many names. Lucifer. Diablo. Satan. The devil. Your master always referred to me as Lucifer." He reached out briefly, before dropping his hand. "I could have been your father at your rebirth. I should have been."

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Nick could now feel LaCroix's growing interest. He deftly pushed the contact away, blocking it gently. There were questions he wanted answers to. LaCroix would not allow this exchange to continue if he found out.

Meeting the golden gaze with his own rich blue, he murmured softly, "LaCroix found me before you did."

Dark eyes suddenly flared with a red flame. Nick stared. "I found you first. I was waiting. I have to wait. Lucien never waits. He acts on impulse without considering the consequences." One blink, and the eyes returned to their original colour. "Don't deny that you have spent these centuries regretting his decision to bring you across."

In contrast to the raw emotion in the words, Nick's voice was perfectly calm. "It was my decision. No matter how strenuously I deny *that*, it is the truth. He asked me and I said yes. As I died, I reiterated that decision."

'Lucifer' looked away, stepping back. "Why did you come?"

"Why are you here?"

Nick watched the other turn in the grass, throwing his hands in the air. "Nicholas, you drew my attentions. You drew Lucien's attentions. I wanted to get yours." He glanced over his shoulder. "You are very special."

Nick couldn't help but stare. "Are you really who you say you are?"

The laughter was thick with irony. "I am. In a way. One day, you will find out for certain. You never have to fear that day."

This strange trading of words brought Nick back to his original reason for being here. "Our Enforcers will not tolerate the killing of our kind." Despite meaning his words to be a warning, they sounded more of a plea.

'Lucifer' merely shrugged, facing him now from where he had ceased pacing. "Yes, I know. You will find that he," he indicated the park beyond, "was one of your enforcers. I can't be killed, Nicholas. I can't be hurt."

Nick shook his head. "There has to be some way we can stop you."

"*You* can stop me. I thought I just wanted to see you again. To tell you that you are still on my mind." He neared Nick again. "We could be so good together."

"How can I stop you?" The vampire resolutely ignored the other's words. How many times had he heard the same sentiment drip from LaCroix's lips.

"Come with me."

Nick could not believe his hesitation. "No. No, I won't."

But his pause had been heard. A moment later, the devil stood before him, those terrible eyes boring deep into his own, hot breath on his face. "I fascinate you."

Nick shook his head, almost smiling. "You'd like to. But I've lived with evil these passed eight hundred years. I am evil."

Lucifer touched Nick's cheek with light finger tips, barely brushing the skin. The vampire did not flinch. Instead, his calm smile remained. "You are not evil, Nicholas. None of your kind really are. No more than mortals can be."

As swiftly as he had closed in on Nick, Lucifer moved away. "You can't ever have expected me to join you. You know the redemption I once sought."

The other seemed to sigh. He dug his hands deeper into his coat pockets, bringing the thick material around in front of him as if trying to keep warm in the cool evening air. "I almost had you once."

Nick tilted his head. "When I was killing?"

Lucifer chuckled. "No. Why do you believe that your worst crimes were the kills you made as a vampire?"

"What other sins are there?"

"Sins?! A crusader who fought for his beliefs, who killed for his beliefs would talk of sins with the devil? You killed to feed, Nicholas, as animals do. Heaven has such high standards these days."

The words shook him. Nick had always held onto his beliefs, even when he relished the hunt his mortal convictions had remained deep in his heart. Now was not the time to question himself. "Then when? When did you get so close?"

"A short while ago. You... committed suicide, I believe, took yourself to a place where you could cross into my realm."

"The near death experience."

"Yes." Lucifer smiled. "I could almost have reached out for you. But you had to choose. And you did not step into the fire."

"The light?"

"For you, it would have burned."

Nick turned from the figure. His eyes searched the darkness blindly for the answers he sought. The questions he thought he may have abandoned these last two days rushed over him once again in a flood of emotion and regret. "Is there any way out for me?"

A moment of cold passed. And then a gentle touch to his shoulder. He looked up into the golden flames regarding him. "As much as it pains me to admit it, LaCroix is good for you. He has taught you as I might have. He has loved you as I never could. Whatever you believe me capable of, whatever I am capable of... love is something I can only possess. I cannot give it. I cannot show it. He can."

Nick stared at the one before him. "Is there any way out for me?" The devil shrugged. "Perhaps." But Nick shook his head, his smile faint. "Who are you?" he whispered.

The reply came back as a breath on the air as the figure vanished before his eyes. "Your saviour."

***

Nick pushed the door open nervously and stepped into the sterilised air of the lab. Nat looked up from the other side of the remains and sighed with relief. "You okay?" He nodded, stepping up to the gurney. "Schanke's worried sick. He doesn't say it, Nick, but I can see it in his eyes."

"I'll speak to him." He indicated their second victim. "This will be the last one."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. The situation will be resolved by morning." His matter-of-fact statement sounded too forced for her liking. But something in his manner told her not to push this time. And wisely she conceded. "Nat.... I have something to tell you."

His eyes had always been windows for her, not to his soul, but to his heart. His immediate emotions had always been clear in the shining blue gems, just not his motives. She realized then that it was what she did not see that made him who he was. "You're leaving."

"No...." He smiled then, a sudden, radiant warmth that almost brightened her bleak imaginings. "I'm not leaving. But I am... returning."

She looked down, realized that she couldn't face the bones before her, and once again zipped up the body bag. "To LaCroix."

He nodded. "You suspected."

"I...." She sighed, frustrated. Crossing to her desk, she ripped off her gloves and threw them in the medical waste bin. "When he came here, he suggested that you weren't too upset to see him. Our work's been hitting dead end after dead end, if you'll pardon the pun, and I just started to really understand what you were trying to turn away from. Like you once said, it's too seductive."

Nick wondered if she were talking about vampirism, or about LaCroix himself. "I didn't want to hurt you, Nat. It's just.... I feel stronger with the blood. And to strengthen my ties with my family again... it feels right. It's the right time."

She stared at him, trying to reassure herself that this was his decision alone. He read it in her eyes, her expression. Stepping up to her, he wrapped his arms around her. She went into the hug gratefully. "He didn't force me. I know you're worried that he did. It was my own choice. The first night between us was my choice. It always has been. He's threatened me, hurt me in a million different ways. But our joinings have always been with my consent."

Nat heard his words spoken through her hair. She understood only then that he wasn't talking simply about the blood, or about the feeding. He was telling her that he and LaCroix were having sex, whatever that entailed for vampires. She remembered the ancient's visit very clearly, his vivid red lips, piercing blue eyes, firm body wrapped in silk....

"Nat?" She pulled away, blushing. Nick was smiling at her. "You okay?"

"Yes." She kissed him quickly on the mouth. "Yes. Believe it or not, Nick, I do understand. And you have to understand that if you ever change your mind, I'm still here for you."

She actually believed that his grin was the first genuine expression of happiness she had ever seen on his face. "You're wonderful."

Finally, Nat pulled away and stepped out of the circle of his arms. "If we could drop back to earth for a moment, I still have remains lying on my table and similar remains in storage."

"The case will never be closed. But it will be forgotten."

"Something I should know?"

"No." Nick's smile faded slightly, but to something different, something unfathomable. "You don't want to know. I'm not sure I ever wanted to know."

The shadows cleared from his features and he smiled again. "I'd better touch base with Schanke.

***

As he closed the Caddy's door he knew something was happening. Schanke had come out onto the steps leading into the precinct building and was looking around for something. When he spotted Nick, he called to him. Nick trotted over to his partner. "What's up, Schank?"

He kept his voice low. "There's some sort of disturbance over at that club of yours."

"The Raven?"

"That's it. Someone called it in straight to your desk. I figured I should tell you and only you, the caller seemed quite insistent. Nat said you were on your way."

Nick was already heading back to his car. Schanke was close behind. "You can't come, Schank."

"Like hell I can't, I'm not sending you out on this alone, Partner, if I have to tail you in my own car."

Nick knew that an argument was pointless and would only waste time. Whatever Schanke saw he could wipe it out of his mind later on. "All right, get in. But you have to promise to let me handle things if they start to get... weird."

Schanke frowned, as far as he was concerned, the Raven started off weird and went on from there. But he nodded as he climbed into the convertible.

From the outside, the club seemed its usual noisy self. Nick parked up on the curb and lead Schanke to the main doors which were closed. That in itself was odd. Laying his palm flush against the heavy wood, he reached out with his senses. There were mortals and vampires alike in the club, there was music, but a lot quieter than he was used to. There was some excitement, but not the kind he would have expected. This was nervous excitement. Whatever else was happening, he knew instantly that LaCroix was present, and Janette, and the other masking signature he was starting to easily recognize. He swore in his own ancient dialect and looked up at his partner. Schanke was watching him expectantly. "What are you doing?"

"Listening."

"Hear anything?"

"Plenty."

Schanke waited patiently for his partner to make a decision. He was expecting something more than Nick just pushing the door open and stepping inside.

The scene inside was bizarre. The patrons were still milling around, but most of them were crowded around an area of the bar. From the raised platform that lead into the club, Schanke could see that two men were at the centre of all the attention. One was standing at the bar, a glass of ruby wine in his hand, the second was sitting cross-legged on the bar, a little way from the other, facing him. Between them sat a chess board. Most of the pieces were gone, but both were staring intently at the ones that remained. That was what Schanke saw.

Nick saw his father playing chess with the devil.

LaCroix looked up as he sensed his son finding his way easily through the crowd. He could see his mortal partner following with slightly more difficulty. When Nick stepped into the clearing he saw that the missing chess pieces were scattered on the floor at their feet. He leaned down as Schanke appeared behind him, looking confused and bewildered. Why were a group of youths watching two men play chess?

Nick picked up the white knight and held it in his palm as he straightened to face the two powerful creatures at the bar. He had the attention of both. "What are you doing?"

'Lucifer' grinned at him, his expression alone telling Nick that their earlier conversation had not been mentioned. "Playing a game, Nicholas."

"Why?"

"Because it is an intellectual game, worthy of our time."

"Why?"

"Because for such a great and precious prize, there seemed no better way to decide a winner."

Nick raised his eyebrows slightly, and for the first time since walking in, he looked at his master. "What is the prize?" LaCroix wouldn't look at him, wouldn't take his eyes from the board. His silence answered his son's question. Nick sighed softly. "I see." He stepped closer, regarding the state of game play. LaCroix was winning. He wondered if you could win against the devil. Surely he would always cheat.

For a moment he stood silently between them, and then in a single quick movement, he swept his arm out across the board, scattering the pieces that remained standing, wiping the game from existence. "You both lose."

There had been an audible gasp from the crowd at Nick's action, and for some reason were regarding him now with awe. Schanke still looked on with nothing but confusion in his expression.

Nick turned to his father. "You think I'm yours to offer as a prize in some game?" LaCroix almost flinched; the hurt was not in the words or the tone, but in the mental link that joined them. He could do nothing but shake his head. He neither looked up, nor spoke a single word. Nicholas lifted his hand and took the white knight chess piece into his fingers. With his other hand he reached for LaCroix's and holding it out, he crushed the piece above it, letting the dust fall into his father's palm. "You'd already won."

Blinking away tears, Nick turned, glancing at Schanke to tell him silently that they were leaving. Then he looked around and met the glowing eyes of the other player. "Go back to where you came from. You don't belong here."

They left a silent club in their wake. A room of mortals, who would remember a very odd night at the Raven, and of vampires, who would look on Nicholas Knight with a lot more respect in days to come. Neither saw Janette brush passed LaCroix's shoulder, none heard her whisper to him, "I warned you. This time, you can only blame yourself."

***

They sat together on the hood of the Caddy, looking out over the lake. Schanke's legs dangled down in front of the radiator grille, while Nick sat facing him, legs crossed, picking at the threads at the base of his jeans. "Are you going to tell me who they were?" Schanke's tone was a mix of gentle patience and stark bewilderment.

"I can't."

Schanke nodded like that was the reply he had expected. "But you think they were playing... for you?"

"I know they were." A tear fell from Nick's eye and hit the metal hood of the car. Schanke reached out slowly and stroked his friend's shoulder.

"It's okay, Nick."

"It's not okay!" The blond head lifted, and Nick blinked back the tears collecting in his eyes. In the darkness, Schanke could only see the moisture, not the colour. He could hear Nick sniffing back the pain, trying to hide what was so evident in his rough voice. "The tall one - the one standing - he's my father." As soon as he'd said it, he knew it had been a mistake. Schanke was looking at him now with such soul-deep sympathy that Nick thought he might just lose it and tell him everything.

"Oh, God, Nick... I'm sorry...."

"We're fought for so long. But I thought... we'd been closer recently. I thought we'd made peace between us. But now I find he still feels exactly the same way, he still thinks I'm his possession, just a stake in a game of chess."

A note of hysteria was creeping into his partner's voice, but Schanke couldn't think of any words to say. What was there when your own father valued you so little? "Nick, are you sure that's what was going on? I mean... I know I don't quite understand your family, but he's your father." He remembered the photograph in Nick's shattered living room. "Why would he risk someone so precious in such a stupid way?"

Nick shook his head wretchedly. "I don't know."

He honestly didn't know. This was how LaCroix had planned on handling the situation? This was what he had warned Nicholas to stay away from? And what if he hadn't have gone to the Raven tonight? What if someone hadn't called him? probably Janette, he realized belatedly. Why would LaCroix do this to him after all that had happened?

"Nick.... Go and talk to him. Please? I've never seen you like this...."

That was all there was to do, really. Go and talk to him. Nicholas pulled in a deep breath and nodded, grateful that at least he had a path now. "Could you take the Caddy back to the precinct?"

Schanke opened his mouth to ask how Nick was going to get to the Raven. How did he ever get anywhere? Best not to ask. "Sure thing, Partner. Just... talk to him."

***

When Nick arrived back at the club normality had been resumed. Janette was no where to be seen, and he could not sense either LaCroix or 'Lucifer'. He headed straight for the back rooms. When he pushed open the door of the lounge, he stopped dead in his tracks. There was no fire, no candles. It was empty. LaCroix had gone. He knew that with the certainty of centuries of living with his father. He did not need to check any of the other rooms. A folded piece of white paper was all that remained, lying on the table before the leather couch. Nick reached down and picked it up with trembling fingers. He heard the door open, felt the other's presence. But he looked only at the words before him, written in an ancient hand.

"Nicholas, I tried to warn you but you did not listen. All he needed was to talk to you. He is dangerous to us, mon fils, to you and I. Because I cannot fight him. Because we had so very much to lose. I love you, Nicholas, my son. Always remember that. One day our paths will cross again. This way we cannot war, he cannot win. Yours always, L."

Nick stared at the note as the other moved around him. "He's gone." He said eventually.

'Lucifer' nodded once. "I know."

"You told me that I was better off with him. You said he could love me as you couldn't. Why did you do this?"

The devil dropped his head forward, catching his hat in his hand. When he looked up again, Nick saw the terrible truth in his eyes. "Because I could. LaCroix would have won, you know. He knew that. I knew that. But only if you weren't there. Only if no one called you."

"You were the one who phoned the precinct." Nick looked at him now, staring in disbelief.

"LaCroix believed that bowing to my wishes for a game was the quickest way to get rid of me. I can't play chess to save my...." He smiled. "Well... you get the idea."

"But you cheated."

"Of course I cheated. I am the devil!"

"And I trusted you. At least... I took you at your word."

"Yes." 'Lucifer' grinned. "You are so trusting it almost pained me to do it." His face became suddenly serious. "Join me."

"No." Nick thought of the devastation of his life. Only hours ago he was telling Nat how happy he was, how much he wanted to spend more time with LaCroix, to return to his family, to his nature as far as he could. Now... now it all gone.

"You will meet again, you know that." The tone reminded Nick of LaCroix's words to him each time Janette had left them. But this time it wasn't enough. Sometimes decades passed without he and Janette setting eyes on one another. He didn't want to wait that long. He wanted his father back. His lover....

Nick grasped the devil by his immaculate shirt collar and threw him into the wall next to the door, adding surprise to strength. 'Lucifer''s eyes widened as his head contacted with the hard brick. Vampire eyes burned ochre as they stared into his own. He swept his gaze over the beautiful face of this fallen angel.

"Bring him back to me."

"I can't."

"You can find him."

It would take days, weeks, maybe months, Nick knew, using conventional methods to locate LaCroix. He could have headed in any direction, used any of a number of contacts to escape quickly and without being noticed. None would give him up to anyone. Each valued their immortality too greatly. The ancient never used Aristotle because he and Nick were close friends. LaCroix didn't trust him. Despite his father only having had an hour or so, Nick knew he could be anywhere. If he didn't want to be found, Nick wouldn't find him.

But this was the devil. He could go anywhere, see all. "You *can* find him."

'Lucifer' was shaking his head. "Why should I? You can't hurt me. You can't even bite me, there's no blood in this costume."

"This is all your fault." Nick spat into his face, not caring now. "If it hadn't been for you fucking things up I could have been happy." He lifted the devil higher, tightening his grip. A mortal would have been gasping for breath. 'Lucifer' was just staring at him, calm and slightly amused. His expression made Nick angrier. "Do you know how long it's been since I've been happy?!" In a moment he had dropped his captive and taken hold of his forearm. In a move long practised on LaCroix, Nick twisted the arm and threw the body forcibly into the grate. Flames erupted as the devil stood glaring at the vampire.

For a single second, the human form became blurred, uncertain. Fire licked around what might have been a forked tail, a horned body much larger and taller than the form it had assumed. Nick was suddenly scared that he had gone too far.

The flames reached out, and Nick stumbled back as far as he could before the wall blocked his path. He shielded his face from the hot liquid fire, feeling the heat caress his fingers. And then it was gone. Fire. Devil. He was alone.

For hours Nick sat in silence on the couch. Only when he realized that the sun would soon be rising did he leave the emptying club and return to his loft.

The mess from the fighting remained, shattered memories not of lives gone by, but of a cathartic joining only two days ago. He walked into the wreckage, sank to his knees, and sobbed.

***

one week later

Schanke watched his partner as he had done for three nights. Nick had come back to work on the Wednesday. He tidied his loft, he'd said. That was all he would say. He filed paperwork in silence and left when their shift was over. Homicide had been quiet so there had been nothing to pull him from the misery he seemed to be drowning in.

Nick had been aware of the presence watching him. It was strange, vampire but with that certain quality that made him believe perhaps it wasn't. He didn't have anything more to say to 'Lucifer'. It seemed the devil had no more to say to him.

By Friday, he was considering leaving Toronto. Whilst at his desk he had made a couple of discrete phone calls, to Felix and Aristotle. It didn't matter where he went. If LaCroix wanted to find him, he would. Nick wished that it went both ways. But his father was blocking him. Either that, or he was too far away now for their mental link to vibrate with even vague emotions.

"Nick, why don't you go home?" He looked up at the astonishing tenderness in his partner's voice. That touched him, and he actually managed to smile.

"Sorry, Schank. I just...."

"I know. Well, I don't. But I know enough. Go home."

Nick nodded. Yeah. Go home, back to the empty loft. And pack. Leave this city for good. After all, what has it brought you but pain and heartache?

He stood and pushed his chair under his desk. That simple act felt so final. He grabbed his coat, and as he passed Schanke's chair, he patted his friend on the shoulder and said goodbye. Maybe he wouldn't ever see this man again. But their had been countless friends left like this. Nick hated to think what they thought of him now. He blinked back yet more tears and headed quickly for the door.

The drive home was in silence. The city seemed somehow hostile, and even that odd presence that had been watching him, following him, was gone now. He imagined he could feel the chill of the cold air, and pulled his coat further about him as he drove. Yes. He would leave now. He could move tomorrow night, Aristotle had said, to Montreal. And from there he could go where he wished. The world was his oyster. Nick thought it was more like his prison.

It was only when Nick threw open the elevator door, and his harsh breath in his throat, that his mind turned from self pity at last. The loft was filled with black and white roses. The scent was overwhelming, the sight one of the most beautiful Nick had ever seen. The door closed behind him as he stepped inside, looking around him in wonder.

And then his attention was caught by the sudden burst of energy into his mind. He glanced over into the far corner of the room, and saw his father gazing back at him. Unable to talk, Nick could do nothing but fly to his sire. He stopped short of throwing himself at LaCroix. Instead, he stilled just a few feet from him. In the pale hands, the ancient held a single red rose. He gave it to his son, brushing his fingers over Nicholas' as their hands met on the thorny stem.

"Each black rose is a tear I have shed for you. Each white one is a smile. In two thousand years, no other has had such influence over me. Do you understand how very much you mean to me?"

Nick shook his head slightly in sorrow, and taking the rose in one hand, he reached up to wrap his arms around his sire's neck. "I'm sorry."

"I know."

They moved into one another's embrace easily, as easily their natures asserted themselves and fangs sank into willing flesh. Silence surrounded them as they fed. For each, the blood of the other was comfort, strength, passion and life. They both shared the blame of everything that had passed between them. This had been no different. Learning to trust was the greatest difficulty, it seemed. But as Nicholas drowned again, this time in the blood of his beloved maker, he knew it would be worth all the pain.

They parted gently, and LaCroix deftly turned his smiling son in his arms, hugging Nicholas' back to his own chest. "You've danced with the devil, mon petit."

Happily, Nick rested back against the solid form supporting him. "I was dancing with the devil long before 'Lucifer' showed up, LaCroix." Teasingly, he rubbed his ass against his father's thighs. "Maybe, before this night is out, you would show me a few new steps."

fin elfin

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