All Hallows Knight
by Tammy J Morrison
circa October 1997
Disclaimer: Sony, Paragon and J.P. own these characters. Not me.
I wish I did. They'd get a heck of a better deal from me.
The only character I do own is LaValle and he was expendable.
This story may be archived anywhere you like. Just e-mail me at
amydrag@freenet.edmonton.ab.ca and tell me where it's going.
*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*
As Natalie exited her car, which was parked not far from the
firedoor that led to the stairs into Nick's loft, she noticed
Nick outside the apartment, bundled up in his typical 'outside
before I should' outfit. Nick seemed far away as she approached,
setting down two large full bowls. One contained pre-made, sealed
sandwiches and the other contained a myraid of flavoured juice
boxes.
"Worried the kiddies are going to get too much sugar
tonight, Nick?" Natalie quipped waiting to see if Nick made
any comments about the sunglasses she was wearing, "Not that
I expect you get too many kids in this neighbourhood."
Nick looked up at her and a slight smile graced his handsome
face. She never gave up. Something Nick felt he should be
grateful for. Since they had first met Natalie had tried to get
Nick to come out on Halloween, but she had never succeeded for
reasons that he'd never explained to her. "Where's your
costume, Nat?" Nick asked as he led her to the lift doors.
Natalie watched as the last dying rays of the sun touched Nick
making him smoke and she fought back the urge to smother the tiny
fires with her hand.
"Maybe, I've finally given up..." Natalie grumbled as
they stood together in the lift. Nick's heart sank, those words
caused more pain than a stake but then her words continued,
"trying to get you to come out with me on Halloween. Why the
hell vampires should be afraid of their night escapes me..."
Nick pulled open the doors and entered the loft. He turned his
back on Natalie as she pulled off her jacket and Nick moved
toward the antique mantlepiece.
"It's not -our- night, Nat." Nick's voice was soft as
he lit his fireplace. He took a final look at the hand
calligraphed invitation.
"You are cordially invited to
The Raven's All Hallows Eve Ball.
Arrive before sunset.
Doors will be shut and locked
promptly at sundown.
No exit will be permitted until
sunrise on the 1st.
- L. Lacroix "
He shook his head, even LaCroix followed this law of the
community. While Nick Knight, who was perhaps the only one who
could now break that law, never would again. The gathering at the
Raven was a tradition now, started by Janette and continued by
LaCroix in her absence. Nick had always been invited, but had
never attended. He had in the past prefered to trick Natalie into
spending the evening with him alone, perhaps tonight it was time
to share the truth with her. He turned to face her, certain that
she would forgive him once he had shared this aspect of his past,
and his heart stopped... Or would have if it beat anymore quickly
than it did.
"Who did this to you Nat... I'll kill them!" Nick's
voice snarled.
Natalie started laughing, her eyes glittering gold from her
contacts. She doubled over and nearly bit her own lip with the
specially made fang caps as the gleeful spasms shook her body.
"No one, Nick. They're fake..." Natalie popped one out
of her mouth, "See!"
"That wasn't bloody funny, Nat." His body was trembling
with anger and the struggle to subdue his beast.
Natalie who hadn't yet looked up at Nick to see how seriously he
was taking this, sniped, "You didn't see your face when you
saw me." By the time she did look up, Nick had moved into
the kitchen and was drowning his anger in a newly uncorked bottle
of cow's blood. Natalie's amusement faded as she realized by his
body language that he didn't find her little joke funny in the
least. One part of her mind screamed out, 'Why the hell should
you care? He's hurt you enough times. Let him taste his own
medicine.' Her pride didn't want to admit she'd made a mistake,
that she'd misjudged how Nick would take this. Natalie steeled
herself, she'd come to realize that it was most often their pride
and fear that kept them from communicating. Eight hundred years
of being closed kept Nick from building a bridge, what the hell
was stopping her. Pig headed pride was the only answer and she
was determined to make an end of it now.
"I'm sorry, Nick. I didn't think." Natalie reached out
a tentative hand to him.
Nick wanted to scream out, 'No you didn't!', but he stopped
himself. He was more angry at himself than he was at her. As much
as he wanted to deny it, for a moment when he thought she had
been turned, a part of him, that wasn't necessarily the vampire,
had felt elation at seeing Natalie standing there, condemned to
the same darkness as him. Finally an attainable goal. He wasn't
sure if the anger which was directed at her was caused by her
playing such a juvenile prank or if it was caused by the
disappointment he felt when she revealed it as a hoax. Either way
the amount of anger was uncalled for, and he turned his once
again blue eyes on her concerned face and took her hand,
"It's okay, Nat. I overreacted."
Natalie loved the way the rest of the world seemed to fade out of
existance when he turned those soulful pools of endless azure on
her. All that existed was her, Nick and her pounding heart. They
stood there lost in each other, until it became apparent that if
they stayed they would never leave. Then the uncomfortable phaze
started, the part that Natalie hated while they both searched for
anything that would put them back on earth and away from the
peace that tormented and tantalyzed them.
Nick was the first to break the silence, "Can I get you a
drink, Nat?"
"Sure," Natalie agreed and waited to see what Nick had
to offer.
"Go, sit down in front of the fireplace, relax," Nick
instructed. Natalie obeyed somewhat reluctantly then noticed the
jack o' lantern sitting in Nick's window.
"Oh, he's great, Nick. Did you use LaCroix for a
model?" Natalie laughed as she looked at the scowling fanged
face that glared out at Gateway Lane.
Nick shook his head at Natalie as she grinned mischeviously,
"No comment." He held out a mug filled with something
steaming. Natalie sniffed it, and even the scent warmed her body.
She took a sip and sighed in pleasure.
"What's in the drink, Nick?" Natalie relaxed, sitting
down on the floor in front of the flickering fire, and beamed at
Nick as he set down a plate filled with meat filled pastries, and
delicate looking dumplings.
"It's mulled apple wine." Nick smiled as he watched
Natalie begin to taste the various sausage rolls, dry meat pies,
and vegatables wrapped in boiled dough. "I got the food from
a small specialty store. It's traditional for this time of year.
If you're good, I might even let you have desert."
Natalie looked at Nick innocently, "When am I ever not
good?" Nick's baleful gaze told the mortal woman she wasn't
fooling anyone. Natalie quickly decided to change the subject,
"So did you put the pumpkin out to scare any specific 'evil
spirits', Nick?"
"Actually Nat, they don't -scare- evil spirits. That's a
misconception about both jack 'o lanterns and gargoyles. What
they're actually supposed to do is say, "We're already here
gang... Move on... find your own place to haunt." Nick sat
down on the floor opposite Natalie.
"Kind of a territorial thing, eh? Well I guess the end
result is the same, and you'd be the one to know." Natalie
sipped her mulled wine and realized that had been said badly.
As she tried to apologize for her slip, Nick shook his head,
"I know what you meant, Nat. No harm done." He gazed
into her eyes and shivered, "If you want to make me feel
better though, take out the contacts."
Natalie laughed, "Sure Nick. I forgot they were there."
She carefully pulled the contacts out and slipped them into a
small case from her purse. Her blue eyes twinkled as she smiled
at Nick, "Better?"
"Much," Nick replied. Natalie's grin was infectious and
soon spread to him as well.
"So, what other things do I not know about Halloween and
Jack 'O Lanterns?" Natalie took another sip of the mulled
wine and looked at Nick meaningfully.
Nick knew what she -was- asking, but wasn't quite ready for that
kind of honesty yet. Instead his grin grew larger as he said,
"Actually if I wanted to be historically acurate I would
have carved a turnip."
"A -turnip-? Nick, you've got to be kidding me..."
Natalie looked incredulous.
"No, I'm not. Pumpkins are a new world food, we didn't have
them. Turnips were what the Jack 'O Lantern started out as. And
you think pumpkin innerds taste bad." Nick grinned
mischeveously as memories of the time Natalie had to eat both his
slice and her slice of the pumpkin pie Captain Cohen had made
slid into his mind.
Natalie scowled, "I don't like pumpkin and Amanda may have
been a great chief, but she was no Myra when it came to
pastry."
"Myra still sending you goodies is she," Nick asked
conversationally. He could see it a bit in her figure, but he'd
never tell Nat. Besides he -liked- it.
Natalie's eyebrow arched, "Sometimes. I suggested that she
donate some of them to the charity auction the precinct supports.
I guess now we know why Don..." Natalie looked
self-consciously at her own waist.
"Nah, that was all the souvlaki..." Nick's eyes
glittered and his nose wrinkled as he spoke, grinning all the
while. Then he took a sip from his glass. Natalie's expression
softened and she sipped from hers.
"So what was with the real food outside the door?"
Natalie asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Feeding the dead," Nick answered, his voice quieter
still.
Their eyes met and neither looked away. Silence filled the room
and seemed to echo off the huge grey walls. This time Natalie
broke it, "Nick, why don't you go out on Halloween?"
Nick didn't have to ask whether she seriously wanted to know or
not, he could read it in her face. "All Hallows Eve is the
night when all the dead of the year move on to whatever lies
beyond for them. No murderer would be caught dead..." Nick
shook his head at the bad pun, "Or maybe I should say 'will
be caught alive' if they are out on All Hallows Eve."
Natalie looked fascinated, "Why?"
"All of a murderer's victims from the year, walk tonight as
well... But they seek revenge. They will kill him if they find
him." Nick's gaze grew far away.
"Okay Nick, even if I -do- believe what your telling me,
which being a scientist I have a hard time doing. It doesn't
apply to you." Natalie paused a moment and gave Nick a hard
look, "Unless, of course, there's something you want to tell
me."
Nick looked at her uncomprehending, "You're right. It
doesn't apply to me anymore. But knowing that will never take
away a lesson I learned the hard way. Even if I become mortal, I
don't know if I'll ever be able to go out after sunset on All
Hallows Eve."
"Want to tell me about it, Nick?" Natalie asked, not
expecting an answer really, but she knew she had to make the
offer.
"Actually, yes," Nick grinned at the look of shock that
crossed Nat's face, "If you're sure you want to hear."
"I'm sure." Natalie answered quickly. Nick looked at
her a little dubiously and she retorted, "What.. This story
is not for the faint of heart," Natalie did a bad Vincent
Price from 'Hilarious House Of Frightenstein', "Don't sell
me short, Nick!"
Nick knew she wouldn't speak to him again, if he didn't tell her.
So he nodded, "I'll get us both another drink before we
start." Nick retrieved her glass and brought both glasses
back full. As well he brought a round ball of clay.
"What's that?" Natalie asked momentarily distracted.
"Clay baked honey apple with raisins," Nick smiled,
"Your desert... All you have to do is put it in the
fireplace." Natalie smiled sweetly and retrieved the treat
from Nick. With some care and a pair of tongs she placed it in
the heart of the flickering fire, when she turned Nick was
standing behind her with a large down comforter. "Might as
well be comfortable, it's a long story."
"And with you, what isn't," Natalie quipped as she
snuggled beneath the comforter, facing Nick, who smiled gamely
and took a sip of his drink before beginning.
"Back when I was brought across, one of the rules LaCroix
practically pounded into me was to never go out on All Hallow's
Eve. However typical of LaCroix, he was long on rules, short on
explanation of why. Janette was no help either. All she would say
is to obey my master, and then shiver as though it was a subject
she'd rather not go into. As I grew in my powers, I became
arrogant. I didn't care to listen to LaCroix, I -knew- what the
best was for me. And so when a vampire, I had chosen as a
confidant seemed to think it stupid for a vampire to be afraid of
the night of the dead, I immediately echoed his
opinion....."
*@* *@* *@* *@* *@*
"Nicholas", LaCroix hissed, "I do not care -what-
you think... Or what the upstart LaValle thinks. Tonight we stay
indoors, and if your belly rumbles, then you should have fed
better last night."
"I do not care for your rules, -master-. I do not care for
this dance. This is -our- night, LaCroix. The night of the dead.
What have we to fear from the ghosts and goblins which the
mortals do? Nothing. You have said it before, shall I remind you
of your own words. We are immortal... Perfect. We need not fear
as mortals do." Nicholas' words dripped from his tongue like
poisoned honey. LaCroix growled menacingly and suddenly Nicholas
was slammed against the wall of their house as LaCroix held him
by the throat.
"Mark well what I say if you survive this night, Nicholas.
Never use my words against me again. And know this night is -not-
ours." LaCroix then carried Nicholas to the door and flung
him far into the clutches of the encroaching darkness. The door
was quickly slammed and Nick could hear the bolts clicking shut
and Janette's scream of terror which was suddenly cut short.
Suddenly, a smiling face greeted his, "Your family makes me
glad I am an orphan." LaValle grinned mischeveously, his
dark eyes twinkling as he offered Nicholas a hand up.
"If he's hurt her," Nicholas growled menacingly and
moved as though to attack the door.
LaValle held Nicholas back and directed him towards the hitching
post where two fine steeds were tied. "Don't be a fool. Your
woman has been convinced of the old myths and fairy tales about
this night. She was probably wailing to have the elder let you
back in. LaCroix can be accused of many things, but Janette has
always been treated with kid gloves. You needant fear for
her." Nicholas stood silent and angry facing his master's
house not responding to his friend. LaValle retrieved both of the
horses from the post, "There is an inn of ill repute I wish
to visit tonight, Nicholas. Either mount up, or hide in the barn.
Either way I am gone." LaValle swung onto the dapple grey
stallion who's nostrals flared as he blew in excitement. Then
with a thunder of hooves, LaValle was gone down the road. In a
moment, Nicholas had shrugged off his mood, intending to take his
anger out on the first mortal lout that darkened his table and in
the blink of an eye mounted the black charger, leaving only a
cloud of dust to mark the place where he had been.
The horse's hooves thundered down the dirt road, as the vampires
jockeyed for position. Nicholas forced laughter from his throat
to answer LaValle's. To Nicholas the race down the road was no
longer a game, but a desperate attempt to escape into a place of
mortals, a place of safety and superiority. This night gave
Nicholas chills up his spine, something he had not felt since his
days as a mortal. The silence was oppressive, more so to his keen
senses. There were no insects, no birds, no frogs, toads or
lizards to make the music that the night air normally thrummed
with. The air was uncommonly cold, chill even to the chill skin
of his own body. More over it was thick, thick with the miasma of
a grave opened to soon after a body was intered. Nicholas ooked
to his friend to see if any of oddities of the enviroment were
having an effect, but if it was then LaValle showed no outward
sign. Nicholas turned his attention back to the thundering rythym
of his horse's gait, and tryed to block the discomfiture he felt
by transforming in his mind the rythmic hoof beats to the heart
beat of a wench before he took her. However no matter what the
son of LaCroix tried, the eerie sensations continued to assualt
him.
The trees, which had long since shed their leaves, seemed to
grasp at him with skeletal hands and tightened the path which he
travelled down. In the darkness, he could feel eyes watching him
but not mortal eyes, animal or human, or even the eyes of his own
kind, staring out in rivalry. Instead he felt as though there
were thousands of eyes, all burning at him with hatred, screaming
for revenge. Then the silence was broken with whispering,
thousands of angry voices whispering, laughing, taunting him.
Taunting -him-. He who was a master of the night. Nicholas pulled
his mount to a hault violently, causing the beast to rear in pain
and panic. It's eyes rolling and froth pushing from its mouth
past the bit. "BEGONE," Nicholas screamed, "I
abjure thee... I am the master of the night. Cease your moaning.
I will not tolerate this!"
*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*
LaValle trotted back, an amused grin on his face. "Did
LaCroix's 'lesson' addle your wits? Who are you screaming at
Nicholas?"
"Can you not hear the incesant whispering?" Nicholas
turned incredulous eyes on LaValle.
"The wind in the trees... Come now, Nicholas, I think
LaCroix's fairy tales have made more of an impression on you than
you believe. Either that or it is some madness you brought with
you from mortality. Your horse suffers for it." LaValle rode
closer to his friend and steadied the horse with a hand on it's
flank. "They barely suffer us to ride. You cannot excite
them so. The inn is only a mile more, then we'll find you a lusty
wench to disperse this mania that seems to have possessed you,
Nicholas."
The whispering ceased, or perhaps Nicholas only willed it to
become the wind whispering in the trees, but his general feeling
of ill boding did not fall away from him. Then suddenly they were
upon the inn, nearer than Nicholas remembered, but there were
signs of mortal life within. Sounds, smells, and movement which
Nicholas welcomed heartily and not only for the opportunity it
brought him to feed.
The two figures entered the tavern, and they claimed a table near
to the fireplace. A buxom serving wench came to the table,
"What will you two fine gentlemen be needing this
night?"
"Wine," LaValle invited, "and you..."
"The wine, gladly..." The girl smiled, "And we'll
see if you need me still when the night's done."
Nicholas shivered as he looked at the girl, there was something
about her that was all to familiar, and there was something in
her eyes that brought to mind the feelings he had outside, when
the thousands of eyes pierced the night to find him. Nicholas
looked around the tavern, the cloak of unease settling over him
like a blanket of cold, wet snow. Every face inside the place
seemed familiar, as familiar as his own family but he couldn't
place why or how. Every furrowed brow, every dull farmer's gaze
resonated within him and pulled at his memory. "LaValle, do
these -people- seem to be familiar to you?"
LaValle was encompassed in whispering something obscene into the
serving girl's ear as his friend asked but the girl swatted the
vampire playfully and pulled away. "That one likes me, I
think." LaValle made as though to swig the wine from his
cup, then turned to Nicholas, "No more than any other room
full of dun brown peasants do, my worrisome friend. Find yourself
a wench, and set yourself at ease. I am to pursue that one --
there, I think." LaValle roused himself and set after the
serving wench who was standing by the bar.
Nicholas sat staring into the flames, full of foreboding and
angry at himself for not living up to his grand boasts to
LaCroix. Never willing to allow his master the last laugh,
Nicholas pulled himself to his feet and moved to a pretty girl
who stood near to the fireplace. "Such a beautiful flower
amoungst the brambles is too tempting a prize," his silken
voice purred into the girl's ear.
"Think you, sir?" The girl's voice seemed familiar
somehow but Nicholas cast such thoughts from his mind.
"I do indeed," Nicholas answered as the girl turned
doe-like brown eyes on him. He ran his hand along her cheek and
down her throat, gently caressing the silken skin. Again he was
troubled, her skin was much too warm. To him it felt as hot as
the fires of hell itself, more so than the sickest victim of any
plague he had taken. He once again forced back his unease, and
focused on the girl. 'At least this one has not much time left in
the world', Nicholas thought, 'Not that it would have stopped me
from taking her if she had.' His victim arched her neck and
purred at Nicholas' touch. He nuzzled her close, then ran his
tongue sensually along her cheek, down her jaw and towards her
neck. A thin silken choker impeded his progress down her throat,
and his hand flicked up to release it. It fluttered to the floor,
like an autumn leaf from the tree as his tongue continued it's
caress and touched upon two small punctures in the girl's throat.
Nicholas stopped, and pulled back to inspect the wound. Two small
holes, as though she had already been bitten. He looked from the
wound, to her face and back to the wound again. Then it struck
him that although the wound looked fresh, that he tasted and
smelt no blood from her. He stepped back, fear marring his
handsome countenance. She turned to stare at him, her doe brown
eyes flickering with the flames of hell. "Is there something
amiss, Master Nicholas?" A malevolent grin crossed her face
as Nicholas recoiled. This was the same girl he had killed no
less than a fortnight ago.
Her eyes were fixated on Nicholas as he retreated from her,
towards the bar where LaValle stood. "We must leave
LaValle..." Nicholas' voice was hoarse with desperation. As
LaCroix's son looked around him he began to recognize other faces
and flickers of long forgotten memories rose to the surface, like
things long dead in a lake.
"Nicholas, go back to your wench..." LaValle laughed
heartily and continued to molest the serving girl.
All the eyes in the bar were focused on Nicholas, boring into him
like a carpenter's drill. Then the whispering started again, and
the girl at the fireplace started to laugh mockingly. "We
must go, don't you recognize them?" Nicholas gestured madly
at the patrons of the tavern. Seeing LaValle was not going to
leave of his own accord, Nicholas tried to pull him along behind
but the other vampire seemed rooted to his place. When his friend
would not budge, Nicholas ran from the building on his own.
LaValle watched his friend's fleeting back in astonishment. He
sat for a moment debating whether to follow, or to stay and
finish what he had started. He looked into the girl's glittering
blue eyes, then sighed. If Nicholas did something stupid, then
Enforcers would come, and they would both be forfeit for going
out on this night. Better eternity than a warm body and a full
belly. "Insanity runs in his family," LaValle said
conversationally in way of an explanation and followed Nick out
at a leasurely pace, not noticing the way all eyes in the tavern
followed. Nicholas was outside readying his horse. The speed at
which he moved was incredible but still mortal. "If you are
so afraid, Nicholas, then fly back to your master and your
wench."
Nicholas looked at LaValle his blue eyes wild with terror.
"I have tried LaValle," Nicholas answered as he swung
into the saddle, his horse prancing nervously as he did. "We
should have listened to the elders."
"What are you talking about, Nicholas?" LaValle focused
his mind and tried to fly, but his feet remained rooted to the
ground. "What sorcery..." He looked to Nicholas whose
eyes were fixated on the tavern. LaValle followed his friend's
gaze only to find that the inn which they had been inside was no
more, and only an old run down barn stood in it's place. He
grabbed at his horse, and mounted quickly. The animal's eyes were
rolling wildly and their coats were lathered. "Who?"
Nicholas didn't answer, instead he turned his steed hard and
spurred it away down the path towards his master's house. LaValle
followed suit. As they rode, the sounds of whispering and
laughter echoed all around them and a thick fog, too thick even
for their vampire senses to pierce, rolled in and covered
landmarks and misguided their horse's wild route. Pin pricks of
red light burned through the mist, and in turn burned their
hateful stare into the two fleeing vampires. Again it seemed as
though the trees were grabbing at them, trying to pull them down
from their horses as they crashed through the wood but when they
looked, it was hands -- pale, human hands that grabbed and tore.
Clawing at the retreating creatures of the night.
LaValle pulled his horse along side Nicholas'. "Who... I
demand to know who?"
"Our victims, you fool," Nicholas sneered at that
moment looking far to much like his master, "We are being
hunted by those -we- hunted." Nicholas' eyes were wild and
they seemed to look everywhere at once, ever searching for an
escape.
LaValle seemed shocked at this revelation at first, and continued
to spur his horse onward. Then as they rode into a clearing of
the fog, LaValle whirled his horse around and brought it to a
stop in the center of the path. "Ghosts, ghosts of weaklings
I have already killed are what we are running from... I will run
no farther, Nicholas. We have nothing to fear."
Nicholas pulled his horse to a stop and looked on in disbelief as
the fog began to roll towards LaValle, as he stood laughing,
mocking Nicholas for his fear. The son of LaCroix could -see- the
hands of the victims reaching for LaValle. "Run, you fool...
RUN", Nicholas cried in terror. The fog also began to
encroach around Nicholas and his horse. Nicholas continued to
back his horse away, still calling for his friend to run, moving
deeper into the clear area in the midst of the fog. He could only
look on in horror as the fog surrounded LaValle becoming clawing,
tearing human hands. Figures formed of the swirling mists became
recognizable as they ringed LaValle, pulling him from his horse.
LaValle's boastful cries, turned to angry growls and then changed
again to pleading desperate moans for help from the other
vampire. LaValle attacked the creatures surrounding him, but
where ever his fangs or hands touched became mist again. Though
mist when attacked, the vengeful ghosts of LaValle's victims were
more solid when attacking. Soon LaValle's clothes were shreds and
his body had more cuts, bites, and wrents in it than the vampire
could heal quickly.
So entranced was Nicholas by the horror before him that he barely
noticed in time the fog that moved to envelope him. Hands pulled
him from his horse, and he fell to the ground with a bone
wrenching thud. The son of LaCroix had withstood tortures in the
pit of the heathen Saracen and had survived, so was not about to
give up easily or quickly to those he had taken. His eyes became
golden as he growled and backed further into the clear area
behind him. The mist seemed to hesitate to come further, and with
a great bounding leap Nicholas threw himself into the midst of
the clear area and began to scream in pain. His vision was
blurred, but now he knew why the vengeful spirits would come no
farther. Holy ground, he could see the church and one of it's
walls further behind him. He writhed in agony, knowing that while
he was on the ground he may not enjoy his stay, but that he would
also not be killed. Bloody tears rolled down his face and over
his chin as he roared to LaValle, "Break free, run towards
my voice. Hurry LaValle."
Nicholas watched as his friend broke free of the white tendrils,
that seemed to form and reform as different humans before his
very eyes, and ran towards his voice. LaValle's body was wrent
and torn, a hand was missing and an eye had been plucked from
it's socket. His hair was saturated with gobs of blood and
sections of scalp were gone. Huge pieces of flesh were missing
from his arms, thighs and buttocks. Nicholas gagged on bile that
was not there as his stomach lurched from the sight. LaValle ran
towards his friend's voice, but was stopped as though he ran into
a brick wall. "Why do you stop? It is only holy ground... It
did not stop me! Come to me, LaValle!"
"I can not pass", LaValle reached out pleadingly
towards Nicholas. As the son of LaCroix reached out towards his
friend, his body was shaken with seizures, and he began to vomit
blood. He could only lay helpless and watch as his friend was
torn limb for limb, by the fog created creatures with the burning
hateful eyes. Finally LaValle's head was torn from the body, and
thrown into the church yard where it landed in front of Nicholas'
face. It's once laughing eyes and merry mouth, now only a death
mask.
*@* *@* *@* *@* *@*
"I fell unconcious then. When I woke it was nearly dawn. The
fog still blocked my way and I needed to find shelter. The holy
ground was killing me but I had no other choice. There was a
caved in section near one of the walls, so I crammed my body in
and waited for the dawn. When it came, the spirits too were
gone." Nick took a drink from his glass, which emptied it
and the bottle was already empty. He got up and moved to the
kitchen to retrieve another bottle.
Natalie sat entranced and frozen in terror by the story. Nick had
seen her trembling, and had heard her heart race but he had never
once moved to comfort her. He wanted her to know the truth and
see how she would deal with it. She had been badly frightened.
'Frightened enough to never want to be one of us', Nick's brain
supplied. A part of him rejoiced at that, but another part
grieved and over-all Nick felt guilty. He pulled another bottle,
one that LaCroix had given him from the fridge. He needed it now,
and what better way to drown his guilt and sorrow, but in
something that he would pay for later. He heard Natalie moving in
the living room and turned to her.
"You did it again, didn't you?" Natalie glared at him,
"It was just a story.. Wasn't it?" Nick looked at
Natalie incredulously.
"You mean you -don't- believe me?" Nick said. He
started to protest that he wasn't lying but something inside him
stopped himself, and he was almost glad she didn't believe. He
rationalized that if she couldn't handle that the story was the
truth, then perhaps it was better if she thought he had tricked
her once again. Better for her, better for him, better for them,
better for the future -- whatever that held.
"I'm not an idiot, Nick... You said it yourself. The holy
ground was killing you. You would never have survived the day on
consecrated ground. I mean -now- you can barely do it, never mind
then." Natalie was fuming with her hands on her hips.
"Besides I find it hard to believe that mist could rip the
head off of a vampire." She shook her head, "You really
got me, Knight." Nick winced, when Natalie used his last
name it meant she was -really- mad at him. She walked up to him,
"Almost dawn." She picked up the remote and handed it
to him. They both looked out the window and saw the sun beginning
to peak out over the horizon. Then she kissed him on the cheek
and walked to the elevator, "I hope you know... I -am- going
to get you for this." She pulled the door shut and the
rumbling motor of the elevator signalled her exit for the day.
Nick shook his head, and walked over to the fireplace. What had
possessed him to leave out the fact that he had braved the dawn's
light long enough to take shelter in one of the church's out
buildings, off the holy ground. Again his mind rationalized that
it wouldn't have made as good an ending, but inside he knew
differently. He pulled one of the gothic heads, and a secret door
swung open. He reached in and pulled out a small piece of
finishing stone. His hand smoked slightly as he touched it.
"And we will dwell in the house of our lord
- In the year of our lord, 1348"
>
-- was carved into it's surface. Proof, buut not any that Natalie
would accept. He smiled a bit and slipped the stone back into the
compartment. Then he turned to watch the sun rise, and fill his
loft with it's golden rays. He -needed- to know that the sun had
risen. He filled his glass from the bottle he had retrieved and
looked out into the day. "To you, LaValle," Nick
intoned, and raised his glass in salute, then draining it. And he
pressed the button to bring down the shutters and block out the
sun.
Finis.