SPOILER/CAVEAT/DISCLAIMERS:  The original Forever Knight
characters were created by James Parriott and Barney Cohen and
are owned by Sony/TriStar/Paragon Films.  I have only borrowed
them for my tale and hope I am returning them no worse for wear.
No profit is intended to be made from this story.  All rights
reserved.  All new characters belong to me.  This story
continers spoilers for the episodes For I Have Sinned, Only The
Lonely and I Will Repay.  However, it takes place *before* (and
therefore instead of) Be My Valentine.

NOTE:  Some parts of this story contain mild violence.  There is
an Adult section, M/F, Nick/Natalie.  If such material offends
you, please do not read it!  This portion of the story is meant
for Adults only.  Do not proceed if you are under 18 years of
age.

Beta read as close to perfection as we can get by:  Angela
Brown, Jeanine Hornby and Jen Nelson.  Editor, enhancer and
contributor extraordinaire:  Barbara Erickson.

Special Thanks to Anik Duclos for the French translation of "Un
Acte de Foi" which means "Leap of Faith."

Note to Nick and Nat Packers:  To my friends on the N/N Packers
Loop--this is the story that was known during its infancy as
"Nothing is Sacred Except Godzilla."  Hope you enjoy it.

For Bernhardt, because writing has let me dream once
again...I miss you.



                            Un Acte de Foi

                                  by

                           Mary Lou Manzie

                                 with

                           Barbara Erickson




    She knew she had made a mistake.  Trusting him.  That was a
big mistake, and now she was paying for it--with her life.



     "Where's Knight?" Don Schanke bellowed as he pushed his
way into the squad room at the 96th precinct.

     No answer.

     "Has anybody seen him tonight?" the irritated police
officer continued.

     Still no answer.

     Making his way to the duty officer, a slight panic hit
him.  'Knight's never late,' he thought.  '*I'm* the one who's
always late.  Wonder what's up?'

     "Isn't Knight supposed to be on tonight?" Schanke asked
the duty officer, Charlie O'Brien.

     "Yeah, Schank.  He's a half hour late and Cohen's been
asking about him, too.  Whatever it is, it'd better be a good
one, or he'll be pulling traffic duty Sunday mornings for a
month, sun allergy or no sun allergy!  Cohen doesn't have a lot
of patience when it comes to not being on time," Officer O'Brien
chuckled.  "Say, Don, how *was* traffic duty last weekend?"

     "Don't go there, Charlie.  Let's just say that St.
John's never had a smoother exit from the eleven o'clock mass or
the nine o'clock mass...or the twelve-thirty mass, either," the
homicide detective answered.

     Captain Amanda Cohen walked out of her office and
inventoried the precinct.  "Schanke, in my office!" she
commanded.  "And where's your partner?"  Her voice was more than
irritated.

     "Captain!  He's just on his way in," he lied as he, too,
surveyed the room, hoping to see his blond-haired partner rush
through the door.

     As he turned to enter the captain's office, he stopped
suddenly as Nick appeared at the office door.  'Now where the
hell did he come from?  He wasn't there a second ago!' Schanke
thought.

     Nick Knight put his hand on the dark-haired detective's
shoulder.  "Thanks for covering for me, Schank.  I'm a little
late," he said in a low voice meant only for his partner to
hear.  "Captain, you wanted to see us?" Nick asked, directing
his attention to Amanda Cohen.

     "Oh, Knight, you're here.  Sit down, both of you," she
stated as she gestured to the two chairs positioned in front of
her desk.  "We've got a bad one over at Coronation Park.
Joggers found a body about half an hour ago.  No I.D. and little
else to go on for now.  The uniforms have the area secured, and
I need *you* two gentlemen on the case right away.  Despite your
short time here at the 96th, you have one of the highest success
rates in the precinct, which is why I waited until Knight showed
up," she shot the vampire an irritated glance, "rather than
assigning another team to the case.  Get over there.  I'm sure I
don't have to remind you about how much pressure we'll get from
the mayor on this one.  The park was reopened just last month
after being closed for renovations *including* security lighting
and now this.  Great.  Just great!"

     "We're on it, Captain," Schanke said as he rose from his
chair.  Both detectives headed straight for the parking lot in
silence.  As they reached the Caddy, Schanke started, "So, Mr.
Always-On-Time, where were you?"

     Nick avoided looking directly at the officer.  "It was
just some personal business, Schank.  Sorry," he mumbled.

     "I thought that was *my* line, Knight!  Don't tell me
*I'm* going to be covering for *you!*" the rotund man chattered
in delight.

     "We need to get over to Coronation Park, Schank.  Can
you just let it go this time?" Nick asked.

     "Sure, Nick. Anything for my partner!" he began. "We'll
just file that one under 'you-owe-me,'" he crowed.


     They could see the amber glow of the security lights
from several blocks away.  They had encountered hundreds of
crime scenes in their years of police work, yet each one
inwardly steeled himself before exiting the car.  They had work
to do; and they were good at it.

     Nick let his field of vision take in the entire park.
Flashing lights from police vehicles, barricades to keep the
curious at bay, news reporters...and the coroner's car.  He
settled on that.  It belonged to Jack Bower.

     "You talk to the uniforms, Schank.  I'll take the
coroner," Nick said.

     "Why not?  You *always* take the coroner," Schanke
grinned.

     Making his way through the crowd, Nick picked out the
white coat of Dr. Jack Bower, the coroner from South.  "Dr.
Bower, what do we have?"

     "Oh, how are you, Knight?" Dr. Bower began.  "Don't
know, really.  Just got here.  It's not my usual turf, you
know."

     "Well, yes, I thought Dr. Lambert would be here," Nick
replied, trying not to give away his concern through his voice.

     "Seems she'd booked off already tonight, and they
couldn't reach her at home.  They just told me to get over here
and didn't give me any more of an explanation," Dr. Bower
continued, as he approached the body with Nick in tow.

     Don Schanke has been conversing with the uniformed
officers who were interviewing possible witnesses when he saw
his partner advance with Dr. Bower.  Before he could ask what
Bower was doing in their region, Nick and the coroner brushed
past him toward the body which had been covered temporarily with
a plastic tarp.

     Nick knelt down beside the corpse, and his hand started
to draw the covering from it.  He stopped.

     Something was telling him not to look.

     He noticed Dr. Bower staring at him.  Nick slowly
continued to pull down the protective sheet revealing a woman
clothed in a sweatsuit, face down in the grass, her mass of
auburn curls matted with blood.

     Nick's trembling hand reached to turn the body over when
he felt Jack Bower grip his arm.  "Detective!  You're not
wearing gloves.  Let me do this," Dr. Bower barked.

     Nick stood straight up and looked away.   Dr. Bower
could see that Knight had lost what little color was in his
face.  As he turned the body over, he noted the blond
detective's gaze return to the remains.  The look on Knight's
face would make even the greatest skeptic believe he'd seen a
ghost.

     Don Schanke approached the scene slowly, studying his
partner's uncharacteristic behavior.  When he saw the body, he
understood.  The deceased resembled Dr. Lambert--a fact that
finally explained a great deal about the inner workings of one
Nick Knight.

**************************************

     Natalie felt her body slip from Nick's passionate
embrace.  As her head gently touched the pillow, she glanced up
to see his face sculpted into a beautiful smile, a smile meant
only for her.  "I love you, Nick,"  she whispered.

     "I love you, too, Natalie," Nick replied, kissing her
hair and brushing her lips with his. "Sleep now."  Nick cuddled
close to Nat, enveloping her again with his arms.

     Natalie's eyes closed for what seemed like just a
moment, when she was suddenly awakened by a three-year-old
vaulting onto the bed, bouncing up and down on her hands and
knees, gleefully shouting, "Cancakes, mummy and daddy, cancakes
for breffast!" in time to her bounces.

     Natalie's eyes opened to reveal a blonde, curly haired
little girl peering into her face.  With a start, Nat moved away
from the child.  "Who are you?  How did you get in here?" she
demanded.

     The child's face suddenly collapsed into fear and she
started to cry.  Natalie instinctively reached out to touch the
youngster, only to have the child's image disappear in front of
her eyes.  "*NO!* Don't go!  Who *are* you?!" Natalie called
out.  As she sharply inhaled, she felt a familiar hand wrestle
her shoulder.

     "Nat!  Nat, wake up!"  It was Nick's reassuring voice.
"Nat, you're having a bad dream.  Please, wake up," he
continued.

     Natalie Lambert opened her eyes to see a wall of green
tile and stainless steel gurneys.  She quickly sat straight up,
trying to focus not only her vision but her brain as well.
Caught in that moment, not knowing what was real and what was
fantasy, she suddenly looked over to see Nick kneeling beside
her.  "Where...where am I?" she managed to blurt out.

     "You're in the back office at the coroner's building,
Nat.  You had a bad dream."  Nick's voice was filled with
compassion.  "Are you going to be all right?"

     "Oh...oh, Nick.  It was such a quiet night that I booked
off but decided to catch up on some paperwork back here.  I must
have put my head down for a moment and drifted off to sleep.
I'm so embarrassed!  Did anybody miss me?"  Natalie tried to
laugh, all the while fighting to keep the wistful images of Nick
and the child from being explained away as 'just a dream.'

     "I came down to see about the results of the Pearson
autopsy," he lied.  "Schanke and I just finished the prelims on
a new one at Coronation Park..."

     "What?" Natalie began with a start.  "Why wasn't I
notified--"

     "Jack Bower was covering.  He said that you'd booked
off, and they couldn't reach you at home.  I thought I'd stop in
and pick up the Pearson report on my way back to the precinct.
I heard you repeating something."  He looked into her eyes with
concern.   "You sounded so frightened and desperate.  I've never
heard you like that before, not even after Roger."  He placed
his hand on hers.  "Tell me about your dream," he insisted.

     Natalie almost jumped up from her chair, barely avoiding
bumping into Nick.  "No, Nick.  It's nothing, really.  The new
guy filling in for Grace must have thought I'd gone home, and he
doesn't know to check back here!" she reasoned.  "I'll have to
call Jack and apologize."  Her voice regained its professional
timbre, and Nick was shut out.  "I can print out the Pearson
information for you right now.  Hold on a minute."

     The printer whirred to life on the other side of the
room, releasing them both to focus on its song rather than each
other.  Natalie stared at the paper spewing from the machine,
all the while trying to allow those recent ethereal images to
exist in her conscious mind.

     "Here you go."  She gathered the papers and turned to
offer them to Nick, who had joined her at the printer.  She
allowed her eyes to glance into his.  His face mirrored
questions she could not answer, and she looked away.

     Nick reached out to take the report from her, but his
hand continued upward instead, embracing her shoulder, drawing
her near.  "I was just worried about you, Nat.  Perhaps you
should go home and get some rest.  I know you've been working
too hard since Johnson's been on vacation."

     "Oh, no.  You're not getting out of your doctor's visit
that easily!"  Nat's poise returned.  "Don't we have an
appointment at your place after work for a protein shake
delivery, check-up and a movie?"  She forced the doctor back
into her voice and her eyes as she looked up at him and thumped
his chest with her index finger.

     Nick relaxed his grasp.  His friend was back; Natalie
was back.  "I'll be off at 3.  See you at 3:30?"  He smiled.

     For a brief second Natalie allowed her mind to drift
back to the dream image of his smile after their lovemaking.
"Yes...yes, 3:30.  I'll run home first to feed Sidney, and I'll
be there at 3:30.  Your choice of movie this time, isn't it?"

     Nick's brain decided one of those romantic tear-jerkers
would be the order of the evening.  He did so love to comfort
her when she let her emotions become entangled with the plot, as
she always seemed to do.  "Yes, my choice this time!  I'll
surprise you."

     She turned and watched him exit her office, then called
out after him, "No more Godzilla movies!  He must have eaten all
the North American cities of any interest by now anyway!"

********************************

     Nick continued down the corridor towards the exit when
he was practically flattened by Don Schanke.  "Nick, did you
pick up the Pearson autopsy report?  And what was that about
Godzilla?" he queried.

     Nick held up the report to answer his partner.  "Oh,
it's nothing, Schank.  Nat's just coming over later to watch a
video, and I get to choose it this time."  As he finished
speaking, Nick realized he had just made a horrible, horrible
mistake.

     "*This* time?  Are you two becoming an item?  Should I
book a hall?  What gives with you and our fair Medical Examiner,
the Lady Natalie?"  Schanke feigned a British accent, his voice
exuding all the calm of a shark in a feeding frenzy.

     "Stow it, Schank.  You know we're just good friends."
Nick was bound to continue this mantra even if it meant
hypnotizing his partner.

     "*'Just good friends.'*  Sure, Knight!  And I'm the
Pope!" Schanke scoffed, all the while remembering the look on
Nick's face as he uncovered the body at Coronation Park.

     "If you're done hammering me, can we go and pick up a
warrant to search Joe Garnett's apartment?  The Pearson autopsy
results show the killer used two different sharp instruments to
stab the victim, and I'm betting we'll find a match at his
place."  Nick wanted to bring his partner back to the business
of police work.

     "Whatever you say, Nick.  And do you want to go by way
of Prince Street so you can pick up a video for you and your
'good friend' later?" Schanke ribbed.

     Nick raised the report as if to swat his partner, but
merely sharpened his voice in mock irritation instead. "Out!"

     As they exited the building and walked to the Caddy,
Nick smiled to himself and thought, 'If you only knew, Schank.
If you only knew....'

****************************************


     Natalie turned the key to her apartment and listened
carefully as an inquisitive 'meow' emanated from the other side
of the door.  "Hi, Sid, Mum's back," she said, as she opened the
door and glanced down at her cat.  Her mind immediately raced
back to the dream image of the little girl's inquisitive
expression.  The girl had called her 'mummy.'  'Now, where oh
where did that come from?' she wondered, as the images finally
began to recede more into dream than reality.

     Feeling refreshed after a quick shower, Natalie went
into her kitchen to make Nick's allotment of protein shakes.  As
she prepared the vile mixture, her mind wandered back to her
dream.  Making love with Nick *was* something she had longed
for, but she had never before dreamed of a child, *their* child.

     Natalie could not pinpoint the exact moment in time when
she realized she was in love with Nick, just as she could not
remember the exact moment she had decided to become a doctor or
*knew* she was no longer a child--it was just something that
happened and became such an integral part of her being, she no
longer existed apart from it.

     So many times she tried to express her love with words.
So many times words failed her.  It seemed that each time they
began to get close, to finally reach out for each other,
something would always happen to pull them apart.  Perhaps their
worlds simply could not exist in the same time and space.
Perhaps *they* could not, either.

     Natalie's scientific mind would not allow doubt to hold
sway this evening.  'We have to find a cure, Nick,' she thought.
'A cure for you.  A cure for *us.*'

***************************************

     Nick surveyed the loft, anticipating Natalie's arrival.
Romantic movie.  Popcorn.  Roaring fire.  Soft lights.  Yes, all
was ready.

     As he pulled a bottle of blood from the refrigerator
and poured himself a glass, his mind stopped short.  'What am I
doing?  I'm setting myself up.  I'm setting us *both* up.'

     Nick allowed himself to think about the way this evening
with Natalie would end.  He would comfort her during and after
the movie, she would look up into his face, her eyes shining
with tears, her mouth poised to kiss him passionately, and he
would...he would...fail her again.  He wanted to hold her, to
kiss her and become one with her, but his bloodlust would arise,
causing his fangs to descend and his eyes to glow golden as the
beast sought out her life's blood.  Not realizing the beast was
battling for control, Natalie would press against him, trying to
capture his lips, but he would respond by planting a platonic
kiss on her forehead and quickly disentangling himself from her.
Natalie would feel hurt and rejected.  He would feel impotent
and incomplete.  But she would be safe, safe from *him.*

     The scene played itself over and over in Nick's mind:
always beginning passionately; always ending sadly.  He knew he
loved Natalie.  He had perhaps loved her from the first time
they met in the morgue.  But loving her meant protecting her
from himself and from the evil in him.  He was a fool to ever
have allowed her to get even *this* close.

     He should break it off.  He should push her away so she
could regain a life of her own, a mortal life where she could
love a mortal man.  He had let many other mortals slip through
his fingers to safety.  Why was it so difficult with Natalie?
Was it her love for him that beckoned every time he came near
her?  The goodness and faith that radiated from her inner self?
Or was it the cure her scientific research represented?  Could
it be his selfish quest that stopped him?

     As he swallowed the blood, Nick heard the lift
engage.  Natalie's beautiful face shone as the door opened, and
she came towards him carrying her medical bag and the protein
shakes.  She was smiling that loving and knowing smile of hers.
'No,' he thought, 'I cannot leave her.  At least not tonight.'

*******************************************

     The evening did not go as Nick envisioned. *He* saw to
that.  While Natalie examined him, he held his body rigid,
quickly raising a silent barrier between them.  She immediately
detected a change in Nick's demeanor from the concern he had
shown her earlier in the morgue.  Nat's mind lapsed into its
old, familiar explanations: 'we are just friends; he thinks of
me as a sister; I'm crazy to think it's anything else.'  Her own
expectations of the evening crumbled.

     Natalie forced a weak smile to her lips.  "So, what's
the movie?"  She wondered if he could sense her disappointment.

     Nick tried not to wince.  "Oh, it's Ladyhawke.  Have you
seen it?"

     "Uh, no, I haven't," Natalie lied.  "What's it about?"

     "The clerk said it's a sort of mythic tale from the
middle ages but with modern music.  I know you like Rutger
Hauer," Nick explained, trying not to reveal his dismay for not
having a second, 'safer' choice available.  'Where's Godzilla
when I really need him?' Nick thought.

     "Let me get the popcorn ready.  Go ahead and crank up
the VCR," Nat's voice was straining with feigned cheerfulness.

     Fifteen minutes later, Nat plopped herself at one end of
the couch, a glass of juice in one hand and the bowl of popcorn
in the other.  Seated at the opposite end of the couch and
wishing it were at least a meter longer, Nick picked up the
remote and pushed 'play.'

     As the movie progressed, each looked straight ahead at
the television screen.  Nick tried to keep his eyes focused on
the set, but he could not stop them from wandering in Natalie's
direction every few minutes.  '*I* know how it feels to love
someone so much it hurts,' thought Nick as he mirrored the pain
on Navarre's face.  'At least he's told her he loves her.  I
can't even do that for the harm it will bring her.'  Nick
glanced at Natalie for a long second.  Was it a tear he saw
staining her cheek?  He quickly turned his eyes back to the
television.

     By the beginning of the second hour, Natalie's emotions
had betrayed her, and tears softly escaped her eyes.  'Just what
I needed!  A movie about lovers kept apart by the forces of
evil.  Well, at least Isabeau *knew* Navarre loved her.  And for
them, there *was* a cure,' Natalie thought as she tried
unsuccessfully not to look for Nick's reaction to the film.

     A furtive glance showed Nat that Nick's eyes were
staring straight ahead until she noted, with a strange sense of
reassurance, his quick sidewards glimpse in her direction.
'He's checking on me,' she surmised.  'Maybe there's hope for us
yet.  Maybe I'm more than a sister to him.'

     When the movie ended, Nick picked up the remote and hit
the rewind button.  He feared he would lose himself in her eyes,
so he gave Natalie time to dry her tears before he faced her.

     Natalie promised herself she would not sink into
weepiness in front of Nick.  Their situation would *not* break
her.

     "Well, good movie, Nick," Natalie's voice did not expose
her hidden feelings of pain and love for Nick.  "Sure beats
Godzilla!" she continued, as she forced every ounce of gaiety
she could muster into her voice.

     "Oh, I was afraid you might think the story was a little
too magical or something," Nick's voice dissolved in his throat
as he tried to look at her.  He saw the trail of fresh tears she
had tried to erase, and he heard her disguise her pain with a
cheery voice.  He would not embarrass her with a scene.

     "Before I go, I meant to ask if you could pick me up at
the free clinic tomorrow night?  I'm volunteering, but my car
will be in the shop.  You still have the night off, don't you?"
Natalie was happy she could steer the conversation to a safer
topic.

     Nick was also glad for the change in subject.  "Yes.
Sure, I'll pick you up."

     "Could you make it about 8:30?  That'll give me time to
get some of the younger kids vaccinated, too."  Natalie smiled
inwardly as she thought about spending time with young, living
patients.  Volunteering at the free clinic always seemed to
renew her spirit.

     "8:30 it is.  See you then," Nick replied.

     Natalie returned her glass and popcorn bowl to the sink.
"I'll just take care of these first," she stated.

     "No, you must be tired.  I'll get them," Nick said,
looking for a way to gently ease her out of the loft before his
resolve failed him.

     Nat picked up her medical bag and pointed to the
refrigerator.  "There are enough protein shakes for a week.
*Don't* forget them!"

     Nick allowed himself to relax for a second, hoping that
the unspoken tension between them was beginning to wane.  "I
*can't* forget them, Nat, you won't let me!" Nick chuckled.

     "Good, at least I've trained you well.  Goodnight,
Nick," Natalie shot him a look that defied description.

     "Goodnight, Nat," said Nick, as he stopped himself from
pulling her into his arms and enfolding her in his embrace.

     As she exited the lift and walked to her car, Natalie's
emotions reigned over her once again.  The tears streamed down
her cheeks, bitter and hot.  'I can't go on much longer, Nick.
Will there ever be a future for us?  I *need* to find that
cure.'  Natalie's mind wandered back to her dream, to the image
of Nick's face after their lovemaking.

     Nick followed Natalie's heartbeat as she left the loft
and found her car.  She was crying again.  He *knew* it, and it
was his fault, as usual.  "I'm sorry, Nat," he whispered.
"There has to be a way for us.  There *has* to be a cure that
will let us be together."  Nick's cold and ancient heart gave
one loud and mighty thump as he thought about how wonderful
mortal life with Natalie would be.

*****************************************

    The next evening at the Free Clinic in Toronto found Natalie
looking down into tear-filled eyes.  "Robert, my name is
Natalie.  Can you say 'Natalie?'"

     "Mmm uh," mumbled a very distracted four-year-old,
shaking his head in the negative.  Robert's eyes were like
saucers as Natalie gently laid her hand on his shoulder and
softly patted him as he sat on the examining table, his shirt
off and his mother by his side.

     "I bet you can say it if you try real hard. *Natalie,*"
Nat continued with a look of encouragement on her face.

     "Na...Naaa...Nannalie," Robert slowly and deliberately
replied, looking down at the floor, then up to his mother whose
smiling face seemed to urge her son to try again.

     "That's better!  You're almost there!  Na*t*alie," Nat
responded with reassurance.

     "Naa...Natalie," Robert almost whispered to the floor,
then sheepishly brought his eyes upwards to meet hers.  His
tears had finally subsided and were being replaced by the hint
of a smile.

     "You did it!  Very good!" Natalie cheered.  "Now,
Robert, I need your help.  Do you think you can help me?"  Nat's
eyes focused on the child.

     Robert's head slowly nodded in the affirmative while his
mother gave him a gentle squeeze on the shoulder.

     "I need to give you some medicine so you'll be safe.
And I need to give it to you in your arm.  Which hand do you use
to draw with?"  Natalie waited patiently for the youngster to
point to his right hand.  "Okay, your right hand!  Now, here's
the part where I need your help.  Can you hold my friend's hand
while I give him some medicine, too?"

     Robert looked at Natalie and then glanced around the
room, finally giving his mother a questioning stare.

     "Oh, you're wondering where my friend is, are you?"
Natalie piped in.  "Well, he's right here," she continued, as
she pulled a ten-inch-tall teddy bear from the kangaroo pockets
of her white lab coat and offered it to the child.

     Robert's eyes softened as he reached out to accept the
bear.  The boy looked sympathetically at the toy.  "Is he
getting 'menicine,' too?" he asked.

     "Yes," replied Natalie, "and in the same arm as you are.
Will you hold his hand so he won't be scared?" Natalie continued
and thought to herself how much easier it was to give
vaccinations since the arrival of the large shipment of teddy
bears.  Funny.  An anonymous donor sent them along with a
generous check about a week after she had been to the 96th and
mentioned the cutbacks the clinic had suffered to its Children's
Outreach programs.

     She cast a quick glance at the silent blond detective
who waited across the hallway for her to finish with her final
patient of the evening.  'Yeah, very funny,' she thought, trying
to repress a smile.

     Robert held the bear tightly in his grasp as Natalie
gave an 'injection' to the bear.  "What a brave bear he is with
you here, Robert!" she exclaimed.  "Now, I'm going to give you
the medicine, too.  Hold Mr. Bear tight," her voice was
reassuring as she swabbed Robert's left upper arm with alcohol
and quickly administered the injection, hardly removing her eyes
from his stare.

     Robert held his breath, then let out a brief yelp when
he felt the first prick of the needle.  Natalie did not give him
time to react further.  "That's it!  All done," she concluded.
"What a brave pair!"

     Robert looked down at the bear sadly, then raised it
towards Natalie.  "Oh, no, Robert," she started.  "I think two
such courageous fellows as you need to stick together.  Can the
bear come to your house to live?"  Her face radiated warmth.

     "You mean I can keep him?" Robert asked loudly.
"Always?" he continued, his eyes growing large with disbelief.

     Natalie glanced at Robert's mother whose face was
beaming.  "If it's okay with Mom, yes, you can keep him always,"
Natalie nodded in the affirmative.

     Robert's mother gave her son a silent signal that the
bear was his and said, "Now, Robert, thank Dr. Lambert."

     Robert squirmed with delight.  "Thank you, Doctor
Na*t*alie," Robert responded, hugging the bear to his chest.  He
paused and said, "I'll call him Dr. Bear!"

     "You're welcome, Robert," Natalie said, helping the
child put his arms through his shirt and unconsciously buttoning
it for him.  "You take care of Dr. Bear and your mom, will you?"

     Robert smiled broadly and nodded his head as Natalie
eased him down from the table.  Her hand rested gently on his
shoulder for a long moment.  A cloud of regret passed over her
face noticed only by Nick, still waiting quietly across the
hallway.

     "See you for your annual check-up in six months!"
Natalie called to Robert as he sped down the corridor, followed
closely by his mother.  Nat glanced in Nick's direction, her
gaze settling on his eyes which were brimming with pain.  It was
the pain of knowing that he would never be a father; never have
a child to hold, to love, to cherish, to spoil.  Just as *she*
knew the same fate awaited her as long as she loved him.

     Nick memorized the vision of Natalie interacting with
the child. '*This* is what she deserves--a child of her own, a
child to love, a child to mother--things I can never give her.
Children bring light to the world--a light that will never
penetrate my life, not as long as darkness rules my soul.'  For
the umpteenth time, Nick told himself that Natalie should not be
deprived of this important part of mortal life. *He* should not
deprive her of it by loving her, by allowing her to love him.

     Their eyes met, and, for a brief eternity, each could
feel the others thoughts.

     Natalie crossed the room and stood beside Nick, gently
taking his hand in hers.  "Nick...don't...," she began, staring
deeply into his eyes, "don't do this to yourself."  She wanted
to scream, 'Don't do this to *us,*' but her reluctance to be the
first to admit her love kept the words imprisoned in her heart.

     Nick squeezed her hand.  "It's okay, Nat.  It's just
that you should always be around kids.  I don't often see you
with children--you're a natural," he finished and forced a weak
smile to his lips.

     He continued to hold her hand for longer than he had
intended.  It felt so right.  It felt so *human.*

     Reluctantly he asked, "Are you ready to pick up your
car?"

     The mood was broken.

     Feeling that an important moment had been lost, Nat
replied, "Sure, I'll just get my coat and my bag.  Be back in a
minute."  She released his hand and walked away.  She returned
with her things and followed him to the Caddy.

     They drove in silence, a lifetime of words sitting
unspoken between them.

     When they arrived at the garage, Natalie stepped inside
to settle the bill with the mechanic and retrieve her keys.  "Do
you want me to follow you home to make sure the car's okay?"
Nick asked as he followed her into the building.

     "No.  Thanks anyway, Nick," Natalie responded.  "As long
as it starts, I'll be fine and the garage is still open for
another hour.  See you tomorrow?"  The words almost caught in
her throat.

     "Yeah.  I'm on tomorrow, and I'll be following up the
evidence on the Coronation Park case."  Nick's police officer's
voice was taking over.  "Goodnight, Nat."

     Natalie paid the mechanic and headed to her car as Nick
slowly drove away.  She started the engine, but sat alone for
several minutes trying to find a reason to go home, when all she
really wanted to do was be with Nick.



     Nick's hand went instinctively to the knob of the car
radio as he eased the Caddy into traffic.

     "Good evening, gentle listeners.  This is the
Nightcrawler," began the velvet tones of LaCroix's monologue.
"Tonight's topic is nature and what happens to those who forget
its power.

     "Inside every animal that man tries to domesticate lies
the soul of a wild beast--a soul that will *always* default to
its true nature.  How many wild animals are destroyed every year
because their foolish owners do not recognize or respect the
beast inside them?  These creatures may seem like household
pets, but they will rise to their true beastly capacities when
angered, caged or challenged.  You see, you simply cannot play
house with a killer."

     "It reminds me of the old children's rhyme about the
lady and the crocodile.  You remember, don't you?  The woman
wanted to travel down the Nile and the crocodile offered to
transport her on his back.  Even though she should have known he
was a killing beast, she trusted him because he appeared so
docile, so 'civilized.'  But...

     'At the end of the ride,
     The lady was inside.
     And the smile was on the crocodile.'

    "So pay close attention to the true nature of the
wild beasts of the universe and do not expect to 'play house'
with them.  They are what they are.  And they will destroy any
who try to keep them from their killing instincts.

    "I await your calls, my pets.  The Nightcrawler is watching
out for *you.*"  The sounds of "Born to Be Wild" filtered from
the radio as LaCroix's monologue concluded.

    LaCroix whispered to the empty studio, "I watch over *all*
that is mine, Nicholas."



     Nick's hand snapped the dial to 'off.'   Even without
LaCroix's warning, Nick recognized the danger he posed to
Natalie.  He was a killer with a killer's instincts, and he
*would* default to that if he ever let his control slip.  How he
could ever resolve his love for her and his fear for her safety,
he did not know.

*********************************

     Four evenings later, Natalie hurried through the doors
of the morgue.  In the rush of the moment, she tossed her purse
on top of her desk, causing it to spew its contents.  Kleenex,
paper clips, checkbook, lipstick and grocery receipts all
tumbled out.  Feeling exasperated, Natalie flung her coat over
the items which defined her everyday life.

     "Whoa, slow down, girl," Grace chuckled. "Where's the
fire?"

     "Oh, Grace, I don't know what happened, but I overslept
and have been running behind since I opened my eyes!" cried
Natalie, trying to catch her breath.  "Tell me it's going to be
a slow night, and I'll relax!"  Natalie collapsed into her desk
chair.

     "Well, I'm not sure about the slow night, but our
fearless leader has been attempting to reach you, and he wants
you to phone him as soon as you arrive.  He called twenty
minutes ago and you just missed his second try," Grace
continued.  "I can only imagine what he wants."

     "Malone called for me twice?" Nat questioned.  "I guess
we can rule out a promotion or the Nobel prize for medicine, eh?
But, I wonder..."

     The doors of the morgue burst open, startling both
women.  "Dr. Malone, I was just about to return your call,"
Natalie began, rising quickly to her feet surveying the
irritated countenance of Dr. Edwin Malone, the city's Chief
Coroner.

     "Dr. Lambert, ah, Natalie, I'm glad I finally found
you," he said.  Dr. Malone was about to comment on the fact that
he had needed to come down to the morgue in person in order to
find his youngest medical examiner, but stopped short,
remembering she worked the night shift voluntarily and spent
many of her days off in the morgue finishing paperwork and
generally trying to keep up with the never ceasing pace of
forensic pathology.

     Dr. Malone's expression softened as he continued. "We
have a bit of an emergency on our hands, and I was hoping you
could help us out.  Jack Bower, from South, was supposed to
attend a regional coroner's conference in Québec City in two
days.  Unfortunately, his wife has taken ill, and he won't be
able to leave.  I know it's very short notice, but I'd like you
to go in his place.  It's only for five days, and the city
really needs to have a representative there.  We're hosting next
year, and you know how it'll be if we don't have one of our best
in attendance."  He was hoping that his compliment, although
certainly true, would snag her attention.

     "Are you sure about this, Dr. Malone?  I have a number
of cases backed up as it is." Natalie did not quite know why she
was making excuses.  A week in old Québec sounded like heaven,
even if most of her time would probably be filled with meetings
and seminars.

     "Yes, I'm quite sure!  Unfortunately, I need your answer
right away."  Dr. Malone's voice was insistent.

     Natalie answered quickly.  "I'll just have to make
arrangements for my cat," she started, not sure why she was
bringing up this detail to her boss.

     "I'll be glad to take care of Sidney for you, Dr.
Lambert," Grace answered forcefully, leaving no doubt as to her
thoughts on the subject.

     "Well, I guess it's a 'yes' then, Dr. Malone.  Do you
have all the details of the conference?" Natalie asked.

     "I'll have my secretary send you Jack's registration
packet and hotel reservation information through the interoffice
mail."  Dr. Malone looked pleased.  "I know you'll represent the
department well, Dr. Lambert.  Check with her tomorrow if you
have any other questions."  He turned to leave, but remembered,
"Do you have a list of your pending cases, so I can arrange for
someone to cover for you?"

     "Yes, it's right here." Natalie's eyes turned to examine
the top of her desk when she remembered the file was probably
sitting *under* the contents of her purse.  She quickly moved
her coat and began to brush aside the lipstick and tissues, when
her eye caught the slight glint of a small silver frame which
had also escaped in the confusion.  It was the photograph that
Vera had taken of Nick and her at last year's Christmas party.
The one where Nick was smiling at her in a way that always made
her heart skip a beat--the one she loved to look at for hours.

     Casually slipping the photo into her middle desk drawer
and hoping neither Grace nor Dr. Malone saw her actions or the
slight blush which appeared on her cheeks, Natalie found the
manila folder she sought and handed it to her boss.  "There are
currently five cases pending including the Woodard case the 96th
is working on.  That's the one where the victim was found in
Coronation Park," Natalie's voice exuded professionalism.

     "Great!  I'll let you know who will be filling in for
you tomorrow, and you can notify your staff," Dr. Malone
concluded as he reached to shake her hand.  "I'll be looking
forward to a full report from you on the conference when you
return next week."

     Natalie returned Dr. Malone's handshake.  "Thank you.
I'll see you when I get back."

     As Dr. Malone exited the morgue, Natalie turned to
Grace.  "You were kind of anxious to take care of Sidney, Grace.
Did you know about this or has Sidney finally worked his cat
magic on you?" Natalie queried.

     Grace raised both her hands as if under arrest.  "No!
I'm innocent!  I don't know a thing about it.  But I *do* think
you deserve a break, especially at the city's expense, after all
the o.t. you've put in since Johnson's been on vacation.  And if
that means Sidney and I get to spend some 'quality time'
together, so be it."  Grace's face reflected her concern for her
friend and her satisfaction that perhaps *finally* Natalie might
have some fun, or at least a few days to relax.  "Just be sure
to pack that little birthday gift we all got you."  Grace smiled
slyly.

     "Birthday gift...oh, Grace!" Natalie's face turned
crimson as she remembered the black lace teddy the staff had
presented to her last summer for her birthday.  The one that sat
untouched by human or vampire hands in her bottom dresser
drawer.

     "You might want to ask some special someone to go along,
you know," Grace said, searching Natalie's face for any telltale
sign that a certain blond homicide detective might be in the
picture.  'When are those two ever going to stop pussy-footing
around and admit they're crazy about each other?' she wondered
to herself.

     "Grace, we're just good...wait a minute," Natalie
started, then caught herself.  "I don't know *who* you mean!"

     Grace raised her hand to silence her boss.  "Yeah, Dr.
Lambert, and *I'm* Whitney Houston!"

     Natalie looked back, trying hard not to acknowledge that
she knew *exactly* what and whom Grace meant.  "We'd both better
get to work, or I'll never get out of here in two days!"

     Natalie's mind flashed to the unused lingerie in the
bottom of her dresser drawer.  Her toes curled slightly as she
quietly opened her desk drawer and sneaked a quick glance at the
photograph one more time, an action not lost on Grace's
hawk-like peripheral vision.

**************************************

     "Hey, Nick, let's make a quick stop at the Kaffee
Klatch.  I could use some caffeine to keep me awake, and nature
is calling my name."  Don glanced at his partner, who
slowed the Caddy and eased it into the parking lot of Schanke's
favorite donut and sandwich joint.  "Thanks," he started, "I'll
be right there.  You grab us a table."

     Before Nick could offer a protest, Schanke was out of
the car and bursting through the door, tipping an imaginary hat
to the proprietor and Julie, the regular waitress.  "Two coffees
for my partner and me, Julie.  And I'll take one of those eclair
things," he said, not stopping as he made his way to the
restroom at the back of the establishment.

     "Still on that diet, I see, Schank!" cried Julie in
response.  "Good evening, Detective Knight," she continued.
"Can I get you anything besides coffee?"

     "No thanks, Julie.  Coffee's fine," replied Nick,
seating himself at a booth near the door.  He smiled as she
quickly brought two steaming cups to the table, along with a
chocolate eclair for Schanke.

     Nick raised the mug to his lips, enjoying the warmth
that emanated from the ceramic container and inhaling the steam
from the coffee.  He touched the liquid to his lips briefly, not
only for Julie's benefit, but to try just a taste for humanity's
sake.  'Ugh!' he thought as he cringed at the flavor.  'How can
they stand this stuff!  It's more bitter than cow.'

     Julie cast him an understanding look from across the
counter.  "You might want to sweeten that up tonight, Detective.
It's a little strong.  Your partner never even tries it without
at least three sugars!"

     "Thanks, I'll do that."  Nick gave her a quick nod of
his head.  As he reached for the sugar packets, Nick slowly
surveyed the restaurant.  The normalcy of it all affronted his
vampire senses.  Three booths over from where he sat, two
elderly gentlemen were engaged in an animated conversation about
each other's golf handicaps.  As Nick zeroed in on their words,
he realized they knew each other well.  With a familiarity born
from years of friendship, they also discussed each other's aches
and pains, doctor's appointments, the stock market.  Seated at
the counter were three middle-aged women, laughing and giggling
over some shared joke.  'Tourists,' thought Nick, faintly amused
by their antics.  'Probably Americans.'

     Across the aisle was a young man who appeared to be waiting
for someone.  Nick could see the quiet anticipation in his face
broaden into a deep smile as the shop door opened to a beautiful
woman carrying a small child.

     Her face brightened as she spied her husband, who
jumped up to greet her with a quick kiss to the cheek and
another one to the baby's forehead.  As the couple passed his
table, the woman caught Nick's attention for a moment and smiled
at him briefly.  Nick redirected his efforts to the coffee, but
stole another quick glance at the young wife and mother whose
warmth and knowing green eyes reminded him of another young
woman...

>>>---->


France, the village of Dampierre, about twenty miles outside of
Paris, 1822.  (Note:  Nicolas is pronounced 'Nicola.')

     "Nicolas, you sly dog, how is it the gods are so kind to
you and so harsh to me?" cried Gaspar L'Heureux, slapping the
back of his guest lightly, all the while cursing his ill luck
under his breath.

     "The gods have nothing to do with it, my dear Gaspar.  It
is skill, my friend, not luck that rewards me!"  Nicolas
collected his winnings and pushed his chair away from
the gaming table, preparing to leave.

     "But you cannot depart until I have had a chance to even
the score," the young man exclaimed, allowing his emotions
to be more evident than he had intended.

     The look on his companion's face revealed more than mild
desperation, and Nicolas paused to consider another hand of
cards, before tucking his winnings inside his jacket.  "Gaspar,
we must away!  It is late and I promised your father we would
return to the manor before morn."  He placed a compassionate
hand on the boy's shoulder.  "And you will have another
opportunity to regain your losses, I assure you," he laughed.

     Startled from his gloom, Gaspar flinched at Nicolas' grasp,
but quickly glanced about the room and smiled, not wanting to
display his despair to the others.  "Of course, you are right!
There is always tomorrow," he declared, as if saying the words
aloud would grant him the good fortune he so fervently sought.

     Swathed in darkness, the men mounted their steeds and
silently rode the short distance to the manor.  Nicolas slowed
his horse as they approached the outbuildings.  Gaspar grabbed
the reins quickly and stopped the animal.  "Nicolas, go ahead
and take your rest.  I will make certain your mount is delivered
to the groomsman."

     "Come, Gaspar, your father will be worried.  Go on to
the main house and put his mind at ease," Nicolas replied.

     "No, you are our welcomed guest.  My father would demand
nothing less.  Go, your bed awaits you," the raven-haired youth
insisted, glancing nervously about the courtyard.

     Nicolas dismounted and walked slowly toward the
black-lacquered main door of the manor's guest house.
Putting his hand on the latch, he turned to bid Gaspar
goodnight, only to find the young man already afoot, leading
both horses to the stable.

     Approaching the study on the first floor, Nicolas heard the
stirring of the servants at the rear of the house.  A red-faced,
kerchiefed matron peaked her head out the kitchen door and
smiled as she recognized him.  "It is only I, Mme. LeBeau," he
assured her.

     "Ah, good evening to you then, Master Nicolas.  Can I bring
you a dram of spirits to ease your way to slumber?" she asked, a
sleepy yawn in her voice.

     "No, I had no wish to disturb you or the others," he began.
"I only thought I might borrow a book from your master's shelf."

     "The master has left strict orders that we are to see to
your every need, good sir.  I am certain he would not
begrudge anything you ask," she replied.  "I will withdraw if
you have no need of me then."

     "I am fine and will retire soon, but thank you," he said,
turning to inspect the leather-bound tomes housed before him.

     The good family L'Heureux and their servants had made
Nicolas feel extremely welcome during his short stay at the
manor.  A mutual acquaintance in Paris had introduced them,
seeming to find in him a possible benefactor for the family who
had fallen on hard times after the Revolution and the demise of
Bonaparte, all the while promising Nicolas the opportunity to
increase his holdings in the area at a bargain price.  Nicolas
was well aware that generations-old family lands were being lost
to debt and wild-eyed speculation.

     But somehow this family reminded him strangely of his own.
His elder brother and father were lost to fever in the Holy
Land, leaving his mother to fend for herself.  Before Nicolas
had attained manhood, their noble uncle, who was the landed son,
had decreed Nicolas would better serve the family as a knight
and dedicated him in service to another lord.  This gesture,
while magnanimous on the surface, also assured the uncle that no
son of Clair and Andre would challenge the rights of his own
heirs.  After all, the crusades were far away and so many
young men, eager to do their duty, left, never to return.

     Politics and land always seemed to share the same bed,
regardless of the century.  This time was no different.

     Nicolas found Jacques L'Heureux, master of the manor, to be
a bright and interesting man, if ill-equipped to supervise the
running of a large estate.  So many things had changed since the
Revolution.  Estates, handed down through time, could no longer
survive solely on family fortunes, and were being lost following
the fall of the monarchy.  They had to be run profitably or they
would be lost to debt, as threatened this one.  L'Heureux had
never been educated in the agricultural aspects of manor life,
and hard times prevented paying wages to a suitable manager.  He
was a man better suited to finance, but without the economic
resources to advance in the newly emerging marketplaces of
Europe.

     Not certain how to refine his own economic plans, but
knowing he would not put this family's lands in peril, Nicolas
had decided to stay on as a guest to learn as much as he could
about the manor's problems and potential for profit.

     Picking up a volume from the shelf, the vampire ascended
the stairs to his bedroom, assessing his need to feed before the
coming day.  Without his master's knowledge, he had begun to
consume animal blood to reduce the number of humans his
monstrous appetite demanded.  It was about 2:00a.m.  There was
yet enough time to scan the nearby forest before the first light
of day.  Opening the balcony door carefully, Nicolas prepared
for flight, but noticed a rustling in the shadows below.
Obscured by the line of low trees separating the formal
gardens from the outbuildings, a figure darted swiftly
across the outer courtyard, stopping nervously in the shadows of
statues cast by a silver half-moon before continuing towards the
stables.

     'Who would be sneaking about the grounds this time of
night?' Nicolas wondered, and watched with concern as the figure
entered the stable door.  'Someone planning to steal one of
L'Heureux's fine steeds?'  He flew over and landed softly on the
ground close to the place where the intruder had gained entry.
Stepping cautiously, he neared the door and extended his
preternatural hearing.  The faint rustle of straw and the sound
of soft feminine laughter coming from the hay loft told Nicolas
he need not trouble himself over the welfare of his host's
thoroughbreds.  Smiling to himself, he rose toward the moon and
took flight.



     Sated, the beast withdrew his fangs from the doe, carefully
wiping his sullied hands on its still-warm hide.  The ancient
sun's rays approached.  He could feel rather than see them, and
he took once again to the sky.

*****

     Landing on the balcony, Nicolas silently entered his
bedroom and prepared for sleep, but from some far-off room in
the house, the muffled sound of sobbing assailed his vampire
ears.  He drew his dressing gown around him and donned a robe
before following the weeping to its source.  A glass-ensconced
candle lighted his way through the house, now darkened and still
but for the forlorn cries heard only by him and the yet
unidentified soul who uttered them.

     Nicolas quickly determined that the sounds did not emanate
from the second floor, so he proceeded to the main living area
on the first.  He walked briskly from salon to study to dining
room before entering the kitchen.  His senses caught a quick
stab of breath as he opened the door.  It was not the
candlelight but his heightened vision that revealed the figure
huddled close in the corner of the pantry, rocking back and fro
as if trying in vain to find comfort.

     He approached slowly, letting the candlelight announce his
nearness, and was met with deep green eyes and a look not so
much of terror but of resignation at being discovered disturbing
the master's guest, and preparing for the bitter consequences
of that fact.

     They stared at each other in silence for several moments,
before Nicolas offered his hand to help her stand.  She shook
her head fiercely, ignoring his assistance and bringing herself
suddenly to an upright position.  "I...I'm so sorry for
disturbing you, Master Nicolas," she began.  "I have taken you
from your bed.  Please, I beg you return and forget about me!"

     "Do not trouble yourself, child.  You have not disturbed
me.  I was reading and had not yet taken to sleep when I heard
your cries," he responded, gently reaching to smooth the wisps
of chestnut hair, loosened in grief and now punctuating her
otherwise flawless countenance, back into her kerchief.  He
smiled sweetly to comfort her.  "You are Violette, the
chambermaid?"

     She turned her gaze toward to floor in shame at his
recognition.  "Yes, sir, the tormentor of your rest has that
name."

     He smiled reassuringly at her, "I told you I was not at my
sleep, Violette.  You have done nothing wrong.  But tell me what
vexes you that I should find you at this hour sobbing and
forlorn."

     She looked at him in wonder and found in his iris-blue eyes
the conviction he could help.  She wanted to unburden herself,
but the difference in their stations prevented her.

     Nicolas could see the problem and, even though centuries
had passed and democracy had now risen on two continents, he
wondered if the gulf of birth could ever be bridged.  "Wait
here for my return."  It was a command, and he knew she would
obey.

     Returning to the salon, he snatched up a bottle of brandy
and two glasses, then wound his way again to the kitchen.  He
motioned for her to join him at the small table beside the
cookfire and pulled up a chair for her and another for himself,
pouring the amber liquor into each glass.  "Your master
was distressed that I had not partaken of his fine vintage, so
here is my chance to return to his good graces.  Join me
now."

     Violette slowly brought the drink to her mouth and tried a
small taste.  After the initial warmth passed her tongue, she
took a long sip and then another, adjusting her gaze to Nicolas
who held his glass in mid-air, watching her carefully.

     He touched the glass to his lips for a moment.  "Now
that we have shared a glass as equals, tell me what causes this
grief to one so young," he said soothingly, placing an
encouraging hand over hers.

     "I--I cannot speak of it, Master Nicolas.  Not even to one
so kind as you," she said, her voice slightly dreamy from the
alcohol.

     "Violette, I am friend to this manor and everyone in it.
If there is aught that vexes you, it vexes me as well," he
stated, certain his logic would convince her of his sincerity.
"I assure you of my steadfast character, and will not repeat
your cares to another, unless you wish it of me."  He gave her
hand a final gentle caress.

     Her armor pierced, she found herself unable to stop the
stream of fresh tears that flowed down her reddened cheeks.
Nicolas drew a linen cloth from the pocket of his robe and
handed it to her.  "Now, tell me what causes you this pain,"
he instructed.

     "I do not know how to couch the words which will surely
affront you, kind sir, but with my heart I tell you that I have
committed a most grievous sin against both God and man," she
began, clarity returning to her deep green eyes and acceptance
of her guilt to her countenance.

     The vampire hid a smile at her confession.  How could one
so young and innocent commit any sin?  "You will find in me one
who greatly understands the frailties of mankind.  There is
nothing you have done I have neither heard of nor seen before."
His voice was gentle and sincere.  "Now begin."

     "Although my station does not permit such a thing, I am in
love with one who is my better," she said in a monotone,
never raising her gaze from the tabletop.  "I swear to you I did
not intend for this to be," she raised her eyes to him as her
voice took on a troubled tone, "but, God forgive me, he has my
heart and my soul and I confess my--my body as well."  Her
head dropped to her chest as if prepared to accept her penance
at his hand.

     Nicolas could not repress a smile as he realized the object
of her affection was none other than his young gaming friend.
"And does Gaspar share this love of yours?" he asked, sure that
he now knew the source of the laughter he had overheard earlier
in the stables.

     Terror found its home in her eyes as she searched his
face for the key he had used to unlock her innermost secrets.
"Bu--but how could you know, Master Nicolas?  Have I somehow
betrayed him?" she asked in dismay.

     "No, Violette.  You have done nothing to reveal your
secret.  I but noticed the way Gaspar seemed anxious to take
himself alone to the stables this evening after our return from
the gaming house."  He brushed aside a tear from her cheek.
"And a man would have to be half-blind not to see the beauty of
face and of spirit housed in you, regardless of your
birth."

     He decided to assess her character before continuing.  "I
find Gaspar to be a fine young man, but you know him better than
I.  Tell me, what are his intentions toward you, that I might
know his mettle."

     "That is the source of my grief, sir."  Her voice broke as
she continued, "As you must know, the manor is in sore need of
finances, and even we servants are aware the account books are
almost bare.  Many of the servants have been let go, and those
who have remained have done so in loyalty to the family, as the
rate of pay has had to be greatly reduced.

     "Gaspar and I have known each other since our tender years,
when first I came to service here.  My own family were guildsmen
and merchants whose fortunes were lost after the Revolution.  My
dear older brother saw duty in Napoleon's army before being
sacrificed in battle.  He was our family's last hope to regain
our former station in life, through bounty and lands meted out
in victory.  With Napoleon's defeat, I was pressed into service
to support my parents, and willingly I went, for I am a
devoted daughter as Gaspar is a devoted son.

     "Gaspar and I found love and desire for each other in those
ways in which we are alike, not those of birth and of station
which separate us."  She paused collecting her courage before
continuing.  "We had planned to marry in secret and present the
fait accompli to his parents before they could object, for
surely they would.  He told me he would stand with me, but
whether here at the manor or away at some far-off land, we would
be together.  Until..." she stopped, her lower lip quivering in
grief and uncertainty.

     Nicolas again covered her small hand with his own.  "Go on,
Violette," he encouraged.

     "This night Gaspar told me that his parents have promised
him as husband to the oldest daughter of the family Sorbier.
Their family were merchants, not unlike my own, but they won
Napoleon's favor during the war by supplying the armies and
were well paid before his coffers ran dry.  Now they are
speculators in Paris who have money, but no lands with which to
assure their place in society.  By betrothing their daughter to
Gaspar, they take for themselves his family name, and his
father assures himself the finances to keep the manor intact.

     "This news has sent me to grief and despair, and thus you
found me," she concluded.

     "When is the marriage to happen, Violette?" he asked.

     "The betrothal will be announced at the parish church
Sunday, as is required, and repeated the following two Sundays.
The marriage will take place the week after," she replied.

     "So soon?" he demanded.

     "Yes.  Gaspar believes his parents are driven to this.
Claudette, his sister, has but twelve years, far too young to
marry.  Perhaps in time she would find a husband to work the
manor and bring it again to profit, but if the manor does not
receive money very soon, all will be lost.  They do not want to
allow him too much time to regret their decision for his future.
So we two are in despair.  He told me he has even tried his luck
at the gaming tables to amass a fortune which would prevent the
need for such a match, but to no avail," she whispered
forlornly.

     Nicolas considered Gaspar's behavior at the gaming house
and now realized the enormity of the young man's situation.  "I
will speak to Gaspar," he offered, "and together we may find
another way."

     "Oh, no!" she raised her voice in consternation.  "No, you
must promise you will not mention my weakness to Gaspar.  He
grieves as it is, and I must not be the source of any more
unhappiness to him," she pleaded.

     "Only if you command it of me, Violette," he answered.
"For I believe there may yet be time to intercede with his
parents on your behalf."

     "Your kindness to one of my station is more than I
deserve.  It would distress me more to know that you have been
inconvenienced or troubled because of my sin," she stated.

     "Your sin?" he repeated.

     "Yes, my sin in loving one better than I and allowing that
love to bring him into conflict with his own duty and station."
She raised the glass once again and finished its contents.  "I
know my place and I must be resigned to it, even as I beg God's
forgiveness," she concluded submissively.

     Nicolas looked on her with renewed admiration for her
devotion and courage.  "I will do or not as you desire, dear
child, but know that you have but to ask and I will, as best I
can, fulfill any task you require of me."

     He paused and looked through the nearby window towards the
brightening sky.  "I must away to my bed now, as should you,
before either one of us pray explain that which has passed
between us."

     He rose, grabbed the bottle and turned to the door.
"Master Nicolas," her soft voice called from the table.  "Thank
you for being my confessor.  I pray the new parish priest is as
kind when he doles out my penance."

     "As do I, Violette.  As do I," he replied as he exited the
kitchen and returned to his bedchamber.


<----<<<


     "Man, oh man, I *knew* I couldn't leave you for even a
minute," Schanke complained as he slid into the booth, glancing
over at his partner before popping half the chocolate eclair
into his mouth followed quickly with a slug of coffee.

     "What?  What did you say, Schank?" Nick was jerked back to
the present and looked over at his partner who was shaking his
head from side to side.

     Schanke waited until he had finished chewing and
swallowing the pastry.  "Exactly!  What *did* I say?  And how
could you know when you were somewhere out there just to the
left of the Twilight Zone?  What's with you, Knight?"

     Nick considered his partner for a moment then glanced again
quickly at the young mother with the deep green eyes.  "It's
nothing, Schank, nothing."


**************************************

     Natalie surveyed her apartment one last time before
heading to the door.  Grace had stopped by earlier to pick up
Sidney.  There was nothing left to do except to leave.

     Her eyes settled on the telephone.  She should call Nick
and tell him she was going.

     'To hell with Nick,' she thought.  'To hell with
vampires.  To hell with everything.'  She was going away for
almost a week, and she was going to enjoy herself--as much as it
would be possible to enjoy oneself at a coroner's conference.
Not exactly romance central.  'And besides, he hasn't called me
in several days.  He hasn't even stopped by the morgue to pick
up reports.  He's sent Schanke to do it.  Coward.  Immortal
creatures who have little cause to fear us 'inferior' humans?
Yeah, right.  Cowards.'

     Her hand moved to pick up the phone.  'NO!' she shouted
to herself silently.  'I'm *not* going to be the maintenance
worker for this relationship.  Who am I kidding?  What
relationship?  NO!'

     The slam of the door echoed from the apartment walls.

     Natalie eased her car into traffic on the 401 and headed
northeast towards Québec.  It would be almost a ten hour drive
and she could have flown, but she had always liked driving.  It
gave her time to think.  Maybe that was the last thing she
needed right now.  Or maybe it was *exactly* what she needed.

     A few hours into the trip, Natalie's thoughts returned
to her dream of Nick and the child-- their daughter, she was
sure of it now.  Chalk up another 'a dream is a wish your heart
makes.'  Her scientific mind told her she was no closer to a
cure than she had been months ago, except that she knew a few
things that had *not* worked.  She was still convinced that
weaning Nick off blood and gradually introducing food were parts
of the process, but maybe they would only work if his metabolism
had already undergone an essential change.  But what change?
She still did not know and was running out of ideas of where to
look.

     And then there was her heart.  Natalie loved Nick, but
she also loved his quest--his journey to return to humanity.
How could she not?  It was so much a fundamental part of his
personality.  It dictated almost everything he did, thought,
experienced, felt.  And since the vampire was a part of the
journey, she let herself think for a tiny moment that perhaps,
underneath it all, she loved the vampire as well as the man.

     'No.  Couldn't be...could it?'  She allowed reason to
resume center stage in this conversation with herself.  'We can
only be together if we find a cure.  There is no other way; he'd
surely kill me otherwise. At least he certainly doesn't think
there is any other way.

     'But what do you *really* want, Lambert?'  She sighed.
'I want to be with Nick emotionally, physically, spiritually.
And I'm willing to take the vampire along with the man.'  There,
she said it.  Well, at least *thought* it.

     Natalie shook her head, unconsciously trying to clear
the conflicting emotions from her brain.  She admitted she loved
Nick and wanted desperately to be with him body and soul.  But
did he love her?  Ah, now that was another issue.

     She thought back to their times together--just the two
of them--in the loft, in her office, in his car.  He was always
the consummate gentleman.  He had had a lot of practice in eight
hundred years.  Their friendship had evolved over
time--tentative and professional at first, then a little more
daring, with gentle hugs and squeezes, a light kiss on the
forehead, a touch of his hand on her hair.  She silently
compared the concern he had shown her when she was having that
dream--no, nightmare--in the morgue with the stiff, "hands-off"
attitude he had assumed when she was examining him in the loft
later the same evening.

     It made perfect sense.  He had been a killer in the
past, and he was convinced the vampire would harm her.  He had
told her as much many times before.

     'So, Lambert, what's the answer?' she wondered, as she
toyed with the wilted bowl of greens that passed for a chef
salad at the diner where she had decided to stop for lunch.  She
let her breath out slowly.  'Do we *really* know we can't be
together, or is it Nick's fear?  Maybe Nick needs to be reminded
that he's the most human man I've ever known and that I *do*
trust him not only with my life but my soul as well.  Sounds
like a job for a faith healer.'  Natalie chuckled out loud at
the thought of Nick and Jimmy Swaggart in the same room.  Not in
this lifetime!  "Faith," she said to no one but herself.  "Maybe
faith is the key."

     After stopping the second time for gasoline, Natalie's
journey to Québec continued uneventfully.  She thought of Nick
and daydreamed of their being together.  She *knew* they were
better together than apart.  But how to persuade Nick to have
faith in himself, to have faith in *them?*

     Nat had still drawn no conclusions when she realized she
was nearing the city of Québec.  She focused her mind on the
task of finding the hotel.  It was easy to navigate to the Grand
Allee and from there find the Québec Hilton which stood at the
corner of Boulevard René Lévesque and Avenue Dufferin.

     She pulled the car into the service area and stepped
out, gingerly stretching muscles cramped from the long drive.
Handing her keys to the parking attendant and finding a bellman
to help with her suitcase, she proceeded to the lobby.

     The desk clerk was congenial and efficient.  After
inspecting the reservation information Natalie presented from
the city of Toronto, he placed the plastic credit-card type key
to room 2204 in Natalie's hand.  "Have a successful conference,
Dr. Lambert.  And be sure to make time to explore the old city!"
he stated, and seemed to actually mean it.

     "Thank you," replied Nat.  "You wouldn't have any
brochures or city maps showing the sights, would you?" she
asked.

     "Yes, right around the corner at the concierge desk.
And he will answer any questions you may have about directions,
reservations and so forth," the clerk answered.

     The bellman waited patiently as Natalie inspected the
brochure display.  She quickly picked out several interesting
and colorful items, determined to study them in detail after she
had settled in.

     A few minutes later, the bellman ushered Natalie into
her room.  It was typical of a big city hotel.  The color scheme
was beige and mauve with teal accents.  The room was of moderate
size and seemed comfortable, but the selling point was the view.
The room was positioned to offer an expansive view of the St.
Lawrence as well as the Citadel and some of the old city
including the Hotel Frontenac, the signature building of the
entire metropolis.  Natalie turned her glance to the bellman who
had placed her suitcase on the luggage rack near the closet.
She opened her purse to find an appropriate tip and handed him a
few loonies, thanking him.  "Enjoy your stay, Doctor," he
responded as he exited.

     Natalie's attention returned momentarily to the view,
but it was interrupted by the loud ring of the telephone.
"Yes?" she asked.

     "Natalie, it's Marie LeClerc!   I just saw the
registration roster and found your name.  I didn't know you were
going to be here," a woman's voice stated eagerly.

     "Marie!!" Natalie almost shouted, astonished to be
speaking with a former colleague from her internship.  "I
haven't even picked up my registration packet yet!  And I'm a
last minute substitute.  Where are you?"

     "I'm in room 1829.  Would you like to have dinner
together tonight?" Marie asked.

     "I just arrived and am in serious need of some
freshening up, but if you could wait a little while, I'd love
to."  Natalie decided that getting together with her old
acquaintance would at least assure that the conference would not
be a total loss.

     "Of course, I completely understand," replied Marie.
"Want to meet me in about an hour at the Le Caucus restaurant
downstairs?  Will that give you enough time?"

     "Yes, that'll be perfect.  See you then.  I can't wait
to catch up!" concluded Natalie as she hung up the phone.

***********************************


     Don Schanke tapped his pencil on the desk as he glanced
over at his partner for the eighth time in fifteen minutes.

     "What?" Nick sighed, and the tapping finally ceased.  He
looked across the desk with irritation after surveying the
latest interviews on the Woodard case.

     "So, don't you have something to tell your ol' partner,
partner?" Schanke asked, holding his gaze steady on Nick's face,
daring the blond detective to feign ignorance this time.

     "No," was Nick's simple answer.

     "No?!" Schanke replied.

     "No," came the answer, curtly this time.

     "I don't understand you, Knight!  Five nights ago, you
admit you're having a 'video' date with the city's hottest
medical examiner, but ever since, I can't get you to even look
in the direction of the coroner's building, much less go over
there and pick up any reports.  I don't think I've heard you
call over there either, and I know you must have that number all
but engraved on your brain for all the times you've called it in
the past.  What's up with you two?"  Schanke's face reflected
both challenge and concern.

     Nick conjured up the mask that he had perfected during
the nearly eight hundred years of his existence.  The mask that
hid his feelings from the outside world.  The mask that forever
separated him from mortals, and the entanglements that could
only snare him in their trap.

     "There's nothing to tell, Schank," he lied, as he forced
a weak smile to his lips.  "Nat and I watched a video together
and then she went home.  End of story.  We've both been busy
lately...you know that."  Nick intended to say nothing more on
the subject.

     "End of story?  Then how come Fitzroy over in vice told
me he was at the free clinic the next evening checking out a
lead, that he saw you and Nat there holding hands, but Nat
looked like she was going to cry?"  Schanke hesitated, knowing
he had never gotten quite this personal with Nick before.

     "Let it go, Schank.  Everything's okay, honest," Nick's
mind desperately tried to find an explanation Schanke would buy
without having to resort to 'influencing' his partner's mind.
It had been several days since he had seen or talked to Natalie,
and he missed her so much he almost ached.  He wanted her so
badly, yet with that want came fear that the vampire would harm
her.  Maybe it was time to see her again--to test his control
again.  At least with Schanke along, Natalie should be safe.
"And to prove it, let's go over and pick up that new fiber scan
Grace is working on for the Woodard case.  We've got to come up
with something soon or the mayor and Cohen will have our hides."
Nick was all business now, hoping to distract his partner from
this uncomfortable line of thought.

     Nick tried to hide his disappointment as he and Schanke
entered the morgue, and he realized he could not distinguish
Natalie's familiar heartbeat.  Perhaps she was in the cold room
down the hall.  His attention settled on Grace, who sat at her
desk, deeply immersed in a report.

     "Hi, Grace," Nick began, trying to sound chipper.  "I
guess Nat's down the hall.  I'll just go and say hello."

     Before the Balthazar woman could look up from her work,
Nick was out the door.  "Oh, hi, Schank.  Detective Knight's not
going to find Dr. Lambert unless he's planning on taking a
really long walk," she began.

     "What's up, Grace?" Schanke asked.  "Natalie's not
here?"

     "Umm.  I'm surprised she didn't tell you two, well, tell
Detective Knight at least.  She's gone to a conference in Québec
City for five days.  Malone came in here a couple of nights ago
and asked her to go in Jack Bower's place.  His wife got sick,
so he couldn't go.  Natalie left this morning,"  Grace
concluded.

     "Ahh, Grace.  Can I ask you something?" Schanke began,
lowering his voice to a hush and glancing nervously in the
general direction Nick had taken out the door.  "Has Natalie
seemed all right to you lately?  I mean, has she seemed
distracted or anything?"

     "What are you getting at, Don?" Grace started.  "Do you
mean is there something up between Dr. Lambert and her 'just
good friend,' your beloved partner?..."

     At that moment, Nick quickly entered the room again,
staring at Grace.  "Does Nat have the night off, Grace?  I
couldn't find her anywhere."

     "It seems Natalie's at a conference in Québec, Nick.
Grace just filled me in,"  Schanke began, fixing his stare on
Nick's face, looking for...what?  A sign?  A crack in that
unflappable Nick Knight facade?  "How long did you say she'd be
gone, Grace?" Schanke asked, never letting his eyes leave Nick's
face.

     "Five days, Detective Schanke.  She left this morning,
and I don't expect to see her in here until next Monday night."
Grace's voice was smooth but had just a tinge of 'got'cha'
spiced in for Nick's benefit.

     For a microsecond, caught like a deer in the headlights
of an oncoming car--no, with these two, it would be an oncoming
train--Nick let disappointment flash across his face.  Almost as
quickly, the eight hundred year old mask slipped back into
place.  "That--that's really wonderful to hear, Grace.  Natalie
works so hard and she gets so little time off.  I--I hope she
has a good time," he stammered.

     "Anyway, Schank and I are here to pick up that fiber
scan you were working on for the Coronation Park case.  Is it
done?"  Nick Knight, Metro homicide detective spoke those words,
not Nicolas de Brabant, lonely crusader who deeply loved one
Natalie Lambert, medical examiner.

     Grace, too, was scanning Nick's face, trying to find a
reason not to hit him square on the cranium with a heavy blunt
object.  For all the pain he had apparently caused Natalie,
which resulted in her leaving without even telling him, for the
blush that had come over her boss' face when Grace had mentioned
the lace teddy and for the fact that Grace had guessed it was
being saved for the eyes of a certain blond cop who was, as most
men, clueless.

     "No, Detective, I'm just finishing it now.  It'll be a
few more minutes.  Do you want to wait or should I call you when
it's done?"  Grace could hide her true feelings, too.

     Nick knew he needed to get out of there *now.* "Just
give us a call, would you, Grace?  I'm headed back to the
office," Nick responded as he turned to exit the office.

     Schanke looked at his partner and then back down to
where Grace was sitting.  "Well, if it'll only be a few minutes,
I'll wait for it, Grace," Schanke reasoned.  "No use starting
something new...,"  his voice trailed off.

     Nick glared in his direction even as his body almost
cleared the doorway.  "Have it your way, Schank.  I'll see you
back at the precinct."

     As the whoosh of the automatic door closer was followed
by the secure latch of the throw bolt hitting the striker plate,
the heavy-set woman resumed, "And what was that you were saying
about *Natalie* being distracted, Schanke?"

     "Man, oh man, Grace.  What is it with those two?  Anybody
with half a brain can see they've got it bad for each other.
Sometimes I think I should carry a fire extinguisher just to
hose Nick down after he's been in here.  But then he acts so
cool about it all--never tells you anything, never lets you in
or makes a slip--except about the video date thing--" Schanke
took a quick breath.

     "*What* video date thing?" Grace asked, somewhat
surprised.

     "Oh, it was a week or so ago.  Nick, as usual, was
panting like a puppy dog to come over here and pick up that
first autopsy report on the Pearson case.  I came in after he'd
gotten it from Natalie.  He let something slip about it being
his turn to pick out the video *this time.* Well, you know I
couldn't let that one pass, so I ragged on him a little, and I
think I actually saw him smile," Schanke's voice slowed.

     "And..?" the technician asked expectantly.

     "That's just it...*and* nothing--nada!   He had the next
night off and when I saw him two nights later, he's Mr. Cool
again." Schanke shook his head.

     "Well, I can tell you--" Grace started.

     "Wait, Grace, there's more!" Schanke interrupted.
"Fitzroy in vice told me he was following up a lead over at the
free clinic where Natalie volunteers and he saw them holding
hands!" Schanke looked down at Grace for her reaction.

     "Holding hands?  Well, at least that's a start," Grace
sighed.

     "No!  Fitzroy said Natalie looked like she was going to
cry and Nick had that--you know--that 'lost in space' look he
gets.  Ever since then he's been avoiding coming over here.  I
don't even think he's called," concluded Schanke.

     "No, I can tell you he hasn't, Don," the woman agreed.
"Although Malone's offer of the Québec conference came out of
the blue, Natalie seemed to agree to it awfully quick.  She
doesn't usually do things on the spur of the moment, you know.
And to answer your first question, yes, she's seemed more than a
little distracted lately."

     "I could understand it, if it were only that same old,
'just good friends' crap they've been shoveling out for the past
two years," the dark haired detective continued.  "But
something's eating at the both of them.  I thought Nick was
going to faint when he first saw the Woodard woman's body at the
crime scene.  You know her hair color was similar to Natalie's
and her build about the same, too.  He just got this
look--almost desperate, I'd call it, even after he realized it
wasn't Nat."  Schanke probed Grace's countenance for an answer.

     "It goes both ways, Schanke, I can tell you," Grace said
as she took in a large breath.  Before she continued, she
hastily surveyed the office, making sure they were completely
alone, a gesture not lost on Schanke.

     "What is it, Grace?  Is there something else I should
know?" Schanke lowered his voice and imitated her survey of
their surroundings.

     Grace's posture straightened in her chair, as she looked
right into his eyes and said in her most professional voice,
"Detective Schanke, the fiber scan report on the Woodard case is
finished, but you'll have to *sign* for it."

     Schanke was caught off guard.  "Of course, I always do.
What's the big deal?"

     The technician pursed her lips and stared at the
homicide detective once again.  "You have to *sign* for it,
Detective, and I don't have a pen, do you?"

     "Grace," he whined.  "Of course I have--"

     She was in overdrive now.  "Oh, you don't have a pen,
Detective?  I think you can find one in Dr. Lambert's desk."
Grace drew Schanke's eyes from hers to Natalie's center drawer
and back again.

     The light bulb finally went on.

     "Oh, yeah, sure, Grace.  No, I don't have a pen.  How
stupid of me.  You say I'll find one here?" Schanke looked
around nervously, as he walked over to Natalie's desk and slid
the center drawer open, looking for what, he did not know.

     Schanke glanced quickly at the contents of the desk
drawer and just as quickly back at Grace, trying desperately to
understand what it was he was supposed to find.  Grace's
countenance seemed to urge him on and her right hand made a
gesture in mid air, imploring him to open the drawer wider.  The
glint of a silver frame caught his eye the second time he looked
down.

     "I think I found one I can use, Grace.  It's under
this...,"  Schanke stopped short as his hand moved to right the
small silver frame which was face down at the back of the
drawer.  He turned the frame over and stared for several
seconds.  Even an old married man like Donald Schanke could see
that the look his partner was directing to a similarly smitten
medical examiner meant they felt more for each other than 'just
good friends' would.  He looked over at Grace and once more at
the photograph, before turning it face down once again and
replacing it, almost reverently, at the back of the drawer.

     As he closed the drawer, Schanke let out a deep sigh and
looked once again at Grace.  She beckoned him to come back to
her workstation. "Look, Don, I don't want you to think I go
around trashing through my boss' desk," she began in soft tones.
"The other night when Malone asked Natalie to go to the Quebec
conference, it slipped out of her purse.   She must have swept
it into the desk, because I saw her gazing at it later with a
look that would break your heart.  I've know Natalie for almost
three years now and, like most people, she has her ups and
downs, but she has seemed so sad lately, I just had to see if I
could find out why," she finished, staring into Don Schanke's
confused face, willing him to have an answer.

     "I don't know.  Nick's always been the silent type, but
he's been especially hard to read lately," the balding detective
said.  "Maybe they're at some kind of crossroad in their
'non-relationship.'  You know, maybe it's the old 'c' word you
women love so much."

     "'C' word?" Grace questioned.

     "Commitment!  And I can't see my partner letting himself
get cornered into that one--not even for Natalie," he concluded.

     "Maybe he needs a little...help," Natalie's friend and
co-worker mused, considering the myriad of possibilities
suddenly opening to her.

     "Help?  Like what kind of help?"

     "Oh, I don't know...Maybe a little competition for
Natalie's affections, or maybe...,"  Grace's voice trailed off
as her mind continued to sift through the alternatives.

     "Or maybe they could accidentally end up stranded
together someplace where they couldn't just run away from each
other!"  Metro's finest was on a roll now.

     "Uh, I think I *like* it.  Give me details!"  Grace
smiled broadly.

     "Myra and I have a place about 3 hours north of here.
It's rather remote.  What if they both happened to be invited
the same weekend?"  Schanke had an expectant look on his face.

     "As long as they don't know the other is invited too?"
Grace asked.

     "Absolutely!  Myra's great at this stuff.  She'll love
it."  Schanke seemed to relax a little.  "I'll get working on it
as soon as my shift is over.  Can I count on you to coordinate
Natalie's part?"

     Grace raised her hand as if to take the Girl Guide's
oath.  "Anything you need, detective.  I'm a sucker for a happy
ending."

     "And I'm a sucker for a good conspiracy!" the dark
haired police officer laughed as he shook her hand and picked up
the Woodard report.

********************************

     Natalie walked to the entrance of Le Caucus, scanning
the restaurant for Marie LeClerc.  "Natalie!  Over here!" she
heard an enthusiastic voice cry from across the room.

     Smiling, Natalie proceeded towards Marie's table and
gave her friend a big hug, then seated herself.  "You look so
good!  How long has it been?  Seven years?" Natalie exclaimed.

     "Closer to eight, I think, but who's counting?" the
ash-blonde woman replied.  Marie was beautifully attired in an
aubergine-colored suit and a beige silk blouse.  She beamed at
Natalie.  "I heard you're setting the forensics world on fire
out there in Toronto, girl!  I want to hear all about it!"

     "No.  I want to hear about *you,* Marie.  Tell me
everything!" Natalie begged.

     "Okay, I'll go first, but then it's your turn!" Marie
began.  "After my residency, I took a job with the Montreal
police department.  I pulled the usual nobody-else-wants-it duty
all the rookies get, but I was lucky enough to be involved in a
couple of high profile cases.  The Police Commissioner's office
noticed me, and I got assigned to several task forces overseeing
protocols and such.  They even sent me to an few international
conferences sponsored by Interpol.  That's what saved me in the
end."

     "What do you mean?" Natalie questioned.

     "Well, after I married Derek---"

     "You're married?  I didn't know!" Natalie almost
shouted.

     "Yes, we've been married for seven years now.  I met
Derek at one of the Commissioner's parties.  He's a banker.  I
rag on him sometimes for being a stuffed shirt, but, what can I
say?  I love him.  And he's a good dad, too.  We have two
kids...well, two and a half... ." She stopped, gently patting
her abdomen with her right hand.

     "Oh, Marie.  When are you due?" Natalie asked, battling
conflicting emotions.  She was happy about her friend's good
fortune both in her work and her family life, but Natalie also
felt a pang of jealousy accompanied by a rather large dollop of
regret--regret for not being able to have a child as long as she
loved Nick, yet resignation that the choice was hers.  It had
always been her choice to love him, and, by loving him,
accepting the limitations of that love.  A choice she had never
really lamented--at least not until recently.

     "In January.  I'm about five months along now.  That's
what I wanted to tell you was so great.  Being on those task
forces for the Police Commissioner has made it possible for me
to still be active but only work two or three days a week.  I've
got the best of both worlds--family and interesting work.  I
guess I'm really blessed," Marie concluded with a smile that
left her dreamy-eyed as she thought about the family she adored
and the work that helped to make her whole.

     "Now, tell me about Natalie Lambert, Toronto's youngest
Medical Examiner!  I want to hear it all," the attractive woman
exclaimed, placing her hand over Natalie's.

     Nat thought for a moment.  'I work the graveyard shift,
the most male attention I get is from my cat and I'm in love
with an 800-year-old vampire who thinks he's dead and doesn't
dare love me for fear he'll kill me.'  "Well, I've been in
Toronto for several years now, and I think they've finally
accepted a female M. E.  Actually, my work with Metro P. D. has
been challenging, to say the least.  We have at least two or
three cases a week that require extensive forensic work, so that
keeps me on my toes and up on the latest technology.  That's one
of the reasons I was glad to be able to attend the
conference--thought I might pick up something new.  I have some
great techs working with me, too, and third shift isn't all that
bad--"

     "You're still working graveyard?  What's wrong with
them?" Marie exclaimed.

     "Actually, I rotate some shifts, but I really prefer the
late night."  Natalie paused.  "You meet an interesting mix of
people that way!"

     "Doesn't your social life suffer?" Natalie's colleague
asked gently.

     'It's the only social life I have,' Nat thought.  "Well,
there really isn't much time for--" Natalie continued.

     "Don't give me that, Nat!" Marie interrupted.  "Look at
you, you're young, attractive, you've always had a great sense
of humor.  Is there something wrong with the male population of
Toronto?"

     Nat chuckled.  "No.  It's just who's got the time, you
know."

     Marie considered her friend for several moments.  "Nat,
Derek and I know some really great guys in Montreal.  I'd be
glad to have you come for a weekend and fix you up."

     Natalie's eyes widened.  "Oh, Marie, no, please...I
mean, thanks, but I'm fine, really!"  Natalie's mind raced to
change the subject.  The thought of being her friend's pet
fix-up project was just too much.  She decided a little bit of
honesty might do the trick.  "Actually, there is someone, not a
relationship really--we have a few problems.  It's
complicated---"

     "It seems to me you never could do anything 'the easy
way.'  Do you want to talk about it?" Marie asked curiously.

     Natalie tried to suppress a sigh.  "Thanks, but no.
It's okay, really.  Listen, you haven't told me enough about
Derek and your kids.  How old are they?  Did you bring any
pictures?"

     The evening continued as Marie related the stories of
her family and work.  The women laughed as they fondly recalled
their internship--the hard work but also the practical jokes and
the people they had met.  It had been an important time for them
both.  They had finally been given the opportunity to use their
years of training, and each had learned that their chosen
profession was, in fact, a good 'fit.'

     Natalie's face projected a smile.  She was genuinely
grateful for the time with her old friend, but, as the evening
wore on, she felt an ever-increasing uneasiness in the pit of
her stomach.  Marie's seemingly idyllic life was causing her to
question the course she had chosen for herself.  Wistful images
of the blonde child from her dream danced across her mind, and
she began to wonder what kind of happiness and fulfillment she
would ever find in her life.  For the first time since she
offered to help Nick regain his mortality, Natalie felt her
faith might not be enough to see them through the adversity they
faced.

     It was almost ten when Natalie looked at her watch.
"Oh, Marie, I can't believe the time.  I'd really love to keep
talking, but I've got to get some sleep before the opening
session tomorrow!  Will you forgive me for being a party pooper
and going to bed?"

     "Of course, Nat.  It's my fault.  I forgot about your
long trip.  Look, I'm speaking tomorrow morning, but let's try
to get together for a breakfast or lunch or something before you
return to Toronto, shall we?" Marie asked.

     "Sounds great!  You know my room number.  Just let me
know when you want to get together."  Natalie rose from her
chair then gently placed her hand over her friends.  "I'm so
glad we got together!  It *has* been too long," she concluded.

               *********

     The first day and a half of the conference were
busy but uneventful.  Natalie was present for the opening
sessions and selected a number of workshops to attend, focusing
primarily on recent innovations in genetic matching.  She also
renewed several old acquaintances from across Canada and even
managed to deflect the unsolicited attentions of an assistant
coroner from Vancouver.

     The afternoon of the second day was a free period, and
Natalie took the opportunity to explore old Québec on
foot.  She began her trek by heading to the Chateau
Frontenac, the hotel which dominated the Québec skyline.
Constructed in 1893, it was but one of many buildings in the
city patterned after French medieval architecture.  The
turrets and verdigris roofs resembled pictures she had
seen of European castles.  She wondered if Nick had
ever been here, and if it reminded him of his native Belgium.

     Natalie's next stop was the Place d'Armes, once a
military parade ground.  At the center of a small park was the
Monument to the Faith, a memorial to the arrival of the
Recollets monks from France in 1615.  Near the park she viewed
the famous statue of Samuel de Champlain who founded the Quebec
province in 1609.

     Walking along the rue St. Jean, Natalie spent time window
shopping at some of the city's famous boutiques.  They showed a
culture and sophistication considered 'European' by many
foreigners, but which was, in fact, purely Québeçois.  She
stopped at Aux Anciens Canadiens, a restaurant housed in one of
the city's oldest buildings where she enjoyed a steaming bowl of
onion soup gratinee and a glass of white wine.

     A few paces away was the Dufferin Terrasse, a boardwalk
promenade paralleling the St. Lawrence River and lined with
green and white topped gazebos, looking much as it must have a
hundred years prior.  Natalie smiled wistfully as her mind
traveled back in time, transposing today's women in mini skirts
and men in dungarees into ladies with parasols and gentlemen
with top hats and canes taking long strolls on a sunny
afternoon.

     As she drank in her surroundings, the crystal blue
heavens provided a soft background for the dazzling colors of
autumn which sparkled like precious gems against the horizon.
Natalie was almost lost in the beauty of the place and the life
that emanated from it, until she looked around once again and
made a startling observation--she was the only person on the
terrace who was alone.  Lovers walked hand-in-hand, children
played tag at the gazebos, businessmen sauntered deep in
conversation, couples laughed and talked together.

     And Natalie was the only one completely and totally
alone.

     She shuddered as the realization hit her.  And why
exactly *was* she alone?  Easy answer--vampires and sunlight
don't mix.  But there was more to it than that.  Nick was not
with her because Natalie had not asked him to be and had not, in
fact, even told him she was attending the conference.  She
winced as she pondered the hurt and disappointment she knew she
would see in his eyes when she returned.  He would be
oh-so-understanding, but, yes, he would be hurt that she left
without even calling him.

     Natalie's afternoon adventure ended abruptly as she
exited the terrace and headed back to the hotel.  She needed to
find a reason to keep going, a reason to keep pushing herself to
find a cure for Nick which would allow them to be together.  A
reason which would explain the emptiness and slight jealousy she
felt when she thought about Marie's life.  A reason she could
not remain the only person alone on the Dufferin Terrasse that
autumn afternoon.

     She needed to find her faith once again.

**********************************************

The offices of Ontario Accounting, Ltd., Toronto

     "So what you're saying, Ms. Watson, is that a woman doesn't
show up for work for three days, yet no one becomes suspicious
until payday when she doesn't pick up her check?" Don Schanke
asked incredulously, as he leaned forward in his chair.

     "Well, yes," Monica Watson replied, trying to find the
proper words to express herself.  "We worked together here at
the firm and had lunch together sometimes, but Alberta wasn't
the kind of person who confided in many people, at least not
from what I saw."  The young woman's voice trailed off into a
near-whisper.

     "You don't know where she came from, if she had relatives
nearby, or even if she had a boyfriend?"  Schanke paused to
allow Monica time to answer but was met again with silence.
"And how long did you say you'd worked with her?"

     Monica's body stiffened, and her eyes shot daggers in
Schanke's direction.  "Three years, Detective, three years!"
She stopped short before continuing, "But wasn't *I* the one who
reported her missing?  And if I hadn't, would you have even
identified her body by now, or would she just be another Jane
Doe to you?"  Her anger peaked, then ebbed back into sorrow as
her body relaxed and she slumped into her chair.

     "We're sorry, Ms. Watson," Nick consoled.  "We need to
know everything we can about your friend in order to find her
killer and bring him or her to justice.  Anything you know might
help us, but so far, her life seems like a closed book.  Are you
certain there's nothing else?"

     "No," she asserted.  "Well, only that she had just started
taking some night classes at the university.  She'd seemed a bit
more distracted than usual over the past few weeks, but I'd
thought it was because she was tired from studying."

     "Did she ever talk about the classes or anybody she might
have met at school?"  Nick's voice remained gentle.

     "Uh, no, not really.  I even asked her if there were any
'keepers' in her classes.  You know, I was just kidding her a
bit."  She looked directly at Nick, then at Schanke, seeking
affirmation.  They nodded for her to continue.  "She didn't
mention anybody's name in particular, but I did get the
impression she liked one of her professors."

     "Liked?" Schanke repeated.

     "Yes, 'liked,' as in 'thought he was interesting' or
something," the brunette mused.  "She said she thought she'd
like to take some other classes with one of her profs.  She
never mentioned his name or anything, just that his classes
seemed interesting.  She never talked about her personal life,
really."  Monica Watson was feeling exasperated.  "We were just
friends at work, you know, not very close."

     Nick stared intently at the young woman before repeating,
"Just friends?"

     Don Schanke turned to consider his partner.  'Just
friends,' he thought, 'how many times has Knight used *that*
phrase lately?'

     "More like casual acquaintances, actually.  I don't know
what you expect me to tell you, officers," Monica concluded,
turning her attention from Schanke to Nick.

     Nick pulled out his card and placed it in front of her on
the desk.  "If you think of anything else, we'd appreciate a
call.  Even the smallest detail could be critical."  Nick paused
as he and Schanke both stood to leave.  "Thanks for your time."

     As the officers headed for the door, Monica called,
"Detective Knight, I really *am* trying to help.  I guess you
work with someone for years and think you know them, but in the
important ways, you don't."

     Nick agreed softly, "You're right, Ms. Watson,
sometimes you *don't* really know your friends at all."  Don
Schanke cocked his head slightly, finally recognizing the
current underlying Knight's observations.

     "I feel so useless," she concluded.

     Nick considered the woman's sincerity, "You *have* helped
us, and we *will* find her killer.  We'll be in touch."  He
turned to follow his partner down the hallway and out into the
parking lot.

     Sliding behind the wheel of the Caddy., Nick started the
car and drove away.  "What do you make of that?" Schanke asked.

     "What do I make of what?"

     "Somebody you work with doesn't show up for three days and
nobody does anything, nobody calls, nada?  Doesn't make sense to
me," Schanke pondered.

     A pall seemed to fall over Nick.  For several moments he
appeared deep in thought.  Schanke was silent for a while before
deciding the blond-haired detective's attention had drifted.
"You in there, Knight?" he asked.

     "Just because you know someone from work," Nick began to
speak slowly and deliberately, "doesn't necessarily make you
friends, Schank.  It doesn't mean you know them.  It doesn't
mean they owe you any explanation about their lives."

     Schanke realized he might have only one chance to push his
partner into admitting his feelings for Natalie.  "Yeah, but
she had to tell *somebody* about her life.  About what she
wanted out of it, her dreams, her hopes.  She disappears for
three days and nobody notices?  I just don't buy it!"

     "Maybe she decided to go somewhere on the spur of the
moment.  Maybe she *did* tell somebody--somebody we haven't
talked to yet."  Nick never took his eyes off the road, even
though his focus was somewhere else.  "Maybe Monica just wasn't
the friend she thought she was."

     Schanke thought his partner had retreated back into silence
until Nick asked plaintively, "But how could she do that, go
off and not even tell her---her best friend?"

     There was definitely something in Nick's voice that took
Schanke very far away from the body they'd found in Coronation
Park.  A little closer to Quebec City, he hoped.

     "Monica herself said she wasn't that much of a
friend," the dark-haired detective coached.

     "Of *course* she was her fr---" Nick snapped as his eyes
left the road to glare at his partner.  In that moment, he
realized that the 800-year-old mask had slipped out of place
once again.  And Nicolas de Brabant wasn't sure whether
or not he had the strength to reposition it this time.

     The rotund police officer tried to read his elusive
cohort's face.  "We're not talking Monica Watson and Alberta
Woodard here, are we?"

     With an honesty he had not intended to express, Nick
answered softly, "No...no, I guess we're not."

     "Natalie's due back this weekend.  Why don't you call her?
Maybe you two need to talk or something," Schanke suggested.

     Nick resumed his silence.  Almost as if exerting
a life of its own, the centuries-old mask of indifference found
its home once again.  Finally he replied, "I'm sorry, Schank.
You're right, my mind was somewhere else.  Let's get back to the
case."

     "I'm sure Nat meant to let you know she was going.  She'll
come back, Nick---" his partner started.

     "Enough, Don!  Let it go," Nick nearly shouted before he
caught himself.  "It'll be okay.  Just let it go," he pleaded
almost in a whisper.

     "All right.  But call her, okay?" Schanke implored.

     "Sure," Nick lied.  "Sure."

*****

     A scant hour later, Nick's shift was over, and he drove
straight to the loft.  As the sliding door of the lift offered
him entry, he strode directly to the refrigerator and removed a
green-colored bottle.  Pulling the cork out with one hand, he
upended the bottle into his mouth with the other.

     As he took his third gulp, his eyes fell upon the
refrigerator's other contents, a couple of plastic containers of
Natalie's most recent protein mix.  He abruptly stopped
drinking, recorked the blood and placed it back on the shelf
from which it had come.  His hand grasped one of the plastic
containers, and he removed it, holding it up toward the light
for inspection.

     Grabbing a mug from the drainboard, Nick directed himself
to the couch and proceeded to empty the vile mixture into its
new receptacle.  He paused before bringing it to his lips,
glancing around the room.  Could it be that his own home felt
gloomy without the possibility of Natalie dropping in?  He
lifted the vessel in toast to no one in particular.  "To
mortality," he whispered and took two swallows of the protein
shake.

     He sank back, allowing the soft leather couch to embrace
his tired body.  'Why did she leave without even telling me?'
Nick asked himself.  'I thought we were friends.'  He pondered
this for a short while.  'Maybe she just needed to get
away...away from the job, away from...*me,*' he realized with
consternation, dismayed by the pain the thought brought him.  He
considered his actions of the past few days, the unspoken
distance he had been placing between the two of them, both
physical and emotional.  'Why should I be surprised she didn't
say anything?  Isn't this what I wanted?  To give Natalie a
chance at a normal life, with a husband and children who love
her?'

     Nick sighed, 'Yes, but *I* want to be the one to share it
with her, something I can only do as a mortal.'

     He raised the mug to his lips with renewed enthusiasm.  "To
mortality, Natalie--for me and for us," he said before finishing
off the contents in one final gulp.

******************************************

     The last morning of the conference dawned with Natalie
sipping coffee and nibbling on fresh fruit in her room.  Her
attention was drawn to the expansive view of the St. Lawrence
and its swirling, dark waters as she sat at a small table in
front of the window.  Shaking her head slightly to bring her
focus back to the day ahead, she fingered through her
information packet, and found the agenda.  She had nothing
scheduled until an early afternoon workshop at 1:00 p.m.

     As she rose from the table to begin dressing, her hand
brushed against the coffee cup, knocking it over and spilling
the small amount of fluid left in it onto the table top.
"Clumsy!" she breathed to herself as she grabbed
napkins and began to mop up the liquid.  She moved the
conference packet aside and immediately saw the colorful
brochures she had picked up from the concierge desk the day she
registered.  After finishing the clean-up, she sat back down and
inspected the forgotten folios.  Her eyes rested on a beautiful
blue folder with a photograph of a large church and the
inscription, "Sainte-Anne-de-Beaupré" printed on the cover.
"Yes, of course.  St. Anne's is here!" she whispered.

     Remembrances of visits long ago captured in family stories,
preserved by her grandmother, raced into her head.  Turning the
brochure over, she noted that Beaupré was only thirty-five
kilometers from the city, barely twenty minutes by car.  She
looked again at the morning's conference agenda and made a
decision--she would visit the basilica and be back in time for
the afternoon sessions.

     Natalie dressed in her conference wardrobe but decided on
comfortable shoes.  She secured directions from the concierge
and was delighted to learn that the road leading to Beaupre was
only two blocks from the hotel.

     With the river on her right, she drove east on route 138,
passing through the city's industrial section as she left
Québec.  A few minutes outside the city, Natalie noticed that
the riverbed was wider here, and there was a distinct precipice
rising to the left of the road.

     Natalie passed small homes, souvenir shops, motels and
restaurants.  There was nothing here to suggest a religious
shrine would soon appear.  However, as she entered the town of
Beaupre, she looked ahead in anticipation and saw the tall
spires of the shrine's twin towers looming before her.
She turned left into the parking lot and stopped the car.

     She didn't know what she had expected, but this wasn't it!
The church seemed to be almost sandwiched between the CN
passenger rail line bordering the building's southern facade and
the abrupt precipice of land to its north.  The front of the
structure faced nearby shops.

     Natalie left her car and crossed the tracks, directing
herself to the front of the church for a better, head-on view.
A bitter, bone-chilling wind whipped off the St. Lawrence, in
stark contrast to the warm breezes she remembered from her
stroll on the Dufferin Terrasse a few days earlier.  She stopped
at the small park in front of the church and turned to face St.
Anne's entrance.  The gleaming grey-white stones rose above her
as if in praise to a higher power, the New World's
interpretation of a Gothic cathedral.

     There were twenty-five steps leading to the main entry, and
Natalie took each one of them slowly and deliberately,
remembering her grandmother's stories of a pilgrimage long ago.
The outer vestibule led to the interior doors, which she entered
silently.  The vision that greeted her both humbled and
fortified her spirit.  The building was laid out in the shape of
a cross, typical of neo-Gothic architecture, its towering walls
covered with mosaics, inscriptions and pictures.  The church's
main altar lay directly ahead at the center of the structure,
flanked by side chapels.

     Natalie took a few steps and entered, but her attention was
immediately captured by two huge columns at either side of the
center walkway leading to the main altar.  She remembered their
names from her grandmother's stories--The Pillars of Hope.  Each
was festooned with the outward signs of miracles attributed to
this place.  Crutches, braces and other devices to aid the
afflicted were attached to the columns--some looking decades
old and some almost sparkling new.  Each represented a story of
faith and hope left by its former owner.  Some had letters or
photographs attached.  Her eyes settled on a pair of crutches
that could only have belonged to a child.  She moved closer to
inspect them and saw a recent-looking photograph of a young boy,
perhaps eight or nine years old.  The youngster had straight
blond hair and deep blue eyes and was holding a skateboard above
his head, almost in triumph.  Natalie smiled to herself and was
looking away, when the realization hit her that the child
resembled Nick.  She held her breath as she slowly focused again
on the photograph and wondered, 'Would *our* son look like
this?'

     A little reluctantly, she left the photograph behind and
proceeded down the center of the structure, looking upwards and
trying to translate the various words written on the upper
walls.  Above the convergence point of the cross, she saw
four tall figures with the words, 'Justice,' 'Travail,'
'Gentleness' and 'Temperance' written in French above them.  The
figures appeared angelic, with strong faces and an almost New
World look of modernity, as if in contrast to the edifice's
European counterparts.

     To the left was the chapel to St. Anne and, before it, a
statue of the saint placed on a pedestal, high above mortal
gaze.  The statue depicted a matronly woman holding a beautiful
child.  Natalie had never been particularly devout, but there
was something about the vision of a grandmother and grandchild
that she found comforting.  Across the crosswalk was a shrine to
the Holy Family.  In fact, the entire building seemed to be
devoted to families, with many of the chapel inscriptions
written in honor of the early families who settled the province.

     Family.  She wanted a family of her own one day.  A family
with Nick, but only a miracle could make that happen.

     Steeling herself back to reality, Natalie proceeded to
visit all the chapels ringing the main altar, stopping to read
the dedications and absorb the peace of the place.  She was
not really certain what she had expected to find here.  The
architecture was stunning and the artwork impressive, but she
felt small, overwhelmed by the dimension of man's monument to
God.

     And she was discouraged.  Why had she come here?  The
cathedral was certainly beautiful, but had she expected
something more?

     A direction?  An answer?

     A cure?

     With a vague sense of disappointment, she glanced at her
watch and discovered it was only 9:30.  'Oh, well,' she thought,
'at least there's still time for a little sight-seeing.' She
crossed in front of the main altar, pausing to bow her head in
its direction, and walked toward the exit which she figured
would take her to the parking lot.  Opening the simple inner
door, she followed the stairs downward to a landing and the door
outside, but she noticed the stairs proceeded down one more
flight.  She decided to follow them.

     At the bottom of the stairs she opened a doorway and
stepped through it.  The vision she beheld was one she had never
expected.  A vast chapel lay before her, decorated only with
simple, rough-hewn wooden benches.  As she walked a few more
paces inside, she looked up to see that the ceiling was no more
than fifteen feet in height and colored the most beautiful shade
of light blue she thought she had ever seen.  It immediately
reminded her of the blue of the Québec sky at midday.  The
multi-domed ceiling was outlined with blue, green and gold
mosaic tiles, offset with supporting pillars.  Each pillar bore
a different mosaic depicting God's gifts to earth--among them
birds, flowers, butterflies, mushrooms and strawberries.

     The entire room enjoyed an intimate scale, in contrast to
the main cathedral which seemed to make you want to look up and
experience how small you were when compared to the greatness of
God.  This room, however, felt more like the hand of a gentle
parent, softly patting and comforting a cherished child.

     Natalie's attention was soon drawn to her right, and she
gazed, almost mesmerized by a white and gold statue of St. Anne
and the child.  This depiction was on a human scale and stood
barely above the heads of the faithful.  Rows of devotional
candles flickered on both sides of the statue.  At its feet was
a railing with a kneeler.  Embedded in the railing was a small
oval box outlined in silver and studded with the faces of five
angels.  A glass cover revealed a small relic of the saint.

     She approached the box, feeling it beckon in invitation to
touch it--to pray, to dare, to hope for the impossible.

     And she did.

     Resting her hand on the glass face of the box, Natalie
uttered a small prayer.  "Please, help me find a cure for him."
She paused.  "Help him in his struggle to come back to God.
Help *us* be together."

     A tear slid unnoticed from her eye, followed by a
second and a third.  Natalie pushed some coins through the
offering slot and took a matchstick to light a candle.  As she
held the flame to the wick, she whispered, "Forgive him.  He's
truly sorry for what he has done, and he *is* a good man.  Help
him see that."  Plunging the stick into a side container of
sand, she took a long breath and turned to leave, but instead
found herself walking to a nearby wooden bench.  She sat down,
placed her hands on the railing in front of her, closed her eyes
and rested her head on her hands.

     A few moments later she looked up but saw only a sea
of black.  Continuing upward, she settled her gaze on the face
of a man with white hair, pale eyes and almost translucent skin.
Startled, she began to speak, "I...I'm sorry, I didn't..."

     The man looked deeply into her eyes, but she felt
he was looking directly into her soul as well.  "You are
troubled.  May I help you?"  His voice was steady and calm, an
anchor in a sea of turmoil.

     He was a priest.  His black cassock was graced with a
white v-shaped collar, and he spoke with a distinctive French
accent.  But it was his eyes which caught her attention.  Eyes
that exuded warmth yet also seemed to mask a lifetime of regret.
She knew that look all too well.

     "Father..Father?" Natalie stammered.

     "François.  Father François, my child," he responded.

     "Father François, I didn't mean to disturb anyone.  I
thought I was alone.  I didn't see you.  I was just leaving..."
Her voice trailed off softly.

     "What is your name?" he asked, his eyes never leaving her
face.

     "Natalie.  Natalie Lambert," she murmured.

     "May I sit down, Natalie?" he questioned, glancing at the
bench in front of her.

     "Yes, yes, of course, Father," she replied with a nod.

     His eyes mirrored comfort as he spoke.  "I am permitted to
help those with special needs, and I sensed you might need
someone to talk with,"  He stopped, making certain she was
following his words.  "Was I wrong?"  His voice and his face
were kindness personified.

     Natalie raised her face to his as another tear slid
unchecked down her cheek.  "No, you're not wrong, Father."

     He gently reached to brush away her tear with his
fingertips.  "Tell me what troubles you, child."

     Every instinct told Natalie to get up, to leave the church
and this stranger asking to be allowed admittance to her inner
world.  But the calm and benevolence of his manner seemed to
reassure and encourage her.  Something inside her told she could
trust this man.

     "I have a friend," she began slowly, pausing occasionally
to choose her words carefully, "a friend who has come to mean as
much to me as my own life.  This friend made a terrible mistake
many years ago.  He had been involved in a military conflict in
a land far from his home.  Before that he had lived his life in
an ordered world of faith, but became disillusioned by the
atrocities of war, a near fatal injury, and a lengthy internment
as a prisoner of war.  His faith was shaken to the point he
doubted everything he had ever believed in.  In a moment of
weakness, he was seduced into following a life of evil."

     For several moments, there was silence.  Natalie wondered
if she had said too much, had somehow betrayed Nick's secret.
Yet just saying the words allowed her a small sense of control
over them.

     The priest touched his hand lightly to hers.  "There is
more to the story," he prodded.  It was more a statement than a
question.

     "He abandoned his beliefs and, for a while, even reveled in
the darkness that surrounded him, but I think his faith was
never completely lost."  She paused again, taking in a deep
breath.

     He looked at her intently.  "To relinquish one's faith is
to forfeit one's link to God.  Without it, we are truly alone in
a sea of darkness."

     "But you see, Father, he has regretted his actions for more
years than I have known him.  He somehow thinks he lost his soul
when he doubted his faith.  Yet, even though a part of him seems
to think he cannot be forgiven, he has tried over and over again
to atone for the wrongs he has committed.  He has been
alone in his struggle, and I don't know how he has retained his
sanity through it all," she concluded.

     "Alone--until now?" he questioned.

     "When I met him, I offered to help.  Somewhere along the
way, I fell in love with him.  I think he cares for me too.
But his past won't allow us to have a future together, and I am
beginning to despair for us both," Natalie finished, glancing
down towards the floor.

     The priest considered the young woman before him for
several moments before replying.  "To pray and hope for another
is a truly selfless act, and, in you, I see a soul full of love
for your friend.  But I wonder, my child, is it *his* faith or
your own that you are seeking?"

     His words slapped her.

     'How dare he say that?' she thought.  Without looking up,
she set her jaw in an effort to close the portal she had opened
to her inner self.  She felt her face flush crimson as her eyes
slowly rose to focus again on the priest, steeling herself
against the recrimination she expected.

     But instead of contempt, she saw only compassion written
across his features.

     Natalie heard herself begin to speak, but it felt almost
as if another person were forming the words.  "I thought I had
faith enough for us both.  That I could be strong enough for us
both until he finally realized what I have always believed..."
Her voice faltered.

     Father François' gentle gaze never left her as he placed
his other hand on hers.  "And what was that, Natalie?"

     She swallowed.  "That he never lost his faith entirely nor
the part of God that I believe lives in all of us.  That he had
somehow fallen into a deep pit, but that the regret he feels and
each act of atonement he performs lift him nearer to the
top, closer to regaining the light.  That all he needs..."  She
struggled to put her feelings into words, but they would not
come out of their own accord.

     "That all he needs is a helping hand, a Samaritan to pull
him up those last few paces over the edge.  A friend to show him
that he *has* faith...faith even from the abyss?"  The priest
had seemed to capture her thoughts and translate them into the
words she could not manage to utter.

     "Yes," she whispered.  She felt frightened yet almost
relieved, as if this man had deciphered the secrets she kept in
her heart.

     Silence filled the space between them, each retreating into
their inner selves.

     "Natalie," Father François finally stated softly, "you must
know that faith is something each person can find only for
himself.  You cannot have it *for* another--you can only
demonstrate your own faith with your actions, your words...your
very life.  You can model it, but you cannot replenish it where
none exists on its own.

     "If you truly believe that your friend has even a small
vestige of goodness left, illustrate your own for him and dare
him to rediscover his.  Reveal your faith by believing in him,
in the soul that still lives within him.  By loving him and
reassuring him that *he* can love and be loved.

     "And remember, my dear child, sometimes we seek in others
those qualities which we fear are lacking in ourselves."  His
fingertips gently stroked the tops of her hands.  "Of this,
I assure you, I am quite certain."  He paused.  "Nurture your
own faith, and it will show you the way."

     Natalie looked intently into the priest's light blue eyes
and somehow knew he was speaking from the weight of experience.
Just as she knew he had seen the flicker of doubt that had
recently begun to sputter in her heart.  Her mind urged her to
be silent, but her heart needed one more answer.  "Father, I'm
afraid...I'm afraid I'm not strong enough, that *my* faith isn't
strong enough..." her voice trailed off.

     The priest considered her for a moment, sighed and smiled.
"You have all the strength that you need, all the faith that you
need, all the love that you need.  Surely this is why you came
here--to redefine these gifts and hone them into the instrument
that will bring you what you truly seek."  He paused again.  "To
help your friend, you must try to understand him without judging
him.  If he is truly ready to take the final steps back to the
light, his faith will once again be revealed to him."

     Natalie's face softened into a smile.  "May I talk with you
again?"

     "I will be here, but you have all that you need with you.
Go now and do what your heart instructs," he finished, giving
her hand one final caress.

     Natalie looked to her right and for several long moments
concentrated on the candle she had lit and the prayers she had
uttered before it.  When she glanced back, she was alone.  She
scanned the room quickly and was surprised not to see the
priest, nor to have heard him exit.

     She shrugged herself back into the present and, blessing
herself at a font by the door, left the church and returned to
her car.

     Thoughts and images flooded her consciousness as she
drove back to the hotel, closer and closer to the difficult
task she must attempt.  Only by exercising her own faltering
hope could she help the man she loved regain the faith he had
forsaken so long ago.

*******************************

     Another shift.  Another night spent going through the
countless motions of the job.  Another night without Natalie.

     'So this is what it would be like,' he reflected as he
drove to work.  'Endless hours defending the law, endless nights
solving crimes, endless weeks atoning for past transgressions,
an endless life without her light.  What makes *her* so
different?  Over eight hundred years spent with every type of
personality spawned by the human condition, and it all comes
down to one woman.  One feisty, intelligent, compassionate,
persistent, loving, exasperating woman.  A woman who has been my
only source of joy, my only reason for hope in this chapter of
my seemingly endless "life."'

     Nick attempted to drive the thoughts of Natalie from his
head as he parked the Caddy and entered the precinct to begin
his next shift.  'I should leave, give her the chance to
experience all the joys and challenges of a normal, mortal
life.'  Yet, his heart ached at the thought of never seeing her
again.  He could *not* imagine an existence without her, without
her laughter, without her tears.  But, as much as he longed for
it, he knew they could not share a normal life together.  'We
can't even risk a relationship.  It's a dance between a moth and
a flame.  We're drawn together, yet it can only end when the
moth is destroyed or flies away to safety.

     'This is the ultimate irony.  I finally love someone more
than my own existence, yet we can never be together in the way I
want to be.  What was it they said in 'Ladyhawke?'  'Always
together, endlessly apart.'  A most appropriate and bitter
description.

     'Schanke's right about one thing--I need to talk with her,
to finally tell her that I cannot risk her life anymore while we
wait to find a cure.  If nothing else, I can give her peace by
leaving.'  Yet, could he do it?  *Could* he walk away and give
Natalie a chance at a normal life, or was it even too late for
that?

     "I just don't know," he mumbled in a near whisper, not
realizing he had spoken aloud as he slumped into the chair
behind his desk.

     "You just don't know what, Knight?" asked his partner,
looking up from a stack of unfinished reports.

     Nick snapped his head in the general direction of Don
Schanke's desk.  "Uh, nothing, Schank, it's nothing,"
he managed to get out.  "Just thinking out loud."  He tried a
smile to hide his discomfort.

     "Well, you might want to keep it to yourself for a
while, Nicky boy, and brush up on your Managerial Accounting and
Operational Procedures instead.  I called the Dean's office and
they told me Alberta Woodard's two professors are both teaching
tonight.  Maybe we'll get lucky this time!" the balding
detective enthused.

     Nick consciously tried to shake away some of the gloom that
had settled over him.  He knew that if Natalie were here, she
would have sensed his depression and not let him go until she
had made him smile, even if she had had to resort to bad jokes
or a poke in the ribs to do it.  And he and Schanke were at
a critical point in their case.  He needed to concentrate on the
job at hand.  "Yeah," he replied, "you can fill me in on the two
of them on the way over."

     The detectives rose as one and exited the precinct.
Once inside the Caddy, Schanke began, "Say, partner, I have kind
of a big favor to ask you."

     "A favor?" asked Nick with trepidation.

     "Yeah, a really, really big favor."  Schanke paused a
moment to gather courage, unconsciously fidgeting with the
passenger door latch all the while.  "You remember the cabin
Myra and I have up north?"

     "Sure, Don," assured Nick.  "I was sorry I couldn't make it
for the weekend last summer when you invited me."

     "Oh, yeah, me too," the rotund man stumbled.  "Well, it's
kind of hard for me to say this to anybody, but Myra and I have
had a few financial setbacks lately, what with my car spending
more time in the shop than in my driveway and with her mother
being sick.  As much as I hate to, we've decided to sell the
cabin."  Schanke waited for a reply.

     Nick could hear the frustration in his partner's voice, the
slight increase in his heart rate and realized he was not the
only one with troubles.  "I'm sorry to hear that, Schank.  Is
there anything I can do?  A loan, maybe?"

     Schanke was genuinely surprised at the gesture.  "Gee,
Nick, no, but thanks anyway.  I want you to know I wasn't asking
for that reason.  No, Myra mentioned it to a friend and the
friend's brother is interested, but hasn't seen it yet.
The only weekend he can take a look at it is the one we promised
Jenny we'd all go to Montreal.  We've been planning this trip
for a couple of months now, and Myra'll...well, I just *can't*
cancel it.  So, I was wondering if you would mind going up there
and staying just for a Friday night and letting this guy
in Saturday.  I know he's a brother of a friend of Myra's, but
neither one of us know him, and we just don't feel comfortable
giving him the key without somebody we really trust being
around."

     Nick was silent for a few moments.  "Isn't there anyone
else you can ask, Schanke?  Someone from your neighborhood
or your bowling league?"

     "Well, that's kind of the other problem, Nick.  I really
don't want anybody else to know we're selling it because we need
the money.  It was hard enough telling *you,* but, well, you're
my partner, and I know I can count on you."   Schanke wondered
if he was laying it on a bit too thick, but, what the heck, it
seemed to be working.  'There's gotta be some truth in that
blond thing,' he rationalized to himself.

     "When is this guy coming by?"  Nick tried a hundred
scenarios to get himself out of this 'favor.'  'Let's see.
Visiting a sick friend?  Nope.  The undead don't get sick.  Hot
date?  Hardly.  Taking the cat to be neutered?  Nope.  Sidney
would never forgive me for putting him through *that* twice,
even if I *weren't* a blood-sucking monster.'  He was
stuck and he knew it.

     "It's two weeks from next Friday, the 24th, and I already
checked.  You're off that entire weekend."  Schanke waited
a moment for the reality to set in.  "Look, Nick, you're the
only one I trust to keep this to yourself.  It's only a day or
so.  I'll wash the Caddy every week for a month; I'll recycle
your bottles and cans 'til spring.  Come on," he wheedled.
"Whatever you want, buddy."

     No way out.  He'd been there before.  Sometimes you just
have to sit back and let it happen.  "Okay.  Okay.  Just remind
me a few days before and give me the key," Nick muttered in
reluctant agreement.

     'Got'cha!' thought Schanke, his face an emotionless mask,
albeit over seven and a half centuries younger than Knight's.
"I can't thank you enough," he sighed.  "Keep this under wraps,
okay?  I really don't want anybody else at the precinct knowing
about my money troubles.  Not even Nat."

     "All right, Schank.  It's just between us.  I suppose
communing with nature *is* good for the...for the..."

     "Soul, Nick.  It's good for the soul," finished Schanke.

     "Yeah, it's good for the soul," Nick sighed.  "We're here.
Let's go interview those professors," he concluded as he parked
the car.  The two detectives exited the vehicle and entered the
Business School complex.

****************************

     Natalie tucked the hotel receipt into her purse, grabbed
her suitcase and proceeded towards the parking lot.  "Nat!  I'm
so glad I caught up to you before you left," Marie almost
shouted across the lobby, hurrying in Natalie's direction.

     "Marie!  I tried your room earlier, but I guess I must
have missed you," Natalie said.  "You're leaving now, too?"

     "Yep.  I decided to leave this morning rather than after
the last session yesterday.  It's a long drive for me, and I
know Derek and the kids will have a big night out planned for my
return, so I thought I'd get a good night's sleep first.  How
about you?" Marie asked.

     "Pretty much the same, except a longer trip for me!  This
way I can make it back to Toronto and not have to drive late
at night," Nat reasoned.  "It's been so good to see you again.
You *will* give me a call now and then, won't you?"

     "Absolutely!  And I want you to stay with us in
Montreal--no special invitation necessary.  Is that understood,
Lambert?"  Marie's eyes were filled with mirth in contrast to
the slightly stern expression in her voice.

     "All right, all right, I promise," Nat laughed as they
crossed the parking lot together.

     Marie stopped beside a white Volvo wagon and unlocked the
door.  "Well, here's my bus," she said, turning to give
Natalie a final hug.  As the women embraced, Marie whispered
into Natalie's ear, "Are you sure you're okay, Nat?  You seemed
a little distracted yesterday afternoon.  It's not too
late to spend the rest of the weekend in Montreal with us."

     "No, Marie, but thanks for asking.  I've had some things on
my mind, and I have to get home to resolve them.  I'll come
another time, though," she asserted.

     Marie arranged her luggage in the cargo area then slid
into the car.  Natalie stood beside it, ready to close the door
for her.  "You drive carefully now.  Tell your husband to
expect a visitor one day soon," she finished as the car door
latched firmly shut.

     Marie rolled the window down.  "You drive safely, too, and
take lots of breaks.  Gosh, I must sound like your mother!" she
exclaimed, shaking her head.  "I'll just say 'bye' for now and
see you soon."

     Natalie moved aside as Marie drove away.

     About an hour outside Québec, Natalie began to wonder
exactly how she should approach Nick.  They both had some fence
mending to do.  True, she should not have left without telling
him, but *he* was the one who had been avoiding *her.*  He was
the one who had constructed an invisible wall between them in
the days before her trip.  'If I wait for him to make the first
move, I'll be old and gray, so I guess it's up to me,' she
reasoned.  She glanced at her watch--9:30a.m.  "Good," she
whispered to herself, "he'll be asleep.  I'll leave a message on
his machine."

     At the next service area, Natalie stopped and located a pay
phone.  Her fingers trembled slightly as she entered Nick's
phone number followed by her credit card code.  "...I'm either
in bed or incommunicado..." his familiar voice droned.

     "Yeah, yeah, I know," retorted Natalie brusquely.

     BEEP.

     Taking a deep breath, she began, "Nick, it's me.  It's
Saturday morning and I'm heading back to Toronto.  I should be
there by late afternoon and..." she stopped suddenly, grasping
for words.  "And...we need to talk."  Another pause.  "I'll
swing by the loft before 7.  Bye."  For a second, she held onto
the receiver and finally returned it to its holder, whispering
to herself, "I--I love you.  *Please* be there."

---------------

     Police and ambulance lights danced over the scene.  Nick's
hands shook in anticipation as he slowly peeled the bright blue
tarp away, revealing the corpse.  The victim was a woman clothed
in a navy blue sweatsuit, her mass of auburn curls matted with
blood.  He looked away and suddenly everything disappeared,
leaving only him and the body.  He reached out and turned her
over, slowly examining her, starting at her feet and reluctantly
following the curves of her body all the way to her...

     "NO!!" he screamed.

     Nick felt his body wrench in pain as he closed his eyes to
blot out the horror, slowly opening them again to focus not on
the crime scene, but his own bedroom.  It had only been a dream.
But this time the victim had been Natalie.

     He wiped his forehead in frustration, bloodsweat staining
his hands.  It was then that he realized his entire body was
awash with sweat, his pajamas clinging to his skin like a
shroud.  He rose from the bed and entered the bathroom, gave the
shower control a quick turn and threw his soiled clothing in
a ball on the floor.

     The pulsing water assaulted his body, forcing the
bloodsweat down the drain in rivulets of varying shades of
crimson paling to pink.  His head was bent, as if in prayer, and
he stared as the colors ebbed finally to clear, pure liquid.

     He shook himself awake, lathering his skin with soap,
applying it like a salve, cleansing his body of the memory his
mind refused to forget.  Stepping from the shower, he toweled
himself dry and returned to the bedroom, stripped the bedsheets
and pillowcases and replaced them with fresh ones.

     Nick pulled on clean clothes, then descended the stairs in
a path straight to the refrigerator.  He uncorked a bottle of
blood and drank it down forcefully, emptying the contents in two
or three quick gulps.  The blood nourished the vampire, but left
the man unsatisfied.  There was one more protein shake and he
winced at the thought of it, but poured the last of its
contents into a clean mug.  "One for the vampire, one for the
man," he vocalized to no one in particular.

      He crossed the room with mug in hand, intent on reviewing
yesterday's mail, when he noticed the red light blinking on his
answering machine.  He pushed 'play' and waited.

     BEEP.  "Nada on the Accounting Professor, Nick," he heard
Schanke declare.  "But possibly a connection in the other class.
Professor Jacobs called back because he remembered that Ms.
Woodard might have had an admirer in his class.  Day shift is
checking on it.  Thought you'd like to know before Monday.
Hasta la bye-bye."

     BEEP.  "...And be sure to call back before 8 p.m. Saturday
night to claim you free gift.  That's 1-800-..."  Nick hit
fast forward.

     BEEP.  "Nick, it's me.  It's Saturday morning and I'm
heading back to Toronto.  I should be there by late afternoon
and..."  He put the mug down quickly, all the while listening
intently to Natalie's voice.  "And...we need to talk."
'Thank God,' he thought.  'She's coming back.'

     "I'll swing by the loft before 7.  Bye."  Nick glanced at
his watch--5:30p.m.  'Has she made up her mind that I'm not
worth the bother?  How can I exist without her?'  His thoughts
almost overshadowed the soft whisper he heard at the end of her
message.

     He could not quite make out the words, so he replayed the
tape.  This time he heard, "I--I love you.  *Please* be there."
Her voice was a plaintive whisper, detected only by his
heightened sense of hearing.

     It was then he realized what he should have seen before.
Natalie was the only woman in seven hundred sixty-seven years
who knew the vampire before she knew the man.  She had never
recoiled from him, even knowing what he was.  In fact, she had
accepted him and forgiven him many times when he had not
forgiven himself.  In his heart, he began to gather up the
fragile shards of hope which had been scattered throughout his
existence as a vampire.  Perhaps *this* explained Natalie's
unique place in his life.

     His memories drew back to the loves of years past.  Alyssa
had not known he was a vampire when she fell in love with him.
And Janette had seduced the mortal before the vampire had even
been born.  Only Natalie knew him and, dare he even think it,
loved the vampire as well as the man.

     He smiled.  "I'll be waiting, my lady."

     His emotions tugged at his heart, and he began to rehearse
his apologies to her, obscuring the slight strumming of the
psychic link which shackled him to LaCroix.

     Across town the ancient vampire crooked his head slightly
and smiled.  "And so it begins, Nicholas.  And so it begins."

****************************

     After her phone call, the rest of the trip to Toronto had
been a blur, so excited had Natalie become to see Nick and share
her experiences with him.  Her sense of urgency had seemed to
increase as each kilometer brought her nearer and nearer.

     She pulled her car into a parking space outside the
loft.  In her haste, she had rushed through a shower and downed
a quick bite before grabbing her car keys and driving
across town.  Now that she had arrived, she hesitated, wondering
for the tenth time how she would manage to tell Nick everything
that was in her heart--her renewed faith in herself, her belief
in him, her faith in him.  So many wonderful, exhilarating,
frightening things to tell him.  The hope she had tried to
repress the entire journey from Québec wanted to burst from her,
but she held it in check, fearful of overwhelming him.

     Slowly.  She had to take it slowly.  And she *had* to
remember that for all the power the vampire harbored, the man
could be fragile, so many times blaming himself for all the ups
and downs of what, for most people, was everyday life.  The man
she knew could blame himself for a rainy day.

     Natalie slid out of the car and locked it.  After punching
in the security code, she entered the warehouse and rode the
lift to the second floor.  Her resolve left her momentarily as
she reached to move the door aside and noticed her hands
were trembling.  "Come on, Lambert.  What was it Marie said?
'You never could do anything the easy way.'  Remind me to drop
that aspect of my personality in my next incarnation," she
muttered under her breath as she eased the door open.

     "Drop what aspect of your personality?" Nick asked,
slightly amused at overhearing her private conversation with
herself.

     Natalie looked up to find him standing a few paces from the
door, obviously anticipating her arrival.  She felt a wave of
embarrassment crash over her.  This was not a good way to start!
"Uh...hi, Nick.  Oh, it...it's nothing," she stammered.  "Just
remembering something my friend Marie said."

     His amusement fading, Nick slowly approached her.  He
desperately wanted to go to her, to take her in his arms and
finally tell her how much he loved her, but worried that he
would not be able to control the urge to take her blood.  He had
not been this close to her in nearly two weeks, and his longing
for her brought him close to the edge.

     An awkward silence ensued.

     Finally Nick broke the stillness, retreating into the
safety of her phone message.  "Nat, you said we needed to talk."
He looked into her grey-blue eyes.  "I agree, but I have
to say something first."  He waited for her reaction.

     His words threw her off track, but did not dampen her
enthusiasm.  She had not expected him to take the initiative
like this.  Better buy herself a little time to gather her
thoughts.  "Okay, Nick, but let's get comfortable before we
begin."  She sniffed the air, noticing for the first time the
rich aroma of coffee brewing.  Smiling at this small gesture of
his, she asked, "How about a cup of coffee?"

     "Sure.  Or if you prefer, there's tea or wine."

     "Just the coffee.  How about you?" she asked, inspecting
the area for a half-empty green bottle.

     Bringing a full glass of murky red liquid from the kitchen
table for her inspection, he replied, "I'm all set."  Seeing her
frown at his glass, he added, "I'd have a protein shake, but I
finished the last one this afternoon."  His eyes began to
twinkle and his lips curled into a boyish smile.  "I *know* I'll
regret this, but got any more?"

     Natalie hid her slight astonishment well.  "You should have
left me a message.  I could have brought some over."  Her mind
recoiled as soon as she spoke the words.  'Good one, Lambert.
He doesn't call you the whole week before you go away, and you
expect him to leave you a take out order for protein shakes?'

     Nick bowed his head and mumbled a little petulantly, "Well,
Nat, it didn't seem like a good idea while you were gone, and I
didn't know exactly when you'd be back."

     "That's one of the things we need to talk about, Nick," she
started, guiding him to the couch as she prepared to resume her
intended speech.  They both sat down and placed their drinks on
the coffee table.  "I'm sorry I left without telling you."  She
paused.  "That wasn't fair."

     Nick gambled on his control and reached for her hand.
"Nat, I thought *I* was going to go first," he chuckled
nervously, trying to gather his courage.  "I'll admit...I
was...well...surprised when Schank and I went over to the morgue
on Monday and Grace told us you'd gone to Québec for a
conference."  He began gently rubbing his thumb over the top of
her knuckles.  "But I realized that maybe you needed to get away
from things--the job, the hours...*me.*"

     He lowered his head before beginning again, not daring to
look at her.  "Natalie, I never seem to tell you how much I
appreciate all you do for me.  And I'm sorry that our movie
evening wasn't much of a success either."  He gradually brought
his gaze up to encompass her face, his eyes betraying the
feelings he had long tried to bury inside.  "It's just
that--that I don't think you realize how much danger you're in
merely by being around me sometimes.  I'm afraid I might--."

     Natalie lightly touched his lips with her fingertips to
silence him, then turned her hand and traced a line from his
forehead to his jaw with the knuckle of her index finger,
reflecting the first time she had touched him that night as he
lay on her examining table.  "Nick, you would never knowingly
hurt me.  I've seen the vampire, but I've seen the man, too,"
she said earnestly, incorporating all the love and faith she
felt for him into every word.  "I have faith in you.  I know you
struggle every day with what you are, but I see you winning.
Every time you risk your life for others, every time you refuse
to give in to the vampire, every time you choose to do what's
right, you take another step closer to the light."  Enthusiasm
lit her features, and she willed Nick to try to understand the
meaning and feeling behind her speech.  "And whether or not
*you* choose to believe it, Nicholas de Brabant Knight, *I*
believe your soul--," she cupped his chin with her hand when she
saw him try to look away as she spoke the word, "--*your soul*
never lost its faith in God, in the goodness that exists inside
you.  I can't pretend to understand the battle you fight within
yourself, but, like I told you the first night we met, I'm
willing to help.  Only..." her voice trailed off.

     Nick moved her hand from his chin and held it close to his
cheek, man and vampire both reveling in the warmth of her,
before daring to kiss it lightly.  "Only?" he repeated.

     "Only I was wrong that first night," she forced the words
to come, all the while staring into his eyes with unflinching
belief.  "Your condition is not only a physical one."  She
paused to assess his reaction before continuing cautiously.  "I
still believe your condition will be reversed by our work on a
physical cure, but I think any cure would be pointless unless
you also rediscover the faith in yourself that you think you
abandoned so long ago."

     She had at last seen the mutilation of his soul.  He had
tried to convince her of this so many times before.  Now that
she had realized it, why did he suddenly feel not vindication,
but defeat?

     The regret of eight centuries seemed to crush him like some
boulder sent from his long-forgotten God, and he tried to hide
his anguish by retreating into cold impartiality.  "And so,
Doctor, you have finally come to understand that evil *is* a
metaphysical condition."  He released her hand and looked away.

     Natalie immediately sensed the weight of decades of
recrimination and self-loathing threatening to squelch the light
she had hoped to rekindle.  "No!  No, Nick.  That's not what I
mean.  I still believe that weaning you off blood and
strengthening your system with vitamins and real food is the
physical key.  But I've come to realize that if you don't also
regain the faith you had, in your ability to be forgiven and
walk in the light, then no physical change will ever be enough.
No mere physical change will truly allow you to love and be
loved.  And...and," she faltered, looking for the right words,
"I have never believed you are evil.  You are *not* evil.
Perhaps you were, long ago, but not now."

     She caressed his face, determined that her eyes show him
the love and faith she held in her heart.

     Nick moved his face a slight distance from her touch and
considered her words carefully, allowing himself a slim
glimmer of hope that the cure for his condition might
entail something more than magic potions or jade cups.
Something that his thirteenth century psyche told him would
require a test of his inner strength--a joust with his
own personal black knight?   "And just how did you come upon
this epiphany?" he asked softly.

     "I met someone in Québec.  Someone who reminded me that I
can't give you faith--you can only find it for yourself.
Someone who encouraged me to believe in you, in the good I've
always seen in you, to trust you to do the right thing," she
finished, searching his gaze for understanding.

     "You told this person about me, about what I am?" Nick
asked incredulously, his voice rising with alarm, the vampire
temporarily shocked from his system.

     "No, Nick.  I went to visit the shrine of St. Anne de
Beaupré while I was in Québec.  My grandmother went there on a
pilgrimage decades ago.  I found a brochure and something inside
me just told me I should go.  I don't know what I was looking
for.  I was concerned.  You've been so distant lately, and I
didn't know why.  I guess I thought maybe I could find some
answers there.

     "I walked around the main cathedral, and it was
magnificent, but I felt so small, so insignificant next to all
the statues and the columns and high windows.  When I was
leaving, I found the lower sanctuary.  Oh, Nick, it was so
beautiful and warm.  I felt at peace there.  I lit a candle for
you, well, for us I guess," she looked away sheepishly for a
moment.  "When I was ready to leave, a priest came and sat with
me.  He said he sensed I might need to talk, and he was right.
I never told him about the vampire, Nick, you know I wouldn't do
that.  But I *did* tell him about how you had been disillusioned
and had lost your faith.  And he understood, I mean
*really* understood, because he challenged me."

     Nick's face silently reflected his questions.

     "He asked me if it was your faith or my own that I sought,"
she paused to see if Nick was following her.  "And he was
right.

     "I used to think I could have enough faith for us both, but
I see now that you need to find your own.  And it's there,
Nick," she stated, gently placing her hand over his
heart for emphasis.  "I'll never stop believing in you.
Never!" she declared, the strength of her inner conviction
mingling with her words.

     There she was again.  That feisty and exasperating woman
who had always had more faith in him than he had in himself.
The only woman in his long life who had seen the vampire before
she had ever seen the man, and had not only accepted him, but
loved him as well.  How could he *not* return her love?  'But
should I risk telling her how I feel?' he wondered.  'Yes,' he
thought reluctantly, 'Even if nothing changes, she deserves to
know.'

     Before he could lose his nerve, he sat back in the couch
and brought Natalie with him, cautiously cradling her in his
arms, holding her close to his chest.  "Nat, I heard what you
said at the end of your telephone message."

     She froze, not knowing whether to face him or not.  In the
end, her heart won out, and she slowly looked up at him.

     He closed his eyes, regret washing over his features.  "I'm
so sorry, Nat.  Sorry that I couldn't make you forget about me
that first night.  Sorry that so much of your life has been lost
to things you were never meant to experience--that you're giving
up the pleasures of mortal life."  His voice lowered to a
whisper.  "Sorry that I can't give you all you deserve, but..."
he paused, "God help us, I love you, too."

     His admission of love gave her pause as a warm,
tingling feeling slowly overtook her entire body, caressing and
comforting her soul with the words she had waited so long to
hear.  Natalie pushed herself up from his chest until her face
was barely inches from his.  "I don't regret one moment I've
spent with you, Nick Knight.  Only the ones we haven't shared."
She pressed her lips to his, gently at first, then more ardently
as she captured his lower lip, savoring the taste of him.

     Nick responded, tightening his arms around her, but only
managed to return a few brief kisses before slipping over the
edge.  His fangs extended abruptly, and his eyes glowed golden.
He wrenched his head back before he could harm her.  "Nat, I
can't.  I'm sorry," he panted.  "I'm sor--."

     Natalie pulled away, gently shushing him.  "It's okay.  I
understand.  We have to take it slowly."  She smiled wistfully.
"And I need to get some rest.  It was a long drive."  He gently
stroked her hair before reluctantly allowing her to stand.

     She knew instinctively that she needed to take quick action
to keep Nick from sinking into frustration and self-pity.  She
remembered the other advice Father François had given her.
"Would you mind if I borrowed some books from your collection?"
Natalie asked.

     Nick stood beside her, eyes once more their normal blue,
peering at her in curiosity.  "Sure, Nat, you know where I keep
them.  Anything in particular?" he asked, following her to the
kitchen pantry which he had converted into a small library.

     "Well, yes, actually.  I was hoping you might have
something about medieval thinking or medieval life," she
replied, catching his surprised glance.

     "Trying to analyze me, are you, Doctor Freud?" he grinned,
startled out of his melancholy by her sudden interest in his
history.

     "Not you, but the times you were born in, I guess," she
responded.  "My eyes tell me you're about thirty-five
years old, but you aren't, and I'd like to know more about the
history of your culture.  You know a lot about mine because
you've lived it, but I know almost nothing of yours.  Any
suggestions?"

     "Yes," he said, picking out two volumes and handing them to
her.  "'The Middle Ages'* by Bishop and Marjorie Rowlings' 'Life
in Medieval Times.'**  There's a chapter in the second one about
the role of women you might find interesting, and Bishop
corrected the old chestnut about us not bathing, although he did
get a few other facts wrong!" he told her.  "Don't read them
when you're tired--they'll put you to sleep!"

     "I'll remember that!" she laughed.

     They returned to the living room and Natalie prepared to
leave.  "Just remember that I have faith in you, faith in *us,*"
she asserted, kissing him lightly on the cheek.

     She turned and reached for the door.  Nick hesitated before
softly calling after her, "Nat, although you deserve better than
what I am, I *do* love you."  The words wounded the vampire,
but bolstered the man.

     They closed the space between them and carefully held each
other.  Words were no longer required.



     Outside the loft, Nick's ancient master relaxed against the
brick wall.  "Love!" he snorted.  "How easy to crush her and
take her from you, Nicholas.  That would be pretty payment
indeed.  Yet, to strip this faith from her would be even
more profitable, for it would prove to you *both* that you are
beyond redemption!  And once your foolish hope is proven to be
beyond her reach, what purpose would she serve then?

--------------
*Morris Bishop, "The Middle Ages," published in 1987 by Houghton
Mifflin Company, Boston.  Original copyright by American
Heritage (where it was a reprint of "The Horizon Book of the
Middle Ages," 1968).

**Marjorie Rowling, "Life in Medieval Times," published in 1979
by The Berkeley Publishing Group, New York.  Original text
copyright 1968.
**********************


     Natalie's first night back on the job promised to make her
pay for the five she had taken off for the conference in
Québec.  Paperwork piled as high as the Laurentians met her as
she seated herself at her desk, bringing a sigh to her lips.
"That'll teach me to trust replacements!" she muttered under her
breath.  "He may have done the autopsies, but I can see
paperwork was not his forte."

     And something had begun niggling at the back of her mind,
almost from the moment she had stepped through the door tonight.
Something that beckoned her to reexamine the cases she had been
working on before she left.

     "So, Ms. Traveler, I'm glad you're back!" Grace exclaimed
as she entered the room, more paperwork in hand.

     "Oh, hi, Grace!" Natalie brightened as she rose to hug her
assistant.  "Thanks again for taking care of Sidney.  I'm sorry
I missed you when I picked him up yesterday, but your sister
said he wasn't any trouble.  He wasn't, was he?"

     "No.  Just like you said--the old boy worked his cat magic
on me, and we shared some 'quality time.'  He's always welcome!"
Grace replied.  "So, how'd it go?"

     "It was fine," Natalie responded.  "You know how it
is--attend some sessions, do a little sightseeing, attend
some more sessions.  Pretty boring stuff, I guess."

     "As a matter of fact, I *wouldn't* know how it is, never
having been asked to attend," she complained good naturedly, but
broke off as she noticed the slightly darkened circles
under her boss's eyes.  "Wait a minute, why are you looking
so tired?  Weren't you away at that cushy conference, or did you
take my advice and put your birthday present to good use?" she
wheedled, fully aware that the object of Natalie's affection had
stayed right here in Toronto the entire week.

     Natalie blushed slightly.  "Grace, you know better than
that!  It was a long drive, and I've had a lot on my mind in the
past few days, plus I was doing a little research yesterday and
I keep having this funny feeling that I've missed something on
one of the cases we were working on before I left."

     "Which case?" her assistant asked.

     "That's just it, I don't know which case.  I can't quite
put my finger on it yet," Natalie sighed again as she looked at
the mountain of paper.  "And it looks like I won't have
time to think about it until I get to the bottom of that pile
you've been building for me," she said nodding, in the
direction of the stack of folders.

     "You can work on that any time.  Just ask your supposed
replacement!  Come on--tell me about the conference.  Did you
see anyone you knew or meet anybody interesting?" Grace
questioned, raising one eyebrow suggestively.

     "Yes, actually I did renew an old acquaintance," Natalie
said.  "I had dinner and a few lunches with Marie LeClerc, an
old buddy from our intern days.  Marie is an M.E. in Montreal.
She even invited me up to meet her husband and kids."

     "So, when are you going?"

     "I don't think anytime soon," Natalie said.  "She's
pregnant with her third child and due in..." she trailed off,
quickly opening her file cabinet and rummaging through the
most recent cases.

     "Due when, Natalie?  And what the heck are you looking
for?"  Grace was taken aback by Natalie's actions.

     "Where's the Woodard file, Grace?" Natalie demanded.

     "It's on my desk.  The fiber scan last week found strands
in the wound that match those from the carpeting in a 1992
General Motors vehicle.  Schanke and Knight are still working on
the case.  Why?"

     "Would you get it for me?" she asked.  "I think I might
have found the source of my funny feeling."

     Grace crossed the room and retrieved the manila file
folder from her own stack and handed it to Natalie.  "Here it
is.  Now maybe you can tell me what you think we missed."

     "Just a minute.  Let me see..." she pondered, flipping
through the reports.  "My God, in the confusion of the prelims
being done over at South, then the body being transferred here,
no one checked for pregnancy.  I can't believe I missed it.
Let's run the blood sample again."

     "I'll take it down to the lab right away," Grace offered.

------

     A short time later, the technician reentered the office.
Spying her boss engrossed in a file, Grace began, somewhat
hesitantly, "Say, Natalie, can I ask you something?"

     Natalie looked up from the folder she was studying to find
her assistant peering intently at her.  "Sure, Grace, what is
it?"

     "Well, Myra Schanke is planning a surprise party for Don's
twentieth anniversary on the force, and she was hoping you'd be
able to come.  It's very hush-hush because you know how Schank
is.  If he got even a whiff of something, he'd be all over
everybody until he knew all the details.  She'd have called you
herself, but she mentioned it to me while you were in
Quebec, and I offered to tell you myself.  I'm not even sure who
else she's invited--that's how quiet she's trying to keep it."

     "I'd be glad to go, Grace, but when is it?  I'll have to
check my schedule," Natalie replied.

     "It's the 24th up at their cabin.  She's inviting just
about ten of his closest friends on the force in order to keep
it quiet.  She's secured some tents for the guys and we gals get
the beds.  Are you off that weekend?" Grace asked innocently,
already knowing full well Natalie was not scheduled to work
then.  'I wish I could be there to see the look on her
face,' Grace thought, keeping a tight rein on her expression.

     Using her pencil as a bookmark, Natalie closed the folder
and reached for her appointment book.  Turning the pages, she
found the 24th and said, "Looks like I'm off the 24th and the
25th, so I'll pencil it in.  How's Myra going to get Schanke up
there?  I thought Cohen had him doing extra duty on weekends."

     "Myra told him she's planned a family trip to Montreal
that weekend.  She'll spring the change on him at the last
minute, so he won't get a chance to spoil everything."  Grace
continued to spin her tale.  "So, are you game?"

     "Sure, anything for ol' Schank.  And twenty years on the
force should be cause for a celebration.  I'll have to get him a
good gag gift, too!" she grinned.  'Wonder if Nick will be
there?' she mused silently.  'I wouldn't mind driving up with
him,' she smiled to herself.

     "Just remember, Natalie, mum's the word!  Not a breath to
anybody, not even Detective Knight," Grace warned sternly.  "You
know how partners can read each other."

     'No chance of that!' Nat thought, but promised, "Not a
word, Grace," and she turned her attention back to the
paperwork at hand.

------------

     An hour later, Grace bolted through Natalie's office door.
"You were right!' she exclaimed.  "Here are the results."

     Taking the proffered folder from her assistant, Natalie
quickly read the report as her hand reached for the telephone.
Almost without conscious thought, she dialed the familiar cell
phone number.

     "Knight."

     "Nick, I missed something on the Woodard case," she
apologized.

     "What is it, Nat?" he asked.

     "Alberta Woodard was pregnant.  We just got the results
back from the lab.  We're still holding the body since her
relatives in the states are making the final arrangements.  I'll
determine how far along she was and call you back."

     "Okay.  I'll run back over to the precinct and get together
with Schanke.  How soon do you think you'll know?" he asked.

     "Give me a hour or so," she replied.

     "I'll just stop by," he stated eagerly, his voice suddenly
reflecting a more personal tone.  "I had hoped to see you
yesterday..."

     "I was conducting research with Bishop and Rowlings," she
laughed, recalling the books she had borrowed.  They were not
as boring as he had warned.  "And I was tired from the
drive, but how about a house call later?" she whispered.

     "We can discuss it when I see you in a hour, okay?" he
asked hopefully.

     "Okay," she answered, then added more soberly, "Nick, I
hope Ms. Woodard's pregnancy finally helps you solve this case,
but it's hard to believe the beginning of a new life might cause
another to end."

     "I wish that were true, Nat," he murmured, clicking off his
phone and remembering...

>>>---->

Dampierre, 1822

     Several days passed and Nicolas found himself dining with
his hosts, unable to turn down yet another invitation.  Lively
conversation concealed the fact he only pushed his food about
his plate.  They spoke of politics and the upcoming theater
season in Paris.

     After the meal had been cleared away, the family and their
guest retired to the drawing room, where Claudette performed
several compositions on the piano and the adults played Whist.
Both during the meal and the entertainment that followed,
Nicolas observed a cool resignation between father and son,
neither aware of the depth of his knowledge.  As the evening
drew to a close, he rose to bid them adieu, donning his cloak
before setting out for the guest house.

     "Nicolas, wait and I will accompany you," bid Gaspar,
calling for his own coat.  "A little night air will clear my
head of the wine," he murmured.

     "A more welcome companion I could not ask for, Gaspar,"
Nicolas replied, wondering if he might now hear the other side
of the lovers' sad tale.

     As they set out across the gravel walkway toward the guest
house, Gaspar asked, "Nicolas, have you ever been in love?"

     Nicolas paused before answering, "Yes, I have."  His breast
ached as he remembered the heavy price his love had brought to
Alyssa and the gaping hole in his heart left by Janette's
rejection of his love.  "And you?"

     "Oh yes, my friend, oh yes.  But savagely has love battered
me, for I love one who cannot be mine for want of birth," he
answered.

     "Surely the winds of change that are sweeping our continent
have made birth a minor consideration when compared to something
as wondrous as love, my dear Gaspar," the vampire baited.

     "Ah, one would think it so.  But not for me," the young man
sighed.  "My father has yet to tell you, preferring to wait
instead for the formal announcement at the parish church this
Sunday, but he has promised me in marriage to a woman whom I
have met but once.  A woman whose family has the financial
backing the manor needs in order to survive.  And I, the
sacrificial lamb, am led to the slaughter."

     Nicolas allowed the image to hold substance in his mind's
eye.  "And after this one meeting the lady has not stolen your
heart?"

     "No, my heart has long belonged to another.  One whose
beauty belies her courage and strength of character.  One who
has summoned me to do my duty to my family, even as I have
conspired to run away with her for my own selfish happiness," he
confessed.

     "Such a woman is not to be dismissed lightly, Gaspar.  Is
there no way you two may be together?" he asked, encouraging the
youth to speak further.

     "I have begged her reconsider and sail away with me to the
Americas, a land beyond the constraints of birth or station, but
she is resolute that the manor can only endure with the almost
immediate financial backing my fiancee's family will bring.  So
I must do my duty as I find it," he said gloomily, his head bent
to his chest.  "Perhaps if you spoke to her, Nicolas, for you
have a persuasive manner about you.  Would you champion
my cause to her?"  Gaspar's head raised as yet another possible
way to escape his fate passed through his mind.

     Nicolas slowed his pace as they approached the outbuildings
and allowed himself to consider the young man's sincerity and
obvious love for Violette.  As he was about to speak, the acrid,
coppery fragrance of fresh human blood assailed him, and he
halted, nostrils flaring, turning his head from side to side as
he tried to determine the direction of the odor.  It was
coming from the stables, and he grabbed Gaspar.  "Something
has happened!"

     The men ran the short distance to the building and entered.
A single lantern's dim light illuminated a stall to the left,
and Nicolas determined the blood also found its home there.
Rushing in, he saw Violette half sitting in the hay, blood
spurting from a wound to her wrist, a wound apparently charged
to her own hand, a bloodied kitchen knife dangling loosely from
her other hand.  "Violette!" Gaspar cried as he came up behind
Nicolas.  "What have you done?"

     Nicolas turned sharply and backed away from Violette,
stepping behind the other man, as the scent of her blood enticed
him.  He had fed before attending dinner at the manor house, but
the song of human blood still called to the vampire and his
fangs began to descend.  Knowing that quick action was needed,
he commanded the young man raggedly, "Gaspar, you must staunch
the flow of blood!"

     Without a second thought, the youth hurried out of his coat
and tore a wide strip of cloth from his shirt, then folded it
and bound it tightly to the wound.

     "Yes, that's right," Nicolas encouraged.  "Quickly, there
is no time to send for a doctor.  Take her to my rooms
and call for Mme. LeBeau.  Go now!" he cried and gave the youth
a firm push forward.

     Gaspar's strong arms easily lifted his beloved, and he ran
past Nicolas toward the guest house, shouting for entry before
he even arrived.  "Mme. LeBeau, Mme. LeBeau, let me in!  It is
I, Gaspar!"

     The door opened quickly at the clamor, as the matron had
been standing sentry awaiting Nicolas' return.  "What
has happened?" she gasped, realizing Gaspar was carrying her
charge.

     Nicolas had composed himself after Gaspar left the
stables and now appeared at the frantic young man's side.  "Take
her upstairs," he demanded.  Turning to Mme. LeBeau, he
instructed, "We will need water, scissors, clean cloth,
bandages, possibly a fine needle and thread and a flagon of
brandy."

     The two men arrived at Nicolas' bedroom, and Gaspar gently
laid down his slight burden.  She tried to push him away and
lift herself from the bed, but Nicolas intervened.  "Violette,
do as I say now and rest.  All will be well again, I assure
you," he said softly before impatiently turning to Gaspar.
"Where are the those bandages?  Go and hurry Mme. LeBeau!" he
insisted.

     At that moment, the kerchiefed woman appeared at the door,
tray in hand.  "Bring the supplies here, Mme.," he instructed,
releasing the makeshift bandage tied tightly to Violette's
wrist.  He uttered a silent prayer that by concentrating on the
needs of others, he could hold the vampire at bay, as he had
sometimes been able to do in the past.  He pulled the
blood-soaked cloth away from the wound and ripped the
sleeve from her blouse, exposing the extent of the damage he
assumed she had herself inflicted.  "Immerse a clean cloth in
the water and hand it to me," he ordered Gaspar, who hovered
nearby.  Neither man's steady gaze left the girl's pale
countenance.  "Stay with us, Violette," he encouraged in a low
voice.  "It is not yet your time for leaving us."

     Quickly his experienced hands cleaned the wound.  It was a
deep cut, and he determined he would need to stitch it
closed for better healing.  "Mme. LeBeau, thread the needle for
me and pour a hearty portion of that brandy your master is so
proud of."  The middle-aged woman complied, first handing him
the glass of brandy.  "Not for me!  Hold Violette steady and
have her drink the glass down," he said with irritation, taking
the sewing implements from her hand.

     Gaspar looked in wonder and despair from the other side of
the bed.  "Nicolas, are you also a doctor, then?" inquired the
young man.

     While Mme. LeBeau administered the brandy to Violette,
Nicolas turned to address Gaspar.  "No, not a doctor, Gaspar,
but I have been a soldier.  And soldiers see as much of such
wounds as any country doctor might.  The wound is deep,
and she has lost much blood.  Let us pray she will survive with
our care."  He turned to look once again at his patient.
"Now, come and sit at her side and hold her other hand, as
closing the wound will be painful," he commanded.

     "Violette, hold steady now and grasp your beloved's hand,"
he instructed as he began to sew the flesh neatly back together.
She was too weak to resist and lay back into the pillow,
refusing to look Gaspar in the eye.  Soon she drifted into
unconsciousness and relaxed her hand in Gaspar's grasp.

     "I cannot rouse her," declared Gaspar with concern, chafing
the back of her hand with no effect.

     "Good, then she will not suffer any more through the pain
of the needle," replied Nicolas, listening for her heartbeat and
finding it reassuringly steady, though somewhat weakened.  "I am
almost finished with the wound."  He tied the thread and cut it
short, then washed the area free of blood.  Drying the reddened
skin, he wrapped her wrist and forearm with clean linen
bandages, then grabbed an unused pillow and gently elevated her
arm with it.  "Let her sleep now, but hold watch, and tell me
when she stirs.

     "Mme. LeBeau and I will retire to the kitchen to dispose of
the soiled linens," he continued, noting the woman's
astonished look at his words as he herded her down the hallway
and stairs to the kitchen.  Once arrived there, he asked, "What
do you know of this?"

     Mme. LeBeau's usually contented face betrayed her knowledge
of the answers he sought.  "I--I cannot say, Master Nicolas,"
she stumbled.

     Seeking her heartbeat, he looked deeply into her eyes.
"Tell me about Violette."

     Entranced by his vampiric influence, the housekeeper
replied in a monotone.  "Violette confided to me that she and
Gaspar are lovers.  They would marry but for the objection of
his parents, who have promised him to another.  She has just
discovered she is with child and today went to the church to
confess.  When she returned, she was pale as a ghost and would
not speak with me, but I heard her mutter to herself that she
was shown a way.  That was all I heard."

     Nicolas considered this revelation before releasing the
matron from her trance and ascending to his bedroom.  He found
Gaspar still clutching Violette's hand, gazing
with longing at her face, angelic in sleep.  Hearing Nicolas
approach, Gaspar loosened his hand from Violette's, causing her
to stir before gently awakening.

     Nicolas took his place on the opposite side of the bed and,
as he had in the kitchen several days previously, gently
smoothed the chestnut wisps of hair from her face.  "Violette,
Gaspar has tonight told me of his love for you," he turned
giving the raven-haired youth a knowing smile to convince the
boy he understood the lovers' tale.  "But I do not understand
this action of yours.  How could you do this, especially now
that--"

     She silenced him with her eyes, looking first at him and
then at Gaspar.  "I told you before, Master Nicolas, that I had
sinned against God and man by loving Gaspar," she began weakly.
"I saw no other way to release him from the regret his family
duty demands."  She glanced lovingly but shyly at the young man
to her left.  "And our child would not only be a bastard but
dismissed from the house of God forever, tainted by the original
sin as well as its mother's own."  Gaspar placed his hand gently
upon her shoulder.

     "What do you mean 'tainted by original sin,' Violette?  Is
not the purpose of the sacrament of baptism to remove original
sin?" Nicolas asked.

     She fought the tears that sprang to her eyes in response.
"Today I went to confess at the parish church.  Monsieur Le Curé
heard my confession but would not absolve me, saying I sought
absolution for that which was beyond his forgiveness.  He told
me I had seduced Gaspar to my own devices to better my station,
and he warned me he would refuse to baptize any issue from our
illicit union, forever condemning our little one to be
ostracized, not only from this life but the next as well.  I
begged his pardon and offered to prove my love for Gaspar with
my very life.  He said it would have been better had I never
been born, for the only way to assuage the shame I had brought
down on the house of L'Heureux would be to go away, to never be
heard from again." Her story was punctuated with her sobs, and
Gaspar cradled her in his arms, soothing her with gentle
words of love.

     Nicolas shook his head in disgust and momentarily looked
around the room for some affirmation that the incredible story
he had just witnessed was indeed true.  Mme. LeBeau stood at the
doorway and caught his eye, beckoning him over.  "Yes, Master
Nicolas, I believe Violette says the truth.  This new priest is
a strange one.  He demands nothing less than perfection from his
flock.  It is whispered in the village that a poor family sent
for him to baptize a weakling infant just taken from its
mother's womb.  The babe was horribly deformed and the midwife
cried that it would not last this life 'til night and begged the
priest administer the sacrament before the child be taken to
darkness.  Monsieur Le Curé was praying his daily office and
told the messenger he was not to be disturbed, but he would
attend the child when he had finished his duty to God.  By the
time he arrived several hours later, the child was dead," she
continued almost in a whisper, her eyes downward to the floor as
if in shame.  "The greater irony is that he would not allow the
child to be interred in the parish cemetery, due to its not
having been absolved of the original sin by baptism!  I do not
know how the family finally laid the babe to rest, but it is
rumored that they took the body to a parish far from here where
the priest allowed it to rest in consecrated ground.  A blessing
upon the kind soul!" she finished, crossing herself.

     Nicolas withdrew his attention from the matron and again
focused upon Violette.  "I promised you before, and I make
similar promise to you, Gaspar, that there *will* be a way
for you to be together.  I would speak to Monsieur Le Curé
myself and your parents as well.  Now, give me your word,
Violette, that you will rest and compose yourself 'til I have
discharged you," he requested.

     With trembling hand she released Gaspar and took hold of
Nicolas' outstretched hand.  "I promise, my good physician, and
I thank you for a kindness I fear is wasted on a sinner such as
I," she responded.

     With steady gaze upon the depth of her emerald eyes, he
replied, "No one of us is without sin, my dear Violette.
Certainly not I, nor Monsieur Le Curé, as it will be my pleasure
to remind him."

<----<<<


     A loud honk from the vehicle behind him jolted Nick back to
the present.  The traffic signal was green and apparently had
been for a while.  He tucked the memory of Violette and
Gaspar into the recesses of his mind, and continued on the short
distance to the precinct.

     Parking the Caddy, Nick got out and entered the squad room.
He approached his dark-haired partner and said, "We may have
caught a break on the Woodard case, Schank.  Nat says she was
pregnant."

     "What?"  Don Schanke almost choked on the donut he had just
popped into his mouth.  "Who was sitting on *that* info?" he
asked incredulously.

     "I don't know, Schank.  Nat's going to find out how far
along she was.  In the meantime, let's go over the interviews
with the professors and the students one more time."  Almost as
an afterthought, he added, "Oh and don't forget Charlie Ward."

     The rotund detective swallowed the mouthful of coffee he
had just taken.  "The apartment building super?  That little
mouse of a guy?  You can't think--"

     "I'm not eliminating anybody, Schank.  Until a few minutes
ago, we weren't any closer to solving this case than we were
last week.  This new information means we need to go back and
recheck everyone's statements," Nick said.

     Schanke opened the folder and pulled out a handful of
papers, handing them to Nick.  "Okay, you take the super and the
co-workers.  I'll take the university people."

     Forty-five minutes later, Nick checked his watch then
looked over at his partner.  "How you doing?" he inquired.

     "Both professors have alibis covering several hours
before and after the time of death.  A couple of the male
students in the classes couldn't come up with anyone to vouch
for their whereabouts during that time," Schanke stated, idly
tapping the reports against his knee.

     "Ward was at a movie theater that night, but no one can
vouch for him except the cashier at the ticket booth.
And she only saw him go in.  She never saw him leave," Nick
declared.  Looking at his watch again, Nick requested, "Would
you pull up the motor vehicle records on the students and the
super, Schank?  Maybe one of them owns a 1992 GM.  I'm going to
go over to the morgue and see what Nat can add."

     Schanke tried to hide a smirk as he stated innocently,
"Gee, I'm glad she's back."

     "Me too, Schank," was all he received in reply as Nick left
the precinct.

---------

     "Hi, Grace!" Nick whistled as he approached the tall woman
in a hallway of the Coroner's Building.

     "Hi yourself, Detective," Grace replied.  "Long time, no
see," she added slyly.

     What was it about this woman that always made him feel as
if he was in the crosshairs and she had her finger on the
trigger?  "Ah, yeah, I guess so," was all he could mutter
in response as he found himself abruptly intrigued by the
pattern of the ceiling tiles.

     Grace took pity on him.  "Dr. Lambert's just finishing up
with Ms. Woodard.  You'll find her in 212."  As she brushed past
him, she added, "And I won't be back for at least 45
minutes."

     Nick automatically concentrated on finding Natalie's
heartbeat.  The sound always fascinated him.  Yet it frightened
him too, for it reminded him of what he was, of the danger he
represented to her, especially now that he knew how she felt
about him.  He wanted her, but so did the vampire.  What if he
lost control some day?

     As he drew near the room, he discovered it was necessary to
force the beast into submission.  He opened the door to find her
backing away from a gurney and pulling latex gloves from her
hands.

     Her heartrate increased dramatically as she looked up.
"Your timing is impeccable!" she greeted him.

     Suddenly reticent, Nick paused, unable to find the words.
Natalie approached him quietly and placed a soft kiss on his
cheek.  "What's the matter?  Is somebody *on* to us?" she asked,
caressing his face with her hand.

     For a moment he closed his eyes and allowed himself to
luxuriate in the warmth of her touch.  But the vampire stormed
for more.  "Nat, no.  I--" he whispered hoarsely.

     Natalie stepped away from him and put her hands in her lab
coat pockets.  The look on her face said it all--she understood
the battle that raged inside him, and she allowed him time to
regain control.

     "Grace told me you were finished with Ms. Woodard," Nick
said, hoping the change of subject would dampen his ardor.

     "She was three months pregnant.  That would place
conception sometime in mid-summer, probably early July.  If she
just started classes in late August or early September, that
kind of eliminates the university connection, don't you think?"
she asked.

     "Possibly, unless someone became jealous once they found
out," he mused out loud.  "Nat, I'm going back to the precinct,"
he said, but added with a sigh, "I know I mentioned a house call
earlier, but with this twist in the case, Schanke and I have a
lot of follow-up.  At the very least, we'll have to interview
several people again."

     "It's okay.  I have to bring a ton of paperwork home if I
want to get it finished," she commented ruefully, then looked
longingly at him.  "But that ought to give me a good jump on
things tomorrow night.  How about postponing it until
then?"

     "I'm off at three," he replied.  "What about you?"

     "I'm on early tomorrow, from six to two.  Why don't you
swing by my place for a change?  You could even bring a Godzilla
movie if you want," she suggested.

     "I think I'd rather hear about your trip.  Methinks there's
more to it than you told me Saturday night, milady!" he teased.

     "All right.  The Travels of Natalie it is!  See you
tomorrow."  She cautiously moved to take his hand in hers but
instead found herself cocooned in his embrace.

     "I'm looking forward to it," he whispered before adding, "I
love you."  He kissed her gently and moved toward the door.

     His declaration of love took her breath away and left her
slightly weak in the knees.

     "You may change your mind when you see how many travel
brochures I brought back!" she recovered.  "See you tomorrow."

*****************************

    The following morning after her next shift, Natalie dried
her hair and applied a few dabs of makeup.  Staring critically
at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, she wondered for the
hundredth time how it could be true.  "How many beautiful,
passionate women has he known over the course of seven hundred
fifty years?" she asked herself.  "Look at me.  Hair that's too
curly, skin that screams for sunlight, figure that's
unremarkable," she sighed.  Twisting her hair into a mass atop
her head, she held it in place for effect before releasing it.
She shook the tresses loose and smiled wistfully, "Guess it
gives new meaning to the phrase, 'He loves me for my mind.'"

     "But he loves *me,*" she mouthed to the image in the
mirror, not quite believing the reality of his words.  "He
loves me?"  Her voice was tentative, her face reflecting the
questions her heart asked.  Closing her eyes and recalling the
exhilaration of his embrace, she whispered, "He *loves* me!"

     The knock at the door shook her out of her reverie.
Quickly spritzing her wrist with cologne, she hurried to the
entryway and unlocked the deadbolt, opening the door to Nick's
warm smile.  Any thoughts of other women in his past were
banished by the kiss with which he greeted her.

     When their lips parted, he grinned softly at her.  "I
think I'd better come in before your neighbors start to talk."
Bowing, he presented her with a large bouquet of autumn flowers
he had been hiding behind his back, relieved he had been able to
hold the vampire at bay.

     Natalie stepped back and admired her gift, allowing Nick to
enter her apartment.  "Thank you, Nick.  They're beautiful!"

     "No more beautiful than you," he replied sincerely, wishing
he could dare more than a kiss.  As it was, the emotions he was
allowing himself to enjoy were beginning to erode his control.

     As Natalie set about arranging the flowers in a vase, Nick
caught the fragrance of her cologne.  It mingled subtly with the
scent of her blood, taunting the vampire as it enticed the
man.

     Nick glanced toward the kitchen and clenched his jaw,
trying to keep his fangs from descending.  Natalie watched him
struggle, seeing the battle now fully met as clouds of regret
crossed his face.  Setting the vase down on the coffee table,
she took his hand and kissed it.  "I still have that emergency
supply you left here," she observed softly.  "Sit down and let
me get you a glass."

     Nick nodded and settled himself on her sofa, looking
with wonder at this woman who accepted him totally and without
reservation.  And he made a silent promise that one day things
would be different.

     Natalie emerged a few moments later, a bottle of white wine
and one of ruby-red liquid in one hand, two glasses in the
other.  Nick first took the bottles, then the glasses from her,
pouring a full measure for them both.  He tried not to gulp the
soothing blood, but found himself drinking a second glass while
Natalie had just begun to sip her first.  "Sorry--" he began,
placing his glass on the table in front of him, his eyes
mirroring the guilt he felt.  Yet he was thankful that the blood
had temporarily appeased the vampire.

     Natalie also discarded her glass and placed her hand on
his, looking deeply into his eyes.  "I think that's one word we
need to drop from this relationship," she declared.  Noting the
question that appeared on his face, she clarified, "'Sorry.'
We'll get along just fine without it."

     Nick relaxed into the couch and pulled her close.  "How did
you get so smart?" he asked with a smile.

     "Some of us don't need eight hundred years to get a clue,"
she chuckled, checking for the exaggerated hurt puppy expression
she expected.  Before it could emerge, she gave him a soft punch
on the shoulder for good measure.

     "Okay, okay, I give up!" he laughed, flashing the boyish
smile she loved so much and holding up his hands in mock
surrender.  "No more 'sorrys' for us."  He hugged her again.
"Now, tell me more about the priest and St. Anne's," he
encouraged.

     Natalie's tone became serious.  "I think it was his eyes
that first caught my attention.  They were pale blue.  With his
snow-white hair and fair complexion, his eyes really stood out,"
she paused, remembering the moment she first saw the priest.
"It was as if he could see into my very soul.  And...and I think
I *wanted* him to.

     "I had convinced myself I was praying for you, but it was
really for myself.  I'd met an old friend at the conference and
hearing about her career, her husband, her kids made her life
sound so ideal, almost perfect.  You know I'm not really the
jealous type, but I began to doubt myself--my direction in life,
the choices I've made.  Even..." she squeezed his hand tightly.
"Even our attempts to find a cure."

     Nick had begun to gently caress her long auburn curls, but
was shocked into stillness, his spirit constricting painfully at
her words.  He drew his hand away and closed his eyes.  He
should never have allowed himself to get this close to her.
'Because of me, she is being deprived of the life she deserves.'
His own words to LaCroix all those centuries ago returned to
haunt him:  'If you truly love Fleur, you will not do this.'  He
should let Nat go, but he knew in his heart it was too late.
Too late for both of them.  Their love for each other was a bond
neither was strong enough to break.

     Natalie saw the change in his expression.  "I didn't doubt
*you,* Nick.  I doubted *me,*" she emphasized, entwining her
fingers with his.  "No wonder I questioned myself!  I thought I
could do this *for* you, have enough faith for both of us.  And
all the while what I was really doing was cheating you."

     He stared at her, full of unasked questions.  "I was
cheating you by thinking *I* could do it all, and I can't.  I
thought *we* weren't making progress because *I* hadn't found a
cure, the magical answer to all your problems.  But you've been
making progress for years, Nick!  You always try to do what's
right, you *help* people, you've been atoning for your past.

     "Can't you see?  *I'm* the one who didn't have faith.  I
see that now.  Father François reminded me to have faith in
you, to trust you and cherish you.  To love you and remind you
that you *deserve* love and to be loved."

     She leaned against his shoulder and let out a long
breath, feeling as if the weight of the world had been removed
from her.  "I feel I owe him so much," she said, lifting her
head to look deeply into his eyes.  "If it weren't for Father
François, I might not have dared to face you when I came back,
to try to convince you that I believe in you, have faith in
you...love you."  She touched his face with her fingertips.

     Nick took her hand and kissed it.

     "And Father François said one more thing, Nick.  He said
when you are truly ready to return to the light, your faith will
be revealed to you."

     "I hope he's right, Nat," Nick replied.  "I've always
known you had faith in me, even when I didn't have it in
myself."

     They embraced in silence for several moments.  When they
parted, Natalie said, "Something tells me we'll find a way.  And
after talking with Father François, I truly believe it."

     Nick reluctantly glanced at his watch.  "It's getting close
to dawn and I have to go."  He kissed her softly on the
forehead.

     "I know," she sighed.  "When are you on tomorrow?"

     "Seven," he answered.

     "Me, too.  I'll try to make a protein shake delivery on my
way in.  I *know* how you've missed them!" she teased,
lightening the mood as she accompanied him back to the door.

     "Liver or skunkgrass flavor this time?" he dared to
ask, struggling to repress a smile.

     Natalie playfully slapped his upper arm.  "Just for
that, we'll make it skunkgrass!"



     Ancient fingers angrily scraped the bricks of Natalie's
apartment building, leaving traces of blood in their wake, as
ice-blue eyes glared up at her window.  "*Faith,* my dear
Doctor," he snorted.  "This priest has restored your faith, not
only in yourself, but in my son as well!  How unfortunate for
you both."  The vampire's voice dripped with contempt, and he
considered his next move.

     Slowly a wicked grin transformed his features as he
recounted in his mind the conversation he had just overheard.
"I believe you have given me the key to your faith.  Let's
see what *I* can unlock with it!"  He suppressed his glee until
he had flown well clear of the building, then began to giggle
madly as he rapidly passed over the landscape below.

************************************



     RING.  "...I'm either in bed or incommunicado..."

     "Nick, pick up!" Schanke demanded into the telephone.

     Nick heard the irritated voice of his partner from across
the loft and flew to the telephone.  "Yeah, Schank.  I'm here.
What's up?"

     "Remember I told you we came up empty when we ran the motor
vehicle records on the students and the superintendent in the
Woodard case?" Don stated.  "Well, the precinct just got an
anonymous call from a guy who says we should check out the
super's brother.  I had Vera do a quick search and guess
what?  The brother owns a 1992 Chevy Lumina!"

     "How soon can you get a warrant?" Nick questioned,
anticipation building in his voice.

     "Already on it!" came the reply.  "You can sign for it on
your way in," Schank advised.  "I'm at the precinct now."

     Assessing the rapid approach of darkness, Nick said, "It's
almost dusk, I should be able to leave in just a few
minutes.  I'll see you as soon as I get the warrant."

     "I'll be waiting.  Let's nail this guy," Schanke ordered
as he hung up the phone.

     Nick replaced the telephone in its cradle and opened the
desk drawer where he kept his gun.  He holstered it and turned
to grab his coat.  Nearing the door, he changed direction and
headed to the refrigerator, deciding he should drink something
before leaving.

     It was not the contents of the appliance, rather, it was
the absence of the ever-present plastic containers that reminded
him.  Natalie was supposed to drop off her latest concoction on
her way to work tonight.  He quickly poured himself a tumbler of
blood and drank it down deliberately as he crossed the room to
his desk.  He wrote a brief note and placed it on the kitchen
table next to the mail as yet unopened in his haste to leave the
loft.

     "Nat--I have to go in early.  Just leave your skunkgrass
in the fridge and I'll call you later!  Love, Nick."

     The sound of the garage door closing behind the quickly
departing Caddy created a counterpoint to the brief swoosh of
air signaling the vampire's arrival on the roof.  Opening the
skylight, LaCroix descended to the main floor and waited, the
promise of the evening's events planting an insidious grin
across his pale lips.




     Natalie grabbed the handles of the shopping bag which held
the containers of vanilla-colored shakes she had carefully
prepared, and left her car.  Hurrying over to the keypad, she
punched in the alarm code then entered the garage, but was
disappointed to discover the Caddy was already gone.

     Upon reaching the second floor, she slid the lift door
open, turned on the lights, walked to the kitchen and tossed her
purse on the table causing the travel brochures she had tucked
inside it to spill out onto the table.  She opened the
refrigerator door and placed the shakes on the shelf.
'Only one bottle of blood,' she noted.  'Maybe he *is* trying to
cut down,' she mused.

     She returned to the table to reclaim her handbag and saw
the note he had written, placed near a pile of unopened mail.
She picked it up and read it, grinning to herself as she
silently reread 'Love, Nick' several times.  "Quite a move up
from 'with affection,'" she said aloud.

     She felt the presence just before she caught a glimpse of
movement from the corner of one eye.  Turning quickly, her heart
lurched as she was met by the hostile golden stare of an unknown
vampire.

     "I agree, Doctor," he growled.  "My son does seem quite
enamored of you."  He fingered a tendril of her hair.  "Or is it
your mortality that Nicholas craves, the beating of your heart,
the fragrance of your blood?  Traits that can be so...fleeting."
His fingers trailed down her cheek to rest on her throat.  She
inhaled sharply, concentrating on remaining calm and thinking
clearly.

     As she tensed, his hand snaked around her throat, and he
tightened his grip before she could pull away.  She began to
struggle, but it only caused him to squeeze harder, cutting off
her supply of oxygen.

     Just as Natalie thought she would pass out, he suddenly
stopped, nonchalantly easing the pressure enough to allow her to
gasp for air.  Pale blue eyes gazed at her almost fondly.  "No,
this will never do.  Your death would merely serve to spur him
on this foolish quest.  It is your *faith* that attracts him,
bids him to loathe what he is.  Your faith gives him the hope he
can forsake the gift *I* bestowed on him."  He paused in
contemplation, then propelled her toward the refrigerator, his
hand still clenched around her neck.  "So I must remind you both
that *faith,*" he spat the word, "is a mortal folly."

     "You're too late, *LaCroix.*  He already *knows* that we
will reverse his condition some day," she croaked defiantly in
recognition of her tormentor.

     A crooked smile appeared on his lips.  "I see my
reputation has preceded me," he retorted, "but I confess *you*
are more than I expected.  Be that as it may, when I show
Nicholas how easily I crush the ideals of his faith, he will
remember that escape from his *condition* is impossible!"  He
jerked her one step nearer the refrigerator, opened the door and
grabbed the bottle of blood.  Releasing her throat, he seized
her by the wrist, opened the bottle and poured the contents
into the sink.  Then he grabbed a large tumbler from the
drainboard, bit into his wrist and collected the dripping blood
in it.

     Natalie stood mesmerized by the sight before her and hardly
moved as LaCroix set the glass onto the counter.  "Your turn,"
he smiled, delighting in her confusion.

     Natalie was determined not to allow the dread that gripped
her heart to betray her.  "Come now, Doctor!  Don't hold back.
Give in to your fear," he demanded.  She was concentrating so
intently on defying this creature that she missed the chance to
pull away when he quickly removed a knife from the kitchen
holder and smoothly made a shallow cut across her wrist.  She
gasped as he squeezed the flesh to hasten the rivulet of blood.
Taking the tumbler with his other hand, he held it to her arm,
mixing her essence with his own, swirling their competing
desires in the vessel.

     LaCroix ceased squeezing and the flow of blood from
Natalie's wrist trickled to a stop.  He placed the glass on the
countertop and drew her near.  She tried to jerk away, but he
was too strong.  His eyes did not leave hers as he brought her
wrist to his lips and licked away the blood that remained on her
skin.  Closing his eyes, he smiled.  "Nicholas has no idea what
he is missing."

     Natalie raised her free hand and would have slapped him,
except his preternatural reflexes gave him plenty of time to
block her blow.  He looked somewhat bemused as he opened his
eyes to her.  "My, my, Doctor, or may I call you Natalie now
that I've gotten to know you a little better?"  He traced the
outline of his upper lip with his tongue for emphasis.  "I
expected something a little more *subtle* from you."  His tone
became stern.  "You can't harm me, you don't have the strength.
You don't have the courage," he taunted.

    Natalie kept the frustration she felt from her eyes.
"You're right, LaCroix.  I don't have the strength.  I'm just a
weak mortal."  Her voice sang with contempt.  "So, why is it
you're bothering with me?"

    "In due time.  In due time," he replied.  He released her
and pushed her toward a kitchen chair.  "Sit down," he demanded.
Turning to the counter, he poured the contents of the glass into
the empty green bottle, replaced the cork and deposited the
bottle back into the refrigerator.  Spying the brightly-colored
plastic containers which occupied a lower shelf, he removed
them, opened one and brought it within several centimeters of
his nose.  "This must be one of your vile protein shakes," he
winced.  "Perhaps it would be a greater torment just to let
Nicholas consume these repulsive things," he mused, shaking his
head quickly from side to side as he sniffed the contents one
more time.  "No.  Not even *I* am that cruel," he gasped,
emptying each vessel into the sink and rinsing the residue down
the drain before throwing the plastic containers into the trash
bin.

    This accomplished, he surveyed the loft, glancing high and
low until his eyes came to rest on a plain wooden box sitting
atop a table near the sofa.  "Nicholas isn't even attempting to
hide his 'toys.'" he smirked.  He strode confidently to the
living room, removed the box and rejoined her at the kitchen
table.  "Open it," he commanded, shoving the box across the
table until it came to rest in front of her.

    Natalie slowly lifted the top of the box, revealing two
crude pieces of wood, lying on a piece of burlap, held together
with a leather thong and fashioned into the shape of a cross.
"St. Joan's cross," she murmured to herself, gazing at the
ancient relic with a mixture of hope and pain.  The last time
she had seen it was when Nick had been forced to destroy her
brother.

    "Yes, indeed, Doctor."  LaCroix confirmed her recognition.
"It is the cross of the so-called St. Joan, the great symbol of
Nicholas' faith.  He has kept it all these years to remind
himself of his quest to return to humanity, to the faith he
'lost' when I brought him across."  He was momentarily silent.
"It's time again to show him the futility of it all."  He turned
to retrieve the kitchen knife that he had placed on the
countertop.  Handing it to her, he ordered, "Take it out and cut
the leather bindings."

    Natalie stared into the powerful vampire's eyes, daring him
to force her to act.  LaCroix bent down and scraped his fangs
across her neck.  "Do as I say, Doctor," he growled.
Reluctantly, Natalie complied, lifting the relic from the box
and cutting the leather fastening which held it together, all
the while breathing a silent prayer of sorrow for desecrating
the icon.

    LaCroix moved away from Natalie and picked up the pieces.
"I thought religious symbols repelled you," Natalie noted.

      Holding the pieces up in mock inspection, he said, "But
they are merely two sticks of wood."  He threw them down in
disarray onto the table top.

    "Now that we have dispensed with Nicholas' symbol of faith,
let's see what we can do with yours!"  He purred in
anticipation.

    Natalie was sharing both the dismay and anger Nick would
surely feel at the mutilation of St. Joan's cross, and at first
scarcely heard LaCroix's words.  "Wh--What do you mean?" she
asked.

    "*I mean,* having destroyed this little symbol of faith, I
think it's time to move on to a more satisfying challenge.  Say
a priest, perhaps."  He looked deep into her eyes and feasted on
the fear that arose once Natalie realized he intended to harm
Father François.

    "No!  You can't!" she gasped hoarsely.  "I won't let you."

    LaCroix began to laugh.  "Not only will you *let* me, you're
going to *help* me.  We're going there now.  And my son, the
detective, will not even know where you've gone!"  He put the
pieces of the cross back in the wooden box, replaced the lid and
returned it to the sofa table, unaware that a slender
piece of leather binding remained on the kitchen table.

    Natalie forced herself to think beyond the revulsion his
plot was causing her.  She saw the travel brochures which had
spilled from her purse when she tossed it on the table top.  She
heard LaCroix from the other side of the room.  "Time to go,
Doctor.  Be sure to bring your handbag.  We wouldn't want
Nicholas to notice anything untoward before he tastes your
blood.  And even then, he still won't know where we've gone!
It's almost too delicious."

    Reaching over the table to grab her purse, Natalie allowed
the St. Anne's brochure to escape, all the while looking
intently at LaCroix.  As he turned to the door, she quickly
pushed the blue folio into the pile of unopened mail and prayed
he had not seen her action.

    "Coming?" he asked, again directing his venom at her as he
held the lift door open.  She rose slowly and deliberately from
the chair, unwillingly walked over to him and entered the
elevator, helped along with a less than gentle push from
LaCroix.  As the door closed behind them, she silently willed
Nick a message of faith and love mingled with a plea for rescue.

------------------------

    He could not put a finger on it, but something about their
anonymous tip bothered Nick.  "I'm going to the Sound Lab," he
told his partner as they climbed the steps to the precinct after
impounding Ward's car.  "There's something I need to check out."

    "You know, I think Rachel has a crush on you," ribbed
Schanke.  "Should Natalie be jealous?"

    "Nat and I are--"

    "Just friends," Schanke chimed in.  Then he added, "Sure,
Knight, sure," with a wink.

    Nick grinned at the other detective's teasing.  "I'll be
back in a few minutes," he said, ignoring the comment and
turning down the corridor toward his goal.

    "Detective Knight," greeted Rachel Fowler as Nick approached
her desk.  "We don't often see you over here."  The brown-eyed
woman's features brightened.

    "Rachel, I need a favor," he said.

    "Ask away," she replied with a smile.

    "I'd like to hear the tape of that anonymous tip you had
this afternoon about the Woodard case.  I'm not sure exactly
when it came in," he added.

    "Oh, the clerk just finished up with the typewritten
transcripts.  Shouldn't be too hard to find."  She led him to
an equipment room.  "Have a seat, and I'll bring it to you."

    A few minutes later, she returned and cued up the
reel-to-reel tape on the player.  "I have to get back to the
desk.  Just leave it when you're done."

    "Thanks," he said.  He waited until she closed the door
behind her, then pushed the 'play' button.

    At first all he heard was background static, then the voice.
The voice that penetrated his consciousness as well as his
subconscious.  The one that had first called to him over
seven hundred fifty years before.  'Leave your faith behind,
Nicholas.  You can never go back there now,' he remembered.

    "Hello.  I'm a concerned citizen and I have information on a
murder..."

    He pushed the 'stop' button.  It was LaCroix.  But why?
What possible motive could his sire have for assisting in this
particular murder investigation?  A sense of trepidation settled
over him.

    As he made his way back to Homicide, he could not help
feeling that he was being played like a marionette.  And he was
certain he knew who was pulling the strings.

    Just as Nick returned, Schanke plopped into his desk chair
with a fresh mug of coffee, a satisfied look pasted on his face.
"If our luck holds, we should have this one tied up in a few
hours," he intoned, oblivious to his partner's distraction.

    Nick turned his attention momentarily away from the
underlying sense of uneasiness that was beginning to haunt him.
"Yeah, luck," he murmured in answer.  But Nick had never
believed in luck.  Eight hundred years of experience had taught
him that luck seldom had anything to do with the human
condition.  Fate, perhaps, but luck?

    His pondering was interrupted by the ringing of his desk
phone.  "Homicide.  Detective Knight," he answered.

    "Detective!  Is Dr. Lambert with you?" Grace asked with
concern.

    "No, I haven't seen her, Grace," Nick replied, his unease
growing.  "Why?"

    No sooner had the words left his mouth than it seemed as if
time stood still.  In that one moment he realized, 'If Natalie
has disappeared, only one person can be responsible...'

    "LaCroix!" he breathed almost silently into the phone.

    "What?" Grace answered.

    "I--I'm sorry, Grace," he stammered.  "You're looking for
Natalie?"

    "Yes.  Dr. Lambert was due in at seven.  I've paged her,
called her apartment and left messages," the technician
anxiously declared.  "But there's no answer and this isn't like
her.  I just thought perhaps she'd checked in over at the
precinct first."

    "Just a minute and I'll ask," Nick responded, holding the
receiver to his chest.  "Schanke, go over to the desk and the
bullpen and ask if anyone has seen Natalie tonight."  He waited
in silence while his partner inquired after the coroner, already
knowing the answer in his heart, but hoping against hope he was
wrong.

    Several moments later, Schanke walked toward his partner's
desk shaking his head in the negative.  "No, Grace.  No one here
has seen her.  But don't worry.  It's probably nothing.  I'll
look for her and let you know when I find out anything.  Call me
on my cell phone if she comes in, okay?"

    He replaced the phone on its cradle and looked at Schanke.
"It'll be a couple of hours before the lab boys are finished
with the car, and we don't have enough evidence to pick the
suspect up until then.  I'm going to check around for Natalie,"
Nick finished, already finding himself halfway to the door.

    "I'll come with you," Schanke offered.

    "No.  One of us needs to be here when the report comes in.
Call me," Nick instructed, waving his partner back to his desk.

    Upon leaving the building, Nick glanced around to see if
anyone was nearby.  As he took to the air, he forced himself not
to panic, to use his detective skills instead to look at things
logically.  'I should check her place first, just in case,' he
reasoned to himself.  'Maybe she's hurt or--'  He wouldn't let
himself think about that right now.  'If she's not home, I'll
head to the loft to see if she's been there.  If she hasn't...'
He would not allow himself to dwell on that possibility either.

    The flight to Natalie's apartment seemed to take forever,
but, in fact, was only about ten minutes.  Nick took the front
stairs quickly, almost flying to her door on the second floor.
He knocked loudly and called her name, listening intently for
her heartbeat.  Hearing only Sidney, he used his key and opened
the door.

    He strode purposefully from room to room, pausing to pick
Sidney up in the living room.  "Where's your mum, boy?" he
asked, softly petting the animal's grey fur in distraction.  The
cat gave him a curious stare before it stroked Nick's encircling
hand with a raspy tongue.

    Natalie was not here.  That was obvious, but there did not
seem to be any sign of trouble either.  Nick put Sidney down in
the kitchen next to his feeding dish.  The pungent odor of
Natalie's latest protein concoction assaulted Nick's nostrils,
and he noticed her blender sat unwashed on the kitchen counter.
He opened the refrigerator door.  There were no brightly colored
plastic containers.  "Looks like she left with my dinner, Sid,"
he told the cat, turning his attention to the tabby's feeding
station.  "But she's given you plenty of dry food and water, so
you're okay for now," he reassured.

    Nick quit the apartment and headed toward his loft, but
decided to stop at the Raven on the way.  Perhaps Janette knew
what was going on.

    As he entered the night club, he was greeted by only one or
two patrons, who cast him a disinterested glance.  He focused on
finding Janette, but he could not feel her presence.

    Miklos wiped the bar top in an unending circular motion.
He did not interrupt his task nor even look up as he called,
"Looking for someone, Detective?"

    Nick closed the distance between them with three long
strides.  "Where's Janette?" he demanded.

    The bartender continued cleaning the bar, but slowly looked
up into eyes edging toward gold.  "Paris.  The Spring
Collection, you know," he replied, allowing the counter
top to reclaim his attention.

    Nick nodded his understanding.  "Have you seen LaCroix,
Miklos?" he asked.

    "He left right at dusk," he stated, again staring down at
his task.  "Something about a debt."  He was interrupted by the
sound of the main door slamming shut.  Raising his head, he
discovered that Detective Nick Knight was nowhere to be found.

    Nick flew to the loft at breakneck speed.  The feeling of
dread he had tried to suppress ever since leaving the precinct
began growing even stronger as he neared Gateway Lane.

------------

    Natalie stared out her car's passenger window into the
blackness of the night.  The last hour had passed in silence,
her attempts to engage LaCroix in conversation thwarted by his
growls of disapproval.  She was not even certain why she thought
she should get him to talk, except that perhaps she might find
some small crack, an opening which would allow her to uncover
his plan and devise a way to counter it.

    Her own thoughts raced ahead to Québec and Father François.
She knew she could not remain idle knowing LaCroix intended to
confront the priest.  At least she could slow him down and hope
that Nick would catch up to them.

    And if Nick *did* find them before they reached St. Anne's,
what then?  Would he have the strength to stop LaCroix?

    She would have to do as much as she could on her own
and have faith he could do the rest.

    "Some of us are only human, you know."  Her words drew
LaCroix's attention from the road.

    "Your point, Doctor?"

    "I need to make a pit stop," she answered, turning to face
him.

    The vampire raised one eyebrow.  "'Pit stop?'" he repeated
irritably.

    "I have to go to the bathroom.  My bladder--"

    "Ah yes, a restroom break, I think you call it," he
interrupted, his voice filled with amused superiority.  Glancing
at the fuel gauge he added, "There is a service area ahead.  You
can make your pit stop there, and then fill your automobile with
petrol."

    "*Petrol,* LaCroix?  Aren't you on the wrong continent?" she
retorted.

    "Gas, then," he said with annoyance.  "My experience with
this mode of transportation is...limited."

    "Exactly when *was* the last time you drove a car?" Natalie
inquired, curious despite her situation.

    "England, 1979.  A Bentley, as I recall," he recounted.
"The service area is only another kilometer ahead.  I will park
your vehicle and accompany you--"

    "You're going into the Ladies Room with me?"  Natalie tried
to cover the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, her
options suddenly decimated.  "That'll cause quite a scene."

    "Doctor, I will make certain you do not attempt to contact
Nicholas," he declared.  "I assure you I will know immediately
if anything is amiss."

    They both alighted from the car after LaCroix pulled into a
parking space outside the truck stop.  Natalie reached back to
grab her purse from the front seat, but was stopped by a strong
hand on her forearm.  "Leave it," he demanded, locking the car
with her keys.

    'Damn!' she thought with dismay.  'No way to write anything;
no money to phone.'

    LaCroix opened the door to the facility and gestured Natalie
inside, ignoring the half-dozen patrons waiting in line at the
fast food window.  She walked directly to the Ladies Room,
glancing sharply behind her to make sure LaCroix was not
following.  She saw him take up position right outside.

    Entering the furthest stall, she relieved herself, all
the while considering the room she was in, its four meter height
limiting her options.  She had noticed a window above the
diaper changing station and thought perhaps she could reach it
by standing on top of the counter.  It would be a tight squeeze,
but she could probably just make it and land without breaking
her leg on the pavement outside.

    Natalie quickly washed and dried her hands before
vaulting onto the top of the changing table.  She swayed dizzily
for a moment, her earlier blood loss causing a brief attack of
lightheadedness, but the spell quickly passed, and she looked up
at her one hope of escape.

    She was just tall enough to open the window and pull herself
up to it.  In the parking lot she could see several large
trucks, and a couple of drivers leaning against one rig and
smoking cigarettes.  'Good,' she thought, her hopes soaring.  'A
ride *and* access to a radio!'  She did not call out to them,
fearing LaCroix might hear.  Instead she decided to wait until
she had made her escape before approaching the men for help.

    It took several tries before she was able to hook her foot
over the sill, awkwardly turning her body so she would
eventually land feet first on the ground below, all the while
thanking the patron saint of coroners that she had chosen to
wear slacks tonight rather than the straight-line skirt she had
originally considered.  She closed her eyes and lowered the
other leg out the window and gradually let go, bracing her body
for impact with the pavement.

    Instead of asphalt, her body was caught by strong, cold
arms.  Opening her eyes, she was transfixed by the vampire's ice
blue stare.

    "Really, Doctor.  You *have* been watching too many movies,"
he scolded.  "I had expected something a little
more...creative."

    Natalie pushed away in frustration and straightened her
spine in defiance.  "Now what?" she demanded.

    "Now you fill your automobile with gasoline, and we continue
on our journey," he answered casually.  "You won't cry for help
because you know what will happen to anyone who comes to your
aid.  Unlike Nicholas, I have no scruples about dispatching
mortals."  A smug look settled on his face.

    "You okay, lady?"  The two truckers Natalie had seen earlier
were approaching, wearing twin expressions of cautious
determination.

    One glance at LaCroix and she knew he would kill them
without a second thought.  "I'm fine," she lied, gritting her
teeth in frustration.

    "Are you sure?" asked the larger of the two men, stepping
forward, muscles bulging beneath his plaid flannel shirt.  He
looked LaCroix up and down, assessing the possible danger from
that quarter, and arrived at the erroneous conclusion that her
companion would pose no problem if things came down to a fight.

    Appearing slightly bored, the vampire captured the man's
gaze.  "She's fine," he commanded.  "She doesn't need your
help," he added, indicating the trucker's friend as well.
"You should be on your way.  It wouldn't do to be late with your
deliveries."

    The man's face became empty as LaCroix's will overrode his
own.  "She's fine..." he repeated.  "We should go before we're
late."  As if in a trance, he turned around and trotted to his
rig.  His partner watched him go in surprise.  With one
uncomprehending glance back at the pair, he hurried off after
his buddy.

    Natalie seethed as LaCroix hauled her toward her car.  He
had won another round, and she knew it.  But the war was
not yet over.

------------------

    Nick used his aerial vantage point to survey the streets
surrounding the loft for Natalie's car, but there was no sign of
it.  Landing on the roof of his building, he paused momentarily,
unsure what, if anything, awaited him.  Opening the skylight
with trembling hands, he slipped inside and landed on the
balcony overlooking the main living area.

    Something was wrong.

    He forced himself to descend the stairs, reaching out with
his heightened abilities to detect any human heartbeat or
the immediate presence of another vampire.  The answer was 'no'
on both counts.

    Nick forestalled further investigation for the moment,
responding instead to the hunger burning inside him.  The stress
of the past couple of hours and the energy he had expended
by flying had drained his reserves of strength.  He needed to
feed, *now.*

    Moving to the refrigerator, he opened the door and grabbed
the single bottle of blood.  In retrospect, he would realize it
must have been positioned, as an artist would pose a model to
the greatest advantage of light and shadow.  But for now, all he
knew was that the contents were nourishment,
replenishment...life.

    He uncorked the bottle with his left hand, then brought it
to his lips with his right, turning away from the refrigerator
at the same moment so that he faced the kitchen.

    He was completely unprepared for the onslaught of images
that assaulted his mind.  Anger.  Betrayal.  Revenge.  Fear.

    Love.

    Nick choked the blood down his throat and immediately gulped
for air.  His fangs extended to their full length, the vampire
revelling in ecstasy at the unexpected luxury of human blood.

    His body reeled at the taste, his brain dizzy with the
revelation of whose blood he had consumed.  Nick felt himself
falling forward, but caught his hand on the back of a kitchen
chair, slowly steadying his frame and easing himself to a
sitting position.  Until now, he had only suspected LaCroix
was responsible for Natalie's disappearance.  Now he knew.

    He shakily considered the green glass container.  Like
a fairy tale of old, the answers were in the bottle.  LaCroix,
the ancient genie, had placed them here for him to retrieve, and
the only way he would ever decipher the message, his only hope
of finding Natalie, was to drink.

    Resting the neck of the bottle against his lower lip, he
inhaled deliberately before tipping another swallow into his
mouth.  Natalie.  The taste of her blood had almost been
overpowered by LaCroix's, but it was there.

    He held the liquid in his mouth, analyzing it with the
same precision Natalie used when examining his own blood samples
under a microscope.  And for a brief second, he thought about
spitting it out, convinced that to swallow was to betray her,
her faith in him, the progress they had made.

    But, to his shame, he could not.

    He could not keep from sampling again the love and fear he
felt in her blood, masked and almost overshadowed as it was by
LaCroix's rage.  Almost.

    He swallowed, savoring the tiny piece of Natalie that was
now his.  And he held on to that piece as he proceeded to read
LaCroix.  Nick felt the anger, the fury in LaCroix's blood, but
was there more?

    The wrath his master directed at him and at Natalie was
foremost.  His sire had been following them.  Knew of their
love, had overheard Natalie's profession of faith and hope.
LaCroix had indeed moved the Woodard investigation along by
using his powers of persuasion.  He had been lucky.  Or was it
that an accomplished killer could always recognize an amateur?

    Caught in LaCroix's web, the building superintendent had
admitted his guilt and revealed that he had used his brother's
vehicle to transport Alberta's body to Coronation Park in order
to throw the police off his trail.  LaCroix used this knowledge
to his own advantage, leading Nick away from the loft early to
impound the car, leaving Nat to arrive alone and unprotected.

    He closed eyes which had changed, not to gold but to
feral red, now that the vampire had been freed of that
bovine brew.  The exhilaration, not only of human but of vampire
blood, sang in his veins.  It was a struggle between light and
dark, salvation and damnation...heaven and hell.  And in that
one moment, his world ceased to spin.

    In his mind he saw LaCroix mingle his aged blood with
Natalie's, taunting Nick with her safety and daring him to seek
revenge, just as LaCroix sought to punish Natalie for trying to
restore Nick's faith.

    But how and where would LaCroix do this?  Slowly Nick opened
his eyes.  He had garnered as much as he could from the blood.
Although the vampire cried for more, to do so was defeat.
LaCroix had intended for him to drink again and again of the
message in the bottle, bringing him tantalizingly closer to
Natalie, only to realize too late that each sip of her human
blood would embolden the vampire, causing his precious quest for
mortality to slip further and further away from his grasp.

    Nick beat back the vampire and let the man step into the
light.  He pushed the bottle away.  Now it was up to his skills
as a detective to fill in the blanks.

    He kicked the chair back as he rose and paced, his eyes
darting around the loft for several minutes, looking for clues.
He spied a plastic container in the trash bin, gelatinous beige
liquid clinging to its side and realized he had been smelling
the faint stench of protein shakes since entering his apartment.
Confirmation that Natalie had indeed been here.

    He retraced the distance between the lift door and the
kitchen several times, running his hand through his hair in
frustration, trying desperately to uncover *anything* that might
reveal where LaCroix had taken Natalie.  Nick finally settled
himself at the kitchen table once again.  He stared in futility
at the stack of unopened mail.  A patch of bright blue peaked
out from beneath the bills and advertisements wrapped in
monotonous white envelopes.  Try as he did to dismiss it and
concentrate instead on the images still dancing in his head for
clues, his fingers reached out and touched the slick and shiny
surface, pulling the paper gently from the stack.

    'Sainte-Anne-de-Beaupré, Sanctuaire,' it read, the letters
emblazoned across the bright blue Québec sky above the
photograph of the basilica's twin spires.  He remembered
Natalie's recent pilgrimage.  Her blood had not revealed their
destination.  LaCroix had kept that from her when he had
collected it.  Nick smiled bitterly as he now understood.  This
was one of the travel brochures she had told him about.  She had
left it to guide him to her.  *This* was the clue for which he
had been searching.

    Nick stared at the flyer, then folded it and placed it in
his pocket.  Rising from the chair, he steadied himself on the
table, one hand resting on a thick leather string.  He picked it
up, fingering its length and wondering at its origin.  It was
brittle...and old, *very* old.

    In a second, he knew.  He darted to the simple wooden box
sitting atop the sofa table and quickly flipped it open.  For
several moments he could only stare, blinking back tears of
anger, appalled by the defilement of the holy relic.  Solemnly,
he removed the crude wooden sticks that were the remnants of St.
Joan's cross.

    LaCroix had done this!  And just as St. Joan's cross was
Nick's symbol of faith, so Father François was Natalie's.  Nick
now realized in horror that his master meant to crush Natalie by
destroying the priest as she watched, desecrating her symbol of
faith, just as he had the icon of St. Joan.

    Joan's words floated back to Nick.  'Take this to remember
me by.  To remember that the faith you have lost is always there
to regain.'  She had asked him to hold up her cross for her to
see as she burned.  'It will give me courage,' she had said.

    Nick wondered if she knew it had given him courage, too.
Through centuries of torment and despair, he had kept it close,
a promise for the future.   And at that moment he became
aware that Natalie had become the same--a promise for the
future.  A promise he intended to be kept.

    Willing Natalie courage, he tucked the pieces of wood into
his coat pocket and returned to the refrigerator.  Pulling two
bottles of steer blood from the crisper, he uncorked the first
one and drank greedily, desperately drawing strength for the
task that awaited him.  He slammed the now empty bottle onto the
kitchen counter and took the second to his lips, his body now at
a fever pitch of readiness for what lay ahead.

    As he drank, he put the final pieces of the puzzle into
place.  Even the increased powers of one LaCroix's age would not
allow for a flight of that distance, especially burdened by a
hostage.  His master would surely avoid too public a venue with
Natalie in tow, so a commercial flight was also unlikely.
Natalie's car was neither here nor at her apartment, so LaCroix
had to be driving them to St. Anne's.

    Nick would have to drive to Québec to intercept them before
the ancient vampire could harm Natalie or Father François.
Though Nick estimated they had as much as a two hour head start
on him, Nick knew Natalie would do all she could to slow them
down.  He was banking on that.

    He would find her.  He knew he would.  He just had to
have faith.

------------------------

    Natalie's mind raced as the hours and kilometers ticked by.
She had to slow them down, give Nick time to catch up and stop
LaCroix.  It was the only way to save Father François.

    She considered her options and found that she did not have
many from which to choose.  LaCroix had already proven that he
would thwart any attempt to involve other mortals, and Natalie
would not chance an innocent life in the bargain.  She did not
have the physical strength to overpower him, nor did she have
the resources of cross or holy water to weaken or injure him.
And, as far as she could tell, he *had* no softer side to which
she could appeal, which meant she would have to try to
outmaneuver him.  But how?

    There was no way he would fall for the same ruse
twice...was there?

    "I need to make another stop," she declared, not daring to
look in his direction for fear he would uncover her lie.

    "Later," he replied irritably.

    "*Now,*" she emphasized.

    "We just passed a service area an hour ago," he rebuked.
"Why didn't you--"

    "I forget," she mocked, covering her fear with feigned
bravado.  "It's been a long time since you were human, LaCroix.
When you gotta go, you--,"

    "I get your point, Doctor," he interrupted.

    "There's a sign for a village up ahead.  Get off there,"
Natalie instructed boldly.  Her geographic knowledge of the
Province of Québec was not as thorough as it should be, and she
hoped the village was located a distance from the highway.  That
might present her with some additional options.

    There was only one gas station near the exit, but it
was closed at this late hour.  "You'll have to wait," LaCroix
noted without distraction, his eyes concentrating on the road
ahead.

    "*Now* means *now,*" she restated.  "Perhaps there's
something open in the town."

    "Doctor," the vampire began, aggravation palpable in his
voice, "humans heeded the 'call of nature' for millenia
before the advent of indoor plumbing.  Why don't you just--"

    "You want me to go in the woods?" she exclaimed, drawing
on every ounce of righteous indignation she could muster.  "When
there's a town not ten kilometers from--"

    "All right!"  LaCroix snarled, letting a low growl punctuate
his message.  "*But* if there is no facility there, you will
either do as I instruct or your vehicle will require
professional cleaning."  He waited for her answer.
"Agreed?"

    Natalie looked out again at the fleeting landscape from the
passenger side window and smiled to herself, not quite believing
her small victory.  "Agreed."

    About fifteen minutes later, they arrived at St. Jean, a
community of perhaps five hundred souls.  The main street shops
were closed up tight, making the town seem deserted but for a
gas station, its dimly lit service pumps standing like lone
sentries in the night.

    LaCroix pulled Natalie's car up to one of the pumps.  Before
she could reach for her purse, he had alighted and held the
passenger door open for her.  "Don't forget what happened the
last time," he reminded her, tilting his head in the direction
of the restroom signs on the side of the building.

    She silently nodded and walked toward the office.  A
crumpled young man greeted her, nervously wiping sleep from his
eyes.  "You folks are out late," he began.  "We usually only get
truckers this time of night and that's only because we carry
diesel."

    "We prefer traveling at night," she replied cautiously, not
wanting to endanger him.  She scanned the station as she spoke
and stifled a desperate sigh as she located the facility's only
visible phone inside near the desk.  "Could I have the Ladies
Room key, please?"

    "Sure," he answered.  "Right here."  He handed it to her and
pointed around the building.

    Natalie slowly walked toward the Ladies Room and ventured a
glance at LaCroix as she fumbled with the door lock.  He
appeared to be concentrating his attention on the attendant and
seemed unaware of her for the moment.  She found the light
switch and flipped it on, entering the tiny room while holding
the door open with one hand.  She had to move fast.

    She turned the faucets on full blast and exited after
setting the lock, letting the door slam shut behind her as she
quickly moved into the shadows surrounding the building.
Natalie's only plan was to run as fast and as far into the
surrounding woods as she possibly could, hoping to delay her
ancient tormentor long enough to give Nick time to intercept
them.  She prayed LaCroix's desire to frustrate Nick would
outweigh his anger with her when he recaptured her, keeping her
alive for at least a little while longer.

    LaCroix kept close watch on the station attendant as he
filled the automobile with gasoline.  He had heard the restroom
door shut, and he ventured that the good doctor would not do
anything which would jeopardize the safety of the young man
servicing her car.  Surely their earlier encounter with the
truckers had taught her that.

    The vampire paid the attendant, his eyes following the boy
as he returned to the office, slumped back into the chair behind
the large desk and resumed his interrupted sleep.  LaCroix
reentered the car, turned the key in the ignition and backed it
up to the area outside the restrooms.  As he waited, he found
that he was beginning to understand his son's fascination with
Dr. Lambert.  She was not only beautiful, but courageous in her
own way, a worthy adversary.  Not many in his mortal life would
have dared demand he alter his chosen course.  Since becoming a
vampire, *no one* - immortal or not - dared challenge his
authority without peril to their lives.

    The slight smirk on his face disappeared immediately as he
realized how long Natalie had been in the restroom.  He quickly
stormed from the car and stood outside the door, hand resting on
the knob.  He could hear the sound of running water, so he
decided to give her a little longer, withdrawing his hand and
beginning to pace impatiently.

    When he realized he had been listening to the water run for
several minutes, he pounded back and broke the lock, throwing
the door wide open.

    Natalie was gone.

    Thoughts of her worthiness as an opponent vanished.  Another
time he would have enjoyed the game of cat and mouse, hunter and
prey.  But tonight he felt only anger for allowing the doctor
yet another opportunity to attempt an escape.

    Natalie gasped for air as she ran deeper into the woods.
Although a bright half-moon had just risen, it did not afford
her enough light to avoid the pitfalls of unfamiliar ground.
She caught her foot on a tree root and fell to the earth.  She
listened intently before gathering herself up and going forward,
a little slower but still steadily away from the service
station, shaking damp leaves from her hair as she continued to
run.

    LaCroix darted into the woods and stopped, his now golden
eyes surveying the area.  His gaze took in the radiated warmth
of several small animals, but could not identify a human form.
His ears, however, detected the faint sound of a human heart,
pounding in fear even as it faded beyond the range of his
hearing.

    After about fifteen minutes of running, Natalie came across
a group of large rocks and took refuge in their midst, hoping
the stones would block her body heat from LaCroix's heightened
vision.  She tried to slow her heart rate, but the exertion of
the run and the fear that coursed through her made it
impossible.

    The vampire rose quietly into the air, following the
direction of her heartsong.  A short time later, he found her
huddled in a large outcropping of rocks.  LaCroix landed
silently behind her, noting that she was still unaware of his
presence.  He picked up a small twig from the ground and snapped
it with his fingers, enjoying her reaction.

    Natalie clutched her hand to her mouth and let out a small
shriek as she turned to discover the apparition behind her.

    "Go ahead, Doctor, scream.  I shall enjoy dispatching the
mortals you summon," he threatened.

    Natalie realized that drawing attention to herself would
only risk others.  She rose defiantly, tightened her jaw and
braced herself for his retribution.  "All right, LaCroix.  You
found me.  Now what?"

    The tall figure considered her for several moments.  Now
that his rage was ebbing, it occurred to him she might have a
larger scheme in mind.  She was intelligent enough to know that
she could never outrun him.  "You are attempting to delay our
journey," he mused.  "You think Nicholas will come after
you," he remarked, smiling maliciously.  "But he does not know
our destination."

    He laid the trap of words before her, peering deeply into
her eyes.  Natalie met and held his gaze for a second, then
blinked involuntarily.  Centuries of uncovering human secrets
gave him his answer.  "I see that I have underestimated you," he
seethed.  "But your little escapade will not delay us further,"
he promised, grabbing her by the forearm and pulling her roughly
to him.  Wrapping one arm tightly about her, LaCroix took to the
air once again, viciously delighting first in her struggles,
then in the way she clutched at him once she realized they were
no longer on the ground.

    He landed behind the car and released her.  Natalie glared
at him in impotent anger, then began moving toward the front
passenger seat.  LaCroix grabbed her wrist with cruel strength
and yanked her back to the rear of the vehicle.  "Oh, no,
Doctor," he smiled derisively as, with his other hand, he
reached into his pocket and retrieved the car keys.  "I have
other arrangements in mind this time."  With an economy of
motion, he opened the trunk and shoved her inside, quickly
lowering the lid.

    Taken by surprise, Natalie had only a moment to shout, "No!"
before the lid shut,  muffling her outcry and encasing her in
darkness.  She kicked and rained fists on the inside of her
prison in frustration.

    LaCroix started the car and roared from the station, a
satisfied smile adorning his lips as he enjoyed the sound of
Natalie's struggles emanating from the back of the vehicle.

----------------------

    Quickly surveying the parking lot from the air to make
certain he would not be observed, Nick landed quietly near the
Caddy.  He pulled out his cellphone and punched in Schanke's
desk phone number.

    "Homicide.  Schanke," his partner answered.

    "Schank, book me off tonight," Nick ordered.

    "Whoa, Knight," the dark-haired man retorted, "The lab
report just came back on the car and--"

    "I know, Schank.  It was Alberta Woodard's blood in the
trunk.  You need to pick up Charlie Ward and lean on him," Nick
suggested impatiently.

    "How did you--wait a minute, why not his brother?" Schanke
stumbled in confusion.

    "Schanke, just trust me.  It was Charlie Ward, not his
brother.  I'm sure he'll confess.  The only other thing to find
out is *why* he did it," Nick said.

    "I'll get some uniforms and pick him up, but where are you
and what did you find out about Natalie?" Schanke demanded.

    "She has a bad case of food poisoning.  She had her pager
turned off and let her machine pick up her calls.  She's pretty
well out of it.  I had to get the building manager to let me
in," he lied.  "She's still pretty weak and groggy, but insists
she doesn't need to go to the hospital.  You know doctors," he
added for emphasis, forcing himself to keep his tone light.
"I'm going to stay with her to make sure she has everything she
needs and keep an eye on her.  Call Grace and tell her Nat won't
be in tonight, will you?"  Nick waited nervously hoping his
explanation would cover Natalie's absence as well as his own.

    "All right," Schanke replied with relief.  "When she's
feeling better, tell Natalie not to do that again, okay.  Grace
was worried to death.  She's called two more times since you
left."  The rotund man shook his head from side to side, not
knowing whether he should believe his partner's story, but
figuring anything that put them together couldn't be all bad.
"I'll book you off," he said.  Almost as an afterthought, he
added, "And you can tell our lady coroner to use the phone and
call somebody the next time she's sick.  I almost put out an APB
on her myself, and I *will* if she ever pulls anything like that
again."

    "I'll tell her," Nick sighed, hoping they would both still
be around to take the brunt of Schanke's and Grace's disfavor
when they returned.

    Replacing the phone in his coat pocket, he slid behind the
wheel and engaged the engine.  As he backed out of the parking
space, he noted the car was nearly out of gas.  'Damn!'  He
slammed one hand against the steering wheel, begrudging the
delay this meant.

    Just before entering the 401, Nick found a service station
and stopped, quietly thanking the gods at General Motors for
pre-oil embargo sized gas tanks.  He prayed he could drive fast
enough to get to Beaupré in time.  He calculated he could
maintain 140-160kph for most of the distance, but did not dare
go much faster for fear of blowing the engine.  He did not
expect to have any problems with local or provincial police
since he would have his police beacon blinking on the dash.

    Nick appreciated automobiles in a way no one else alive
today could ever hope to share.  Fond as he had become of new
gadgetry over the centuries, he had not gone willingly from
horse to buggy.  There was an intimacy between rider and steed
that was lost to modern man--lost to radial tires, tape players
and catalytic converters.  But this car, this '62 Cadillac, had
become like a second skin.  He had bought it new from the
factory, and knew every nut and bolt, as well, of course, as
every square centimeter of the trunk.

    Tonight he and the Caddy were one, the steed carrying its
rider into battle.  A battle for life, for love and for faith.

******************************

    LaCroix smiled as he drove past the homes and businesses
that heralded his entry to Beaupré.  Even if Dr. Lambert had
managed to alert Nicholas to their destination, his plan was
still working perfectly.

    After a few minutes more, he saw the basilica's illuminated
towers.  He noted the parking lot entrance on the left, directed
the car to a parking place and shut off the engine.  The
vampire's hearing detected an increase in his prisoner's heart
rate signaling that she, too, knew they had arrived.

    He exited the car and stood outside the trunk, key in hand,
savoring the thoughts of what lay ahead.

    Natalie held herself silent as she realized LaCroix had
brought the car to a stop, probably at St. Anne's.  She prayed
again that Nick would be here soon.

    The lid of the trunk slowly opened, the parking lot's
mercury vapor lights dawning amber against the night sky,
backlighting her captor's angular, lean body with rosy
luminescence.  His cold hand found her and yanked her roughly
from the trunk.  Natalie shook herself alert, moaning softly as
she massaged her arms and legs and stretched her stiffened
muscles.

    "Come along, Doctor.  Time to test your faith," LaCroix
taunted maliciously as he reached to smooth her tousled hair.
"Such a shame Nicholas isn't here to join us, don't you agree?"

    Natalie brusquely slapped his hand away, ignoring his
efforts to bait her.  "I don't understand, LaCroix," she
remarked sarcastically, remembering what Nick had told her about
the misery he had experienced spending the day in St. John's.
"Why put yourself through this?"

    "I think you know, Doctor."  He grinned around fangs that
glistened dangerously in the artificial light.  "Let's see how
strong his faith *truly* is, this priest of yours."  He grabbed
her roughly by the upper arm and began pulling her toward the
church, continuing almost pleasantly, "We will proceed to the
lower chapel, just as on your first visit, and find your Father
François."  He waited for her reaction.

    "What makes you think he's even there?  Perhaps he's gone,"
she hoped as they traversed the parking lot, trying to
anticipate LaCroix's actions and praying fervently for the
priest to be far away from the chapel.

    "We'll just have to go in and wait," the vampire replied.
"You see, I *too* have faith," he laughed wickedly.

    Hauling Natalie along unceremoniously, the two crossed the
railroad tracks that paralleled the structure and approached a
side entry door.  "Open it," LaCroix demanded, releasing her
arm.

    With trembling hand, Natalie pulled the heavy oak door open
and stepped inside.  LaCroix followed, tilting his head as if
listening for life, and nodded for her to proceed down the
stairs.  At the bottom of the steps, she halted, momentarily
paralyzed by her fear for Father François.  Her mind was racing,
but she could think of nothing that might save the priest.
"Again," LaCroix growled, pushing her ahead.

    She reluctantly opened the door to reveal the large chapel,
its low blue ceiling now dim, its walls a canvas of wavering
images cast by dozens of votive candles, illuminating the
prayers and hopes of sinners and saints alike.

    Natalie could not just allow LaCroix to slaughter the
priest.  She *had* to warn him somehow.  "Father François!" she
shouted suddenly into the room, "Get out of here!  You're in
danger!"  The ancient vampire backhanded her, sending her
sprawling back against the steps.  Natalie sat up, rubbing at a
cheek that was already bruising, and glared obstinately up into
eyes tinged with molten fire.

    "That will be *enough!*" LaCroix growled as he reached down
and jerked the doctor to her feet, thrusting her into the
chapel.  Natalie relaxed a fraction with the realization that
they were alone.  Neither Father François nor anyone else seemed
to be about.  She started toward the center aisle, but was
stopped by LaCroix's sudden grip on her shoulder.  "Far enough,"
he commanded, his voice reflecting the pain he was experiencing.

    Turning, Natalie discovered the vampire's usual cool
reserve gone, replaced by an angry, tormented expression.  She
suddenly saw that he stood in the shadow of the chapel's large
crucifix.  Eyes darting around the room, he pointed a trembling
hand to a small bench shielded by one of the large tiled
pillars.  "There," he gasped, blood sweat beginning to bead on
his forehead.

    'Whatever else he is, LaCroix is as dedicated to keeping
Nick a vampire as I am to finding a cure,' she realized with
astonishment as she measured the suffering he endured.

    Nick's master pushed her onto the bench and stood by the
pillar, insulated from the worst effects of the cross.  She
looked up, the unasked question defiantly coloring her features.

    "*Now* we await your priest," LaCroix explained.

    "He's not here, LaCroix," Natalie insisted, gesturing around
the room.  "Even you can--"

    "Natalie, how good to see you again."

    Natalie was startled to see Father François approach from
behind the sanctuary.  "Father, no--"  She was cut off as
LaCroix pulled her to him and cupped his hand over her mouth,
silencing her.

    The priest heard her brief cry and quickened his pace, his
mind not believing what his eyes perceived.  A tall, lean man
with pale eyes and skin was forcefully holding the young woman
against her will.  If this was the friend she had spoken of,
his advice had caused her more harm than good.  He had to think
quickly to diffuse the situation.  "And I see you have brought
your friend with you, my child," François spoke evenly,
controlling his fear even as his soul deciphered the evil
radiating from Natalie's captor.

    LaCroix slowly turned to assess the priest, this symbol
of Natalie's faith.  He had tangled with the so-called religious
community many times in the past, he recalled with bored
amusement.  Ultimately it had not mattered if they were
priests or ministers, shamans or witch doctors, archbishops or
even popes.  Whether willingly or no, they had all eventually
fallen victim to the vampire's dark power.

    Although his pale features were plastered with a mask of
indifference, LaCroix immediately sensed the priest's
recognition that the battle for a soul was afoot.  He silently
hoped that perhaps *this* one, though only a lowly parish
priest, would prove a more worthy adversary than those pathetic
others.  It would make the man's destruction, and the ruination
of Dr. Lambert's faith, all the sweeter.

    The ancient vampire stepped from behind the pillar, his hand
still tightly covering Natalie's mouth, despite her struggles to
break free.  "My son," Father François' voice projected a calm
authority he hoped would camouflage the growing trepidation and
doubt that arose within his heart, "nothing can be accomplished
by violence.  Let her go and tell me why you have come here."

    "But of course," Natalie's tormentor mocked with a
savage grin and shoved her away.  She stumbled into a wooden
pew, nearly falling, but managed to retain her balance, then
moved to stand between the two, trying to shield the priest.

    "Get behind the crucifix at the main altar, Father!  It's
the only way to keep him from harming you."

    The priest registered her fear as well as her
courage.  How could he abandon her?  "Natalie, your friend has
some purpose in bringing you here.  I would know it and what
part I am to play."

    François considered his opponent for several moments.  The
man's pale eyes and close-cropped hair seemed almost
translucent in the candle glow.  There was a pervasive sense of
evil about him which fit him as comfortably as the clothes he
wore.  But Natalie had said her friend regretted the darkness
in his life, lamented his loss of faith.  François could
certainly detect the darkness, yet he felt no hesitancy from
this man.  He had, however, seen enough of human frailty to know
those with the hardest exteriors were often the ones most in
need of compassion and understanding.  Still, the love with
which the young woman so richly described her friend remained in
his mind an abrupt contrast to the being before him, as
malevolently self-assured as François was, at this moment,
self-doubting.

    The priest stretched his hand out to Natalie and guided her
to the side, leaving nothing between the two combatants.  He
peered into pale blue eyes, so like his own, offering kindness.
"I am here for you.  So I ask again, why have you come here
and what do you want of me?"

    LaCroix paced a circle around the priest, examining him
closely, noting each detail of his countenance, each furrow of
his brow, each subtle movement of his body.  He took slow and
deliberate steps, allowing nothing to hasten him, not even the
great pain he felt when he again passed within the shadow
of the chapel's large cross.  Resuming his original stance in
front of the man, the vampire looked deeply into his eyes and
tried to lock onto his heartbeat.  He listened carefully but
could detect nothing.  Not allowing his concern to register on
his features, he turned slightly and tried to isolate Natalie's
heartbeat as well.

    Again, nothing.

    Despite the enhancement of two thousand years of darkness,
the church's powers must have weakened the vampire's special
abilities, he rationalized.  Although he could not remember this
ever happening before, LaCroix proceeded, confident that even
though diminished, his faculties remained far stronger than a
mere mortal's.

    "I want nothing of you, *priest.*  Your presence is only
required as an object lesson for the good Doctor, whose
interference I will no longer tolerate.  I have dealt with many
of your kind over the course of time.  Not one truly had faith
in the nonsense he spouted.  I intend to prove that faith is
utter foolishness."

    Father François silently returned LaCroix's intense stare
for several moments, then glanced at Natalie.  Without
further judgement of the man before him, he prayed that this was
not the friend of whom she had spoken.  The young woman's
crystal stare answered that he was not.

    The priest returned his gaze to the tall man across from
him.  "Faith is *not* foolishness," he argued.  "We put our
trust in God and his teachings, or we are doomed to an existence
of uncertainty and ill-considered consequences."  A wistful look
graced his brow and he sighed.  "Worse consequences than you
could possibly imagine."

    Anger suffused LaCroix's countenance.  Pale blue eyes
changed to feral red and fangs descended as rage erupted from
the vampire.  Father François' eyes widened in shock and he took
an involuntary step back.

    Natalie watched with dismay as the priest recoiled.  'Where
*are* you, Nick?' she wondered frantically.  But he was not
there.  She had only herself to rely on.  'What can *I* do to
save Father François?'  Steeling her resolve, she attempted to
place herself between the two men again, and made the only offer
she thought might spare the elderly priest.  "Leave him alone,
LaCroix.  Promise me you won't harm him and I'll...I'll do
whatever you want," she proposed with reluctance.

    "Perhaps another time, Doctor," the vampire growled as he
tossed her aside, never taking his eyes from the other man.
"This is a test of the priest's faith.  *Your* test
will come later."

    She landed in a dazed heap at the foot of the nearby pew she
had occupied only a short while before.  She attempted to rise,
but François motioned Natalie to stay where she was.

    LaCroix advanced on the clergyman, smiling so that the
flickering candlelight caused his fangs to glisten.

    For the briefest moment, the priest assumed a defensive
posture, arms outstretched to hold this demon at bay.  He then
realized that perhaps this truly *was* his own test of faith,
the test for which he had waited so long, and he prayed to
God that he would finally be deemed worthy.  "Do what you must,"
he instructed, dropping his hands to his sides and gently
closing his eyes, letting his belief in God fill his being.  "I
do not shirk from your evil, but welcome the opportunity to show
you my faith--our faith," he gestured to include Natalie, "is
not unfounded."

    LaCroix reacted gleefully, anticipating this insignificant
mortal's pleas for mercy.  "The taste of your blood as your
faith is revealed for the empty promise it is will be ambrosia
indeed.  Think of *that* as the darkness of the grave claims
you!"  He grabbed the man by the cassock and roughly pulled him
behind the pillar.  In one fluid motion, LaCroix bent his
victim's head aside and plunged his fangs into the priest's
neck.

    Yet even as his teeth penetrated the man's throat and he
tried to drink, fire surged into the ancient vampire's mouth and
his hands began to sizzle where they touched Father François'
skin.  The pain was far beyond anything LaCroix had ever
experienced.  With an agonized roar, he threw himself
violently away from the priest, falling to the floor near the
chapel door.

    "How is this possible?" he demanded hoarsely through charred
lips that cracked and oozed as he spoke.  He brought a blackened
hand up in an attempt to soothe the burning skin of his face.

    François slowly opened his eyes, softly interrupting the
angelic look of resignation that had settled on his face.  His
spine stiffened in defiance as he peered at the creature
cowering before him in pain.  "Consider *this* a demonstration
not only of faith, but of trust, trust in the power of goodness
in the face of evil," he urged.  'If only I could lead him back
to the light,' the Father thought with sorrow, but he knew this
demon, this *LaCroix* would never regret the darkness he had
chosen for himself.  The priest glared at the vampire and moved
closer to him.  "Now begone from this holy place and know that
if you ever attempt to harm this woman again, even the fires of
hell will bring you little comfort from the retribution God will
rain upon you!"

    Cold steel eyes glowered at the cleric as the beast
again resumed his human countenance.  Still dazed and confused
by what had happened, LaCroix pulled himself to a standing
position, and began retreating from the pair.  As he reached the
door leading to the stairs, he turned.  "You may have won this
time, Doctor," he steamed, "but my son is still a creature of
darkness."  He paused, then smiled despite the pain it caused.
"And all the faith in your world won't change that fact."  With
those words, he fled into the night.

    Natalie gazed into the shimmering blue eyes of the man
before her in wonder and gratitude.  "I--I don't know how to
thank you, Father," she began shakily, then found herself
reduced to sobs as the emotions and fear of the past few hours
finally caught up with her.

    François offered her his hand and helped her up from the
floor, then gathered her into his arms, holding her gently and
protectively.  "Shhh.  It's all right," he whispered.  "God was
with us."

    He continued to embrace her.  "Natalie, perhaps one
day you'll explain to me who...or *what* that was," he said.

    Still astonished that they had both survived, Natalie could
only nod in answer.

--------------

    Nick had barely kept his anxiety in check as he sped the
last few kilometers to Beaupré.  But he knew that he had to be
in control if he was going to be able to save Natalie and the
priest.

    And in the embrace of the night he had prayed.  Prayed to
the unseen being whom he had abandoned so long ago.  Prayed to
God--how strange the concept seemed under the circumstances--for
the strength to protect the woman he loved and an innocent
clergyman from the evil of the man who had been his master these
many centuries.  In his mind, he had imagined a God, at first
angry then intrigued--he hoped--as He considered this strange
request from one who had chosen darkness over light.

    Regrets?  Oh, yes.  Nick had almost a millennium of regrets,
but in that time, he had never once prayed.

    Until now.

    The basilica's twin towers provided a beacon, directing him
to his quest as he raced against the impending dawn.  He
surveyed the parking lot and quickly spied Natalie's car parked
near the railroad tracks.  Perhaps he *had* gotten here in time.
He leapt from the Caddy and was across the train rails in
seconds.  Approaching a side door, he remembered what Natalie
had told him about her passage to the lower chapel where she had
encountered the priest.

    Nick paused for a moment after mounting the three stairs to
the entrance, recalling his pain and fear that day he had
spent on stakeout in St. John's.  He wondered if the stone
church would bring his death, becoming a mausoleum for his
tormented spirit.  How ironic if he ended his dark existence in
a holy place whose salvation he had rejected so long ago.

    But the only candle in all these long centuries of night was
inside, and he must save her.  He took a deep breath and prayed
again for the faith to see him through.

    His hand had only begun to pull the door toward him when it
exploded open, knocking him aside.  Regaining a tenuous balance,
Nick barely caught the figure falling through the doorway.
"LaCroix!" he growled, the hatred for his sire momentarily
blinding him to the other vampire's appearance.  In one fluid
motion, Nick slammed his master face-first into the church's
stone wall.  "What have you done with her?"

    Pushing himself away from the wall and slowly straightening
his frame, the vampire considered his son.  Nicholas was so
preoccupied with his mortal pet that he was not thinking
clearly.  'Perhaps this disaster can be turned to my advantage
after all,' the old Roman thought.

    "Nicholas, look at me!  Behold the priest's perfidy!"
LaCroix gasped, settling a tortured expression on his features
before turning to face his son.

    Only now did Nick get past his loathing to see that his
master's skin was charred and oozing blood about his face and
lips.  "What--"

    "You know that I brought the doctor here to teach her a
lesson.  I can see you received the message I left you," he
spoke slowly, his cool countenance not revealing this newest
scheme.  "But this priest..." he pointed a scorched hand toward
the stairwell.  "He is dangerous!"  LaCroix contrived a labored
breath.  "When have you ever seen such injury caused by the mere
touch of a human?"

    The ancient deceiver allowed his suggestion to sow the seeds
of doubt in Nick's mind.  "I thought I could convince the doctor
of her folly by exposing her priest."  He peered intently
into the younger vampire's eyes.  "But he is treacherous!"  He
saw his words begin to take root.  "He has power against our
kind, Nicholas, and now he has your Natalie, too.  She is just
as helpless against him as I, and he warned me he has no
intention of letting her go."

    He allowed himself to slump into Nick's arms, pitching his
final cue.  "You must rid us of him!" he commanded weakly.  "It
is the only way to protect us all and your precious doctor as
well."  He added, "Do this and I release you from our agreement
concerning Fleur."

    Nick fought back the sudden hope and confusion that rose in
his breast, the hope of a life with Natalie unfettered by
LaCroix's interference.  Though nearly 800 years of being
manipulated by his master underscored his distrust, the younger
vampire nodded his agreement.  If Natalie had been hurt, holy
man or no, Nick would see to it that he paid for his betrayal.

    "*You* are the reason she is in his power.  If anything has
happened to her, there will be no place on this earth deep
enough or dark enough to hide you from *my* retribution."

    Not waiting for a response, Nick shoved his sire aside and
entered the building, racing through the passageway and down
the stairs.  Breathing deeply, he pulled open the carved oak
door to the lower chapel and used his heightened vision to
locate the pair.  He saw them standing near a large pillar, the
priest's back to him.  The man's arms held Natalie in a tight
embrace, and she looked as if she were on the verge of collapse.

    "Get away from her!" he growled at the priest in warning,
fangs and glowing red eyes punctuating the vampire's anger.

    Natalie heard his voice through her tears and the daze of
her exhaustion.  "Nick!" she cried in joy, gently pushing past
Father François.  At her first touch, Knight pulled her
protectively to him, encompassing her in his strong arms,
kissing her bruised face and cradling her head as she continued
to sob in relief.

    She reveled in his strength for several moments, then pulled
softly away, brushing her tears aside.  She turned slightly
toward the priest who was now facing the pair.  "Nick, this
is---"

    The detective directed his attention away from Natalie and
looked up, finally focusing on the being before him.  Although
the man had aged, Nick recognized him immediately.  "Monsieur Le
Curé," he snarled in astonishment.

    The priest glared at the figure clutching the young woman
and gasped, "de Brabant!"

>>>--------->

Dampierre, 1822


    Nicolas had followed the man for a full twenty minutes,
studying and memorizing his prey in a way only a fellow
predator could fully appreciate.  The man's coppery hair and
pale blue eyes had made identification easy.  Now all he had to
do was wait for the right moment.

    François Letourneau, Monsieur Le Curé of the parish of
Dampierre, strode confidently from the rectory to the church of
Sacré Coeur, his evening duty as confessor to the faithful ahead
of him.  He surveyed the little town as his walked, the weight
of authority in his step, and he knew that God walked with him.

    "Bonsoir, Monsieur," came a voice from in back of the
priest.

    Startled, François turned around to look behind him but saw
no one.  He slowly resumed his path only to find himself
face-to-face with a blond stranger he knew had not been
there a moment before.

    "Monsieur, you take me by surprise," the astounded cleric
began, examining the man carefully.  By the cut of his clothing
and the regal way he held himself, the priest surmised that this
man was a member of the upper class, perhaps even nobility,
and he found himself squaring his shoulders as he addressed the
gentleman.  "You have me at a disadvantage.  I do not believe I
have yet made your acquaintance."

    The vampire took inventory of his opponent's bearing and
appearance.  "You are correct, we have not yet been introduced.
Let me rectify that fact.  I am Nicolas de Brabant."

    "Ah, the guest of the house of L'Heureux," the priest
acknowledged.  "A man of the night, I am told."

    Nicolas raised one eyebrow.  "Yes, a medical condition
which restricts my activities to after nightfall."

    "This explains why I have not seen you at Mass," the man
agreed with obvious disbelief, then asked.  "Do we have
business, Monsieur de Brabant?"

    "Indeed.  You are aware that Gaspar L'Heureux is to wed?"
Nicolas asked, already knowing the answer.

    "But of course!  The first announcement will be made at
the church this Sunday.  A fortuitous merger of two great
houses, a benefit to both," the priest replied with enthusiasm.

    "To the benefit of *one,*" the vampire corrected.  "The
house of L'Heureux needs the Sorbier money.  The young son loves
another and is despondent at the prospect of this loveless
union."

    "Marriage is seldom a sacrament of the heart, Monsieur.  And
a son must know his duty to his house and his father.  Surely a
man of the world such as you, knows this," François baited.

    Nicolas was silent for several moments.  "Tell me, Father,
what is *your* duty?"

    "I must hasten the people to perfection, their only way to
enter God's kingdom.  And perfection means putting God's wishes
before your own earthly desires, do you not agree?"

    "Perfection is a contrivance," Nicolas answered.  "The
world is peopled by sinners, flawed and seeking a light to guide
them, not a judge to condemn them before they even begin to live
their lives."

    "Ah, I see you have been listening to the gossip at the
manor house, sir."  The priest surmised the blond man had
heard the story of the unbaptized baby from the servants.  "My
*duty* was to pray my daily office to God, not tell the almighty
Creator to wait while I brought comfort to a brood mare and her
accursed issue who never should have taken a breath of life," he
declared vehemently, remembering the disfigured child.

    "*Your duty,*" Nicolas stated menacingly, his glowing eyes
locked onto his opponent's, "is to serve God's creatures on
earth--the wretched, the dispossessed, the unloved, the
deformed--all of mortal life, for surely God made many more
flawed beings than perfect ones."   He grabbed the priest
tightly by the shoulders as if to cast him aside, but
relinquished his hold instead.  "Perhaps a change of venue will
broaden your horizons," he smiled, a plan surfacing in his mind.

    Before François could utter another word, Nicolas de
Brabant had blended into the night.

<-----<<<

    The men continued to stare at each other for several long
moments.

    "Have you met Father François before, Nick?" Natalie asked
with astonishment, continuing to hold Nick near.

    "Yes, but I did not ever expect to see him again," was his
answer.

    "Nor I you," the priest responded.  "After our conversation,
I was summoned by my superiors and told that a rich benefactor
had recognized my fervor and begged them reward my zeal with a
mission.  I was sent here to Beaupré that same year to join a
small band of settlers and minister to the needs of a growing
French presence in Québec.  A difficult place to find
perfection, I might add.

    "I lived many years and grew old in the village, but it was
only near the end of my mortal life that I finally realized that
*I* was the one who was flawed.  I sought in others that which I
could not effect in myself--perfection.  You were correct.
There are more flawed beings than perfect ones.  And while
respecting perfection, a wise man should have no great
expectation of meeting it in *this* life.  To my shame, I found
that even the pursuit of perfection may be a sin against God,
should it impede the journey of others.  Far better is it to
stop to assist one in need than to pass by in the haste to reach
our own reward, leaving the other desperate and alone."

    Nick could sense very little about the man except that he
was not another vampire.  Yet he spoke of events that had
happened over one hundred fifty years before as if it were
yesterday.  What manner of unholy creature was this priest?
Perhaps LaCroix had been right.  Perhaps he *was* dangerous to
them.  Knight pushed the woman he cherished behind him to
safeguard her as best he could.  "What do you want with
Natalie?"

    "Merely to help her rediscover her faith.  In His infinite
wisdom, God has bid my soul stay in this place and minister to
those who are otherwise without hope, without counsel, without
faith."  The priest looked to Natalie, who was peering around
Nick's shoulder.  "It is both my reward and my punishment, for I
cannot go unto the next plane until---"*

    "You're a ghost?" Natalie gasped.  "But--"

    "A spirit, child," he corrected with a rueful smile.  "I
appear as flesh only when the need is great.  I suppose that is
what confounded your LaCroix.  But in all these years I have
never seen a being like *him,* or *you,* Nicolas.  I sense such
torment.  What *are* you?"

    "A vampire, a soulless beast fallen from God's grace and
enslaved to an eternity of darkness," Nick answered wretchedly,
looking away.

    "No," Natalie cried in denial, clutching him tightly, as if
willing it would reanimate his soul.

    The priest studied the creature before him in silent
concentration, allowing himself to experience every nuance of
the vampire's complex nature and compare it to the essence of
this man, a man obviously in love with a vibrant, dedicated
woman.  What was it Natalie had said about her friend?  His past
would not allow them to have a future together.  His past,
indeed.

    "Natalie told me you regret your decision to embrace the
darkness and renounce your faith in God.  She believes you are
slowly pulling yourself back into the light--that you are
repaying your debts of the past.  She believes you never truly
lost your faith."

    "She is innocent, unable to comprehend the enormity of my
sins.  I should have left her long ago, but as strong as the
beast is, the man is weak."  He squeezed her tighter to him.
"She is a doctor, and I had hoped for a cure," he continued
dejectedly, gazing into her upturned face.  "I have stolen her
love and returned nothing but an elusive dream of a life without
the darkness.  But there is no cure, and she will end up yet
another of the countless thousands who have given to one who can
only take."  He nuzzled her hair as a scarlet tear escaped one
blue eye.

    The priest softly stepped closer to the pair, still locked
in a desperate embrace.  "Nicolas, I am able to perceive as
spirit that which was hidden from me as flesh.  I *see* all of
who you are, all of *what* you are."  He laughed remorsefully.
"Do you not see the irony of it?  You, who describe
yourself as a demon had more compassion, more dedication to two
frail human souls than I, an ordained servant of God.

    "God calls to Him all of earth's creatures, even those who
have been great sinners, yet also great lovers of their fellow
men, demonstrating this love by not turning away from the
needs of others.  Those 'sinners' have done as much good as they
might and as little harm as they must.  For when they saw their
neighbor's need, I tell you they saw God's need.  And when *you*
saw Gaspar's and Violette's faces more clearly than your own,
you saw also God's face.*

    "There is darkness in you, yes. But there is also light.
And how can you hold this loving woman to your breast and not
feel her hope and faith warming your soul?"

    Nick looked up into François' eyes in wonder.  "M--my soul?"
he asked in a whisper.

    "Your soul," the spirit repeated.  "It has been beaten
and battered, has seen darkness and despair, but it lives just
as you live," the priest explained.  "Do you not see that you
are different than the evil one who lured you from God?  Look!"
He gestured around the chapel, finally pointing to the large
crucifix at the head of the main altar.  "*He* could not even
stand in its shadow without pain, yet you are not seriously
affected by its power."  Taking another step closer, François
touched Nick's hand.  "*His* skin burned at my touch."

    Natalie pulled herself away, her scientific mind taking
control of her emotions.  "Nick, he's right.  You don't seem to
be affected by these surroundings at all.  You told me just
being inside St. John's weakened you."

    "It did, Nat.  I feel nothing like that now, but I still
feel the beast inside me.  I am not *cured,*" he anguished.

    "Cured of what, Nicolas?"  Without allowing the vampire to
answer, the cleric continued.  "The cure for the dark choices
and violence of your past is to dedicate your life to doing
good.  The cure for your loneliness and separation is to
love and allow yourself to be loved.  The cure for disbelief
in God's goodness is to take...un acte de foi--a leap of
faith--as you did when you entered this holy place to protect
Natalie, even knowing that to do so could mean your death."

    Turning toward the white and gold statue of St. Anne behind
him, he pointed to the silver box holding the relic of the
saint.  "As you must do now, for 'faith consists in believing
when it is beyond the power of reason to believe.  It is not
enough that a thing be possible for it to be believed.**'"

    Natalie took Nick's hand in hers and squeezed it tightly,
silently conveying her confidence to him.  Together they
approached the reliquary.  Standing before it, their eyes locked
onto one another, Natalie placed Nick's right hand over her
left, her eyes never leaving his gaze.  She gingerly lowered
their hands to the glass, her own hand cushioning his from the
relic, radiating her love, her devotion, her trust.

    Nick stared into the blue depths of his beloved's eyes,
into her very soul and found there the only faith he would ever
need.

    It was several moments later that he realized she was
caressing his face with both her hands.  Looking down, he felt
his own hand touching the glass, the only reaction a warmth
which slowly soothed his fingertips before making its way
through his entire body.  A joy beyond his wildest hopes filled
his heart as he removed his hand and cradled Natalie to his
chest.  "Mon coeur et mon âme sont à vous [My heart and my soul
are yours]," he whispered.

    Nick and Natalie finally released each other only to find
François beaming at them.  "I don't know how to thank you," Nick
said.

    "The love you two can now share is thanks enough.  It is not
a cure, Nicolas, but as long as you have faith, you can control
your beast, and you will proceed toward the light."  Looking to
the stairwell, the priest continued, "It is near dawn.  Although
you are proceeding on the path to the light, there still remains
too much darkness within you to brave the sun.  Yet," he added
with a soft smile.  "And Father Rupert will soon be here to
celebrate the early mass."

    "We must go then," concluded Nick.

    "But where and *how,* Nick?" Natalie questioned.  "I don't
think my trunk is big enough--"

    "The Caddy is parked outside, next to your car.  I know a
place in the city, but you'll have to drive, and I'll have to
take the trunk again," he reasoned.

    Natalie moved to the chapel door and pushed it open, peering
toward the exit.  "It's already light.  I don't know how we
can get you to the car safely," she worried.

    "Bring the vehicle to the west side of the church," François
instructed.  "It is in shadow until past noon.  There is no exit
to that side from the lower chapel, however.  We must first
proceed to the upper level."

    Leading the two upstairs, the priest ushered them onto the
main floor.  Nick held tightly to Natalie's hand as dawn
crested through the upper stained glass windows, illuminating
the mosaics and statuary with multi-colored patterns of light.
"It's beautiful," he whispered in awe, stepping around the pools
of sunshine.

    The trio stopped near the main entrance.  Nick stared at
the tall pillars bedecked with crutches, canes and wheelchairs.
"What are these?" he asked in amazement.

    "The Pillars of Hope," replied Natalie.  "People who have
found the answers to their prayers leave them here as reminders
to others of the miracles wrought by this holy place."

    Nick continued to gaze above him as he fumbled in his coat
pocket to find his keys for Natalie, encountering the two
ancient pieces of wood instead.  He slowly withdrew them.  He
smiled and bent down on one knee to remove a shoe lace.  He
bound them together into their original shape.

    "Nick, what are you doing?" Natalie cried.

    "I have found my miracle.  Faith in God, in you, in myself.
I think Joan would approve.  She gave it to me as a
reminder that my faith was always there for me to rediscover.
Let me leave it now as a sign for others."  With that he
tucked the crude cross among the other symbols of faith.  He
whispered reverently making the sign of the cross as
he spoke, "Merci, Jeanne, de m'aider redécouvrent ma foi [Thank
you, Joan, for helping me rediscover my faith]."

    Natalie brushed his cheek with her fingertips.  "We need
to go," she urged.

    Nick found his keys and handed them to her.  François
pointed to the place they would meet her, and Natalie exited the
basilica.  The priest accompanied Nick to the west door.

    "Nicolas, I would know what became of Gaspar and Violette,
for you cared for them deeply," he asked.

    A smile flowered on his lips as Nick related the tale.
"After making a substantial donation to the bishopric to
encourage them to redirect your zeal to the Canadian missions, I
helped the lovers board a ship for New Orleans where I had
friends who helped them.  There they married.  Their child was a
boy whom they named Nicolas.  He was followed by six other
children, all conceived and treasured in love.  They lived long
and happy lives and were even reconciled with Gaspar's father
before his death.  I keep abreast of the family news even now."

    "And the Manor L'Heureux?" the priest wondered.

    "I loaned enough money to keep the manor afloat but directed
Jacques to establish an investment house, as he was always more
a man of money than of farming.  He flourished and the
management of the manor was eventually taken over by his
daughter Claudette and her husband.  It still exists today.
Jacques' investment house was profitable beyond even his
greatest hope.  The investments I made there continue to grow
and have financed many charitable works around the world,"
he finished without pride.

    François took a long look at the being next to him, as the
sound of a vehicle approaching became audible.

    "Father," Nick interrupted his thought, "you said this is
your punishment and your reward.  Is there no peace for you?"

    The ghostly priest smiled as he opened the door leading
outside.  "I am to stay here and appear to those I shunned in
life--the desperate, those who are in need of comfort and
faith...until," he gasped at the thought now crossing his mind,
"...until a creature of darkness comes seeking redemption."  He
stared with sudden comprehension into the vampire's animated
blue eyes.  "But why would such a creature ever come inside a
church?" he whispered aloud.

    "To find his faith," Nick grinned, giving the priest's arm a
gentle squeeze as he bolted from the door into the Caddy's open
trunk.  As the vampire released him, the apparition smiled,
looked heavenward and slowly disappeared.




*Paraphrased from "The Raven in the Foregate" by Ellis Peters,
1996, Mysterious Press, Warner Books, New York.

**As much as I'd like to attribute the quote to Father François,
it was, in fact, Voltaire who said it.

***************************


    Natalie stood beside the Caddy, ready to close the trunk in
an instant.  Nick barreled out of the church's west door and
practically flew to the car.  Settling himself inside, he pushed
his hand up to stop the lid's downward descent.  "Come here," he
urged softly, carefully pulling her toward him as he spoke.

    "Nick, it's already dawn, we don't have--"

    He silenced her with a kiss, pouring all his feeling for her
into it.  As he released her, he murmured, "I love you."

    Drawing away slightly, Natalie found herself nearly drowning
in the love she saw reflected in his eyes.  "I love you, too,"
she said tenderly.  "*But,*" she insisted pragmatically, moving
out of his reach and refusing to let herself be distracted by
the grin that lit up his features, "*I* don't want to be the one
who has to explain the eau-de-barbequed-vampire smell to
your mechanic.  Now, where are we going?"

    "Where did you stay when you were at the conference?"

    "The Hilton on Réne Lévesque.  Do you know it?" she asked.

    "Yes.  Go back there but stay on the Avenue Dufferin until
you reach the Grande Allée, then turn left past the Citadel and
right on rue D'Auteuil.  There is a small street called rue
LaPorte.  Go to number 19, and Henrí will direct you from
there."  He paused, anticipating her questions.  "We maintain
safe places in almost all major cities, Nat.  I own this one."

    "What about LaCroix?" she asked with a shudder,
unconsciously wrapping her arms around herself as if to ward off
a chill.

    Nick shook his head, wishing the sun were down so he could
hold her safe in his arms and soothe away her lingering fears.
"I don't think so.  He always preferred the Frontenac.  Claimed
it suited him better.  I'll call ahead to Henrí and ask.  If
LaCroix *is* there, we'll make other arrangements."  He pulled
out his cell phone and punched in the number as Natalie
carefully latched the trunk lid.

    Twenty-five minutes later, Natalie pulled the Caddy to a
stop in front of Number 19 rue LaPorte.  A smallish, middle-aged
man with a quick smile ran out to meet her and directed her to a
back entrance around the corner.  "I don't know how I'm going to
manage this back alley without crunching the fenders, Nick," she
teased.

    "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" he accused, his voice
muffled by the trunk.

    "Every minute," she snickered.

    Henrí pointed out a covered garage where she parked the car
and opened the trunk, permitting Nick to clamber out.  His face
beamed as he spied Henrí, first offering his hand, then allowing
himself to be encircled in a bear hug.  "How good to see you
again, mon ami," Nick greeted.

    "Nicholas, the pleasure is all mine, as always," Henrí
responded, slapping his guest heartily on the back.

    Natalie stood back a bit, not wanting to intrude on the
reunion, but Nick quickly took her hand and pulled her toward
their host.  "Henrí, this is Dr. Natalie Lambert.  Natalie,
Henrí L'Heureux."

    "A great pleasure to meet you, mademoiselle," the short man
said, bowing deeply over her hand and placing a light kiss on
it.

    "The pleasure is mine, Monsieur L'Heureux," she responded.

    "I know you must be exhausted, Nicholas," Henrí stated,
looking toward the burgeoning morning.  "Your rooms are ready
for you, fully stocked as always.  I will leave you and the
doctor to your rest, but do not hesitate to call on me or the
other staff should you require anything."  He opened the door of
the pensione hotel for them and ushered the pair inside,
pointing out the small elevator to Natalie.

    Nick and Natalie boarded the lift and Nick pushed the
button for the fourth floor.  They rode in silence, each only
beginning to digest the night's strange happenings.

    The elevator opened to a small hallway.  A carved walnut
door stood sentry to the left.  Nick went up to it and turned
the knob, motioning Natalie inside.

    The large living area was lavishly decorated with a variety
of expensive-looking antique tables and chairs, a more modern
sofa and a state-of-the-art entertainment center, all
underscored by a plush, dark blue carpet.

    Natalie guessed a view of the St. Lawrence river lay behind
the heavy matching drapes that covered almost one entire wall.

    "It's beautiful, Nick," she commented as Nick removed his
coat and tossed it over the back of the couch.  She cautiously
drew aside a corner of the velvet curtain and confirmed her
hypothesis.  "Do you get the chance to come here very often?"

    "It's been many years, but I've always liked the city."  He
smiled wistfully.  "It reminds me somewhat of home--of Brabant,"
he corrected.

    She let the drape fall back into place and crossed over
to him, stifling a yawn as she put her arms around him and laid
her head against his chest.  "I'd like to go there someday."

    Nick smiled down at her and kissed the top of her head.  "We
will."

    Natalie covered her mouth as she yawned again.

    "You're exhausted," he commented, gently taking her hand in
his own and leading her to one of the suite's two large
bedrooms.

    "Are you hungry?" he asked.  "Do you want me to have Henrí
send something up before you sleep?"

    She shook her head and gave his hand a slight squeeze before
releasing it.  "I don't think I could eat anything right now,
but I *do* need a bath..." she trailed off and grew cold again
as she recalled her ordeal of the previous night.  "But I can't
go to bed without a bath."

    "This way, milady," Nick bowed, trying to lighten Nat's
sudden somber mood.  It seemed to work, for she was smiling
faintly as she followed him through the bedroom to an indecently
large bath.  He showed her where to find the towels and small
toiletries, such as soap and shampoo, then left as she began
running the water, and readied himself for sleep.

    He considered the sorry state of Natalie's outfit and
lamented the fact that Janette had left in a huff a couple of
decades or so ago, and had taken all of her things with her.
'Oh well,' he considered with a rare flash of insight, 'lending
Natalie something of Janette's probably would not have been such
a good idea.  I'll have Henrí pick something up.'

    A short while later, pajama clad, he padded barefoot to the
kitchen and poured himself a goblet of cow from one
of the bottles in the fridge, then carried both to the dining
area, setting the green container on the table.

    As he sipped from his glass, he contemplated the bottle’s
contents.  No, there had been no cure today, just as there had
not been in all his decades of searching.  Yet he felt more than
a mere step closer to his dream of mortality.  Surely the
ability to touch, to *hold* a holy relic without pain or fear
was proof God no longer frowned upon him.

    “Good night, Nick,” Natalie called as she emerged from the
bath, wrapped in a decadently oversized fluffy white towel as
she vigorously dried her hair with another.

    He was by her side in a flash, his senses delighting in the
clean scent of her skin.  He traced a soft fingertip
across the bruise on her cheek before kissing it carefully.

    Nick released her and said, "Good night, Nat.  Sleep well.
I'll see you tonight."

    Natalie pulled back and looked at him, something
unfathomable in her eyes.  She seemed about to say something
then apparently changed her mind for, without another word, she
stepped back into her room and shut the door.


    He stood outside her door and listened until he could hear
by her slowed breathing and the lowered pace of her heart that
she had fallen asleep.

    Returning to the dining area, he finished the blood in his
goblet then replaced the rest in the refrigerator.  After
rinsing out the glass, Nick made his way back to the main room
of the suite, picked up the phone and dialed.  "Hello, Henrí, I
need you to do a couple of things for me..."

    He made his requests then hung up, taking one last look
toward the covered windows, and sighed.  The heavy drapes kept
out all but the faintest light from the sun.  'Someday,' he
thought with longing.  'Maybe not today, but it *will* happen.'

    Heading toward his room he paused, glancing at Natalie’s
closed door.

    Changing course, he strolled across the suite’s plush
carpeting and looked in on her.

    Dwarfed by the huge bed, Natalie looked like a child lost in
a vast sea of dark blue satin.  She lay with her hair fanned out
across the pillow, the sheets and one hand tucked under her
chin.

    As Nick stood in the doorway, his heart swelled with the
love he no longer feared would destroy her.  He found he could
not resist stealing a kiss before retiring.

    Drawing near, he discovered she was far enough from the edge
that he could not easily reach her.  Careful not to jostle the
bed, Nick leaned on one hand, perching awkwardly as he bent
toward her.  Mindful of his precarious position, he stretched a
little further and touched his lips to Nat’s.

    Lost in the sweet warmth of the moment, Nick was unprepared
when Natalie suddenly reached up and tangled her fingers in his
hair.  She pulled him closer and he lost his balance, falling to
the bed with a muffled “umph.”  He started to draw away, but Nat
slid her arms around his shoulders, refusing to release him.
“Don’t leave,” she murmured, the sheets slithering to her waist
as his movement lifted her upright.

    The sensation of her skin through the thin silk of his
pajamas was electric.  The beast roared awake, demanding her
blood, her very existence.  Nick willed it back into submission
with less effort than he had ever exerted, but it was still
difficult.

    He was shaken to the core by the apparent failure of his
newly rediscovered faith.  Now was not the time to test it
further.  He would *not* risk Natalie’s life.

    “Nat, I should go,” he said hoarsely, attempting to
extricate himself from her embrace.

    'No!' her mind cried.  She had seen the brief flash of gold
in his eyes and knew what he was struggling with, but if she let
him leave now, she feared things would return to the way they
had been, and he would lose his fragile hold on the hope he had
been given.

    And they would *never* be together.

    'I can’t let that happen.  I *won’t* let it happen!'
Without relinquishing her hold, she laid back down on the
sheets, tugging him down on top of her.

    “Nat ... please.  I don’t want to hurt you,” he began as she
took his head in her hands and began raining feather-soft kisses
along his cheeks.  “The vampire--”

    “I love you, Nick,” she interrupted.  “*All* of you.”  Her
whispered breath barely stirred the hair at his temple.  “I’ve
never been afraid of the vampire - only what it’s capable of.”
She continued her ministrations, moving her lips across his
chin.  “But it no longer dominates you.  Father François showed
you that.  I have faith you can control the vampire, and so do
you!”  She closed her eyes and kissed him deeply, hushing his
protests.

    Natalie ran her tongue gently across his teeth and lips, and
he knew he was lost.  Lost in her warmth, in the feel of her -
the *taste* of her.  He was beyond the point of no return and
could not stop now even if he wanted to.  He closed his eyes and
prayed for the strength to keep her safe.

    Almost of their own accord, Nick’s arms wrapped around her.
Groaning in defeat and rising desire, he began returning her
kisses - gently at first, then with more urgency as his passions
kindled.  He had yearned for this for *such* a long time.

    Natalie matched him kiss for kiss, excited by the feelings
his cool embrace evoked in her.  She lavished most of her
attention on his mouth, but would occasionally brush her lips
along the line of his jaw, where a day’s worth of stubble
provided an erotic counterpoint to the smooth flesh of his
cheek.

    Nick’s hands wandered across her back, then up over her
shoulders.  He tenderly brushed his right hand along the
unbruised side of her face while beginning his explorations with
the left, tracing a line down her throat and across her
lace-covered breasts.

    She stopped breathing for an instant and unconsciously
arched her back, encouraging him to do more.

    He trailed his fingers teasingly along the bottom edge of
her bra for a moment, then slipped them beneath the cloth and
kneaded her left breast, rubbing his thumb across the nipple.
The sensitive skin instantly contracted into a hard little nub
and Natalie moaned almost inaudibly against his mouth.

    Nick sensed her heart rate increase and it aroused him even
more, the beast beginning to clamor for release.  His eyes
glowed and the pressure built in his upper jaw as his fangs
tried to extend.  He found his mouth automatically moving toward
her neck, and pulled away from that temptation with an effort.
Instead, he kissed his way down to her other breast, pushing her
bra up out of the way.  His lips described an ever decreasing
spiral around Nat’s areola until at last they found their
target, nuzzling this nipple until it matched its twin.

    Natalie’s hands worked their way under Nick’s pajama top,
tracing his muscles and caressing every inch of his torso she
could reach.  She wanted, no *needed* to feel his skin against
hers.

    Reluctantly pulling her hands away, she reached with
trembling fingers for his buttons and began unfastening them.
Nick moved his lips back up to Natalie’s, raising himself
slightly on one arm to allow her better access.  His other hand
continued its restless scrutiny of her body; caressing a
shoulder, cupping a cheek, twining in her hair.

    At last she reached the final fastening of his top and
helped him off with it, discarding it amongst the sheets.  His
pale skin gleamed in the dim light of the room, inviting her to
draw him back down, but as she began reaching for him, Nick
surprised her by lifting her slightly and releasing the catch on
her bra, then removing that bit of fabric from between them.
Tossing it over the side of the bed, he gathered her in his
arms.

    He was nearly overwhelmed by the feel of Natalie’s breasts
against his chest.  His fangs abruptly extended to their full
length and before he could stop himself, he was scraping them
tantalizingly against the skin of her throat, eliciting a soft
moan of desire from the woman he loved.

    With the beast howling for her blood, Nick was nearly
overcome by the urge to take her.  He froze, not daring to move
a muscle.

    Bordering on despair, he remembered the ghostly priest’s
words and searched deep within himself.

    Somehow he found the strength to refrain from biting her.

    Natalie hesitated only an instant when she discovered his
fangs had emerged, certain her faith in him was not misplaced.

    She kissed him fervently, finding herself eager for his
touch, for the feel of him inside her.  Without conscious
volition, her hips pressed up against his.  Her hands glided
down his back, down to the waistband of his pajama bottoms where
she slid them under the silk to fondle his buttocks.  Then,
almost shyly, she slipped one hand between their bodies and ran
her fingertips along the underside of his rapidly hardening
penis, lightly caressing and stroking it.

    That was the moment Nick began to realize with wonder that,
in spite of the vampire, his body was responding in a way it had
not for nearly eight hundred years.  Or, more precisely, in a
manner his lust for blood had never given it time to reach since
his last night as a human.  Suddenly, ignoring the vampire
seemed far easier than it ever had before.

    Natalie’s touch brought an exquisite pleasure totally unlike
that of vampire lovemaking, which was quick and brutal.  He had
forgotten what it was like, this mortal sense of anticipation,
of pleasure building and building until one ached for release.
He wanted it to last forever.

    Nick began to tremble and Natalie removed her hand, bringing
it back up to his waistband.  Finding the drawstring, she
loosened it and pushed the silken bottoms as far as she could
past his hips, freeing him from their confines.  With a kick he
sent them flying across the room to smack against the armoire.

    The satin sheets proved to be a frustrating barrier, tangled
as the two had become in them.  It was a struggle to remove the
offending cloth from between them, but at last they managed,
shoving the bedding out of the way.

    Nick’s hand worked its way down her side, pausing at the
last barrier between them, her underwear.  He grasped the lacy
material and Nat raised her hips, allowing him to slide the
panties off, where they soon joined her bra on the floor.  Now
nothing lay between them, nothing to stop nature's inevitable
course.

    Stretching alongside her, he resumed his explorations of her
breasts while passionately kissing her face, neck and shoulders.

    Natalie was becoming a little frustrated with the lack of
attention to her lower torso.  Grasping one of his hands in her
own, she pulled it from her breast, trailing it slowly down her
belly and through the thatch of wiry curls at the apex of her
legs.  “Touch me here,” she whispered, leading his fingers to
the soft folds of her flesh.  They quested as if unsure which
spot she meant; now barely brushing against her clitoris, now
outlining her labia, now slipping along the outer edges of her
vagina.  She gasped with desire, arching her hips against his
hand.  The sensation of his touch brought waves of pleasure,
building and receding then building again, each tremor bringing
her a little closer toward release.

    Her breathing had grown quite ragged, and she writhed under
Nick’s stroking.  Natalie urged him back on top of her and
spread her legs, bringing her knees up to cradle his hips
between her thighs.  Capturing his penis, she placed it at her
opening, which was alternately clenching and relaxing in a kind
of pre-orgasmic rhythm.  “Nick,” she panted.  “Please ... I need
you in me!”

    She was slick with anticipation and he penetrated her heat
easily, suddenly aware he was far more excited than he had
realized.  He would not be able to hold off for very long.

    Natalie made an inarticulate sound.  The cool sensation of
his penis inside her was indescribable.  She began moving
urgently beneath him, kissing whatever she could reach; his
lips, his jaw, his neck.

    That unthinking pressure to a vampire’s primary erogenous
zone and the luxury of her warmth enveloping his penis was all
it took to bring Nick to climax.  He thrust deeply once, twice,
three times and, with a cry, exploded within her.  His body
convulsed spasmodically with each spurt of semen, taking Natalie
to the brink of her own orgasm ...

... and left her there, quivering with unfulfilled sexual
tension.  She pushed her hips up against him, tightening her
vaginal muscles around him in the hope that the extra little bit
of sensation would push her over the edge, but it was in vain.
He was already softening and the feeling was beginning to
diminish.

    'No!' she whimpered, a tear of frustration escaping one
tightly closed eye.

    Nick, misinterpreting her expression, kissed away the tear.
“Natalie, I love you,” he said tenderly, brushing one hand
against her cheek.  Then his voice took on a mixture of awe and
exuberance.  “We did it Nat!”

    'Well, *one* of us did anyway,' she thought crossly, then
sighed.  He was right, she should be overjoyed instead of
feeling sorry for herself.  They had finally made love and she
was still alive.  There would be plenty of time to teach him how
to satisfy her.

    And there was no time like the present to get started.

    The trouble was, how could she make her own needs known
without bruising his fragile male ego?

    Nat grinned to herself as an idea came to mind.

    She waited until he rolled off her and was lying on his side
facing her, then snuggled up against him and draped a leg across
his upper thigh.  Smiling innocently into his blue eyes, she
took his hand, the same one she had earlier, and put it back
between her legs, this time lightly rubbing one of his fingers
across her clitoris.

    “You missed a spot.”

    Natalie would not allow his fingers to wander, resolutely
returning them to the proper place each time they started to
stray.  His touch was delightful and she was rapidly returning
to her former level of excitement.

    “Yes,” she moaned, daring to remove her hand from his.
Nick’s fingers remained in place, continuing their careful
caresses.  Nat tightened her leg around him and began rocking
her hips, sliding her clitoris a little more firmly against his
hand.

    Nick knew at last what Nat required for her own sexual
gratification.  'With a little bit of help,' he admitted
ruefully to himself.  He tried to give her the attention she
needed, but found himself growing hard again as her movements
and pounding heart aroused and inflamed him.

    It aroused the vampire as well, but this time he had no
difficulty at all keeping it at bay.

    Natalie began breathing heavily as the pleasurable
sensations increased until she could barely stand it.  She had
squeezed her eyes shut and was clutching at Nick’s shoulder,
toes curled tightly and body stiffening in anticipation of her
release, when Nick’s hand was suddenly gone.

    Not again!  She opened her eyes in disbelief.  “Wha--?” she
began, but he muffled her objection with an insistent kiss.
Rolling on his back, he brought her with him so she lay
straddling his waist.

    Lifting his head to maintain contact with her lips, he
pushed his hands against her hips, moving Natalie back until she
discovered the reason for this abrupt transition:  he was ready
for her again.

    She impaled herself on his erection, once again relishing
the difference in their body temperatures.  Because of it, she
could feel every inch of him within her.

    Bracing her hands to either side of Nick’s chest, Natalie
pulled back from the kiss and began sliding slowly up and down,
tightening her vagina around him.

    She had lost some of her excitement as they changed
positions, but that quickly altered as Nick began thrusting up
inside her.

    Increasing their tempo, Natalie began to pant and make small
whimpering sounds as she drew nearer and nearer her climax.
For the third time that morning, she was on the verge of
release.

    Nick suddenly called out her name and began shuddering
beneath her, reflexively holding her hips down so he could
plunge as deeply within her as possible.

    Time seemed to stand still for a moment.  Then, with a cry
of her own, Nat finally slipped over the pinnacle into her hard
won orgasm, one so intense, it seemed like every nerve ending in
her body quivered with ecstasy.

    Spent, she collapsed on his chest, meaning only to rest for
a few moments.  But the travails of the previous night suddenly
caught up with her and she fell into an exhausted sleep.

    Nick smiled tenderly as he listened to Natalie’s heart slow
and her breathing change.  Without moving her, he pulled a
corner of the sheet over her somnambulant form and kissed the
top of her head.  Enfolding her in his arms, he whispered,
'Sommeil bien, mon amour, mon ange de la foi.'  ['Sleep well, my
love, my angel of faith.']


    When Natalie awoke early that evening, she found she had not
moved since falling asleep, and her limbs had grown stiff.  Not
to mention that Nature was rather urgently calling her name.
She cautiously disengaged herself from the bedding and Nick’s
arms so as not to wake him, slipped out of bed and stood on the
carpet.  Stretching to loosen the kinks in her muscles, she
turned to gaze at the still sleeping form in the bed.  His blond
hair was tousled and there was such a look of peacefulness on
his face that her heart nearly melted.  She was tempted to climb
back into bed and wake him after all, but her bladder, and a
sudden rumble from her stomach, reminded Nat in no uncertain
terms that there were things she needed to take care of first.

    She emerged from the bathroom and tiptoed over to the
armoire, quietly opening the door and pulling out a black, silk
brocade robe.  Fastening the belt around her waist, she dropped
her arms to her sides only to find the slick cloth of the
sleeves descended several inches beyond the ends of her
hands.  She carefully folded the material up, uncovering her
hands.

    Stepping to the window, she pulled the draperies aside,
revealing a breathtaking twilight view of the river, as well as
the Parc des Gouveneurs.  Both were situated directly across
from Nick's pensione.  Natalie noted with excitement that the
Dufferin Terrasse was also located barely a block away.

    Nick slowly grasped at consciousness, suddenly aware that he
was alone, missing the warmth of Natalie's body and heartbeat.
He turned on his side and found her peering out the window.
"Beautiful!" he intoned, head propped on his left hand.

    Natalie turned quickly to face him and smiled broadly.  "The
river *is* beautiful from here, but how can you see it from the
bed?"

    "I mean you," he said with delight.  "*You're* beautiful."

    "Nick, I'm a *mess*!" she protested, gingerly touching the
black and blue spot which marred her cheek, and ineffectually
patting at her sleep-disheveled hair.

    "It doesn't matter how you look, you will *always* be
beautiful to me," he said with complete honesty.

    She held her hands out to him only to have the robe's silk
material fall below her fingertips once again.  She rolled the
fabric back up in irritation.  "Nick, what were you thinking
when you bought this?  Your arms aren't *that* much longer than
mine."

    Nick turned his face to the mattress, trying to hide an
amused and guilty smile.

    "Nick, what's wrong?" Natalie demanded.  "Nick!"

    "Ah, nothing, Nat," he muttered.  "But the robe's not mine."

    "Well, if it isn't yours, who does it belong--"  Her
face lost all its color as the realization hit her.

    Nick tried to peer at her solemnly, but could not hide the
'boy-with-his-hand-caught-in-the-cookie-jar' look.  "LaCroix."

    "LaCroix!" she exclaimed with dismay.  "Then whose bed did
we just--" she cut herself off, not really wanting to hear the
answer.

    He merely nodded his head in acknowledgement of the unspoken
truth.

    Natalie wore a look of mortification as Nick climbed out of
bed to join her, wrapping her protectively in his arms.  He held
her for several moments, trying desperately not to collapse into
laughter, but he found it was impossible.

    At first Natalie thought he might be sobbing, but she soon
realizing that it was wicked laughter that was threatening to
explode from him instead.  She indignantly pushed him an arm's
length away, but the mirth that danced in his deep blue eyes was
contagious.  Barely maintaining a straight face she began,
"Nicholas de Brabant Knight, how *could* you?"  She controlled
herself for only a moment longer then snickered.  "How *could*
you make love to me in--"

    Nick could not help himself.  He began chuckling at first,
but quickly gave way to a deeper laugh, which in turn was
replaced by laughter so hard that it was silent, causing pink
tears to form in his eyes.

    Natalie looked at him as if he had grown another head,
standing rigidly in her best school-marm imitation.  She lifted
a robe-draped arm to smack him, but found the silk only wrapped
around her hands again, padding her blow and causing Nick to
practically choke as he continued laughing, backing away from
her until he fell onto the bed.  The combination finally
shattered Nat's resolve and she, too, laughed until her sides
hurt, crystal tears sliding down her cheeks, then she pounced on
Nick's now prone body.

    Finally calming down, Natalie began running her fingers up
and down Nick's sides.  Between breaths, Nick asked, "What are
you doing, Nat?"

    "Tickling you," she grinned.  "I *like* to see you laugh."

    "Then you'll have to try something else.  Vampires aren't
ticklish," he replied smugly.

    "Well, at least vampires have a sense of humor," she
giggled, stopping her assault on his ribs.  "That was some
demonstration.  I don't think I've ever seen you laugh so
hard!"

    Nick raised himself to a sitting position, bringing Natalie
with him.  "Despite the geography," he snickered again, looking
around the room, "I don't remember ever being this happy
before."  He hugged her closer to him.

    Suddenly sobering, he released her from his embrace.  "Nat,
there's something else I haven't told you."  He paused, making
certain he had her full attention.  "Centuries ago, I made a
bargain with LaCroix.  A bargain I never regretted until I met
you."  He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her lightly
on the lips, then proceeded to tell her about Fleur.

    "I never dreamed I would ever love a mortal the way I
love you, Natalie.  And LaCroix knows it.  Last night he tried
to trick me into destroying Father François.  He promised to
release me from our agreement if I would rid him of the priest,
which shows how desperately LaCroix wanted Father François'
destruction.  And I *would* have destroyed him if he had harmed
you," Nick declared fiercely.

    "But, Nick--" she started to protest.

    "I know," he soothed, holding her to him.  He would do
*anything* to protect Natalie, even if it meant returning to the
darkness from which he was finally beginning to emerge.

    Natalie thought for a moment.  "Do you suppose we'll ever
see him again?" she wondered.

    "In a way I hope not."

    She looked at him sharply, the puzzlement clear in her
expression.  "Why not?"

    "He told me he was bound to the basilica until a creature of
darkness came seeking redemption.  It only dawned on him as we
were leaving that *I* was that creature."  He caressed her
shoulder.  "I hope he has gone to his reward, for he has given
me more hope and faith than I ever imagined could exist in my
world."

    "Then you *did* get rid of him," Natalie looked up into
abruptly confused blue eyes.

    "Nat, I didn't 'get rid' of him.  Perhaps I made it possible
for him to move on, but..."

    "What's the difference to LaCroix?" she asked.  "If Father
François is truly gone, then you are free from your bargain."

    Nick stared at her, hardly allowing himself to believe it
might be true.  "Then perhaps we should stop by the lower chapel
when we pick up your car and see if we can summon François?"

    "Yes.  Besides, I'd like to light another candle in
thanksgiving."  Her face glowed with happiness.

    He kissed her chastely, changing the subject.  "I need to
call Cohen and you should call Dr. Malone before Grace and
Schanke have the RCMPs out looking for us."

    "What did you tell them?" she gasped, realizing that this
made two nights she had missed work without calling in.

    "Grace called me at the precinct.  When I discovered what
had happened to you, I told Schanke that you had a bad case of
food poisoning, that you had turned off your phone and pager and
I was going to stay with you in your apartment since you refused
to go to the hospital."

    "Good choice.  It's fast, it's debilitating, and it's over
quickly."

    "Try to sound groggy when you call in," he instructed.

    "No problem there--no acting required.  Hand me the phone."


    A short time later both Natalie and Nick had checked in
with with their respective bosses, making it clear that Natalie
needed one more night's care to recover and that they would both
be at work the next evening.

    "I guess we really should leave if we're going to make
Toronto before daybreak," Natalie sighed.

    Nick pulled on his robe and said, "Wait just a minute, Nat,"
as he walked to the living room.  He noted with appreciation a
white garment box placed on the coffee table along with a note
from Henrí informing Nick that a meal of roast chicken would be
delivered whenever he required.  He picked up the phone and
ordered the meal delivered immediately.

    Returning to the bedroom, he handed the box to Natalie.

    "What's this?" she asked with surprise as he sat down next
to her on the bed.

    "Open it," he persuaded.  "I asked Henrí to pick it up for
you."

    Natalie hugged him then opened the box.  Nesled inside was a
pale green silk blouse trimmed with delicate off-white lace.
"It's beautiful!" she exclaimed, holding it up.  Beneath it were
an emerald green sweater and matching skirt made of the finest
wool.  She blushed to discover new undergarments at the bottom
of the box.

    "Thank you, Nick.  I wasn't looking forward to putting those
back on tonight," she said, glancing at her soiled clothing from
the night before.

    A discreet rap on the suite's door drew Nick's attention.
"That'll be your dinner.  Henrí's wife is an excellent cook.  I
know you'll enjoy it."

    "Give me a few minutes to dress and I'll be right out,"
Natalie said.  "I'm famished!"

    A short time later, the pair relaxed together as Natalie
enjoyed a meal of onion soup gratinee, salad, roast chicken and
grilled vegetables.  Nick's meal, of course, consisted of two
bottles of cow, but Natalie caught him sneaking a bite of
chicken when she returned from the kitchen after making herself
some tea.

    "Nick!" she gaped in astonishment.  "How was it?  Did you
like it?"

    "Um-mmmmm," he mumbled, his mouth still full of chicken.

    "Are you okay?  Any nausea?" the doctor in her demanded,
lamenting the fact that her notebook was back in Toronto.

    "Just trying to broaden my horizons a little," he replied
sheepishly.

    Natalie hugged him close to her.  "Go right ahead.  I can
ask Henrí to bring some more," she offered, raising one eyebrow
and deciding that as soon as she was back in the lab, she would
have to run a complete new series of tests on his blood and
metabolism.

    "Not now.  I'm fine.  Besides, we need to be going.  It's a
long drive back," Nick replied.

    Natalie looked toward the wall of windows, the drapes now
pulled open to their fullest, showcasing the murky St. Lawrence
in the deepening twilight.  "Nick, do we have time for a quick
stroll first?"

    She looked at him with innocent anticipation, and Nick
sensed that, whatever it was, it was important to her.
"Of course!  We'll bid adieu to Henrí, then you lead the way,"
he encouraged with a smile.


    After saying their good-byes to Henrí and the staff, Nick
held out his arm to Natalie.  "Where to, milady?" he asked.

    Snaking her arm through his, she drew him across the rue
LaPorte, through the Parc des Gouveneurs and onto the Dufferin
Terrasse.  She remembered wistfully her last excursion to the
boardwalk.  Only *this* time, she was not alone.  She would
never be alone again.

    The green and white gazebos were illuminated with tiny
crystalline lights, adding an air of magic to the boardwalk.  In
the background they could hear a singer, crooning from a nearby
bistro.  Nick hugged Natalie closer as they continued to stroll.

        All through my wandering years
        I always said I was biding my time
        But alone in the dark I'd face my fears
        That no other heart would come to mine

        At first when you found me
        It took me a while 'til I realized
        Why I felt weak when you were around me
        Why I couldn't speak when I looked in your eyes

    Nick stopped in the middle of a gazebo and looked
lovingly into the face of the woman he treasured above all
others.  Gracefully he took her hand and began to waltz her
around the structure, oblivious to the curious stares of the
walkway's other inhabitants.

        All this time I've been searching
        Until you, I was lost in my dreams
        And I never knew that love could feel like heaven
        Watching over me

        Oh wherever you go
        Invisible hands reach over the miles
        For every wish you take to the stars
        There's one silent kiss I send to the sky

        All this time I've been searching
        Until you I was lost in my dreams
        And I never knew that love could feel like heaven
        Watching over me

        Everything has changed
        Since you came my way
        'Cause you put the color
        In a world of grey
        And you make the love
        That carries me away

    Nick softly recited the final chorus along with the singer.

        All this time I've been searching
        Until you I was lost in my dreams
        And I never knew that love could feel like heaven
        Watching over me
        Feels like heaven
        Watching over me***

    As the song ended, Nick gently kissed Natalie's
tear-dampened lips and held her tightly, thanking heaven for
sending her to him.

*********************************

    Nick parked the Caddy beside Natalie's car and shut off the
engine.  He slid out the driver's side and quickly raced around
to open the passenger door for her.

    "Thank you, kind sir," she laughed, placing her fingertips
lightly in his outstretched palm, as he assisted her from the
car.

    They walked hand-in-hand across the tracks and mounted the
three steps to the basilica's side entrance.  As Nick reached to
pull the handle, he suddenly hesitated.

    Natalie's attention had been lost in the memories of the two
of them together at the pensione, dancing on the Dufferin
Terrasse and now holding hands walking to the church.  She had
not noticed the fragment of fear that crossed his brow as he
reached the door of the church.

    "Nick?  What is it?" she worried, squeezing his hand as she
finally recognized his change of mood.

    He looked away for a moment, shook his head and turned to
face her.  "It's just so hard to believe after all these years,
Nat.  I'm going into a church, to pray, to give thanks.  The
instincts of nearly 800 years are a little hard to get over, but
it's getting better," he reassured her.

    Nick bent down to give her a quick kiss, portraying both
his love and his thanks for her understanding and patience.

    Together they entered and proceeded down the stairs to the
lower chapel.  Opening the inner door and allowing Natalie to
enter first, he gingerly dipped his fingertips in the holy water
font and crossed himself, sighing deeply as the liquid brought
only a cherishing warmth to his skin.

    The couple approached the ancient relic and lowered
themselves to the kneeler before it.  Still holding Natalie's
hand, Nick gently wiped the smooth glass surface of the
reliquary with the linen cloth provided there and kissed the
glass, then placed his free hand over it, his eyes closed and
his lips murmuring silent prayers of hope, faith and
thanksgiving.

    After a few moments, Nick rose, drawing Natalie with him.
He reached into his pocket and withdrew a few bills which he
deposited in the offering box before taking a match stick and
catching a flame from a nearby candle.  Nat closed her fingers
around his so that together they lit a new candle, for them a
symbolic reminder of past, present and a future now as bright as
the flame flickering orange and blue before them.

    "For us," Nick whispered, extinguishing the match stick into
the sand filled container nearby.

    "For our future," Natalie answered him, her deep blue eyes
glowing as brightly as their candle.

    They walked toward the sanctuary, peering around the area
for any sign of the ghostly priest.  After a few moments more
investigation and first making certain they were alone, Natalie
called out in an even tone, "Father, Father François."  She
waited a few seconds before trying again.  "It's Nicholas and
Natalie, Father!"

    Nothing.

    Nick spoke up, "Monsieur Le Curé, êtes-vous ici? [Are you
here?]

    Still nothing.

    Natalie turned to Nick with a mixture of disappointment and
happiness on her face.  "Perhaps he *has* moved on," she said.
"I guess I just wanted to thank him one more time."

    Nick moved closer and hugged his arm around her shoulder
before kissing her on the forehead.  "I think you just did,
Nat."

    The muffled sound of shuffling feet arose from behind the
sanctuary, drawing their attention.  A middle-aged man with salt
and pepper hair, dressed in the cassock of a Recollet priest,
approached them.  "I am Father Rupert.  May I help you?" he
asked.

    "No, no, Father.  We were just leaving.  Sorry to disturb
you," Natalie answering hastily, taking Nick's hand and inching
toward the exit door.

    The priest did not respond for a moment or two, allowing the
couple to make it almost to the door.  He struggled with the
decision whether or not to approach them, then decided to take
the chance anyway.  "Did I hear you call for Father François
Letourneau?" he inquired.

    Natalie stopped immediately and turned toward the cleric,
debating how she should answer.  "Uh--uh, yes."

    "You've seen him?" he asked, expectation written on his
face.

    Nick nodded.

    "How long ago?" the priest urged, his expression one of
cautious curiosity.

    "Last night and just before dawn," Natalie replied solemnly.

    The priest hesitated, peering deeply into their eyes for an
invitation to speak freely.  Natalie nodded her head for him to
continue.  "I assume you know the legend?"

    "The legend?" Nick asked with surprise.

    "For over one hundred years visitors to St. Anne's have
reported meeting and speaking with a white-haired priest who
calls himself Father François.  He seems to give peace, hope or
encouragement to those most in need of it."  He proceeded
slowly, carefully selecting his words.  "There are those who
call him an angel and others who say that he is a lost spirit
tied to this place until released by God.  Perhaps there is
something for which he had to make amends."  His voice trailed
off.

    "And you, Father, what do you think?" Nick questioned
softly.

    "There was such a man, a priest, sent from France in 1823 to
minister to the needs of this community.  He died in 1852
according to the parish records.  The bishop frowns on us
mentioning the legend.  But then...the bishop has never
made François' acquaintance."  He said with a slightly
conspiratorial smile.

    "But you *have,*" Natalie stated with conviction.

    The priest glanced around the chapel and, finding them still
alone, continued.  "Yes.  Many times when I was having a
particularly hard time with my duties or was on the verge of
despair, I would come here, and we would sit and talk.
Whether a legend or not, I always found comfort.  That's all
that *really* matters, isn't it?"

    Nick smiled and squeezed Natalie's hand.  "Yes," he replied.
"That *is* all that matters."

    The clergyman shook his head.  "I don't know why I'm telling
you this.  I'm usually the one *listening* to confessions, not
making them!"  He looked for their assurances before resuming.

    The couple encouraged him to proceed.

    "I celebrated the early mass this morning.  I passed through
here and saw him.  He had a joyful look about him as I'd never
seen before.  His face almost shone with a brightness that
seemed to me to be a holy light!"

    Nick interrupted, "Then why do you look doubtful, Father?"

    "Because he told me I would not see him again in this life.
He has been released--released to go forward in God's service.
I am happy for him, but a part of me will miss him."  The
priest admitted ruefully.

    "We will, too," Natalie agreed, reaching to give his arm a
gentle squeeze.

    "Father, did he say anything else?" Nick asked.

    Father Rupert thought for a moment.  "Yes.  Yes, he did, but
I have to admit I don't really understand it.  He said he would
soon have some children to look after."  The priest's gaze
traveled from Nick to Natalie.  "You wouldn't know what he
meant, would you?"

    Natalie looked at Nick and thought she saw in the depths of
his eyes the slightest shimmering of hope.  A hope she, too, now
shared.

    "No, Father, we don't," she replied.  'At least not yet,'
she thought, silently daring to dream that their future
together might include teaching Nick to make 'cancakes for
breffast.'

    "Please forgive us, but we have a long trip ahead and we
need to be leaving," Nick apologized.

    "Go with God," the cleric bade, raising his hand to
administer a brief blessing before taking his leave of them.

    Turning, Nick and Natalie left the chapel and found their
way back to the parking lot.

-----------------

    The rosy fingers of dawn had only just begun to caress a
dark blue sky when Nick and Natalie left their cars
side-by-side in the parking lot of Natalie's apartment building.
Nick escorted Natalie to her door, expecting to have to beat a
hasty retreat to avoid the sunrise.

    Unlocking her door, Natalie took him by the hand and
entreated, "Stay.  You have plenty of 'supplies' that Henrí
packed for you.  I can get them out of your trunk and bring them
up," she offered.

    After considering the thousand and one reasons he should
return to the loft, Nick could not escape the one reason he
should stay--he loved this woman more than anything in the
world, and he wanted to spend as much time with her as God and
fate would allow.

    Seeing him battle with himself, Natalie pulled Nick through
the doorway, closed the door behind them and locked him in her
embrace, kissing him squarely on the mouth, a kiss both
passionate and loving, caressing and tormenting, promising and
challenging.

    When she broke for air, Nick murmured, "Well, as long as you
put it *that* way, how can I resist?"

    After a quick snack for both of them and plenty of attention
and food for Sidney, Nick and Natalie settled into bed.
Spooning himself behind her, Nick nuzzled her neck.  "Ummmm.
This feels good."

    Natalie melted into the warmth of the moment.  "Nick, let's
get away for a weekend.  Somewhere away from the city and prying
eyes."  She snuggled nearer to him.  "When are you off next?"

    Nick continued to nuzzle and kiss her neck and shoulders,
then paused.  "Next weekend, the 24th I think."  He kissed her
again, then the reality hit him.  "Oh, no.  I promised Schanke
I'd meet some guy at his cabin," he sighed, forgetting he was
supposed to keep it secret.

    "Oh yeah, that's right," Natalie replied, preoccupied with
Nick's attentions to her.  "I'm supposed to go to Schanke's
cabin, too."

    Nick stopped in mid-kiss.  "Wait a minute.  You are?  What
for?"

    "For Schanke's surprise party," she said with bewilderment,
turning to gawk at him over her shoulder.  "You know, for his
twentieth anniversary with the force?"

    "On the 24th?  You're sure?"

    "That's what Grace told me."

    He rolled Natalie toward him.  They stared into one
another's eyes, trying to make sense of this seemingly
incongruous information.  Moments later she mouthed, "Grace!"

    "Schanke!" he confirmed.  "Nat, I think we've been set up."

-------------------------

Several days later


    Don Schanke pushed the morgue door open gleefully, grabbed
Grace by the hand and danced her around the room.

    "You're in a good mood, Schanke," Grace chuckled.

    "My blond enigma of a partner just picked up the keys
to the cabin, and I'm betting in under three hours those two
are gonna be face-to-face with each other, and I'd *love* to be
a fly on the wall!" Schanke bubbled.

    Grace put her hand to her heart and sighed as the balding
detective waltzed her back to her desk.  "And Natalie went home
about an hour ago to pack and head on up there.  She must have
checked her handbag three times to make sure she had the
directions!"

    "You know, we ought to go into the Lonely Hearts business,
Grace," he schmoozed.  "This was easier than I thought!"

    Grace laughed again, nodding her head in agreement.
"Besides gloating, what brings you down here this evening?" she
asked.

    "Just needed the last of the fiber evidence you have on the
Woodard case," he answered.

    "Such a sad one," Grace sighed.  "Did the superintendent
ever admit why he did it?"

    "It seems Ms. Woodard was somewhat of a loner and didn't
have a lot of friends.  He played on that and, well, they
became *more* than friends.  She had a chance to go back to the
university and further her career.  He got jealous--she was
branching out and leaving him behind, going on with her life,
and there was no place for him."

    "So he killed her?"  Grace was still incredulous even though
she knew the answer.

    "Yeah.  She trusted him, must not have thought he could
be so controlling.  She'd never let many people into her
life, so the folks at work didn't know anything about him.  He
didn't even know she was pregnant until we told him," Schanke
concluded, shaking his head.

    "Such a shame--" Grace began, but was interrupted by the
sound of Natalie's laughter coming from the hallway.  The
technician's face went blank for a second, but she recovered
enough to push Schanke in the direction of the walk-in cooler.

    "What the--" he stumbled.

    "Get in there *now,*" Grace demanded in an urgent undertone.
"That's Natalie's voice and *you're* supposed to be on the way
up to *your* anniversary party, buster.  Now get in there and
don't make a sound!"

    "But--"  Schanke's voice was muffled by the door closing
unceremoniously in his face.

    Grace hurriedly glanced around the room and ran back to her
desk, trying desperately not to look like she was hiding
something.

    The morgue door opened and Natalie strode inside.  "Hi,
Grace!" she greeted.

    "Hi, yourself," Grace answered, looking up in apparent
surprise.  "Thought you'd be halfway to Schanke's cabin by now."

    "So did I, but I forgot something," Natalie replied.
"Speaking of which, why aren't *you* on your way?"  Natalie's
expression revealed nothing but innocence.

    "Oh...ah...well..." Grace stuttered, "I have to finish up
the last of the fiber report on the Woodard case, then I'm off."
She sighed inwardly and hoped she had been able to come up with
a plausible excuse.

    Natalie continued toward her desk, opened the center drawer
and rummaged around for the silver-framed photo hidden in the
back.

    Grace was so absorbed in Natalie's actions that she did not
hear the morgue door open again.

    "You ready?" Nick asked, causing Grace to jump out of her
chair.

    "Geez, Detective!" she almost shouted as she turned toward
him.  "What are you doing here?"

    Nick smiled that charming, boyish, guiltless smile of his.
"Why, picking up my best girl, of course!"  He walked directly
to Natalie, pulled her to him and kissed her passionately,
leaving her a little weak in the knees.  "You ready?" he asked
again.

    "Yeah, *now* I am," she grinned, dropping the photo into her
purse.

    The couple walked to the door.  Nick opened it for Natalie
who began to go through it, then paused.  "Oh, Grace," she
started.

    Grace had to shake her head to clear it of the images that
were still astounding her.  "Umm?"

    "Tell Myra *next* year is Schanke's twentieth.  And it's in
July, not October," she smiled, walking through the door.

    Nick waited until Natalie had entered the hallway, then he
turned in the direction of the cooler.  "Oh, Schanke,
recycling day is Tuesday.  See you then."  With that, he exited
the room.

    "No problem," came a muffled voice from behind the cooler
door.

*****************************************************


***"Feels Like Heaven" by Mark Goldenberg and Kit Hain,
copyright 1992, MCA Music Corp., Warner Brothers Records, Inc.,
performed by Peter Cetera and Chaka Khan on Cetera's 'You're The
Inspiration - A Collection' album, copyright River North
Records, 1997, Nashville, TN.


THE END...BUT we think it wants a sequel, Comments?
Mary Lou Manzie, mmanzie1@maine.rr.com
********************************

SPECIAL NOTE:  To those intrepid and incredibly understanding
Friends of Godzilla (FrOGS):  Nancy Taylor, Vickie Sykes,
Michelle Loo, Katherine Robert, Stormy Nite and Di Viacava

Barb and I would like to extend our most sincere thanks for all
your support for our efforts over these many, many months.
You're the best!  Mary Lou

***************************************************************