Thanks, Susan Garrett, for posting such an interesting challenge;
it gave me the *rare* experience of completing a story in a day
and in almost total linear fashion! :)  My thanks also to Susan,
Dawn Steele, Lisa McDavid, and Ronni Katz for reading this story
and giving me comments on it prior to its posting here.
 

Anyway, hope you all enjoy this story.  As always, any comments,
criticisms, whatever should be sent to:
 
tmp_harkins@dirac.physics.jmu.edu
 

No Fond Farewell
by Sandra Gray
copyright 1995
 
 
     Nick walked around the murder scene.  The clarity of his
vampire eyesight scanned the shadows of the park surroundings
for possible clues, but he noticed nothing unusual.  Nothing
in the quiet night beyond the small circle of police, emergency,
and forensics people.
     He drew his attention back to the murder scene.  Schanke
was questioning the man who had found the body.  Natalie was
still kneeling next to the young woman victim.  Nick walked
over to her.
     "What you got?" he asked.  Nat looked up at him.
     "Same M.O. as the other two victims.  Stabbed in the heart,
no apparent sign of any struggle.  And I'll lay you odds there
won't be any drugs or alcohol in her system either."  She stood
and stripped off her gloves, then called over an assistant to
handle the rest of the cleanup and bagging of the body.  "Of
course, my impressions could change once I do a detailed
autopsy."
     Nick looked at the face of the girl.  She was so very
young--a teenager.  Natalie followed his gaze, then sighed
loudly and stalked away.  He followed and caught up to her near
her car.  "What I can't understand is why it seems none of them
*fought* being killed?" she said.  "It's almost like...they
didn't care."  Her dark eyes stared off into the shadows under
the trees.  Nick put his arm around her shoulders and wished
he had answers for her.
     "Hey, Nat," came Schanke's voice.  Nick let go of Natalie
and the two of them turned to see Nick's partner quickly
approaching them.  Schanke smiled a little, then became all
business.  "So is this our third 'Park Pretty' victim?"  Both
Nick and Nat frowned slightly.
     "I'll know more after the autopsy, but it looks that
way," said Nat.
     Schanke sighed.  "Cap'n's not gonna be happy.  You find
anything, Knight?"
     Nick shook his head.  "No.  What about the witness?"
     "No witness.  Scott Lanier.  He found the body while out
jogging.  I've got his statement and address."  He patted a
small notebook in his hand.  "We can check, but I think he's
on the up-and-up.  I don't think he knew her."
     "He didn't see or hear anything suspicious?"
     "Nope."
     "Well, maybe her background will lend us some clues.
Let's go check it out.  We'll drop by the morgue later for
your report, Nat."
     "Okay."
     Nick and Schanke walked over to Nick's caddy and got
into it.  "Where to?" asked Nick.  Schanke rattled off the
girl's home address that he had copied down from her ID.
     "Man, this is the third victim in as many weeks," said
Schanke.  "You think we'll find out anything useful this
time?"
     "I hope we will," said Nick.
     "We'd better or Cohen'll have our heads.  Who's murdering
these girls and why didn't any of them put up a fight?"
     "I don't know."
     "And none of them have been that much older than Jenny--
only sixteen, seventeen."
     Nick glanced at his partner.  "Jenny's only thirteen,
Schank.  She doesn't fit the profile."
     "Yeah.  Well, cases like these don't make it easy to be
a cop.  Not that it's easy!...  But, I don't know, it's just
so *wrong*, you know?  Kids like that shouldn't *die* when
people like us are just allowed to grow more wrinkles."  He
glanced at Nick and smiled slightly.  "Well, most of us grow
more wrinkles.  You never seem to change.  What's your secret,
huh?"
     Nick smiled and said, "Good genes."  Then he sobered
and added, "What did Mr. Lanier say?"
     But Nick listened to Schanke with only half an ear, a
thoughtful frown on his face.
 
                       * * * * * * *
 
     Natalie looked up as Nick and Schanke entered the
morgue examining room.  She was just finishing up her autopsy
on the latest, as Schanke had called her, "Park Pretty" victim.
Mary Weston was only seventeen and a very attractive girl.
     "If you're not done, we can come back," said Nick.
     "I'm just finishing."  Natalie entered a few final
comments into her recorder and shut it off.
     "So what can you tell us?" asked Nick.
     "She fits the profile of the other two victims as far as
age, appearance, and method of death.  And no drugs or alcohol
in her system."
     "She didn't put up any kind of fight?" asked Schanke.
     "I didn't find any evidence that she did."
     "Have you gone through her effects yet?" he continued.
     "Did that first.  She didn't have much on her except for
ID and keys.  No prints but hers."
     "Which means she probably wasn't robbed," said Nick.
     "Have either of you found out anything?"
     "We're still checking into her background.  We've spoken
to her parents, gotten some info about her friends and her
interests," said Nick.
     "Uh, I'm going to go wait in the car, okay?" said Schanke.
     "Sure.  I won't be long."
     After Schanke left, Natalie said, "This case must be a
little hard for him what with Jenny being only a few years
younger than the victims."
     "Yeah, it bothers him some...but haven't you noticed how
often he tries to leave us alone?"  Nick smiled and Natalie
smiled back, the skin at the corners of her eyes crinkling a
little.  Nick sobered and said, "Had a chance to go over the
last blood test?"
     Natalie stopped smiling.  "Yes, I have.  There wasn't
any change from the last test.  I'll have to alter the
treatment again."  Nick nodded and Natalie laid a hand on his
arm.  "It's just some temporary impasse, I'm sure."
     Nick smiled.  "Yeah.  I gotta get back to work."
     "Stay with the current treatment until I get the new one
worked out.  I don't want any backsliding."
     Nick raised his right hand.  "No backsliding."  He kissed
her cheek, wishing as he did so that he could do more...that
he could engulf her mouth with kisses, slide his lips over her
face and throat.  He pulled back.  "Bye," he said and left the
morgue.
     Nick and Schanke drove back to the station, discussing
the latest victim on the way.  "You use the day tomorrow to go
to Mary Weston's school and see what you can find out there."
     "You mean go off shift early?  What about the preliminary
report?"
     "I'll type it up."
     Schanke placed a hand on his chest and gasped, "Ooooh,
can my heart stand the strain!"  He grinned.  "What about Cohen?"
     "She shouldn't care as long as all the i's are dotted and
the t's crossed."
     "Okay, but if you screw up the report, no putting the blame
on me!"
     Nick smiled.  "Would I do that to you?"  He pulled the
car into the police parking lot and turned it off.  "Call me if
you find out anything important."
     "Yeah."
     Schanke clocked out.  Nick sat at his desk and began to
try to sift through Schanke's notes in order to do the
preliminary report.
     But as he typed the report, he found his mind wandering.
Finally he just gave up on it, deciding to risk Cohen's wrath
later.  He put on his jacket and headed out to his car.
     A short while later he pulled up outside the Raven.
Janette was standing at one end of the bar.  Nick glanced
around the club.  LaCroix didn't seem to be around; he supposed
that meant he was at his radio station.
     Janette watched him as he approached her.  "Nicolah," she
said.  "You're looking grim.  Some police case, I take it?"
     "We found another teenage girl who'd been stabbed."
     "Ah.  So you're here for information," she said in a
resigned tone of voice.
     "No.  Not exactly."  Nick looked at the drink in her hand.
Then he looked back to her face.  "She was so young.  All of
them...so young.  They stopped.  But the world keeps aging
except..."  He looked away.
     "Except for us?" said Janette, frowning slightly.  Nick
looked at her.  "Nicolah?  You're not considering leaving.
Not when your coroner friend has almost found a cure?"
     Nick thought back to the treatment that had for a brief
time at least freed him from the vampire, allowed him to walk
in the sun, to *eat* something other than a liquid diet.  Then
he thought of how the vampire had started to reclaim him, how
he'd shot up more and more of the drug to keep it away, how
his desperation had affected his judgment and his mind,...how
he'd lashed out at Natalie.  He sighed.  There was always bad
with the good.  But that drug had caused setbacks in his
progress toward a cure; even though Natalie refused to admit
it, he knew.  "I guess this case is just getting me down," he
said with a weak smile.  "I have to get back to work."  He
kissed Janette on the lips, feeling the familiar tingle of
their vampire bond as he did so.  He pulled back quickly and,
smiling, left before he could be drawn into the depths of her
blue eyes.
 
                      * * * * * * *

     Nick woke to the sound of his answering machine and got
out of bed.  "This is Nick Knight.  I'm either in bed or
incommunicado so if you want to leave your name and message,
go ahead."
     "Hey, partner!  Pick up.  I think we got us a lead."
     Nick padded over to the phone and picked it up.  "What
kind of lead?" he asked.
     "Hello to you, too.  Listen, I found out Mary Weston and
Tammy Pond attended a party about a month ago at a Suzanne
Laveau's house.  I'm going to check it out, but I'll betcha
Cecille Dupont went to it too."
     "Okay.  Keep me posted on what you find out."
     "Okay.  I'll let you get back to your beauty sleep now.
Ciao."
     Schanke was gone before Nick could reply.  Not that he
would have done so.
     Nick didn't hear back from Schanke until late in the
afternoon, when his partner showed up on his doorstep.  He
put away his bottle of blood before the elevator door opened.
     "Hi ya, partner," said Schanke.
     "Hey, Schank.  Have a seat."  Schanke plopped into a
chair and draped one leg over the arm.  Nick smiled.  "Make
yourself comfortable."
     "Thanks.  You know I ran myself ragged today.  I am
*really* beat."
     "How about a beer?"
     "Oh man, I would love a beer!"
     Nick walked over to the refrigerator and got out a bottle
of beer.  He started to give it to his partner, then said,
"You clocked out?"
     "Geez, Knight, I'm not gonna get drunk on one beer!  But
yeah, I'm clocked out."  Nick handed Schanke the beer, which
Schanke opened and upended.  After a few gulps, he stopped,
making a face.  "Geez, how long have you had this beer?"
     "I don't know.  I don't drink a lot of beer."
     Schanke set the bottle on the coffee table.  "Well,
buddy, it's getting marginal."
     "Sorry."
     "Don't worry about it.  I should eat instead of drink
anyway."  He looked toward the kitchen.
     Nick sat on the arm of the couch.  "So what have you
found out?"
     Schanke sighed, then detailed his day.  Cecille Dupont had
also attended the same party and another friend of Mary Weston's
had let slip that she thought that Mary had been secretly
seeing a guy she had met at the party.  "She didn't know the
guy's name, though.  Suzanne Laveau gave me a list of people
that were invited to the party, but you know how these things
are--people who aren't invited show up and--"
     "How did Ms. Laveau know the victims?"
     "She went to school with Tammy Pond for a while.  Then her
family moved and she started going to Cecille Dupont's school.
She met Mary Weston at summer camp."
     "Mmmm.  Well, at least we have some connection between
the victims to work with now.  We should split the list of
party goers.  Someone at that party either is the killer or
maybe knows who might be the killer."
 
                      * * * * * * *
 
     Nick and Schanke waited in Nick's car outside the
apartment building where David Rochet lived.  "God, I hope
he comes home soon," said Schanke, stifling a yawn.
     Nick glanced over at Schanke.  Fatigue made the lines in
his partner's face more prominent.  Nick noticed Schanke's
hair had thinned more on top.  He focussed his gaze back to
the street.
     A while later a young man who matched the manager's
description approached the apartment building.  "C'mon," said
Nick, nudging his dozing partner.  The two detectives got out
of the car and crossed the street.  "David Rochet?" said Nick.
     The young man's steps slowed.  "Yes."
     Nick pulled out his badge.  "Detective Nick Knight.  This
is my partner, Don Schanke.  We'd like to ask you some
questions about some murders."
     "I don't know anything about any murders."
     Nick smiled.  "That may be the case.  But we need to
question anyone who might be able to give us a lead.  May we
come up to your apartment and talk?  Or would you like to go
sit in my car?"
     "Uh...I guess you can come up."
     Nick and Schanke followed David Rochet to his apartment,
which was as neat as its tenant.  Nick studied Rochet.  He was
no more than twenty, slim and tall, with short, dark hair and a
youthful, handsome face graced with beautiful green eyes.  A
young man the murder victims could have found very attractive.
     "What did you want to know?" said David, sitting in a
chair.  "Please, sit down."  Schanke sat down on the couch
across from the young man.  Nick remained standing.
     "You attended a party about a month ago at Suzanne
Laveau's house," said Nick.
     "I...don't recall."
     "You weren't on the guest list," said Schanke.  "Crashed
it?"
     "I go to a lot of parties.  I don't remember all of them."
     "Some people there remember you being there," said Nick.
He started to walk around the living room, looking at things.
     David Rochet fidgeted a bit in his seat.  "Well, I could
have been there.  I don't remember though."  Nick picked up
the picture of a smiling, pretty dark-haired girl off of the
fireplace mantel. "Who is this?  A girlfriend?"
     "My sister Marie."
     Schanke glanced at Nick, then pulled out pictures of the
dead girls and handed them to the young man.  "You recognize
any of these girls?" he asked.
     David looked at the pictures, then at Schanke.  "I thought
you said you were investigating murders."
     Nick halted his movement to replace Marie's picture on
the mantel and said, "We are.  Those girls were murdered."
     David stood.  "They were not!  They committed suicide
like Marie!"  He grabbed the picture from Nick's hand.
     Schanke had risen at David's sudden movement.  Nick
glanced at his partner, then looked at David.  "You...know
they committed suicide."
     David looked at the picture of his sister.  "Yeah.  They
did.  Marie...Marie, she...never wanted to get old, you know?"
He looked at Nick.  "But she told me it was lonely for her.
She wanted...friends."
     "The girls in the pictures I showed you?" asked Schanke.
     David looked at Schanke.  "Yeah.  They felt the same way.
They saw the futility of decaying into nothing, of--"
     "We're placing you under arrest for the murders of
Cecille Dupont, Tammy Pond, and Mary Weston," said Nick.
Schanke took out handcuffs and started to put them on David
Rochet, Nick gently taking the picture of Marie from David's hand.
     "But I didn't murder them!  They wanted to die!"
     Nick looked into the beautiful green eyes and could see
how his "sincerity" might affect an impressionable girl.  But
all he said was, "I think I should advise you that anything
else you say could be used against you in a court of law."
He continued with David's other rights and then Schanke led
the young man away.  Nick looked at the picture of the lovely,
smiling Marie and then followed.
 
                       * * * * * * *
 
     "So he was able to convince these girls that it was better
to die young instead of suffer the problems and decay that
came with aging."
     "Yeah," said Nick.  Nat stripped off the gloves she'd been
wearing to examine a body and started to wash her hands.
     "That's so sad.  That someone would die to stay young
forever."  She abruptly stopped washing her hands and looked
at Nick.  "Nick, I--"
     Nick smiled.  "Well, we all make mistakes.  Some are more
permanent than others."
     "What's going to happen to him?"
     "Well, he did murder those girls, but he's not responsible.
He'll be institutionalized, I expect."
     Natalie shivered.  "To think how he convinced those girls
not to protest their deaths."  Then she sighed and said, "I've
come up with a new formula for you to try."  She began to talk
about it, but Nick didn't pay much attention.  Instead he was
thinking.  Natalie was investing so much of her effort into a
cure and...him.  Was it right to let her go on day after day,
year after year?  "Come by after you get off and you can pick
it up.  Nick?"
     Nick smiled.  "Yeah.  Sure thing, Nat."
     Nick left the morgue and drove to the station.  Schanke had
the night off and there wasn't a lot to do except some final
paperwork on the Park Pretty case and his videotaping of his
arresting officer testimony.  He did both as required, then
started to pull out files of some old, unsolved cases.
     But he found he couldn't concentrate on them.  His mind
was elsewhere.  Finally, he sighed and approached Captain
Cohen's office.  He knocked on the door.  "Come in," she said.
     "Captain?  Can I talk to you?"
     "Come in, Detective Knight," she said, smiling at him.
She smoothed down the lapel on her red blazer.  "That was good
work you and Schanke did on--what did Schanke call it--the 'Park
Pretty' case?"
     "Thank you, Captain," said Nick, entering the room and
closing the door behind him.  He took out his badge and gun and
laid them on her desk.  "I want to resign."
     Captain Cohen frowned and said, "What?  Why would you
want to resign?"
     "I--I just can't do it anymore."
     "Detective Knight, you are a valuable asset to this
division.  I...know some cases can affect us.  I'm willing to
authorize you some vacation time.  You have plenty of it built
up."  She smiled.  "Maybe what you need is just a change of
scenery for a while."
     <Yes.>  But Nick said, "No.  I need to resign."
     "I'll authorize a two week vacation, starting now.  After
that, if you still feel the same--"
     "I won't change my mind."
     She clasped her hands.  "Nick, is it something personal?
Other than work?"  Nick didn't reply.  Her voice took on a harder
tone.  "All right.  After your vacation, maybe you'll have a
different perspective.  If not, then I'll expect the proper
paperwork to be filled out.  Was that all?"
     "Yes, Captain."
     "Very well."  Nick turned to leave.  "Detective Knight!"
He turned to her.  "You forgot your badge and your gun."  Nick
hesitated, then picked both items up from her desk.  Her voice
softened.  "Go home.  And enjoy your vacation," she said and
smiled.
     Nick left her office.  A few minutes later he clocked out.
Then he headed for the Raven.
     Janette was in the back room instead of the outer club
area.  "Hello, Nicolah.  Starting another case already?"  Nick
frowned.  "I heard that you and your partner solved the 'Park
Pretty' case."  She smiled slightly.
     "How did you--?  Never mind.  It's not important.  No, I'm
not on a case.  I left my job."
     Her eyes widened.  "What?"
     "I need to know where Aristotle is staying."
     "Nicolah, you're thinking of leaving Toronto?"
     Nick nodded.  "I have to.  I can't...we don't age.  And
Nat..."
     "But what about your cure?" asked Janette softly.
     "Maybe I'll find one somewhere else."  He gave her a
brief kiss.  "And please, don't tell LaCroix I'm leaving.  You
can do that for me, right?"
     "I won't tell," Janette whispered.  Then her eyes
glistened with tears.
     Nick took her chin in his hands.  "Hey, none of that!"
he said and smiled.  "When I get settled, I'll...well, we'll
cross paths again.  Now...Aristotle?"
     Janette pulled herself together and gave him the
information he wanted.
 
                      * * * * * * *
 
     Nick pulled into his garage a couple of hours later.
The arrangements had been made.  He'd taken a drive around
the city afterwards.  He would miss this place.
     When he opened the elevator door, he knew he was not
alone.  "Did you really think you could keep your plans to
leave from me?" asked LaCroix, stepping out of the shadows
and into a beam of moonlight coming through the window.
     Nick switched on the lights, dispelling the shadows.
     "I can *always* tell what you are thinking--especially
when your thoughts are...*emotional*."
     Nick walked over to the dining table and laid down some
papers, envelopes, and his gun, and started to unload his
pockets.  "What do you want?"
     "To have my curiosity satisfied," said LaCroix.  He came
over to the table.  "Why are you leaving Toronto?"
     "It's time to move on," Nick replied, sitting down.
     "Ms. Lambert's efforts to 'cure' you have been exhausted?
I've told you many times--there is no cure."
     Nick glared up at LaCroix.  "I don't intend to stop
searching for one."
     LaCroix sat down in a chair across from Nick.  "Nicholas.
You're wasting your time.  Give up this foolishness."  His
voice softened.  "Come.  Let us--you and Janette and I--live
together again.  You do not need to suffer such pain."
     Nick studied LaCroix.  The pale blue eyes looked hopeful.
If it had just been Janette...  But he couldn't go back to
living with LaCroix, couldn't allow himself to be drawn in again.
"Leave me alone," he said.  LaCroix's expression darkened.  Nick
looked at the table.
     LaCroix stood.  "Wherever you go, I *will* follow.  You won't
escape me."  Then the older vampire was gone, only a lonely
sighing of the rustled papers on the table marking his departure.
     Nick thought for a moment, then walked over to the phone
and called Aristotle.  "I need you to change the shipping route
we discussed."
     "Why?" asked Aristotle.
     "There's...someone I think might have discovered enough of
my departure plans to follow me."
     "Okay, I'll make changes in the first leg of your journey
and call you back."
     "No, I don't want to know the details.  I'll trust you to
get me where I need to go."
     "All right.  My assistants will be by one hour before
dawn to take you to the airport as planned.  The plane has
been chartered.  I'll just have the pilot follow a different
flight plan."
     "Thank you, Aristotle.  I appreciate it and I hope you
won't have any trouble."
     "Don't worry, Nick.  I'm tougher than I look."
     Nick smiled.  "Goodbye, Aristotle."  He hung up the phone.
Might be good to do some travelling on his own.
     Time was passing.  Too much and too soon.  Odd that for all
the times it didn't matter that *now* it did.  Nick sat down at
the table again.  He filled out the proper police resignation
form and then put it in a large, padded envelope with his badge
and gun.  He addressed the envelope "Captain Cohen".  He'd drop
by Schanke's and leave a note about the package in his mail box.
     But what to write to Schanke?  He thought, then penned,
 
     "Dear Don,
 
           A severe personal problem makes it necessary
      that I resign.  I've left my resignation, badge,
      and gun in a sealed envelope on the dining table
      at my place.  Please see that Captain Cohen gets
      it.  Thanks.
           You're a good cop, Schank.  I enjoyed working
      with you.
 
                               Nick"
 
     Nick blinked to clear his vision.  Then he picked up another
sheet of stationery to compose another letter.  A letter that was
going to be much harder to write.
     It took Nick much longer to write the second letter.  He
crossed out and rewrote for an hour before getting a letter he
was satisfied with.  He copied it neatly onto another sheet and
placed it in an envelope.
     Damn, where did the time go?  He picked up both the letters
he'd written and flew off to deposit them in the proper places.
By the time he got back to his place, his "ride" was there.
     Not even time for a last look around.  Nick sighed and
got into the van.
     Probably just as well.
     Because at that moment, he felt truly dead.
     At the airport, Aristotle's assistants told him to climb
into the crate in the back of the van.  The inside was padded and
the crate itself was long enough for him to lie down in
comfortably.  They placed packing material on top of him and
nailed down the lid.
     And as the dark engulfed him, Nick closed his eyes and
silently wept.
 
                      * * * * * * *
 
     Natalie opened the door to Nick's apartment.  She knew he'd
been distracted earlier, but he had said he'd stop off to get
the new formula before heading home.
     The lights were on.  "Nick?" called Nat.  He couldn't be
in bed yet.  It was barely dawn.  She walked over to the
refrigerator and put the new "potion" in it.  She'd have to
make sure he remembered the instructions.  "Nick?"
     Then she noticed the brown envelope on the table.  It had
Captain Cohen's name on it and bulged in places.  Nat pressed
gently on it and felt the outlines of a gun.  "No," she
whispered.  Then she was ripping the envelope open.  "No, Nick,
no!" she said, her heart chilling at the sight of his resignation
form.  She dropped it on the table.
     He couldn't just LEAVE.  He wouldn't.  Not without
telling her.  He wouldn't.
     Nat ran upstairs.  His clothes were still there.  She
calmed some.  He hadn't left yet.  But why would he want to
leave at all?
     It would be sunrise soon.  He'd be back soon, and he
could tell her what had happened to make him want to leave.
     Nat walked downstairs and sat down in a chair to wait.
 
                      * * * * * * *
 
     The elevator opened.  Nat hit the remote to shut the
blinds and looked up hopefully.  But it was just Schanke.
Besides, she realized with a start, it was eleven a.m.  Nick
wouldn't be coming in from outside at that hour.  Not in that
sun.
     "Nat?  What are you doing here?" asked Schanke.  "You
know about this?"  He held up a sheet of paper.  Then his
eyes travelled to the dining table and the mangled contents
there.  "I guess not."
     Natalie rose.  "Know about what?"  She was surprised at
how steady her voice was, how calm she felt.  She walked
toward Schanke as he approached the dining table.  He laid
down the paper in his hand and picked up the resignation form.
     Natalie picked up the note from Nick to Schanke and read
it.  Schanke looked at her.  "You mean, he didn't tell you
anything?"
     Natalie put down Schanke's letter.  "No," she said.
Then she picked up her purse and walked out.
     Natalie drove for home, Nick's words to Schanke playing
over and over in her mind.  "This is LaCroix's doing," she said.
"He found some way to get his hooks in him again." <Or make
him leave,> a voice in her head whispered.  She quelled that
thought.  Nick would not leave without her.
     Then she got an idea and turned her car in another
direction.  Soon she was at the Raven.  The club was closed,
but she pounded on the door anyway.  And kept pounding until
a tall, dark man she vaguely recognized opened the door and,
squinting against the day, said, "We are closed until seven."
     "I need to see Janette," said Natalie, shoving her way
past him.  He grabbed her from behind, his grip chill.
     "Miklos!" said Janette as she came out of the back room.
"Let her go."
     Miklos obeyed, but still loomed behind her.  "Where is
he?" asked Nat.
     "Leave us alone, Miklos," said Janette.  The man nodded
and went off into the back room.  Janette walked over to the
bar and poured herself a drink.  She was dressed in a long
black silk dressing gown.  "Where is who?"
     Natalie came over to the bar.  "Where's Nick?"
     Janette froze for a second, then said, "Don't you know?"
     "All I know is he left his gun and badge and resignation
on his dining table.  I take it he's not here.  Has LaCroix--?"
     Janette turned and looked at Natalie.  "No.  He's gone."
Nat just looked at her.  "He came to me last night.  I gave
him the name of one who helps us to disappear."
     Nat shook her head.  "No.  Nick wouldn't have left
without telling me, without wanting me to come--"
     "He has left...both of us."  The vampire's eyes began
to glisten.
     "No," said Natalie and then she ran from the club.
     She got in her car.  Nick would not have left her--not
without telling her.  He wouldn't do that to her.  He needed
her.  He needed her to cure him...
     What to do now?  Maybe he was waiting for her at home,
she thought suddenly.  Or had left a message telling her where
to meet him.  She started the car and drove home as quickly as
the law allowed.
     She ran up the stairs and unlocked the door.  She nearly
stepped on the envelope lying face down on the floor as she
entered and bent to snatch it up.  It looked like the same
paper Schanke's letter was written on.  She turned the envelope
over and saw her name scrawled across the front of it in Nick's
spidery tracing.  She opened the envelope, her hand trembling.
 
     "Dear Natalie,
 
           This hasn't been an easy letter to write, but
      I couldn't risk speaking with you.  I know you
      would have wanted to go with me and I couldn't
      allow you to do that.
           By the time you read this, I will have gone.
      Yes, I know it means losing your help to a cure,
      but know that I won't give up my search for one.
      Never.  But I can't stay in Toronto any longer.
      Schanke has already joked about how I don't seem to
      age.  Better to leave now before too many others
      notice.
           But know that I do regret leaving.  I'll miss
      the friends I made and you.  Especially you.  I
      hope you'll understand that I didn't feel that I
      should let you throw away your whole life on
      something that may never be possible.  You worked
      hard trying to cure me and I'm very grateful for
      that and for the memories of a normal life that you
      gave me.  Those memories of that and you will
      sustain me in my new life.
           I know you are strong and that you will get on
      with your life.  Have a good life, Nat, and may you
      someday find your heart's desire.
 
                            Love,
 
                            Nick"
 
     Natalie sank down onto the floor and whispered, "But you
were my heart's desire, Nick."
     Clutching the letter to her chest, she bowed her head and
wept.
 
                           THE END