Date: Sun, 11 Feb 1996 13:38:00 CST From: Jill Kirby Subject: Rituals (1/14) Rituals (1/14) a Forever Knight/Highlander Story by Jill Kirby Ordinarily, Nick hated his nights off. He'd volunteer to cover someone's shift, or just go into work anyway, rather than face a long night of bad television, unpleasant memories, or restless wandering. Tonight, however, was an exception. He'd been feeling especially inspired about his latest painting, Janette had called, and Natalie had even promised to stop by after she got off work. For once, the question wasn't he should do with his time, but what to do. Humming under his breath, Nick headed downstairs. He liked this time just after sunset. He could open his windows to the sky and usually see the remains of a golden glow on the horizon. He'd often drink his meal watching that last light fade away. He was leaning against a windowsill, goblet in hand, when he felt it-- like a faint tug on an invisible rope. LaCroix. He turned his head sharply, and at the same time heard the elevator start to grind. Another frequently-used LaCroix power play: show the child that the father can bypass any security precautions. This evening was rapidly going downhill. Setting his glass down and taking a deep breath, Nick faced the elevator door. LaCroix smiled as he emerged. "Nicholas. How good to see you." "LaCroix." Anticipating a verbal battle with his sire, Nick was surprised to see another figure enter the loft behind LaCroix. A man, slight of build, with brown hair and a sharp, pale face. Not a vampire, but his eyes gave Nick a chill-- they seemed so old, so weary, for such a young man. "Nicholas, this is Adam Pearson. He's... an old friend." "Good to meet you, Nicholas." Nick shook the hand that Adam readily extended to him. Adam's voice had an accent-- British? Nick looked involuntarily at LaCroix. LaCroix smiled, though the smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "When I say 'old' friend, I mean old. Adam is older than any vampire I know of." Nick couldn't help himself-- he started, looking at LaCroix like he'd lost his mind. LaCroix did not discuss the community with mortals. Ever. "Oh, Adam knows all about vampires, Nicholas," said LaCroix calmly. "More than I should, no doubt." When Adam smiled, some of the weariness left his eyes. "As you know a great deal about us." "Us?" "I'm an Immortal." *** Adam declined Nick's offer of coffee-- "I've never yet met a vampire who can make anything in a kitchen that's worth consuming"-- and got straight down to business. "We have a common problem, Nicholas." "We?" "Vampires and Immortals." Adam relaxed against the couch with a deep sigh. Nick wasn't sure what he looked like normally, but right now he appeared exhausted-- the circles under his eyes were so dark that they might have been bruises. "There's a renegade." LaCroix leaned forward. "A renegade Immortal, Nicholas, who kills vampires. Mortals, as well." His face was dark and angry, with an underlying tension that seemed excessive to Nick. "I've been hearing about this for some time from the community." "I haven't heard anything," said Nick, puzzled. "You wouldn't." LaCroix's voice dripped sarcasm, and he waved one hand dismissively at Nick-- though he didn't explain the comment to Adam. "You are probably aware of the mortal deaths, however." Adam glanced at Nick. "Lucien says you're a police officer?" "A detective," replied Nick. "Adam came to me once he realized that this Immortal was slaughtering vampires. We've... collaborated in the past." The look that passed between the two was not necessarily friendly, but there was a certain camaraderie in it. Nick looked from LaCroix to Adam. The two were apparently as different as night and day, yet had a long-standing relationship of sorts that even Nick hadn't been aware of. For some reason, this made Nick feel absurdly jealous. "How did you realize it was an Immortal?" asked Nick, leaning back against the couch and eyeing Adam closely. Adam looked uncomfortable, and to Nick's surprise LaCroix chuckled softly. "Adam has apparently been playing games with some mortals." "Not you bloody revenant," spat Adam. "Deadly serious." Nick flinched inwardly, expecting the worst, but LaCroix merely raised an eyebrow at the insult. With an annoyed glare at LaCroix, Adam turned back to Nick. "I have been involved for some time with a mortal organization that... well, monitors Immortals." " them, you mean," inserted LaCroix slyly. "That's not what it's meant to do," Adam replied sharply. With a visible effort, he recovered some of his good nature. "Anyway, using the records of this organization, I discovered that this Immortal has been killing for quite some time, though the Watch... this organization didn't know or understand about the vampire aspect of it." LaCroix rose from his chair and began to pace. "The deaths have escalated recently. Adam and I believe that he came to Toronto because of the size of our community here." Nick rarely saw LaCroix nervous, and he wondered why occasion warranted it. "This Immortal has become convinced that vampires as sacrifices, combined with mortal blood, is going to ensure his victory in the Game..." "And his winning the Prize," finished Nick. "So we have a megalomaniacal Immortal running around. Where do I come in?" Nick hadn't noticed the slim leather portfolio that Adam had tucked under his arm until he pulled a manila folder from it, passing it to Nick. "Here. It isn't much." As Nick looked through the photographs and papers, Adam continued. "I was able to track him here, to Toronto, and then he just disappeared. The man who was monitoring him became one of his mortal blood donors." His voice was grim. "The Immortal's name is-- was-- Maxwell. Drew Maxwell. The names of the mortals we think he's killed are in there, too. We thought you might be able to use your police connections to help us locate him." Nick pulled out the listing of Maxwell's mortal victims, including the two local ones. He recognized them immediately-- the first victim hadn't been his case, but the second one was. "He's ripping open their jugular veins. To get their blood?" "Apparently," said Adam grimly. They were so intensely focused on their conversation that none of them heard the elevator. "I know I said I'd stop by work, Nick, but..." Natalie stopped short, her smile disappearing as LaCroix turned and walked towards her. Every drop of blood drained from Natalie's face, and her eyes went blank. Nick was at her side in a split second, but she pushed his hand away with surprising force. "I'm sorry, Nick. I didn't mean to interrupt." She met LaCroix's gaze unflinchingly. A slight smile curved LaCroix's lips. "Natalie." Some color came back into her cheeks. "Lucien." She ignored his outstretched hand. When she looked up at Nick, the look in her eyes tore at his heart. Natalie took a deep breath, visibly calming herself, and handed Nick a brown paper bag. "Put this in your fridge, please... I'll talk to you later." She shot another glance at LaCroix. "This is probably not a good time." Nick agreed silently. Natalie was turning to leave when she saw Adam, who had walked up behind LaCroix and was looking at Natalie intently, head cocked. Nick could almost hear Nat's thoughts as she looked at Adam-- is this vampire? What's going on here? "I'm Adam Pearson." Adam stepped out from behind LaCroix. He seemed unable to take his eyes off Natalie. "Natalie Lambert." "It's good to meet you, Natalie." Nick looked from Natalie to Adam as they shook hands and realized, again, how bad this evening was going to be. *** Jill Kirby - jtkirby@mcs.com - http://www.mcs.net/~jtkirby/ Rituals (2/14) a Forever Knight/Highlander Story by Jill Kirby "What a charming woman," commented Adam as the elevator door closed behind Natalie. "She didn't seem to care much for you, Lucien," he added, raising an eyebrow. LaCroix did not rise to the bait. "Doctor Lambert and I could not be considered the closest of friends." He brushed a bit of invisible lint off his jacket sleeve. "Doctor?" "Actually, she's a coroner," said Nick curtly. He had gotten Natalie out of the loft as quickly as he could, with a whispered promise to call her. She hadn't seemed to need much pushing, although she had looked over her shoulder at Adam more than once on her way out. "Coroner?" Adam threw himself back down on the couch, grinning. "In the room with two undead bloodsuckers and an Immortal? Oh, this rich. If she only knew." Apparently, Adam routinely insulted the vampire race, for LaCroix seemed to take the comments in stride. "Actually, Methos, she knows more than you think." "Can we discuss Maxwell, please?" Nick knew his tone was sharper than it had to be, but Natalie was the last topic he wanted to discuss with LaCroix-- or Adam. "There's one aspect of this that you're not aware of, Nicholas." LaCroix watched Nick closely as he spoke. "Apparently, this Maxwell performs some sort of ritual with mortal blood and vampire ashes." "You mentioned that." "Yes," said LaCroix, resuming his pacing behind the couch. "What I didn't mention is that Maxwell uses a jade Mayan cup in his rituals. The design of the cup may be familiar to you." Nick felt his body grow still. The cup? "There's another? The records weren't clear..." "Historical records have been known to be inaccurate," snapped LaCroix. Nick sat silently for a moment, his mind racing. Another chance at having two cups-- it was too much to hope for. How many times could he stand being inches away from a cure and losing everything? Of course, LaCroix would do anything to stop him. The last time the cups had been an issue, Nick had killed him, or so he had thought. Nick knew that LaCroix was watching him carefully, and he tried to calm his tumultuous emotions-- and keep his eyes from going involuntarily to the scorch marks on the door of the loft. Nick had never been really sure how deeply LaCroix could read his mind, and now wasn't the time to find out. Nick rose, holding the folder tightly. "Let me do some checking. This information should help." Adam nodded. "I've also been working with some of my contacts in this area. Hopefully, the three of us can track this monster down." After LaCroix and Adam had left, Nick re-opened the folder and regarded the photographs thoughtfully. Maxwell was a large, powerful man. He'd have trouble disguising himself simply because of his size... Nick was considering options when something hit him. LaCroix had called Adam "Methos." *** Jill Kirby - jtkirby@mcs.com - http://www.mcs.net/~jtkirby/ Rituals (3/14) a Forever Knight/Highlander Story by Jill Kirby Despite his trepidation at working with LaCroix on especially this, Nick could barely contain his excitement, and was having trouble keeping his eyes on the road. Watch it, Nick, he admonished himself. The last thing you need is to burn up in a Caddy fireball just when everything you want may be within reach. Over the years, he had hoped for so many different types of salvation from his vampire existence-- science, mysticism, the Abarat-- but the Mayan cups had felt so The idea that he could have one more chance, one more try at this cure, excited and scared him. He'd thought of nothing else all day. He had to tell Natalie. He illegally parked his car near the Coroner's building-- the Caddy wasn't exactly low-profile, so no one would ticket him-- and walked quickly into the building, ignoring everyone he passed. He had to make a conscious effort not to move with vampire speed. "Nat..." he broke off his sentence as he came into the exam room. Natalie was on the telephone, and she waved one hand absently at him as she continued her conversation. Nick leaned against the wall, waiting. As always, he took advantage of the opportunity to watch her while she was otherwise occupied. She was arguing with someone about the time frame for a test result, and was getting very involved. "Well, you just tell your supervisor to pick up the pace. We've been waiting for and I need those numbers. I need them " She slammed down the phone and headed towards the body on the exam table, barely looking at Nick. "Hello, Nat." "Nick." She was still worked up from her argument, and he stifled a grin as she yanked at the body bag and pulled it away from the corpses' foot with unnecessary vehemence. She folded the bag, then looked up with a sheepish smile as he walked towards her. "Sorry. I get so crazy when these labs don't meet their deadlines." "Of course." He watched as she slipped the bag onto a shelf under the table. "What's up?" asked Natalie, pulling an autopsy tray up to the side of the exam table. Nick knew he had to ask, but dreaded it. They'd danced all around Valentine's night, weaving a fabric of half-truths that made both of them equally miserable. "Are you all right? I tried to call you today." "I was busy." Her face was unreadable, and she seemed very focused on selecting an instrument from the tray. "All right about what?" "LaCroix." There was a brief tightening of Natalie's jaw. "I'm fine, thank you." The subject was most definitely closed. Nick took a deep breath. Cowardly as it was, he was relieved she want to talk about it. "I wanted to tell you... Do you remember the jade Mayan cups-- the ones that legends say can cure vampirism?" "Of course I remember." Natalie put down the scalpel she had just picked up and turned towards Nick, looking at him intently. "How could I forget? You thought you'd killed LaCroix-- and Alyce Hunter ended up dead." "And the second cup ended up in a thousand pieces." The memories still had the power to make Nick wince. "What about the cups?" asked Natalie practically. "There's a chance that another cup has been found." "Really?" "Really." Natalie leaned against the table. "And if you find it, what then? You take the other one back from the museum?" "Yes." Nick couldn't stand still at the thought, and began pacing around the exam table. "And then you face a whole new set of challenges-- since, after all, there's supposed to be the blood of a 'victim' in the cups, if I remember correctly." Natalie's eyes followed him as he paced. "I know, I know." Nick dismissed her reminder with a flick of his hand. "If I get that far..." "You'll deal with it then." Natalie finished the sentence for him, wearily passing one hand over her forehead. He turned to her, his face shining. "It's a chance, Natalie. Another chance at mortality." "Sure it is." Her voice was noncommittal. "You don't sound enthusiastic." "Well, I believe your vampirism is a condition, Nick. You know how I feel about all that magic cure stuff..." Her voice trailed off, and she looked at him for a moment with a sadness in her eyes that he couldn't place. "I guess it doesn't do any harm to look for it." Her voice sounded almost too cheerful. Nick grinned and, leaning forward, kissed her quickly on her forehead. "Thanks." He was gone before she could blink. Before he could tell her just this cup was supposed to be. *** After a dismal shift, filled with more paperwork than he had the patience for, Nick headed to the Raven. It was late enough that most of the mortals would be gone. Hopefully, Janette would be able to tell him what the community knew of this Maxwell. Nick expected to find the club quiet and nearly empty, and was surprised to find it in an uproar. Alma was at one end of the bar, weeping hysterical blood tears. She'd obviously been crying for quite some time, and was surrounded by vampires trying to shield her bloody face from the eyes of the few remaining mortals. Janette was trying to hurry the mortals out the door, but Alma's exaggerated frenzy was hard to ignore. When Nick caught Janette's eye, she shook her head and motioned him towards the bar-- she'd be there as soon as she could. Nick had to smother a grin. Alma's hysterics were famous, and generally involved either her latest mortal boy-plaything, or something serious like a broken nail or bad haircut. Deliberately, he went to the other end of the bar, a prime position to watch the events yet not be pulled into them. Miklos tore himself away from the crowd and leaned on the bar opposite Nick. "Hello, Nick. Welcome to our evening dramatics." "Miklos." Nick shrugged off his jacket, declining Miklos' proffered glass. "No, thanks." He nodded towards Alma, who was wiping her eyes with a bar napkin and hiccuping noisily. "What's tonight's earth-shaking crisis?" "Alma's latest boyfriend stood her up," said Miklos, his voice full of suppressed amusement. "She's been like this for about two hours now. You know Alma." "Yes, I do. Mortal?" "For once, he was a vampire." Miklos cast a glance back at Alma. "Unusual, for her." "Nicola." Janette came up behind Nick and wrapped her arms around his waist, kissing him on the back of the neck. "Let's get away from the hysterical child, shall we?" With one last glance at Alma, Nick followed Janette to her office. Inside, she shut the door behind them and joined Nick on the sofa, curling up next to him and running one hand down his chest. "So... what brings you here?" The tone of her voice was silky and suggestive, sending a shiver up his spine. Nick chose to ignore it-- for now. "Alma's boyfriend stood her up?" Janette frowned. "Yes, and of course she must cause a scene. Sometimes I think I should ask her to leave." She played with a button on his shirt. "Marty was a young one-- imagine, a vampire named . Alma was trying to 'teach' him our ways." "Now, a thought," said Nick, moving her hand away from the button she was about to undo. "Alma as vampire tutor." Janette gave up on trying to take off his shirt, and contented herself with resting her hand on his. "I'm actually here to see what the word is on the vampire-killer." He felt her go still at the question. "The Immortal? I've heard of little else lately. Two of us are missing-- that we know of." Nick could hear the anger and tension in her voice. "They couldn't have just left the area?" "" Janette shook her head. "Kristina, maybe, but Gerard is also one of the missing. You know him, don't you? He and Rose have been together for years; you know how devoted they were. Rose is distraught." "I can imagine." "Actually," added Janette, "I'm a bit concerned about Alma's vampire. It isn't like the young ones to venture far on their own. They're too hungry, too frightened by the changes. What if this got him, too?" "I suppose that means I should talk to Alma, and Rose." Nick grimaced. He'd be here all day getting useful information out of Alma; he'd have to talk to Rose tomorrow night. "" said Janette, leaning her head back to look at him. "And when you are done with Alma, you can come and visit " His passionate kiss was her answer. Perhaps being here all day was not such a bad thing after all. *** As usual, Alma hadn't been much help. She hadn't even known that Marty was leaving the Raven that night. "He was just gone, y'know?" She'd started getting teary just talking about it. "He musta slipped out the back or something, 'cause I didn't see him leave." Nick had hastily ended the interview before Alma disintegrated into hysterics again-- he'd never been good with crying women. Then he'd spent the day with Janette. Now, the next night, he drove slowly back to the loft. Driving was always a good way to put the pieces together. Three vampires gone from Toronto-- Gerard, Kristina, and possibly Marty. Two mortals dead, so far. The mortals had been killed seemingly without plan, without any connection. The vampires, however, had all disappeared on evenings when they were at the Raven. Maxwell be targeting them there. Somehow, he had discovered that the Raven was a gathering place for vampires. His cellular phone rang, startling him, and he pulled it out of his pocket and flipped it open. "Knight." "It's Schanke. We've got another one." *** Missing a part? Let me know. Jill Kirby - jtkirby@mcs.com - http://www.mcs.net/~jtkirby/ Rituals (4/14) a Forever Knight/Highlander Story by Jill Kirby When Nick walked onto the crime scene, the scent of blood was immediate and overpowering. He focused on scanning the living room, ignoring the hunger that reared its head at the smell. It wasn't that hard; since he'd been with Janette the blood hunger was easier to deal with. The room had once been white, dominated by a white leather sectional sofa, with spare contemporary tables and accessories. Now, it was as if someone had decided it was time to redecorate. Using blood. It was everywhere-- splattered on the sofa, the carpet, the fireplace. There was one bloody handprint on the wall by the fireplace, smeared down towards the floor. Nick didn't know, but he'd bet it was the victim's. Nick spotted Schanke, who broke off his conversation with one of the uniforms and walked towards him quickly. He looked pale. "Hey, Nick. Sleep in your clothes?" Nick looked down at himself-- damn. He'd headed straight here after Schanke's call, and hadn't thought to go home and change. He was about to offer a weak excuse, but Schanke was thinking about the case. "Cohen's up in arms-- third body that this killer's mutilated in the same way." He cleared his throat. "This one's a woman. No obvious connection to the other two." Nick looked towards the couch, where one arm of the victim was draped over the back. Natalie was bent over the corpse, scribbling notes on her clipboard. Periodically, she reached down with one gloved hand to inspect some aspect of the body, and Nick heard her muttering medical terminology to herself. She looked up as they approached. For a moment, there was an odd look in her eyes, then it was gone as quickly as it had come. "Same as the other two," she said without preamble. "This one put up more of a fight-- before he ripped open her jugular he had to beat her pretty badly. It's the same guy, though." "Guy?" asked Cohen, appearing out of nowhere. Natalie nodded. "Guy. This woman is-- was-- about six feet tall, and not a lightweight. There aren't many women who could give her this much trouble." Nick was hardly listening to their conversation. He was looking at the battered, mutilated body on the sofa, wondering at the ferocity with which the woman had been killed. Maxwell had done all in the name of the Game. He didn't care who he killed or what he did to win. To get what he wanted. Three mortals, three vampires. Dead. He shook himself out of his reverie. Schanke had moved over by the fireplace, and was talking to one of the evidence techs. He could hear Cohen outside, probably dealing with reporters. Nat was directing one of her assistants as she tried to push her hair off her face with one arm. "Bag carefully. She put up a fight, and we want to make sure we get all we can from her." Rising, she made a final note on her clipboard and half-smiled at Nick. Her face was strained. "What a night." He nodded at the body. "Gruesome." "Mmm hmm." Nat motioned towards the door. "Let's get out of here." Her voice dropped. "This can't be easy for you." They walked to the front door, side by side. "Well, I am a homicide detective," said Nick. "I can't run every time there's blood around." He realized with a pang that he certainly couldn't tell Nat why the scent wasn't bothering him tonight. "At least it isn't one of us doing the killing." Natalie shot him a keen look. "No. A vampire would use more finesse, generally, but I think this man is after the same thing-- blood. You wouldn't happen to know why, or who, would you?" "I have an idea," he said grimly as he held the door open, letting her exit ahead of him. The front porch was, fortunately, empty; the press had been cordoned off at the foot of the yard and the noise had died down to a dull roar. Nat leaned against the porch railing, watching him, an inquiring look on her face. He sighed. "I can't talk about it right now." He could see Natalie take a deep breath, as if restraining herself from saying something harsh. "Are you working on finding the-- person?" she asked, her tone carefully neutral. "Yes. I don't want him to have the opportunity to do this again." "Good." Nat nodded briskly. "That's what counts." Glancing at her watch, she frowned. "It's later than I thought it was." She sighed and pushed herself off the railing, and as she looked at him her eyes grew heavy. Through the evening shadows, Nick could see a depth of sadness in her face that shocked him. "I'd better get back to work. I'll see you later." As she turned to walk down the stairs, Natalie paused, then looked back over her shoulder with one raised eyebrow. "I'd lose the lipstick on the collar, Nick-- it's a little cliche, isn't it?" He glanced down quickly, then grabbed his collar and pulled it away from him to get a look at it. Sure enough, there was a smear of lipstick in a deep blood-red. Nick opened his mouth to say something, but Natalie had stalked off to her car. *** The small house that Rose and Gerard shared-- had shared-- looked like any other house in suburban Toronto. As Nick got out of the Caddy, he looked around, appreciating the well-kept lawn and extensive gardens that surrounded the neat frame house. No one looking at it would ever suspect that vampires lived here. Rose knew he was coming-- Janette had called last night to ask her-- but no one answered his knock. Following a faint noise, Nick made his way around back and saw Rose kneeling in a garden bed. Floodlights were turned on in the back of the house, though she didn't need the light, and ghoulish shadows played across her face. Nick knew Rose, though not well. She led a very private existence. He'd known the outgoing, boisterous Gerard better. Rose had been brought across during the reign of Elizabeth I. She had the look of a Tudor about her-- the strawberry blonde hair, the aristocratic bone structure. Now, she was simply dressed in jeans and a man's cotton shirt, sleeves rolled up. She did not turn as Nick approached, but continued digging with her trowel. "Nick." He watched as she piled dirt up against the roots of the bushes. "Hello, Rose." She was even paler than normal-- she probably hadn't fed since Gerard disappeared. "What a beautiful garden." "I'm trying to protect the roses from the winter. Gerard loves them, and every year we lose a few to the cold." With a sigh, she put down the trowel and stood, brushing the dirt off her hands. When her eyes met his, Nick caught his breath-- the sorrow in them was so deep that it was tangible. Though they looked nothing alike, Nick was forcibly reminded of the expression he'd seen in Natalie's eyes the night before. "We should go inside, I suppose." Rose started toward the house, Nick beside her. "I wish I were here under better circumstances." They climbed the porch steps, and Nick held open the back door for her. "Yes. I've always wanted to know you better. Gerard speaks highly of you-- you're LaCroix's child, aren't you? The one who wants to become mortal again?" Rose looked him up and down without judgment, registering his nod. "To each his own. Let's go into the living room." The living room was modest and comfortable. You'd have to look carefully to see any signs of the wealth that Gerard and Rose had amassed over the years. Gerard had run a very successful investment firm with an interesting mix of mortal and immortal clients, and Rose taught night classes in English as a second language. Neither needed to work, but chose to. Rose sat in an armchair in front of the fireplace, motioning toward a matching chair opposite. "Please sit down, Nick." Nick sat, uncomfortably aware that the chair had probably been Gerard's. "I have to ask you some questions about Gerard, Rose. I want to find the man who's doing this." Her voice was low and smooth. Only a trace of an accent remained. "It's so curious to find a vampire who is an officer of the law, don't you think? We generally choose lower-profile occupations." She paused, then raised her head as if facing an inquisitor. "What do you need to know?" "Tell me about the night he disappeared." "We went to the Raven. Gerard was meeting with Janette and Feliks about some investment scheme they had. I just went along to keep him company." She smiled, her face lost in memory. "The Raven is not really my kind of gathering place, but Gerard enjoys it. And you certainly see enough of our kind there." Absently, Rose pulled a barrette away from the nape of her neck and her hair, long and straight, fell about her shoulders in a gleaming mass. "I ended up deciding to stay, but he had to go home to call someone overseas." Nick found that he could not take his eyes off Rose's hair. Though the room was dark, it seemed to glow with a golden fire, and he had to tear his eyes away from it to ask a question. "So Gerard left alone?" "Yes," said Rose, her voice anguished. "If I had left with him..." "It probably would have made no difference," finished Nick firmly. "There's nothing you could have done." "Of course." Her tone indicated clearly that she did not believe this. "What time did he leave?" Rose tapped her fingers on the arm of the chair, thinking. "About two-- he slipped out the back. I left around four, and when I got home he wasn't here, and had not been." She looked at Nick with a hint of a smile on her lips. "After several hundred years, you know someone's habits. When Gerard says he is doing something, he does it. He should have been here. He wasn't." "Did he have anything with him--papers, a briefcase?' "He had some papers, but Miklos found them in an alley not far from the Raven." She shrugged slightly. "Whoever took him wasn't interested in a prospectus, apparently." Rose didn't know anything else that could help him, and Nick stood to leave. Rose followed, more slowly. "Thank you, Rose. We'll find whoever is doing this." For the first time, Rose's eyes came alive with a rage so deep that Nick took a step back. "If you do not kill him, I will. He must for what he's doing." She paused, and took a deep breath. "Not just to Gerard, of course." "We'll find him." As Nick turned to leave, Rose stood and in a moment was beside him. "Nick-- be careful. Gerard was not a young one. If this madman was able to catch him..." Her voice trailed off, the implication clear. If Maxwell could catch Gerard, he could catch Nick. *** Missing a part? Let me know. Jill Kirby - jtkirby@mcs.com - http://www.mcs.net/~jtkirby/ Rituals (5/14) a Forever Knight/Highlander Story by Jill Kirby Dry cleaning, dry cleaning, dry cleaning. Natalie repeated the words to herself like a mantra as she walked down the street. She'd forgotten to pick it up three times this week; if she didn't get it today she'd have to go to work stark naked tonight. It just proved how distracted she was. She never-- well, rarely-- overlooked details like this. But lately she'd been preoccupied and forgetful. Looking in the mirror this afternoon, she'd noticed that the circles under her eyes were darker than ever, and the thin lines of tension around her eyes and mouth seemed to have deepened. It wasn't age. It wasn't work. It was Nick. She just couldn't get the picture of Nick, wearing the same clothes he'd been in the night before, out of her mind. Natalie knew perfectly well that Nick was slipping away from mortality. From her. He couldn't hide his guilt, or the increased pallor. The blood scent didn't even make him uncomfortable any more. The lipstick, the clothes, had just proved what she already knew. Proved it so clearly that it tore her apart. Nick was with Janette again. It was hard for Natalie to blame him-- eight hundred years were a hell of a lot longer, and more powerful, than four. How could she fight that kind of history? She couldn't. She just didn't have it in her any more. Natalie felt in her bones that Nick was ready to give up and leave; go off with Janette to some new life, some new home. Natalie was losing him. She'd probably already lost him. And there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it. With a start, Natalie realized that the light had been green for a while, and she hustled across the street. It was a cool, crisp Toronto day; the kind that always made her think wistfully about walking in the park with Nick, his hand warm on hers... Enough. Natalie, that's enough, she said to herself firmly, and the voice in her mind sounded very much like her mother's had when she was a child. Get yourself back on track; this woolgathering isn't going to get you anywhere. She was so busy grimly trying to remember exactly why she was taking this walk that it took her a minute to hear someone calling her name. "Natalie? Natalie Lambert?" She turned, shielding her eyes from the setting sun, and saw the man she'd met at Nick's loft a few nights ago. "Adam?" That was his name, wasn't it? "Yes!" He seemed extraordinarily pleased that she had remembered, and smiled widely at her as they shook hands. "Adam Pearson. It's good to see you again." "Nice to see you, too." His hair was blowing gently around his face, and Natalie suddenly realized how attractive he was-- in an unusual way. He wasn't a tall man, and there was nothing extraordinary about his face, but she instinctively liked him. "What are you up to on this beautiful afternoon?" Adam's smile disappeared for an instant. "Business, unfortunately." Briefly, it crossed Natalie's mind that Adam might be in business with LaCroix. As quickly as the idea came, she dismissed it. This man be an associate of LaCroix. There was something about him-- his eyes?-- that reminded her, oddly enough, of Richard. She'd have to remember to ask Nick how he knew Adam. Natalie motioned ahead of them. "Are you walking in this direction?" "Yes-- may I walk with you?" "Of course!" Natalie smiled. "Just yell when you see a dry cleaner's. I really need to pick my clothes up, and I've already forgotten them three times this week." They walked in companionable silence. Out of the corner of her eye, Natalie noticed that Adam was taking in everything around him with bright, inquisitive eyes. "Have you been to Toronto before?" she asked him, curious. "Not in years." Adam dodged to avoid a toddler who'd gotten away from his mother. "You have a wonderful city. I wish I had more time to enjoy it." "Is your work very time-consuming?" asked Natalie sympathetically. "You have no idea," said Adam flatly. Natalie looked at him, concerned at something in the tone of his voice. "You don't sound like you enjoy it very much," she commented candidly-- then immediately wondered if she'd said too much. Adam didn't appear to think so, but just shook his head. "We don't always enjoy things we must do." He tucked one hand into a pocket as they walked. "But we have to do them anyway, I suppose." He shook his head, looking at her ruefully. "Sorry. I have no idea why I'm rambling on so." "You're not rambling. There are... things... that I don't like very much either. But we go ahead because we know we should." Natalie paused, gesturing at the storefront they'd just reached. "Here's my stop." "Yes-- your dry cleaning. You remembered." They laughed. "It was good to see you again, Natalie." For a moment, she caught something in the back of his eyes. Regret? "You too, Adam." He smiled at her, and whatever she'd seen in his eyes was gone. She'd probably imagined it, anyway. He seemed about to say something, then stopped himself. "Take care-- thanks for letting me talk your ear off." "Any time. I hope your business goes well." "Thank you. So do I." Natalie watched Adam as he turned and walked away, and a shiver went up her back. Despite the people milling around him, Adam looked somehow very alone as he walked down the street. *** Missing a part? Let me know. Constructive criticism, praise, expensive gifts or flames to: Jill Kirby - jtkirby@mcs.com - http://www.mcs.net/~jtkirby/ Rituals (6/14) a Forever Knight/Highlander Story by Jill Kirby Nick looked around the apartment curiously. It wasn't at all what he had pictured. LaCroix had been known to favor somewhat garish interior design in the past-- Nick remembered some scarlet flocked wallpaper in the late 1800's that made even a vampire feel nauseous-- but these rooms were sparsely furnished with an eye to sleek comfort. The graceful lines of the furniture featured light woods and neutral leathers; wall hangings were simply accented with track lighting; and the highly polished hardwood floors were bare of covering. Surprisingly, there were mirrors throughout the room-- cleverly placed in corners, on tables, even over the fireplace. The overall feeling of the room was one of light, which was an interesting choice for a committed creature of the night. "What do you think?" LaCroix surveyed the room, satisfied. "I designed most of the furniture myself." "It's... very nice." "Different, hmm?" He ran one hand over the curved back of the sofa. "I find my tastes have become simpler over time." He gestured towards a chair. "You did not come here for a discussion of interior design, Nicholas. Have a seat. Adam should be here at any moment." Nick sat gingerly in a chair that looked contemporary, but was extremely comfortable. LaCroix disappeared into another room, returning with two goblets of blood. Nick was ready to angrily decline, but LaCroix cut him off. "Yours is cow, unfortunately. Do not let it be said that I don't respect your feeding preferences." Nick took the glass with a nod of thanks, surprised at the accommodation. He couldn't resist a quick sniff of the glass-- yes, it was cow. LaCroix watched as Nick drank and shook his head. "Absolutely appalling that child should have such bad taste," he murmured. Nick ignored him. Adam arrived minutes later, ushered in by LaCroix. He bounded into the room, checking out the appointments. "Nice, Lucien. You're improving in the interior design category, though your taste in nutrition is as vile as ever. Do you have to be sucking down blood, you preternatural pig?" He waved at Nick. "Hallo, Nick." Nick didn't respond-- he was too busy swallowing hard to stop from laughing. In 800 years, he'd never seen anyone treat LaCroix with this casually insulting attitude and live for more than a few minutes, yet Adam apparently did so on a regular basis. And LaCroix completely ignored it. Whatever the history was between them, Adam had obviously earned LaCroix's respect. Otherwise, Immortal or no, Adam would be dead. LaCroix motioned towards the couch. "Sit. You could at least to be civil in front of Nicholas, Methos." "Why bother?" retorted Adam, insolently. "What'll you do, drink my blood?" LaCroix said something rapidly in a language that Nick did not recognize, and Adam sighed theatrically. "I don't think that's physically possible." He dug around in a backpack he was carrying and pulled out a bottle of water, twisting it open. "Use a " said LaCroix icily. "He acts like my mother," said Adam in a conspiratorial aside to Nick. Nick had to smile. You couldn't help but like him, even if he an Immortal. "Methos?" Adam waved his hand dismissively. "Old name. old name. These days, I prefer Adam." "If we're done with discussing your name, we should review the progress we've made in finding Maxwell." LaCroix did his best to sound casual, but Nick knew otherwise. Three vampires missing; three mortals dead. They were the only ones that could stop the gruesome ritual from recurring. "We're going to have to trap him," said Nick flatly. "We've no other choice." Adam sighed. "His pattern is to kill in a certain order-- first vampire, then mortal." "We found his latest mortal victim last night." Nick remembered the grisly scene. "So he's on the vampire hunt again, then? Perhaps we should use a vampire to trap him," said Adam. He was not joking any longer; the topic was too serious. "Bait." Nick rested his fingertips together. "We know that he's spotted his victims at the Raven." Noting Adam's raised eyebrow, he explained. "The Raven is something of a gathering place for vampires. It can be our starting point. He takes them in the back alleys, it appears." "You haven't seen anyone watching the Raven, have you?" asked Adam. "No. He could be using some kind of remote electronic technology, though-- there are any number of ways he could monitor the building without being anywhere near it." Nick felt a moment of longing for the good old days, when a vampire knew who was watching him by the sound of a heartbeat. No more. "So we'll have to set up our own monitoring systems in the back of the Raven without Maxwell knowing. Since I'm the only one of us with daytime mobility, I'll set them up during the day so they're in place. Can we use a room inside the Raven?" Nick nodded. "I'm sure Janette will agree." Adam went back into his backpack and, pulling out a pad of paper, began scribbling notes. "I wish I had that lovely vampiric memory sometimes," he mumbled. LaCroix looked at Adam consideringly for a moment. "Very well. We watch for him, we trap him-- then what?" "Then we arrest him," said Nick grimly. Adam shook his head, tucking the paper away. " He's an Immortal-- he's my responsibility, and there's no way we could explain this to any authorities." He frowned. "I'm not much of a swordsman, for an Immortal. I've spent so much time avoiding the Game that I'm not as practiced as I once was." "I believe that I can take care of him," said LaCroix with a gleam in his eyes. "I need to be the one that stops him." Adam's voice was firm. "If he should kill me, go after him-- but otherwise, it's Immortal against Immortal." He extended his right hand, turning it as if it held a sword. "No matter how much I need practice, it's the way we do things. Besides-- he seems to have exceptional skill in trapping vampires. If he respects the rules live by, it will give me a better chance with him." LaCroix didn't argue. Even though Nick could see that he wanted to be the one to kill Maxwell, LaCroix respected the traditions that bound a race. But Nick wouldn't want to be Maxwell if Adam failed to dispatch him. *** Back in the loft, Nick was restless. Adam would be setting up the surveillance equipment tomorrow. Until then, there was nothing he could do. At least the next victim in line was a vampire, and not a mortal. Tomorrow they'd watch the back of the Raven; Nick himself would be bait. And then this whole thing would be over. No more missing vampires, no more dead mortals. He sat down at the piano and touched a few keys, then rose and resumed pacing around the room. He was uneasy for no one reason he could pinpoint. Some of it was about Maxwell, certainly. Some of it... Nick grabbed the phone as he walked past it, and dialed rapidly. "Morgue." "Grace? It's Nick. Is Natalie there?" "Hi, Nick." Grace's voice was warm. "I think she's in there. I don't know why she didn't pick up. Hold on." Nick continued pacing while he waited for Grace to come back on the line. "Natalie can't come to the phone right now. May I have her call you?" Grace didn't lie well; her voice was just short of rude. Nick winced. He could only guess what Natalie had said when she heard Nick was on hold. "No. I'll call her later, Grace. Thanks--" He was cut off by Grace's abrupt hang up. Clicking the telephone to off, Nick stared at it blindly, then threw the phone down and stalked to the door. *** Nick didn't bother to take his car to the Raven. Tonight he to fly, to feel the cold wind on his face. Flying cleared his head and helped him forget things. Like how Natalie's face had looked when he'd seen her last. He landed in the alley behind the Raven-- no sense advertising his flight abilities to any mortal patrons who might be out there-- and headed for the back door. Something stopped him in his tracks. A noise, behind him... The last thing that Nick remembered for a long, long time was the suffocating weight of a canvas covering, soaked in a mixture of garlic and gasoline, forcing him down to the ground in agony. Then darkness. *** Missing a part? Let me know. Constructive criticism, praise, expensive gifts or flames to: Jill Kirby - jtkirby@mcs.com - http://www.mcs.net/~jtkirby/ Rituals (7/14) a Forever Knight/Highlander Story by Jill Kirby Natalie barely had her door open before Adam and LaCroix came barreling through it. "Well, come right on in," she muttered sarcastically, closing the door behind them and following them into the apartment. She had to suppress a shudder at the sight of LaCroix standing in the middle of her living room. LaCroix didn't even bother to pretend he was interested in his surroundings, but focused on her intently. "Have you seen Nicholas?" "No." She looked at Adam, her uneasiness at LaCroix's presence forgotten. "He's missing?" Adam rubbed his face with his hands, hard. He looked exhausted. "We think that he was using himself as bait last night..." "Apparently, someone took him up on it. Janette has not seen him, either." LaCroix's face was dark and angry, and he began to pace the room restlessly. "I had thought he was old enough, smart enough to not go after Maxwell alone. Apparently, I was incorrect." His tone clearly indicated that being incorrect was something that did not happen often. Natalie felt her knees giving way and she collapsed onto the couch, looking at the two in horror. "Maxwell? Who's Maxwell?" "The one who's been draining mortals of their blood." Adam sat beside her. "He's also been killing vampires. Nick, Lucien and I have been tracking him down." "Why in the world would have any interest in this man?" Natalie did a double-take. "I'm sorry, did you say ?" "I... know the man who's doing the killing." He looked at her intently. "I also know about vampires, Natalie." Understanding dawned on Natalie's face. "So why the three of you..." "Are working together. Yes, yes." LaCroix looked at Adam impatiently. "She hasn't seen him-- I told you this visit was a waste of time. Let's go." "Not so fast. This has to do with the cup, doesn't it?" Natalie glared at LaCroix. "You dragged him into this, using the cup as the lure-- and now he's gone." Finding her strength again, she stood up and put her hands on her hips. "Well, I hope you're happy. You play your games with him-- with -- and don't give a damn what happens." She pointed at the door. "Get out." Adam was regarding Natalie with a mixture of awe and disbelief. "We are leaving." LaCroix glanced at Natalie with barely concealed fury, and turned for the door. Adam stood. "Natalie-- we don't know what kind of shape he'll be in. Can you..." She paled, but nodded firmly. "Here." She ran to the dining room table and scribbled a number on a bit of paper, handing it to Adam. "This is my pager number. I'll be ready." "Thanks." He clasped her hands quickly, then followed LaCroix out. As the door closed behind them, Natalie sank back onto the couch, trying to breathe deeply and stay calm. Someone had captured Nick, and planned to kill him. Natalie was so used to thinking of Nick as invulnerable. The things that hurt him were usually so avoidable, so controllable-- but this? She'd been so angry with him. Anyone could see him pulling away from the mortal world and into the vampire one, even as he searched for the cup that he thought could save him. She'd felt betrayed and used and hurt. But this-- it didn't how angry she was at him. Nick was in danger. Maybe dead. With horrible clarity, Nat realized that she'd rather know he was alive-- even as a vampire, even if he left Toronto-- than lose him altogether. She buried her face in her hands. *** Missing a part? Let me know. Constructive criticism, praise, extravagant gifts or flames to: Jill Kirby - jtkirby@mcs.com - http://www.mcs.net/~jtkirby/ I'm off to Toronto this afternoon, so parts 10-14 will post next week when I'm back online. I'll also take care of requests for missing parts once I'm back in town. Have a good weekend, all! Rituals (8/14) a Forever Knight/Highlander Story by Jill Kirby Nick came out of unconsciousness into a present defined by pain. His entire upper body felt like it was on fire; he tried to move but it only intensified the torment. To top it off, he was surrounded by garlic fumes and... gasoline? The scent was so nauseating that Nick started to retch-- then stopped as the movement drove iron spikes into his chest. Literally. Nick opened one eye. His vision was blurry, but he could tell that he was in some kind of flat cage, lying spread-eagled on his back. His hands were manacled and chained to opposite sides of the cage and-- though he couldn't see them-- his ankles felt chained, too. Out of the top of the cage, small spikes protruded down and touched his chest and arms. If he moved, even the smallest bit, the spikes drove into him and produced more pain than he could bear. As Nick lay there, desperately trying to clear his head so he could a spike just over his neck dripped a liquid which burned his skin like acid. Nick flinched, and dozens of other spikes drove into his chest with the movement, each releasing the same garlic/gasoline mixture directly into the open wounds from the spikes. Nick howled in agony, and the sound echoed around the dark, empty room. *** "And do you propose we find him?" asked Adam, his voice tense. LaCroix was pacing back and forth in front of the windows like a caged tiger. "I can sense him." LaCroix had a remote look on his face, and Adam could tell he was concentrating. "If he is still alive, he will be able to reach out for me." "Reach out?" "We don't recognize one another in the way that you do. You sense all Immortals. We sense only those in our families, and then only when we work at it. It's a skill that must be developed, and Nicholas has not been interested in developing it for quite some time." He stopped pacing, and ran one hand over his hair in an uncharacteristically nervous gesture. "It doesn't sound like a very reliable search method, Lucien." Adam didn't think it was the time to say that Nick did not seem exactly towards LaCroix, which would undoubtedly make any attempt to sense Nick more difficult. "Do you have any better ideas?" snarled LaCroix. "Maxwell is certainly not staying with Nicholas, so can't track them." He turned and went over to the windows, looking out on the city. "Maxwell will pay for what he has done." Adam glanced at his watch. They had so little time. Now that Maxwell had a vampire, he just needed to find another mortal victim to complete this cycle of his lunatic ritual. "What if Nick's hurt, or can't focus?" LaCroix didn't answer. He just stared out at the city, his eyes intense. He was looking for his son. *** He must have passed out again, for when Nick woke a light had been turned on in the room and he could hear movement around him. His vision was still blurred, undoubtedly from the garlic. The pain hadn't abated, but this time he knew enough to keep as still as he could. Fighting to keep his mind clear, he assessed his physical state. He was still clothed, though his shirt felt like it was in shreds. His entire upper body was scored with thin cuts as if he'd gone through a window. He was pretty sure he hadn't, so someone must have chained him and then sliced him up so that the spikes could drip the excruciating garlic mixture into him, bit by bit. Whoever held him here wasn't content with simple pain. He wanted the vampire to be unable to heal. "So-- it awakes!" Nick snarled at the sound of the voice, turning his head-- then regretted it immediately as the spikes drove into him again. He couldn't stop the moan that came from his throat. The voice continued, unperturbed. "I regret that your last hours must be this uncomfortable. However, after years of experimenting, I found that this was one of the few ways to keep a vampire at no danger to myself. If you misbehave, all I need to do is light a match!" Nick could hear the voice moving closer. "Of course, it's difficult for your kind to kill me anyway-- you're always so to drink blood that you forget that drinking ours will incapacitate you." Maxwell. Nick opened his mouth to speak, and found that he had no voice. A chuckle came from near his right ear. "Here." Suddenly, cold blood poured over Nick's mouth-- human blood, a day or two old from the taste of it. Nick couldn't help himself-- he gulped it greedily until the flow stopped. "Better?" "Why?" growled Nick, his throat raw. "This will help keep you alive for just a bit. I'm not trying to you-- yet. If I wanted you to be dead, you'd be dust by now." Maxwell laughed. "I just don't want you in fighting shape, and I think I've achieved that quite well. I need a day or two to find another mortal to drain. I'm just so close now. To winning everything." Nick could hear Maxwell doing something-- he could hear metal touching metal as he spoke. "Finding the cup was truly fate. Apparently it helps your kind, too, but I was only interested in the part about the Prize..." The clinking noises intensified, then stopped. "If I can just keep a steady stream of bloodsuckers coming, everything will be fine. Mortals aren't a problem." A drop of the garlic mixture landed in one of the cuts on Nick's chest. He bit his lip to stop from crying out. The pain was so extreme that he almost couldn't feel any of his upper body any more; he was nearly numb. "Well, I'm done for now, so I'll leave you in the darkness you like so much." The Immortal's voice was actually cheerful. "Now that I've bagged you, I need to go find some luckless mortal. Trapping is a lost art these days, don't you think?" Nick could hear Maxwell moving away, and though he struggled to find the strength to call after him he couldn't. He could barely stand the pain, let alone do anything to stop it. He was going to die here, completely helpless, at the whim of an insane Immortal who thought a jade cup could guarantee him the Prize. Of course, thought that the cup could make him mortal again. Who was more insane? Nick shut his eyes against the brutal liquid, and tried to stay calm. *** "This isn't working." Adam slammed his hand against the steering wheel in frustration. "We've no idea where Maxwell stays, or where he takes his victims. We can't just keep driving around all night in the hope that you'll sense Nick. You haven't had so much as a glimmer." "I haven't noticed you suggesting other options." LaCroix's voice was low and angry, and Adam knew without looking at LaCroix that his eyes were glowing. "Lucien, I know you're worried about Nick, but we'll come up with something. We always have." Adam turned a corner and waited for a moment at another light. "He must not you to find him, so let's think of other options." LaCroix stared out the car window. "You are the most irritating Immortal I've ever met. I should just kill you right now-- I should have killed you long ago." "You tried, and it didn't work," countered Adam. "Stop complaining." "Stop the car." Adam tensed. "What? Do you sense him?" He pulled the car over to the side of the street. LaCroix was out of the car in a second. "Driving with you is ineffective, not to mention extremely tiresome. I'm going to look for Nicholas-- alone." He slammed the door, and was airborne before Adam could say a word to stop him. Adam shifted the car back into gear, shaking his head. "Totally incapable of working with others," he muttered as he drove off. "Damned vampires." *** The room had been quiet for a long time. Nick might have been imagining it, but the agonizing garlic drip seemed to have slowed. This was a mixed blessing; the new pain had decreased but his body would no longer slip away into the unconsciousness that helped him survive. He could only lay there, trying desperately not to flinch when the liquid strike him. Trying to think about anything but where he was. An image of Rose and Gerard slipped into his mind. He'd seen them at the Raven only a few months earlier, at a party for something. Janette didn't need much encouragement or reason to gather the community together. She had been especially luminous that night, with her hair down and loose as he loved it and her body sheathed in midnight blue velvet. But it had been Rose who had held his gaze. They rarely spoke, and hardly knew one another, but that night he had barely been able to pull his eyes away from her face. Even Janette had noticed. "Nicola," she had purred. "Pay some attention to me, " Her nails, none too gently, had raked down his back. Even with Janette there, Rose had drawn him-- drawn everyone, no matter who they were with. She'd been aglow, dancing with Gerard, and the emotion between them had been palpable. Everyone at the Raven, vampires and mortals alike, had sensed it. They seemed to exist in a space of their own without interference or bother, two lovers in their own world. Nick held that image in his mind, focusing on how beautiful the two of them had been together, until he drifted off into unconsciousness. And if Natalie's face eventually replaced Rose's in his dreams, he didn't remember it. *** Missing a part? Let me know. Constructive criticism, praise, extravagant gifts or flames to: Jill Kirby - jtkirby@mcs.com - http://www.mcs.net/~jtkirby/ Rituals (9/14) a Forever Knight/Highlander Story by Jill Kirby It took Nick a few minutes to struggle awake and realize that someone was in the room with him. Someone was yanking on the chains that bound his left arm, swearing loudly in various languages as he did so. It wasn't Maxwell. "Adam?" said Nick, the word barely intelligible. "Nick!" His voice was relieved. "I was worried there-- thought you might be dead. Hard to tell." The chains on Nick's legs were gone and as Adam spoke, the chains on Nick's left arm fell away. Adam's voice moved to the right. "We've been looking everywhere for you-- what kind of moronic idea was it for you to go off on your own?" Nick cleared his throat, trying to make himself understood. "LaCroix?" "He thought he could sense you-- he ended up taking off and leaving me behind." Nick could feel Adam working furiously at the chains as he spoke. "Stubborn bastard. It was pure luck that I ran right into a buzz, and it turned out to be Maxwell. I just waited until he came after me. There." The chains were gone. Nick heard a loud screeching noise as the top half of the cage swung back, releasing a few last drops of garlic as it went. Nick literally flew out of the cage, flailing blindly-- and slammed against a wall, ending up on the floor in a snarling, painful heap. "Head about three feet to your right-- there's a sink. You probably need to wash up," said Adam dryly. When Nick didn't move, but just lay there breathing hard, Adam came over and pulled him up. "Fine. I'll help. Don't get any ideas about drinking blood. You don't want to be any more helpless than you already are, do you?" He helped Nick over to the sink. Nick didn't bother to reply, but turned on the sink full blast and put his head under the stream of cool water. As it rinsed the toxic mixture out of his eyes and off his face, Nick's sight cleared and his skin began to feel less like hot coals were all over it. He sighed in relief. "I've never gotten used to how your kind looks when you're fully vampired-out," said Adam. Behind Nick, he slammed the top of the cage shut. "And you smell dreadful." "Where are we?" croaked Nick, his throat still raw. "Right now, we're in the cellar of a warehouse. Not too far from your place, ironically." Nick felt a nudge on his arm. "Here-- this was on a table. Don't ask me what it is, or if it's still any good." It was a bottle of human blood, just on the edge of going bad. Not caring, Nick finished the bottle quickly and felt his body reacting, the hunger pushed back just a bit. "Thanks." "Don't thank me. I think Maxwell left it here. Speaking of which, let's get the hell out of this basement." He put one hand on Nick's arm, guiding him towards the door. "Maxwell will be back soon, and it's getting close to sunrise." "C..." Nick coughed, hard, and braced himself on the door frame. "Cup?" Adam shook his head. "Nothing." He put his arm around Nick's waist. "Come on," he said gently. "We can look for the cup later." They made their way up the stairs, Adam supporting Nick. Suddenly, Adam's head jerked up, and Nick felt his entire body tense. "What?" "He's back." Roughly, Adam pushed Nick against the wall at the top of the stairs. "Stay out of the way and follow my lead." Adam took a deep breath and kicked open the door, his body taut and ready. Maxwell was there, about six feet in front of them. In a second, Maxwell and Adam had their swords drawn and were silently circling each other. Nick didn't see any evidence of Adam's earlier claims of poor swordsmanship-- his movements were fluid and practiced. As with the best swordsmen, the blade seemed to be an extension of his arm. Unfortunately, Nick could say the same of Maxwell. The other Immortal was obviously as skilled as Adam in the ancient art. He also had at least fifty pounds on Adam, and much of that was pure muscle. Nick realized that Adam was leading Maxwell away from the doorway so that Nick could get out of the stairwell. Although he was still weak and bent over from the pain, Nick managed to get over to a pile of boxes just outside the door. Even out of the stairwell, the smell of gasoline was still suffocating, especially mixed with he garlic. "Your vampire friend is a bit on the combustible side, isn't he?" Maxwell laughed, a deep, terrifying sound. With an unbelievable grace he leaped over a carton, avoiding Adam's sword. "Suppose I, say, flick my Bic?" He held out a lighter to the crate next to him, and it burst into flames. The crate must be soaked with gasoline. Nick had thought the smell was just from his own body, but as he and Adam watched the flames dance from crate to crate they realized, horrified, that the entire place was soaked. They were inside a furnace. The entire building would be ablaze in minutes. "Can't kill us, but it can certainly end the miserable life of your bloodsucking compadre, can't it?" Maxwell looked extraordinarily pleased with himself. "And it should make it so much to take care of you, my friend..." With one last feint, Maxwell leaped behind the stack of burning crates. Adam ran after him, and seconds later came out the other side, alone. "He's not here!" "He couldn't have gone far!" Where was he? They scanned the flames, trying-- in vain-- to find Maxwell amid the fire and debris. "One on one!" shouted Adam over the voracious roaring of the fire. "It must be one on one! Get out of here, Nick, while you can!" Nick fought against his instinctive panic at the flames and smoke. "I'm leaving you here!" Adam put one hand on Nick's shoulder. "There are rules, Nick. I have to fight him " Incredibly, he grinned. "Besides-- the fire's a lot less likely to kill me, you flammable idiot, and you're in no shape to fight. It's almost sunrise. Go." Nick wanted to protest, to say that his "rules" were insane-- but the look Adam's eyes stopped him. They were serene and unafraid. This was how Adam had lived for thousands of years. This was what his race did to survive. Nick scanned the room one last time, straining to hear a heartbeat... There. He silently pointed towards a far corner of the room. Adam nodded in understanding and started off through the flames. He paused, then half-turned and sketched out a salute to Nick before disappearing in the smoke. Nick looked after Adam for a moment, offering a silent prayer up to whatever God it was that watched over Immortals, vampires, mortals-- or all three. Then, his panic rising again, he took flight. The sun was fast approaching. Time to find safe ground, to mend, and hope that Adam was the victor in this particular battle. *** Missing a part? Let me know. Constructive criticism, praise, extravagant gifts or flames to: Jill Kirby - jtkirby@mcs.com - http://www.mcs.net/~jtkirby/ Rituals (10/14) a Forever Knight/Highlander Story by Jill Kirby Flight wasn't easy. The garlic wasn't just in his wounds, but had dripped into nearly every pore of his body. He had to stop often, walking parts of the way, gasping for fresh air-- sometimes retching from his own stench. About halfway home, Nick collapsed in an alley. His wounds weren't healing with the garlic in them; he was losing blood as he moved. His body couldn't take much more of this. Shivering on the ground, Nick looked around him with his red-gold gaze and realized that he just couldn't go any further. It was almost daylight-- he could feel the sun, just minutes away from rising. Maxwell hadn't killed him, but the sun would. It seemed ridiculous, really. After eight hundred years, to die because of an insane Immortal. After eight hundred years, to lose yet another chance at mortality. At freedom. Then, like a benediction, he felt light raindrops on his head. In a minute they had intensified to a downpour, diluting the garlic and gasoline that covered his body. The hunger remained, but as the rain sluiced off him he realized he'd be able to make it the rest of the way home. Fortunately, no one saw him. When he saw the loft, Nick nearly wept in gratitude. He didn't have the strength to fly up to a window, so he threw himself into the elevator, willing it to rise more quickly. At least he was safe from the sun. Now he needed blood. As the elevator door slid open, he half-stumbled, half-flew towards the refrigerator, rainwater still running off him He was intent only on reaching the blood-- until a voice stopped him short. "" He turned and saw Natalie running toward him. Even in his current state he could tell she was exhausted; she looked like she hadn't slept in days. Her horror at the sight of him was immediate, but she touched his face with both hands, completely unafraid. "Oh, God, We've got to get you into the shower. And get you blood." He tried to talk, but his voice failed him and he couldn't protest when she threw one arm around his waist-- despite the smell, despite the danger-- and started helping him up the steps, bearing most of his weight as he stumbled up them awkwardly. She was so close, so warm; he was in so much pain, and hadn't fed in days. He couldn't even hear her voice as she talked to him-- all he could hear was the sound of her rapidly beating heart. The rich smell of her blood called to him, as it always had, promising healing and renewal and strength... He fought back the blood hunger. Fought it He wasn't so badly hurt that he'd risk Natalie. But some dark, starving part of him turned his eyes to look at her neck, so white, so fragrant. So close. And Natalie pressed a bottle into his hands. "Drink," she said urgently. He didn't know where it had come from, and he didn't care. It was gone in seconds. It helped. Trying to tell Natalie he needed more blood, he started to speak as they went through the bathroom door, but she shushed him. "Hush. Get in the shower-- let the water run on you. We've got to get this garlic you." She sniffed. "Nick-- there's mixed with the garlic! He could have burned you to death!" Her eyes filled with tears, and she blinked them away as she turned the shower on full blast and took the empty bottle away from him. "Get in. I'll bring you fresh clothes, and more blood. Use soap. Lots of it." The water beat down on his face and chest. As the garlic washed out of the cuts he could feel the pain start to ease, even without more blood. A shower had never felt so good. He needed to get out of these clothes. The stench was incredible, and Nick ripped off his shirt with one fierce tug, throwing it out of the shower stall. Natalie came back into the now-steamy bathroom, holding a pair of his silk pajamas, several towels, a pile of medical supplies that she'd apparently had waiting-- gauze, peroxide, tweezers, tape-- and several bottles tucked precariously under one arm. She kicked the shirt out of her way with a disgusted "Ugh!" and set everything in the sink. "How do you think feel?" said Nick, finally finding his voice. "I had to wear it." He turned to let the water beat on his back. "You look like you feel awful," said Nat frankly. She handed him a bottle of blood. "Here-- drink." Nick took it from her and downed the bottle greedily. Natalie took the empty bottle from him silently, but when she offered him another he shook his head. "I'm fine." "You aren't fine. You've been sliced and diced by something, and there's been a garlic and gasoline mixture sitting in the cuts." Her tone was firm, but her eyes revealed her concern. "It's only on the top half of me," said Nick, trying hard to smile for her. She touched his shoulder gently, quickly. "I've been worried sick about you." Shoving the bottle into his hands, Nat turned back to the sink before he could respond; before he could see the tears in her eyes. " it, and turn around," she said briskly. "I've got to clean out the cuts so they can heal." Nick turned around meekly, letting the water beat on the front of him again. Finishing the third bottle of blood, he finally felt the last bit of gold recede from his eyes. The hunger was still there, but it was tempered. Ignoring the water, Natalie stepped into the shower stall behind him and started using cotton and peroxide to swab out the wounds. She made small sounds of anger and revulsion as she worked. "I can't this. Thank God you're all right." "How did you know to be here?" Her touch on his back, so sure, was reassuring and familiar. He stilled himself from jerking as she cleaned out a particularly nasty gash. "Adam and LaCroix came to my place, looking for you. Adam told me what was going on. He said you might be hurt." Nick remembered Adam walking into the smoke and flames. "He's in danger, too. I have to go back..." "You aren't going " said Natalie firmly, wiping out one last laceration. "There. Turn around-- your back is clean." His chest was in far worse shape, and Natalie gasped involuntarily when she saw the dozens of cuts, most still red and inflamed, some bleeding. His chest looked like a battleground. "Oh, Nick." Nat took a deep breath and started working again, her forehead furrowing as she concentrated. She worked quickly and methodically, making sure every bit of the noxious mixture was cleaned out. Nick caught his breath as Nat got the garlic out of one last, deep cut, and she rested her hand on his chest for a moment, looking up at him. "I'm sorry." "Don't be." She was so close. Even with the fatigue ringing her eyes she was incredibly beautiful. Nick looked into her eyes, wanting so much to touch her, to kiss her. He brought his hand up to the warmth of her cheek, and for one second Natalie leaned her head against his hand, shutting her eyes. Then, with a small choked sound that told him how much it cost her, she turned away. Nat was right; now wasn't the time. He was still weak and needed sleep, and blood. At the best of times he was a danger to her. At the worst of times, like now, he could hurt her beyond repair. Nat's color was high, and her heartbeat accelerated. She waved a hand at the pajamas. "Clean off..." she cleared her throat. "Clean off the rest of you, then change. I'll be downstairs." Avoiding his eyes, she handed him another bottle. "Drink this. Doctor's orders." She was gone before he could speak. *** Natalie was curled up on the couch when Nick came down the stairs, holding on to the railing, and she smiled up at him. She'd put on one of his shirts with her jeans-- he'd been hanging onto her heavily when she'd helped him upstairs, and her blouse probably smelled as horrible as he had. She was wrapped in a quilt that he recognized as one of hers. "You look a better." She patted the couch next to her. "You were lucky he didn't kill you." "I feel much better." Leaving the empty bottles on the end table, and picking up another full one she had set there, Nick sat down carefully. "He wasn't trying to kill me, at least not at first-- just disable me. He wanted to keep me immobile until the sun could turn me into ashes." Nick knew that the memory of his captivity would haunt his dreams for many days to come. Natalie shivered, and instinctively Nick put one arm around her shoulders. She started to move closer to him, then looked up in concern. "I'm fine," Nick reassured her. "You know how quickly I heal." Her warmth next to him was the best medicine he could ask for. That, and another bottle of blood. He downed it rapidly, turning his face away from Natalie. "You mentioned..." Nat cleared her throat. "That Adam was in danger." Nick's eyes darkened, and he set the empty bottle on the floor. "I left him there to fight Maxwell." "You weren't in any shape to help him. You still aren't." Natalie's voice was firm. "I think he can take care of himself." She paused, and he could see concern in her face. "I hope he can, anyway." "I'll go back tomorrow to search for him," said Nick quietly. 'That is, if we haven't heard from him by then." "The cup?" Nick looked at her, not understanding. "I figured it out when Adam and LaCroix came over," said Natalie. "There aren't many things that could motivate you to work with LaCroix." She couldn't suppress another shiver at the name. Nick half-smiled, but his face was sad. "I don't know where it is." Natalie, more than anyone, knew how hurt he was each time he lost his chance at a cure. There was nothing she could say, so she pushed the quilt off her shoulders and cuddled next to him silently, carefully, her body fitting to his. Resting one arm across his chest, she lightly stroked the silk of his pajamas. Nick shut his eyes, luxuriating in her touch, her presence-- and in a moment was sound asleep. Feeling his breathing slow, Natalie raised her head. Her eyes traced the shape of his face, so dear. Nick disappointed her, he hurt her. He lied to her, or told her half-truths, out of the misguided idea that he had to protect her from what he "really" was. He made her so angry that she wanted to kill him-- and she knew how to do it, too. But he her heart. For better, or for worse. She could no more stop loving him than she could voluntarily stop living. Maybe it would be better if he leave Toronto... though if he tried, she'd fight like hell to stop him. She wasn't giving up on him. Not yet. Not now. With a sigh, she tucked herself closer and pulled the quilt over to cover both of them. Settling her head on his chest, her eyes closed. Together, unconsciously breathing in the same deep, even rhythm, they slept. Just after sunset, the door to the stairwell opened and LaCroix entered the loft. When he saw Nick on the sofa, his relief was tangible-- though no one was awake to see him pause and close his eyes in silent gratitude. LaCroix walked around to the front of the couch and stood in front of Nick and Natalie, so intertwined in their sleep that it was hard to tell where one of them ended, and the other began. He watched them for a long while. He left as silently as he'd come. *** Missing a part? Let me know. Constructive criticism, praise, extravagant gifts or flames to: Jill Kirby - jtkirby@mcs.com - http://www.mcs.net/~jtkirby/ Rituals (11/14) a Forever Knight/Highlander Story by Jill Kirby Natalie paced the loft, unable to sit still. Nick had asked her to wait for them-- he and LaCroix had gone to look for Adam. If what had been done to Nick was any indication, Adam might have been hurt. "You should take him directly to a hospital," Natalie had said firmly, and was confused when Nick wouldn't meet her eyes. "If we find him-- when we find him-- he'll need, um, special care." So here she was, not understanding why. A man caught in a burning building needed a burn unit, a not a coroner with a subspecialty in vampirism and a serious phobia about burn victims. She eyed the supplies she'd brought. Hopefully, they would be enough to help Adam until an ambulance showed up. *** Natalie was waiting anxiously at the door to the elevator as it opened. A body was slung over Nick's shoulder like a sack of potatoes, covered with a filthy tarpaulin. LaCroix followed closely behind, carrying something in a plastic garbage bag. Natalie ignored him, concerned only with Adam. "Put him here," she said, directing Nick to the clean sheets she'd laid out on the floor, medical supplies all around. "We found him a few buildings away from where the fire was," said Nick, setting Adam down carefully. "He's in bad shape." As Natalie snapped on gloves, Nick pulled the tarp away. She gasped, her hands covering her mouth in horror. "Oh, my God." Adam was barely recognizable. His clothing was in shreds, most of it burned; his head and body were covered with black, viscous burns and deep wounds of some kind. Knife wounds? And-- most terrible of all, even more horrible than the burns that chilled her-- his left arm was gone, severed about five inches below his shoulder By all rights, this man should be dead. Natalie pushed the fear aside and went into crisis mode, focusing completely on Adam. Her patient. Some part of her mind knew that later, she'd lose it, but now wasn't the time. It didn't matter to Adam that burn victims made her feel weak and sick and scared. All that mattered to Adam was his life, if he had any left. Her hands searching desperately for a pulse, she looked at Nick and LaCroix. "He needs an ambulance. Call one-- And get this tarp out of my way." Her voice was level and calm. Nick knelt on the other side of Adam, carefully pulling the cloth away and watching Nat as she tried to find vital signs. "He's alive, Nat. Don't worry." "Call an Nick! Are you deaf?" "He cannot." LaCroix handed Nick the garbage bag, then stood back out of the way. Nat slipped a stethoscope into her ears and laid the metal disc carefully against Adam's chest, choosing one of the few less-burned spots on his skin. Her expression eased as she heard a heartbeat. It was faint and thready, but there. "He alive, no thanks to the two of you. Why didn't you take him to a hospital?" She tossed the stethoscope aside and grabbed a strip of gauze, using it to tie her hair back in a ponytail. Time to investigate the wound where Adam's arm had been. "He's not a vampire--" she directed this comment at LaCroix, her voice sharp-- "and he's been badly hurt." An undefinable look passed between LaCroix and Nick, and by unspoken agreement LaCroix explained. "He is not a vampire. He is what is known as an Immortal." Natalie's hands froze. "He's a ?" "An Immortal." Nick folded the tarp and tossed it out of the way. "Natalie, Adam is older than I am. The only way you can kill Adam is to cut off his head. Otherwise, he'll live forever. The man that did this to him was also an Immortal-- Adam took head and obviously barely survived." "Pardon me?" Natalie sat back on her heels, stunned. LaCroix leaned against the kitchen table. "Adam is older than both of us, actually." This admission didn't seem to bother him; in fact, he appeared to find it somewhat entertaining. "Look at him, Doctor Lambert. Would he be alive if he were mortal?" Natalie looked down at the man on the sheets, burned beyond recognition. He be dead, but she had heard the heartbeat beneath what was left of his skin. When she looked up at LaCroix, there was acceptance-- if not understanding-- in her eyes. "So. Since his head is attached, he's going to be fine-- no matter what I do?" LaCroix shrugged. "As far as I know. I've rarely seen one hurt this badly. He has to heal and, of course, they can feel pain." There was more than one kind of Immortal out there-- another unbelievable piece of data to add to her already staggering database. For a split second, Natalie remembered Adam, healthy and whole. He had looked and behaved exactly like any other mortal, yet he was able to survive an incinerator. Her hand flew to her heart. Pain. If what they were saying was true, Adam would come out of this eventually. She couldn't let him suffer what would undoubtedly be agony. Natalie spotted her medical bag on the kitchen table, behind LaCroix, and pointed at it. "Bring that to me, if you don't mind." LaCroix looked at Natalie consideringly for a moment, watching as she pulled burned pieces of clothing off Adam's charred body. Her movements were sure and unafraid; right now everything she did, everything she went towards Adam. Without comment, he brought Natalie the bag. Digging through it, she found morphine she'd thrown in there long ago. She quickly drew up a dose and injected it into Adam. "What the hell is out there?" she muttered under her breath, knowing perfectly well that both Nick and LaCroix could hear her. The vampires watched as Natalie worked on Adam. LaCroix occasionally brought something she needed-- a basin of water, a towel; Nick sat and watched silently. Suddenly, Nick looked at the bag in his arms, then back at Natalie. "Natalie?" "Hmm?" He sounded incredibly uncomfortable, and if she hadn't been so busy Natalie would have smiled. "I have..." Nick looked down at the bundle, then held it out as if making an offering. "I have his arm." *** After Adam was settled in at the loft, Nick went back-- twice-- to search the charred ruins of the warehouse. There was no sign of the cup. *** Missing a part? Let me know. Constructive criticism, praise, extravagant gifts or flames to: Jill Kirby - jtkirby@mcs.com - http://www.mcs.net/~jtkirby/ Rituals (12/14) a Forever Knight/Highlander Story by Jill Kirby "Good Goddess. Someone needs to teach you how to cook." Adam stopped short of spitting out the soup, but his grimace told the story. "How hard is it to heat up a can of chicken soup?" "Sorry-- I'm a vampire. We don't need to cook. Eat. You're lucky I could figure out how to turn on the stove." Nick wasn't in a very good mood, and ministering to a recovering Immortal wasn't exactly what he felt like doing-- even if the Immortal saved his life. "If your kind knew how to cook, you wouldn't have to use hypnosis to get women," muttered Adam, downing the mug in a few gulps. Three nights after they had found him, Adam was mostly himself except for a few remaining wounds around the neck, some healing burns here and there, and slightly decreased usage of his left arm. Natalie had gone on instinct and the arm had reattached nicely, to her continued amazement and delight. Even LaCroix and Nick had watched with great interest as the skin had slowly knit together. Adam's sense of humor had returned-- to Nick's chagrin-- and he was chafing at having to stay in the loft until Natalie declared him "all clear." As Nick picked up Adam's empty soup mug, he heard the elevator start to grind. Nick's smile as the door slid open went unnoticed. "Hello, all," called Natalie, breezing past Nick to the sofa where Adam sat. "How's my patient?" Adam extended his left arm and flexed the fingers. "Good as new, and burned bald as a cueball." "Well, bald trendy right now." Nick watched as Natalie carefully inspected Adam's hand and worked her way up his arm, pushing back the t-shirt sleeve to see where the arm had reattached. He remembered her touch, her nearness, and though he knew Adam was the one who needed care he had to take a deep breath to hold down his jealousy. "Incredible." Natalie touched the skin reverently. Yesterday the arm had still been scabbed over from the burns and the scar had been fiery red, but today only an unusual pinkness and a slight tenderness remained. It appeared that he healed more slowly than vampires-- but then, they had very different physiologies. You have amazing regenerative powers." She raised her eyebrows. "You're even starting to get some hair back." "What a pickup line that is," joked Adam, who was rewarded with a grin. "Actually, these burns healed more slowly than usual." He scowled at his arm. "Either they were serious, or I'm getting old." "I'd bet on the serious part-- you spent a lot of time in that fire. But how old you, actually?" asked Natalie slyly. Adam shook his finger at her. "Didn't your mother tell you it was rude to ask that?" When Natalie refused to look abashed, he sighed. "Just take my word for it-- I'm old." "Lean forward." Natalie pulled up the t-shirt and carefully removed the last of the bandages from his lower back. "Any doctor has to like a patient who has no chance of getting infected. I'd say you're back to normal." "Whatever is." Nick watched their easy familiarity with a dark look on his face. He liked Adam a great deal; certainly more than any other Immortal he'd met over the years. But he like the way he looked at Nat. Or the way Nat looked back at him. Natalie saw the scowl on Nick's face out of the corner of her eye. Involuntarily, her eyes met Adam's and they smiled at one another. It didn't hurt Nick to remember that she still a free woman, and could flirt with anyone she wanted to-- including Adam, yet another species of immortal. Nick certainly didn't need to understand how much power he held over her, no matter what he was doing with Janette. Inspection over, she leaned back with a satisfied smile. 'You're doing well. I'd give it one more day of rest, then you can do whatever you'd like-- oh, it." She smacked him lightly as he shot her a lecherous look. "I do wish you'd let me do some research on you." Natalie had asked him yesterday, and he had gently declined. "Sorry, no. I'd rather my tissue not be all over creation." He held up a hand as Natalie opened her mouth to object "I know that you wouldn't share the data with anyone, but I'd just rather not." Natalie sighed. "I had to try." She looked at Nick ruefully; they both knew that data from Adam could possibly have helped Nick. She gathered her supplies up and began to put them in her bag. "Have you eaten lately?" "If you can call that dreck that Nick served me soup, I've eaten." "I'll run out before I go in to work and bring you some real food-- you look awfully thin." She gathered her bags up, then half turned and put one hand on her hip. "Wait a minute. You've both got vast stores of unlimited wealth. Why should be your errand person? Call and get some food delivered. Real food-- hot, with protein and carbs." "Yes, ma'am," said Nick and Adam in unison. Nick saluted her impudently. Natalie just shook her head at them as she got on the elevator. "Men. It's like you're part of some immortal fraternity." After the elevator door had closed behind Nat, Nick retrieved the telephone directory and dropped it unceremoniously next to Adam. "Here. Order something." "Thanks." Adam ruffled through the pages absently, stealing a glance at Nick out of the corner of his eye. "You Lucien's son-- you're a terrible grump." Nick tried to ignore him, but Adam pressed on. "What's got you in such a mood?" "Oh, I don't know," said Nick, a bit of a snarl in his voice. "Perhaps it's that I'm stuck with an Immortal roommate. Maybe it's that the cup I was looking for has disappeared. Maybe..." "Maybe it's that the local coroner is flirting with your Immortal roommate?" Adam laughed at the look on Nick's face. "You aren't exactly subtle, Nick." "What Natalie does is none of my business." Nick scowled and sat down in a chair opposite the couch, refusing to look at Adam. "Maybe you should it your business," countered Adam. "Sorry. I'm sticking my nose where it doesn't belong." "Yes. You are," said Nick, and Adam thought he saw a flicker of red-gold before Nick looked away. "That's rarely stopped me before," continued Adam, undeterred. "Natalie's an extraordinary woman, Nick, and if I could stay in Toronto you'd have serious competition." Nick focused on the part of that statement that make him feel like smashing someone into a wall. "Why can't you stay in Toronto?" Adam put down the directory, sighing. He took a moment to answer. "Part of the reason that I've lived so long is that I've managed to stay out of the way of other Immortals. I'm a relative unknown. Being involved with the Watchers helped-- I could track most of the major players and ensure we weren't going to run into each other." "That's handy," commented Nick. "Yes, it was. But I haven't been as careful since I've been here," said Adam with a frown. "I focused on getting Maxwell and forgot to watch my back. There are several Immortals here in Toronto, and just before all happened," he waved at his nearly-hairless head, "I had the misfortune to run into one that I particularly wish to avoid." "So. You need to leave to avoid a fight?" "Yes." Adam looked at his left arm. "It sounds cowardly, but right now, I don't have a chance in hell of winning anything-- certainly not a battle with an Immortal who could have taught Kalas a thing or two. It's back to obscurity for me. I suppose I should start practicing my swordfighting a bit. This was too close a call." "Does Nat know you're leaving?" Nick couldn't help himself; he had to ask. "We've talked about it, briefly." Adam smiled, but there was a shadow in the back of his eyes. "I'll tell her before I go, of course." "Of course." Adam looked down at the telephone book again. "I'm assuming you don't want any Chinese food?" he asked, with false brightness. Nick shook his head. "Thought not." Adam was about to reach for the phone when he stopped and turned to Nick, curious. "One question. Did LaCroix think about cutting off my head while I was unconscious?" The look on Nick's face answered his question, and Adam sighed. "I thought so. That son of a bitch." "Well, he didn't actually it," said Nick reasonably. "He just thought about it." "See if I save from hordes of rioting Visigoths next time," grumbled Adam. "Ungrateful bastard." *** Missing a part? Let me know. Constructive criticism, praise, extravagant gifts or flames to: Jill Kirby - jtkirby@mcs.com - http://www.mcs.net/~jtkirby/ Rituals (13/14) a Forever Knight/Highlander Story by Jill Kirby "So he was performing a rite of some sort?" Nick nodded. "Yes. A ritual with mortal blood and vampire ashes. We aren't sure where he got the idea." Nick didn't recall anything like it being in the documents he'd seen at the excavation, but you never knew. It was also possible that Maxwell was completely insane, and even though he hadn't read anything about such a ritual he'd made up his own. They were in Rose's living room; Nick was leaning against the wall and Rose was pacing back and forth. Pacing was perhaps too strong a word-- she was walking, slowly. She was weak and looked so frail that Nick realized with a start that she hadn't fed. Gerard had been gone nearly two weeks, and Rose hadn't yet fed. Her hair shone in the faint light from the moon that came through the window. Something in Nick twisted at the sight-- her hair seemed more alive, more vital, than Rose did. Rose wrapped her arms around herself, as if she were cold. "At least he's gone. He can't hurt anyone else now." Her voice grew faraway as she looked out at the sky. "Hard to believe it's almost winter, isn't it? Gerard hates..." Her voice broke. "Hated the cold." She turned and with a visible effort lifted her head and smiled at him. "Goodbye, Nick." Nick started to smile a goodbye at her, but his smile died as he looked at her. The truth was there, etched in her pale, sad, beautiful face. She did not mean goodbye; she meant farewell. "Rose..." "Oh, Nick." She smiled wearily and ran one hand through her hair. "Please don't try to talk me out of what I have to do." She turned away from him and looked out at the moonlit garden. Her voice was rough when she spoke again. "I was a horrible vampire for the first hundred years. My maker died soon after she brought me across, and I didn't understand why immortality was so appealing. As they would say today, I just didn't get it." He could hear a hint of a smile in her voice. "In the late 1600's, I realized that I had absolutely no purpose to my endless existence. I decided I should walk into the sun." She paused, putting one hand up on the window as if to steady herself. "Then I met Gerard. It was like finding my heart. Finally, I found a for immortality." When Rose looked back at Nick, there were blood tears streaking her face. She walked over to him, staring into his face intently, trying to make him understand. "When I lost him, I lost my life." "You have your friends, your work..." Nick's voice trailed off, and he shook his head. The words sounded banal, even to him. "I'm sorry." "Don't be. You found the man who killed Gerard." Rose clasped both of his hands in hers and squeezed them. Her grip was weak and icy cold, even for a vampire. "You gave me peace." "I wish I could do more." She smiled at him with heartbreaking tenderness. "You have done all you could. You understand, Nick, don't you? Sometimes, you find the only person who can make you whole. Who can keep you sane. What else is there, really?" Nick looked into her eyes for one long moment. He lifted her hands and, bending his head, kissed them gently. It was time for him to go. His last sight of Rose was of her standing at the window, looking out at the garden that she and Gerard had loved so much. It was a memory that would stay with him for many years to come *** Nick's head rested in Janette's lap, and he stared up at the ceiling as she stroked his hair lazily. "I am sorry that you did not find the cup, Nicola." "Me too," said Nick quietly. "Who knows-- it might have worked." "And it might not," Janette reminded him. "I am just pleased that you escaped that monster before he killed you-- or anyone else." She ran a finger lightly around the side of Nick's ear, and he shivered slightly, pleasurably. "I told Rose what happened. Janette... I think..." Janette was quiet, and her hand stilled for just a moment. "I will miss her," she said quietly. Nick shut his eyes, remembering her face as he'd left-- the beauty, the strength, the sorrow. "This is the best way for her." " But it is still a loss to the community." Janette took a deep breath. "And Alma?" "She took it surprisingly well." Janette stroked Nick's face gently. "Yes. She's already moved on to her next plaything. All she truly cared about was that he did not stand her up." Nick smiled, grimly. "So it doesn't matter that he's dead-- just that he didn't dump her." "Exactly," purred Janette. "We speaking of Alma, remember." "I remember." Nick laced his fingers through Janette's, stopping her hand in mid-motion. Their eyes met and he pulled Janette down to him; they kissed with rapidly increasing intensity. In 800 years they'd never lost their hunger; that fierce, uncontrollable longing that kept bringing them back together. This hunger, this had long been the one constant in both their lives. As they drew apart, Nick experienced the familiar desire-- and something else; just as strong, for once, as the call for Janette's blood. He looked into Janette's eyes and instead saw Natalie's. Though Janette's arms were around him fiercely, he felt Nat's touch as he fell asleep. He remembered waking and looking down at the curly head sleeping on his chest; recalled the fierce wave of protectiveness and love that still startled him with its intensity. In eight hundred years... This had never happened. He heard Rose's voice, clear and sure, as if she was sitting next to him. "You understand, Nick, don't you? Sometimes, you find the only person who can make you whole. Who can keep you sane. What else is there, really?" Nick's fangs drew back, and his eyes cleared. He felt very weary all of a sudden. He pulled away from Janette and sat up, taking a deep breath. The red-gold faded from Janette's eyes. "You are about to apologize, ?" "Janette..." She held up one hand. "No. Do not. You have made your intentions clear from the beginning, and I accepted your terms." She lifted her head. "If you are no longer able to live with them, so be it." Pulling away from his arms, she adjusted her dress with a few quick tugs, fastening an undone button, tucking away an errant strap. Nick watched her precise, graceful movements, and reached out a hand to touch her. Immediately her hand was around his wrist like a manacle. "Nicola." She looked at him, and her eyes were resolute. "I think you should leave. Now." Nick didn't argue, but slipped out of her office quickly without looking back. Leaving the Raven, he raised one hand in a goodbye to Miklos, who nodded in return. If he had he known what was to happen, what was to come... Perhaps he would have handled things differently. Perhaps not. *** Missing a part? Let me know. Constructive criticism, praise, extravagant gifts or flames to: Jill Kirby - jtkirby@mcs.com - http://www.mcs.net/~jtkirby/ Rituals (14/14) a Forever Knight/Highlander Story by Jill Kirby Nick watched as Natalie carefully scraped under the fingernails of her latest "patient." Her absorption with her work never ceased to amaze him. "I had to tell Alma the fate of her boyfriend," said Nick. Natalie made a face without looking up. "How horrible. Is she all right?" "She's Alma." Nick half-smiled. "She'll be devastated for about fifteen minutes and then spot another conquest." "How's Janette?" Nick looked at her closely-- there was more than a hint of malice in her tone. What she knew, what she suspected... For a moment, he wanted to tell her everything, including the fact that the thought of her had stopped him in his tracks last night. But he thought better of it. "She's fine. Glad that this whole mess is over." Carefully, Natalie transferred the scrapings to a slide. "I can imagine," she said pointedly. "This has probably been terribly difficult for her." It was definitely time to change the subject. "Have you said goodbye to Adam?" Nick kept his tone deliberately nonchalant. Natalie shot him a look as she slipped off her gloves, throwing them into the "biohazard" waste can. "Yes. I'm going to miss him, strangely enough. It'll be odd to only have person around who's been alive for centuries." Involuntarily, Nick smiled. "Compared to Adam, I'm a youngster." "That's what I hear." Natalie patted him on the cheek, then turned to her desk. "Imagine-- 800 years old and you're just a baby." Nick watched her profile for a moment. He had a bad habit of taking her for granted. Then he'd turn around and-- surprise!-- there she was, strong and brave and smart; coming through in a crisis; always there for him. He owed her more than he'd been giving her lately. "Hey. Do you have dinner plans tomorrow?" "Dinner?" Natalie flushed and was about to reply, then raised her chin and regarded him with a challenge in her eyes. "I wouldn't want to keep you from any other plans you might have." Her words hung in the air, and they both knew exactly what she was really saying to him. "I don't have any other plans," Nick assured her. "I can't think of anyone I'd rather spend an evening with." His voice was strong and certain. Natalie's eyes met his, and what he saw in their blue depths made Nick catch his breath. With one hand, he brushed a wayward strand of hair back from her forehead, his hand lingering. "Dinner sounds nice," she said, a little breathlessly. She reached up and caught his hand, squeezing it. Nick brought her hand to his lips quickly before releasing it. "If you don't mind watching me push food around my plate, that is..." Nat shook a finger at him. "You'll eat." Somehow, he knew he would. *** He stood in his living room, hands clasped behind his back, surveying the lights of the city that he had grown so comfortable in. It was nearly dawn, and LaCroix felt a great sense of peace. He had fed well, Methos had taken care of Maxwell, and Nicholas did not have the cup. Foolish Nicholas, always trying to return to a life that provided nothing but misery and death. It was a father's duty to do what was best for his children, even when the children disagreed. This ridiculous Mayan cup was another delusion of Nicholas', and LaCroix had done him a service by ensuring he didn't get his hopes up again. It almost certainly would not have worked. But why take that chance? Turning from the window, LaCroix picked up a small cloth bag from a low table and walked over to the fireplace. The press of a button, cleverly worked into the paneling, revealed a safe. It had been designed by LaCroix himself, with digital codes to open it-- no internal clicking noises to reveal the combination to a keen-eared vampire. It was constructed of more steel than even vampire strength could crush. LaCroix keyed in the numbers and slid the bag into the space behind the open door. The safe was nearly empty. After all these years, most of his precious possessions were scattered in hiding places around the globe. There were only a few things he kept with him always: Divia's cameo, a miniature of Fleur he had commissioned from Holbein, several select pages from the Abarat-- which he really needed to destroy one day... And now, a Mayan ritual cup. Shutting the safe door and closing the covering panels, LaCroix headed into his bedroom, stifling a yawn. The sun would be out in moments, and he was tired. The End *** Missing a part? Let me know. Constructive criticism, praise, extravagant gifts or flames to: Jill Kirby - jtkirby@mcs.com - http://www.mcs.net/~jtkirby/