Subject: A Shroud of Crimson (01/?) Date: Sun, 3 Nov 2002 12:45:07 -0800 From: Daomir Darkfell To: FKFIC-L@LISTS.PSU.EDU A Shroud of Crimson: A Forever Knight Story By April French Characters: Nick, Nat, LaCroix, others Author's Note: This story takes place following the third season episode "Ashes to Ashes." According to me, "Last Knight" DID NOT HAPPEN. That means Tracy's alive, the Raven's not closed, Nick didn't kill Nat, LaCroix didn't kill Nick... nothing happened. Personally, I think it would have made more sense (and been easier on the hearts of the fans) if "Ashes to Ashes" had been the series finale... with one or two little additions of my own. That's my story and I'm stickin' to it. I am very new to the FK universe, and have not seen repeated viewings of all three seasons, so I don't actually know the importance of kissing among vampires or what Natalie actually smells like, so if anyone comes across major discrepancies in canon or science or Canadian legal proceedings (I'm an American who flunked Government and Politics in high school!) or anything at all, please don't hesitate to let me know and I'll fix the problem as soon as I can. Kai Thorn and Julian are mine, as is Sperling; so is the town of Black Falls, which exists only in my diseased brain; everyone else I'm just borrowing from the TV people. I'm not making any money, or if I am, it's news to me. Any other comments, criticisms praise or kudos will be gratefully devoured. All flames will be put into Sidney's litter box. Once completed, this story will be archived at my website, http://www.geocities.com/runeshard/index.html, and possibly at http://www.fanfiction.net. Permission is given to archive this story at Mel Moser's Forever Knight fanfic site (wherever that may be at this point) and at the FTP site. All others must first bribe me with spiced wine and chocolates. *** A Shroud of Crimson (01/?) Toronto: 1996 Nick hated suicide cases, particularly when the victim was a young person. Granted, she was only truly young in Nick's mind, but they still gnawed at him. Life lost, talent wasted. His partner, Tracy Vetter, hated suicide cases too. Then again, when they came over the radio near the end of her shift, she hated all cases. The woman had died in her bed. The bedside lamp was still on, the room was untouched. The only disturbance seemed to be the disarray of the bedclothes, which were tangled and clutched in the deceased's hands, but for some reason, Nick felt on edge. There was an odd smell in this room... "The deceased is Sandra Brant, age thirty-one, student of chemistry at the University, according to her brother. Time of death was about one-thirty this morning," said Natalie, making a note on her clipboard. "Barely a half an hour ago. Judging from the state of the corpse, I'd say it wasn't pleasant." She caught Nick eyeing her new assistant. "Nick, Trace, this is Dr. Julian Gorey. He's just come up from New York." Nick shook hands with the auburn-headed young man. "Any relation to Edward Gorey?" Tracy asked, taking his hand. Julian grinned. "I wish. No, no such luck." "Where in New York?" said Nick, trying to be sociable. Something about the newbie was rubbing him the wrong way... but at least he could be certain Julian was not the source of the scent. "Black Falls, in the Adirondacks." He smiled sourly. "Or as I like to call it, the ass-end of Hell." "Is there anything here to suggest that this wasn't suicide?" asked Tracy, getting back to business. "Not as of this moment. From the contortions of the face, I'll venture a guess and say that she ODed on something." "Such as?" "Well, she was a chemistry student. She would've had access to a lot of common toxic chemicals at the university, and been aware of where to get them wholesale if she couldn't find them on campus. Could have been accidental, though, she was on some pretty heavy prescription meds." "What for?" "According to the brother? Brain tumor. You'll have to wait for the toxicology report to come back for anything positive." While Tracy and Julian traded hypotheses, Nick bent over to examine the body. She was completely unmarked, he noted, gently turning her head from side to side to examine her throat. Natalie leaned over next to him. "Anything interesting?" she said lowly. Nick held his breath and counted to five before he responded. Strands of Natalie's hair were brushing the back of his neck, sending fiery slivers up and down his spine. When was she going to notice? he wondered. This couldn't possibly be one-sided. Against his will, memories rose up in his mind. They always did now, when Natalie was near. Memories of Divia's attack... <> <> <> <> Nick shook his head. "She wasn't bitten," he answered quietly, his fingers absently stroking the unblemished skin of Sandra Brant's throat, "but I'm certain that was here." His emphasis on the 'someone' left no doubt in Natalie's mind as to what kind of 'someone' Nick was referring. "How can you tell?" "The odor is unmistakable. A vampire has been in this room. Recently." "Within the last hour?" "The scent would have decayed by now if it'd been longer. It's so strong, I'd almost think he was still here--" This was all news to Natalie. "He? Can you tell who it was? It is anyone you know?" Nick inhaled through his nose a few times, allowing his nostrils to flare. "No," he gasped, shaking his head. "Individual scent markers disappear after a few minutes. All I can tell is that it was a vampire. Relatively young, a hundred and fifty, maybe? And male." Natalie gave him a queer look. "What?" "You sound like a guy from some nature show, talking about wolves marking their territory. You've never mentioned this particular trick before." "It's not something I use very often. I'm actually not all that good at scent tracking, unless there's a blood trail. But this guy's got a real... unique... odor." "Smells like...?" "Insanity." "Well, this is a new one for the files. Anything else you'd like to divulge? Like, do you have scent glands that I don't know about?" "I'm gonna go help Tracy question the brother." Nick hurried out of the bedroom, never seeing the shocked look that had appeared on Natalie's face, or the smirk that Julian was sporting. *** "Mr. Brant, was your sister depressed? Angry about her condition?" "What do you think, Detective? That she was jumping for joy and throwing a keg party? Of course she was angry!" "Angry enough to commit suicide?" Nick pressed. Greg Brant passed a hand over his face. "Not because of that, no." Tracy leaned forward. "Something else, then?" "I think she and her boyfriend had a fight. She came home around 11 tonight, from a date with him. Normally, she wouldn't be home before 2 in the morning." "Did she seem different to you?" "Real quiet. She wasn't smiling. She was always smiling when she got home from a date with Nick." Tracy grinned at her partner; Nick Knight became very interested in his own shoes. "So you know Nick's last name?" "Thorn." Nick kept looking at his shoes, hiding a silly grin. 'Nicholas Thorn,' now brought back memories... "But his names not Nick," Brant was saying, "not really. I mean, his name's Nicholas, but he hated it when people called him Nick. Only Sandy got away with that." "What name does he normally go by?" "Kai. Kai Thorn." Nick's cold heart contracted, like a snow ball being packed by ruthless hands. Kai. End Part One April French daomir_darkfell@yahoo.com ===== "And we shall exist by amusing ourselves, by dreaming of monstrous loves and fantastic universes, by complaining and quarreling with the pretenses of the world..." --"The Flash of Lightening" by Arthur Rimbaud __________________________________________________ Do you Yahoo!? HotJobs - Search new jobs daily now http://hotjobs.yahoo.com/ Subject: A Shroud of Crimson (02/?) Date: Mon, 4 Nov 2002 12:54:03 -0800 From: Daomir Darkfell To: FKFIC-L@LISTS.PSU.EDU Disclaimers are in the first post. A Shroud of Crimson (02/?) @}----- Baltimore: 1842 It was very late at night. Or very early in the morning, depending on how one chose to reckon time. Either way it was dark, too dark for the sturdy carriage driver to keep going, no matter how much cash Nicholas plied him with. The city streets were swollen with rain, mud and animal refuse, and Nicholas was more than happy to take his luggage and duck into the first open tavern the coachman spotted. It was a dive, to be sure, but at least it was dry. He would have to wait out the storm before continuing on to the hotel and his master. LaCroix was not going to be happy with the delay, but even LaCroix could not bend the very elements to his will. The coachman banged Nicholas's trunks onto the first empty table he spotted, took the money his rich passenger handed him and made a beeline for the bar. Nicholas stripped off his gloves, pinched the bridge of his nose to forestall a headache that was not actually forming, and shed his water-logged cloak in a single fluid motion. It hit the floor with a resounding splat! Nicholas glared at the offending garment, and left it. He slid into a chair with a grateful sigh. One of the barmaids approached him, swaying her ample hips suggestively, no doubt attracted by his well-to-do appearance and the amount of beer his tip was allowing the coachman to guzzle. "What's your pleasure, sir?" Nicholas smiled, but his mind was half on rest and half on speed, with no room left for hunger of any kind. "My pleasure, my girl, is for it to stop raining so I can get on my way." His arms snaked around her waist and Nicholas pulled the girl into his lap. If there was one thing that did not change much in 600 years, it was tavern wenches. "But if I change my mind, you shall be the first to know." He planted a kiss on her cheek and sent the laughing girl on her way. Someone chuckled. "Praise be for warm bodies, eh, friend?" Nicholas looked across the room. In a dark corner beside the door sat a lone man, of perhaps middle years, pale blond hair framing a grey, gaunt face. His heartbeat was erratic, his breathing labored. He was sick unto death. "Indeed," agreed Nicholas. "For I am certainly not one myself at present." "While I am decidedly too warm for my own liking." The sick man beckoned to him. "Join me." Nicholas crossed the tavern and sat across from his new friend, smelling as he did so the blood on the man's breath. "Will you drink with me?" "No, thank you. I fear the journey has unsettled my stomach too much for even alcohol to cure." "As you like." The man leaned forward conspiratorially. "Do you know, friend, you are very brave to avail yourself of my company." "And why is that?" The sick man nodded to the staff, who were glaring fearfully in their direction. "It is feared that I may be contagious. The owner was a great crony of mine in better days and cannot now find the heart to ban me from his establishment, but your pretty lass may not be wanting your attentions now that you have breathed the same air as I." Nicholas nodded. That explained the pervasive scent of blood. And yet there was a quietness of strength about the man. A radiance, almost. "You seem in high spirits for a man dying of consumption." The man shrugged. "I may be dying, friend, but I am not dead yet. I enjoyed life while it was sweet and I've no intention to stop now that the days are sour." His voice was weak but light, and his grey eyes sparkled with humor rather than fever. Nicholas was forced to reconsider his estimate of the man's age; consumption had an unpleasant way of aging the afflicted. "I am five-and-twenty." Nicholas blinked. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to stare." "Do not apologize. I fear I look older than I truly am." Nicholas thought automatically. "But I am being most impolite." He held out a thin, brittle hand. "Nicholas Quartermayne, at your service, sir." Nicholas grinned. "Nicholas Thorn. A great pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Quartermayne." The sick man snorted. "Please do not call me that. Only my creditors address me as 'Mr. Quartermayne.'" "Well, we can't both of us be Nicholas. That would just be too cumbersome." "You may call me Kai. Everyone else does." "Kai? Curious appellation." "It is short for 'Nikaila,' which was my own pronunciation of Nicholas when I was a small child—" His explanation was cut short by an explosive fit of coughing. The smell of blood grew much stronger. @}----- "Can you tell us anything about Mr. Thorn?" Tracy was asking. Nick looked up from his shoes to find Natalie standing in the doorway of the living room, watching him intently with a concerned expression. Nick smiled weakly. "I only met him once or twice. He's got long hair, almost like a white-blond, and really light grey eyes. Medium height, thin build. Sandy said he had a tattoo on his throat, but she didn't say what of and I never saw it." Nick closed his eyes and mentally reached out to the long-dormant link. It hummed against his touch with the familiar radiant, quiet strength. Even if he had not heard Gregory Brant's description, that was proof enough for Nick. "Do you know where we can find Kai Thorn?" he asked, trying to keep the hope from his voice. "I don't know exactly. Sandy said he owned a store downtown, kind of a book store/coffee shop combo." He gave Tracy the address. "She always met him there, always called him there. I think she mentioned him having an apartment above the shop, but I'm not quite sure." Brant's expression changed, going from shocked, grieving and bewildered to near-explosive anger in 3.7 seconds. "Hey. Hey, if you find Thorn, you tell him from me. If he had anything to do with Sandy's death, I'm gonna see him in court so fast, his little blond ass won't know what hit him." Nick had to refrain from rolling his eyes. "He's just a kid compared to Sandy, for Christ's sake! What did he want with her? She's twice as old as he is!" Nick thought. Aloud, all he said was, "Do you know the name of the bookstore, Mr. Brant?" "The Corvina." *** Natalie gave a deep sigh of relief once Nick had left the room. Closing her eyes, she rubbed her temples. "Well, that was weird," she muttered. "At least now I know for sure." She considered the problem on her way back to the morgue. Mildly put, her relationship with Nick of late had been a curious animal. To say nothing of the demon and the exorcism, the Fever, the virtual reality game--major setbacks in their attempts to bring Nick back into the sunlight. And then Divia... LaCroix believed that it was Nick's 'resurgent goodness' that had allowed him to survive Divia's attack. But Natalie knew better. She wondered why LaCroix hadn't figured it out for himself. Maybe he had, and was just biding his time until he could put the knowledge to good use. The knowledge that Nick had drunk of her blood. @}----- Nick had promised that he would watch his back, but something in his voice had made Natalie quite certain that no matter how hard he watched, the 2000-year-old little girl would still manage to stab him. Or rather, to stake him. So Natalie did the only thing she could think of doing. She drove hurriedly to Nick's loft, with a pint of her own freshly drawn blood on the car seat next to her. She found him lying on the floor, half on top of one of his paintings, his head resting in the center of the brightly colored sun. "Oh God," she said, more than half in prayer. He sported a grand burn on one arm and was bleeding from cuts on his temple and a bite on his throat. "Come on, Nick," Natalie coaxed, ripping open the bag. She cradled his head in her lap and held the still-warm blood under his nose. "Drink, dammit! Nick! Oh God... Nick, I swear I'll kill you if you die on me..." His body stiffened. Nick's hands flew up and grabbed the plastic bag, sucking from it like a newborn infant at its mother's breast. "Good boy," she murmured. His injuries were already starting to heal. "LaCroix..." He tossed the bag away and tried to stand up. "Easy, Nick," Natalie scolded when he stumbled. He was taking very deep breaths, and when he met her eyes, his own were still saffron. Natalie swallowed determinedly. "Do you need more blood?" she asked, offering him her wrist. "Natalie... I..." "Nick." Too weak to argue, Nick sank his fangs into her willing flesh. He drank as though starving, too overwhelmed by grief and worry and pain to enjoy the sensations that poured into him from her sweet lifeblood. After only a few swallows, Nick pulled away, shaking his head furiously. "No! No more!" "Nick!" Nick's eyes widened. "LaCroix... Nat, she's gone to the Raven, she's going to kill LaCroix. I have to go!" Nick flew out of his loft, leaving Natalie in the midst of the silent bedlam. @}----- End Part Two April French daomir_darkfell@yahoo.com ===== "And we shall exist by amusing ourselves, by dreaming of monstrous loves and fantastic universes, by complaining and quarreling with the pretenses of the world..." --"The Flash of Lightening" by Arthur Rimbaud __________________________________________________ Do you Yahoo!? HotJobs - Search new jobs daily now http://hotjobs.yahoo.com/ Subject: A Shroud of Crimson (03/?) Date: Mon, 4 Nov 2002 18:55:59 -0800 From: Daomir Darkfell To: FKFIC-L@LISTS.PSU.EDU Disclaimers are in the first post. Many thanks to everyone for their kind words, and my apologies for this post being so short! A Shroud of Crimson (03/?) @}----- Nick was almost always on her mind now, in her thoughts, and not for the usual reasons of friendship, more-than-friendship, scientific curiosity and annoyance. When he was not around, she thought he was. In the past week, the number of times Natalie had looked over her shoulder, expecting to see Nick there, were her ability to count. He was but the hairs on the back of her neck kept trying to tell her otherwise. And when he was present... If she was in the same room with Nick, she would feel the queerest pulses in her wrists and behind her eyes, and get rushes of sensation and emotion that were not her own. If Nick touched something, she would feel the object. If Nick touched her, if he brushed her hand or kissed her cheek in a brotherly manner, she would not only feel his lips on her flesh, but also her flesh against his lips. And when he touched her, she could... sense, she could what he was thinking. What she know was if Nick felt it, as well. Natalie thought back to the night at the Azure. She had remembered bits and pieces of it on her own... until Nick fed from her. Now, she remembered... she remembered almost everything. Every moment, every sensation... every emotion. The fear. The shame. The joy and relief. And the blankness. Nick had tried to take her memories of that night. A violation of her trust and her privacy that it had taken Natalie a long time to forgive, and even longer to understand. Julian looked over at his colleague. "Penny for your thoughts?" "Penny's not going to pay for them." He shrugged and stared out the window at the slushy city landscape. "Detective Knight seems like a neat guy. Thorough, eager, very dedicated. And stubborn." "You were in his company for barely seven minutes and you've uncovered almost everything about him!" Natalie laughed and shook her head. "You're good." Julian shrugged again. "Not such a talent. I am adept at research. I confess, I expected nothing less from Sir Nicolas de Brabant." The car almost went off the road. Julian reached over and grabbed the steering wheel, maneuvering the vehicle back into its proper lane. "Careful, Natalie! Get a hold of yourself, woman." Her mouth was so dry from nervous shock, Natalie could not speak. Julian raised an eyebrow. "Your heart is going like a terrified rabbit," he pointed out. "You really should drink less coffee. Bad for the blood." "Can you blame me?" Natalie managed to get out. "Not only did you just blow the lid off Nick's cover, I am sitting in a car with a vampire who also happens to work in my morgue!" She took a deep breath and tried to compose herself. "Who are you, really? And what do you want with Nick?" "Who I am, really, is Dr. Julian Gorey, late of Black Falls, New York State, USA. I'm not much older than I look, Natalie, I promise. As for Detective Knight, I have no particular interest in him. He doesn't know me. I happen to know an old acquaintance of his. I recognized him from his friend's description. That's all." "Why don't I believe you?" Julian looked honestly surprised. "That's your business." "Nick said he smelled a strange vampire in Sandra Brant's room," Natalie began. "Nick also shook hands with me. Natalie, I was with you when she died. Not that I needed one to begin with, but you're my alibi." "Dammit..." Julian winked. "I've never heard mention of a vampire physician before." "First time for everything. My mother was a doctor. Her lover was a vampire." "And he brought you across." "Something like that," Julian admitted reluctantly. "Yes." He hesitated. "You know, you and my late mother have something in common. I understand that you are assisting Detective Knight with his... condition." Natalie pulled into the parking lot at the coroner's office. "Yeah. That's the idea, at least... Your mother was working on a cure?" "For many years. I've tried to carry on her work. Have you had... any luck?" "Nothing substantial." She got out of her car. Julian was still sitting in the passenger's side. "You?" "No," he said shortly. "No luck at all." End Part Three April French daomir_darkfell@yahoo.com ===== "And we shall exist by amusing ourselves, by dreaming of monstrous loves and fantastic universes, by complaining and quarreling with the pretenses of the world..." --"The Flash of Lightening" by Arthur Rimbaud __________________________________________________ Do you Yahoo!? HotJobs - Search new jobs daily now http://hotjobs.yahoo.com/ Subject: A Shroud of Crimson (04/?) Date: Tue, 5 Nov 2002 07:03:39 -0800 From: Daomir Darkfell To: FKFIC-L@LISTS.PSU.EDU Disclaimers are in the first post; for those who've asked again, my website is http://www.geocities.com/runeshard/fkficindex.html A Shroud of Crimson (04/?) *** Tracy hated it when Nick zoned out. True, she heard from everybody at the precinct, from Captain Reese downward, that it was just one of Nicholas B. Knight's trademarks, that it was perfectly normal, part of Nick's 'charm.' Personally, Tracy didn't find it very charming. Especially when Nick was driving. Grumbling, she slouched in her seat and turned on the radio. "Greetings, gentle listeners. The Nightcrawler bids you good evening, and hopes that you are all behaving yourselves. At least for the time being. Tonight's topic: Friendship. One that we have discussed many times before, and something that has been much on mind, of late. A timeless ideal to be equally discussed around medieval campfires or over coffee and doughnuts. The nature of friendship is a slippery thing, my children. Throughout history, singers have praised it, artists have tried to give it form, writers have done their utmost to capture the clearest interpretation of 'best friends.' Damon and Pythas, Roland and Oliver... "But what is the nature of a true friend? Is a friend someone who will do whatever is necessary to ensure your happiness? Someone who will commit your crime for you when you can not? Is it someone to pull the trigger of the gun pointed at your temple because you have not the courage to pull it yourself? "Or is a true friend the person who will not do as you ask? No matter how much you rant, or plead, or beg, a true friend is perhaps the person who puts the bullet through your shoulder rather than through your brain, just as a way of saying ' are my closest friend, and I will have no part in your death.' @}----- "Just a little further, Kai," Nicholas coaxed, ignoring the rain which only an hour before had been such a deterrent. The thin shoulders of his companion shook with bone-racking coughs. "Go on," the younger man choked out. "I'll be fine." "Absolutely not." "You'll catch your death in this weather." "And you will not?" They stopped in front of a building that leaned very obviously to one side. Nicholas gaped in disbelief. "You live here?" "Third floor," Kai gasped, rain streaming down his wasted face. "Last room on the left. That one," he clarified, pointing to a filthy window. They had not taken more than two steps towards the front door before Kai collapsed. Nicholas hoisted the young man over his shoulder, looked around for witnesses, and flew up to the third floor window. The wood and glass frame opened on hinges rather than on a sash, and the catch was broken, so Nicholas was able to push the window open and fly into the room. Swiftly, he stripped Kai of his wet clothing and put him into his bed, which was riddled with fleas and devoid of covering, but it would have to do for tonight. Tomorrow, perhaps, he could find something more suitable— Nicholas growled to himself, searching for candles and matches. He needed to be with LaCroix tomorrow. But this man, this boy, really, who shared his name... Nicholas felt himself being drawn to Kai. As he lit Kai's few meager candles, the situation struck Nicholas as quite inexplicable. The tearing, choking sounds coming from the bed alerted Nicholas to Kai's conscious state. He pulled out a handkerchief and held it below Kai's mouth to catch the blood spewing up from his lungs. The young man was doubled over in pain from the spasms taking place inside his chest. Nicholas slid sideways behind Kai's back and wrapped his free arm about the young man's shoulders to support him. It seemed an eternity before the coughing and retching subsided, leaving Kai gasping for air and Nicholas drenched in red sweat. Kai slumped down on his feeble pillow, looking up at Nicholas blearily. "I fear I've soiled your dandified clothes. You look like you've been wrapped in a shroud of crimson." Nicholas shrugged. "I've no quarrels with a bit of blood." And truthfully, the great amount of blood Kai had evacuated appetized him not at all. A consumptive's blood had a disgusting sour tang that appealed to very few vampires. Still, so much blood, edible or not, would put a golden gleam in Nicholas's eyes, and he did not want Kai to see that, so he moved to the window corner to rinse out his shirt and coat with the abundant rainwater. He felt the unmistakable feeling of eyes on his bare skin, and he turned quickly to find Kai sitting up in his bed, watching him. Once again, the pale grey eyes were sparkling, not with fever, but with something inherent, internal, and they were fixed on Nicholas with a stare that he could only describe as... knowing. Nicholas wrung out his shirt nervously. "I have to go." He could feel the sun on the horizon and needed to get back to his closed carriage and his sober, if hung-over, coachman. "Will you come back tomorrow night?" The quiet entreaty stopped Nicholas in his tracks. "I--I do not know if I shall be able." "Please try, Nicholas. I do not wish to die alone." Nicholas guiltily slithered into his clean but damp clothes. LaCroix had no plans to stay long in Baltimore, and he doubtless wanted Nicholas with him the entire time. Much as he wanted to visit Kai in his last days, Nicholas knew he'd have the devil's own time getting away from LaCroix once he left. If he left. Nicholas thought, looking over at Kai Quartermayne. The young man was patiently waiting for his new friend's answer. "Why me?" he asked finally. "I have been sick with this vile disease for two years. In all that time, you are the only person who has ever extended any kindness to me." thought Nicholas fiercely, "Yes, my friend. I will come back." End Part Four April French daomir_darkfell@yahoo.com ===== "And we shall exist by amusing ourselves, by dreaming of monstrous loves and fantastic universes, by complaining and quarreling with the pretenses of the world..." --"The Flash of Lightening" by Arthur Rimbaud __________________________________________________ Do you Yahoo!? HotJobs - Search new jobs daily now http://hotjobs.yahoo.com/ Subject: A Shroud of Crimson (05/?) Date: Tue, 5 Nov 2002 16:45:02 -0800 From: Daomir Darkfell To: FKFIC-L@LISTS.PSU.EDU Disclaimers are in the first post. A Shroud of Crimson (05/?) The Corvina was not only a bookstore/coffee house; it was a bookstore/coffee house. Tracy got out of the Caddy and sniggered. "Man, every RPG vampire in the city must hang out here," she snorted. Nick didn't say anything; the consequences of asking LaCroix to tamper with her memory were still hanging between his eyeballs like an impending gunshot, and there was always the remote chance that any mention of vampires coming out of his mouth might give Tracy ideas. Still, he decided to make a little test. "The Corvina was the library of Matthias Corvinus, a 15th century Hungarian ruler. Historically, a female relative of his was supposed to have married Vlad Dracula." Tracy turned to stare at her partner. "You know, the vampire?" Inside, the store was a pleasant mixture of smells, gourmet coffee and pastries, old books and new. Ink, paste, paper. Nick loved a bookstore... although the gigantic cardboard cutout of the blond girl with the stake that someone had propped in the corner gave Nick reason to pause. They asked the girl behind the coffee counter if they could speak with Mr. Thorn. "Nicholas?" she asked. "Yes, can we speak with him? We're with the Metro Police." "Is your name Nicholas?" Nick blinked. "Yes..." She smiled. "Kai told us to expect you. Take a seat, Detectives, he'll be out in a minute." Tracy slid into an empty table. "How'd he know we were coming?" "Kai's funny like that." "You know him?" "We go back." Discreetly, the girl placed a mug in front of each of them and disappeared. Tracy sipped her coffee and did her best to ignore the tingling sensation on the back of her neck. She had the weirdest feeling that the other customers were looking over their coffee and books and from behind the stacks, and watching them. Appropriately, the silken-steel tones of the Nightcrawler were insinuating themselves into the atmosphere, from the discreetly hidden speakers, into the unwary listener's minds. "Maybe a friend is not the person being asked, but the person asking the favor. A favor so important, so dire, that the only living being that you can trust with this favor is that one friend, the person so close to you that death itself could not separate you. "What say you, gentle listeners? Tell the Nightcrawler your woes, your haves and have nots. Because, after all, the Nightcrawler is your closest friend..." @}----- Nicholas held the towel under Kai's mouth, trying futilely to catch all of the blood that the young man was vomiting. He'd gone through more towels than he could count in the past week. Nicholas had simply burned them all and bought more. It was the least he could do for the poor boy he had promised not to leave. Kai gagged and gasped for air. "Nicholas--" "No. Don't speak. Rest, Kai." It was pointless to try and calm him; they both knew that this was the last hemorrhage. He shook his pale head. "No. Nicholas--" Kai choked on his own blood. His body heaved and his mouth worked silently like a fish strangling on a hook. With his thin, shaking hand, Kai reached up and touched Nicholas's lips, then brought his hand to his own throat. Nicholas was astonished. "How did--? No. No, Kai, I cannot. I cannot!" The lively, radiant spark that had been missing from Kai's grey eyes in the past week came flooding back with a vengeance. There was no fear, only determination. The message was clear as the moon at midnight: You can. And by God, you will. Beaten, Nicholas nodded. "As you wish." He bowed his head. Nicholas felt his fangs descend, and all the world receded as the only thing that Nicholas heard was the struggling beat of Kai's heart and the weak, diseased blood in his veins. Nicholas pulled back the blond head to expose the thin, shriveled neck, and buried his fangs in the flesh of the throat. @}----- End Part Five April French daomir_darkfell@yahoo.com ===== "And we shall exist by amusing ourselves, by dreaming of monstrous loves and fantastic universes, by complaining and quarreling with the pretenses of the world..." --"The Flash of Lightening" by Arthur Rimbaud __________________________________________________ Do you Yahoo!? HotJobs - Search new jobs daily now http://hotjobs.yahoo.com/ Subject: A Shroud of Crimson (06/?) Date: Wed, 6 Nov 2002 12:42:48 -0800 From: Daomir Darkfell To: FKFIC-L@LISTS.PSU.EDU Disclaimers in first post, etc, etc... A Shroud of Crimson (06/?) Nick felt Kai's approach thrumming through their reemerging link, and out of sheer anticipation he took a gulp of his drink without considering what was in it--and was surprised to find that it wasn't coffee. It was cow blood. "I trust you find my stock satisfactory, Nicholas?" Nick looked up. Kai was dressed in a white turtleneck sweater and a black jacket, which made him look vaguely like a Catholic priest. His pale blond hair was longer now, combed smoothly back and held in a ponytail. His face was still gaunt. His grey eyes were still quiet, his demeanor calm. He was not smiling. At least, that was what Tracy thought. Nick knew better. His link with Kai was humming vibrantly, warm and bright. Warmer and brighter, in fact, than the last time Nick had seen him, in Paris in the early 1880s. Pleasing, considering that they had not parted on good terms... "If not, perhaps you'd care for something a bit stronger. I've got a fine private bar." "I'm on duty, Kai. But maybe I'll take you up on it, later." Nick stood and pulled his fledgling into a bear hug. "It's been a long time." "Um... hey, Nick? Gonna introduce me?" "Sorry. Tracy, Nicholas Thorn, better known as Kai. Kai, Detective Tracy Vetter, my partner. Trace, Kai is..." How to describe his relationship to Kai? Fledgling? Son? Unholy creation?" Kai gave him a mental kick. "... my godson." He could almost hear Kai sigh and say 'Close enough.' "A pleasure, Detective Vetter." "Were you named for Nick?" Kai winked. "He'd like to think so." "Kai, we are here on official business, I'm afraid. Could we go someplace a little more private?" "Of course." Kai took the detectives to the back of the store, and pulled back a hinged bookcase to reveal a door. "Catchy," said Tracy approvingly. "Kitchy," said Nick chidingly. Kai shrugged. "My idea, not the architect's. The few people who know about it think it's fantastic. They're just disappointed that there's no secret password or hidden button under some candle." He pulled a key from his pocket. Kai's inner office was more like a Victorian gentleman's study, all wood paneling and dark carpets, but instead of having a sinister atmosphere, the room projected calm strength and quiet confidence. Like Kai, Nick thought. Blue eyes met grey and Kai smiled serenely. Damn, I forgot. He can hear anything. he deliberately broadcast. Kai laughed aloud. "Hey, what's so funny? Did I miss something?" "Old joke," Nick said, sitting down in one of the deep leather chairs opposite Kai's big wooden desk. "Nothing to concern yourself with." "Now then, Detectives. How can I help you?" Tracy glanced at her partner, and decided to cut right to the chase. "Mr. Thorn, Sandra Brant is dead." Kai's eyes went totally blank. He slammed down on his end of the link, causing Nick to clamp his own eyes shut against the backlash. "How did she die?" Kai asked finally. "She appears to have committed suicide." Kai frowned. "What?" "You and Sandra Brant were seeing each other?" "We were attached romantically." "She was your girlfriend," Tracy translated. "Yes." "And you dated regularly?" "After a fashion." "A fashion?" "I don't leave the store much, so she comes... used to come here, once or twice a week." "Did you know she had an inoperable brain tumor?" "Yes, of course I knew. Why? What does that have to do with anything? Nicholas?" "Kai, Sandra's brother claims that she came home early tonight, and that she was unusually quiet. Two hours later, she was dead. Did you and she... have some sort of fight?" Kai's head jerked up, his jaw clenched tightly. "No." "Mr. Thorn--" "No, I did not fight with Sandra tonight. We did have a slight disagreement. I asked her if she wouldn't mind leaving early because I had a lot of bookkeeping to do and I wanted to finish it before morning. She became a bit... testy with me, and left. That was it. I didn't see her after." "When did she leave?" "About ten-thirty. My assistant manager out front will confirm the time, and she will also confirm that I have not left the store all night. And I'll repeat everything I just said before a judge, if you like." Tracy shut her notebook. "That won't be necessary, Mr. Thorn. Thank you for your cooperation." She stood. "Nick?" Nick looked back at his 'godson,' who was slumped down in his chair, deflated and confused. "Give me a couple minutes, will you, Tracy?" "Right. I'll go get another cup of coffee." "Shut the bookcase behind you," said Kai absently. Nick hitched his chair closer to the desk. "You stole my name," he quipped, smiling hopefully. Kai didn't respond. "Kai?" "This is all wrong," Kai muttered. "This is just... not right." Nick pursed his lips. Reaching out, he took Kai's hand and rubbed the slender knuckles reassuringly with the ball of his thumb. Nick frowned. "When was the last time you fed?" Kai shook his head. "I don't know. Three days, four?" "You're as bad as ever. What have you been doing with yourself since 1881?" "Nothing of import," Kai shrugged weakly. "Pursuing a somewhat masochistic course of study, but it's paid off." His twisted grin gave Nick a sudden cold chill. "Join me for midnight mass sometime, it's a wonderful thing." "You're not thinking clearly. You need to feed." "Blood on the tongue clouds my mind, you know that." He dropped his chin onto his chest. "And I've been seeing so much lately... golden coins on a river of blood... I don't know what to make of them... Nicholas, I don't feel like eating." "I don't care what you feel like," said Nick gently, going round the desk and offering Kai his hand. Kai's eyelids flickered in a brief gesture of thanks and sank his teeth into his father's palm. @}----- Nicholas was beginning to panic. It had been over an hour since he had drunk Kai's blood and exchanged it for his own, and still the man showed no signs of stirring. Nicholas begged silently or whatever deity was pleased to listen, stroking Kai's broad forehead, brushing the limp strands of silver-gilt hair with his fingers. As if on cue, Kai's chest rose and fell once. Nicholas breathed a sign of great relief. "Thank you," he whispered to no one in particular. "Kai... It is time to awaken, my friend." The endearments of his own master flitted through his mind. "My brother, my child. It is time to rise." Slowly, Kai's eyelids opened. Nicholas was dumbfounded; by all rights, his new fledgling's eyes should be blood red and wild with the first hunger. But they were still the same calm, quiet grey, sparkling now with health and life as well as humor. "Nicholas. Father." "Nicholas will do for now. How do you feel?" "Better. Well." "Hungry?" "No." Nicholas frowned. "You should feed, regardless. You are weak." Kai sat up slowly, holding his head. "As you say." He groaned and dropped his head into his hands. "Ah..." "Kai..." Nicholas hesitated, not sure of what he was going to say. "When I tasted your blood, I saw... things. Flashes, bright lights, images that I could not understand. But nothing tangible, nothing of yourself." "They are myself, Nicholas." Kai took a deep breath, and rose to his feet. Nicholas was beside him, steadying him. "They are all that I am." "What are they?" "Things that may be. Things that will be." Nicholas felt his jaw drop. "You can see the future? You are a prophet?" Kai chuckled softly. "Nothing so presumptuous. I don’t believe in prophecy. Prophecies are too open to interpretation, to exploitation. What I see either happens, or does not happen. There is no variation." The newborn link between Nicholas and Kai pulsed with a curious energy, and when Nicholas gently nudged the new bond, Kai opened his end of the link willingly, and then Nicholas understood. "You saw me in a vision," he realized. "That is how you knew what I was, and why you were not afraid of me." Kai nodded. "You are my savior, Nicholas, my father. I saw you in my mind, through a shroud of crimson, and I thought you were an archangel." "Instead, I turn out to be an arch-devil." "Even a savior may travel in the guise of the damned." "Enough of theology, you need to feed." @}----- End Part Six April French daomir_darkfell@yahoo.com ===== "And we shall exist by amusing ourselves, by dreaming of monstrous loves and fantastic universes, by complaining and quarreling with the pretenses of the world..." --"The Flash of Lightening" by Arthur Rimbaud __________________________________________________ Do you Yahoo!? HotJobs - Search new jobs daily now http://hotjobs.yahoo.com/ Subject: A Shroud of Crimson (07-1/?) Date: Thu, 7 Nov 2002 10:41:54 -0800 From: Daomir Darkfell To: FKFIC-L@LISTS.PSU.EDU Disclaimers in first post A Shroud of Crimson (07-1/?) Nick put a hand on Kai's forehead. "That's enough, Kai," he murmured. Obediently, Kai pulled back, licking the wounds closed. He sat back heavily in his chair. "Thank you, Father." "You wouldn't need it if you would eat properly." "This from a man who's lived on cow blood for a hundred years?" Nick punched Kai on the shoulder. "It's still feeding, even if it's not pleasant. Visions or not, I've told you before, there's no point in starving yourself over things that may not even come to pass." "They will..." "Then you have no control over it. You're wasting away." "And you sound like a Jewish mother. Or LaCroix. Nicholas, go." Not for the first time, Nick felt helpless in his son's presence. "Kai--" "Just go. I'm in no shape to get reacquainted." *** "A friend," caressed the Nightcrawler, "is the greatest of all treasures, a commodity not to be taken lightly or to be bartered for. It is a far more loyal emotion than passionate love or divine ardor or even filial piety. For any love affair to be successful, there must be friendship as well as passion. One must have respect for one's god before one can proclaim to love him. And to love a father, or a son, one must first trust that father or that son. How long is the longest friendship? A true friend is the greatest form of eternal love." *** "Hey, Nick, how was the bookstore?" "Very Gothic. By the way, what the hell is "Buffy the Vampire Slayer?" He was surprised when Julian snorted and covered his mouth. "What? What did I say that was so funny?" Natalie waved away his confusion. "Never mind, I'll tell you later." Nick raised an eyebrow, but let it pass. "What did you find?" "It wasn't an overdose of prescription meds." "No?" "It was strychnine." "She was poisoned?" "Yep." "By who?" "Hey, that's your job, not mine. By that vampire you smelled?" Nick jumped. She hadn't even bothered to lower her voice. "Nat!" he hissed, gesturing to Julian Gorey, bent over his microscope, seemingly oblivious. "No need to panic on my account, Monsieur DeBrabant," he said languidly, leaning back and smiling so that his fangs were prominently displayed. Nick vamped out in response, moving to shield Natalie from any threat. He something about the Yank had rubbed him the wrong way! "Uh, Nick? It's okay. Julian's... Julian's cool." "Go on about your business, Detective," said the other vampire, standing. "I have my own to attend to." He left the room resolutely, shaking his head. he grinned to himself. Natalie patted Nick's arm. "Nick? The case? The mystery vamp?" "Huh? Oh. Well, that does seem to be our only option, but... why would a vampire use strychnine?" "Taste enhancer?" "Not my taste buds, thank you. Strychnine makes my tonsils feel funny." Natalie gaped at Nick and shook her head. "I'm not even going to ask how you managed to experience that. Did you find out anything from the boyfriend?" "Only that he's in shock. And that he was grateful to see me again, but didn't want to talk." "You know him?" "I made him." Natalie turned back from her examination of the corpse. "He's a vampire." Nick nodded. "Could he have been the one you smelled?" Nick hesitated. "I... it's possible. He seemed honestly surprised to hear of her death. But he was blocking his bond with me..." He took a deep breath. "I told Tracy he was my godson." "I guess that's about as close to the truth as she's gonna come." Natalie touched Nick's arm. "Nick, are you okay? Something else is bothering you, I can--" She stopped, not sure she should say what was on the tip of her tongue. "I can sense you, Nick." Nick started. His jaw worked for a moment, before he relaxed slightly. "I was wondering when you were going to notice it." "Notice it? I've had Nick-on-the-brain for a week now. You've felt it, too, then?" "It's not the kind of thing I can easily ignore. Nat, I... I'm sorry." "For what? I was the one who thrust my wrist into your face. And you needed it. Nick," she pointed out softly, "I'm still here. And I'm fine, now that I know I'm not going crazy. No adverse effects." "Except a blood-bond." "Is that a problem?" Nick allowed his fingers to trace the line of her hair. "Yes... and no. This is a big step, Nat, and so sudden. I don't know if either of us is really ready for it..." "Yes, well, from what you've told me, there's not much we can do about it. I can you, Nick. When you're close... I feel what you're feeling." At those words, the first thing that came to Nick's mind was the feeling of Natalie's hair brushing the nape of his neck. "Once or twice, I've even caught coherent thoughts." Suddenly, Nick wished he could sink into the floor. "Oh no... You heard that crack about the scent thing, didn't you?" Before Natalie could answer, Nick's pager went off. *** Nine days later, Nick and Tracy found themselves at the scene of their fourth apparent suicide. Reese met them at the victim's cheap hotel. "We found a New York State learner's permit in his wallet. His name was Robert Spenser. He was sixteen." Nick bent down to pull back the sheet covering the corpse. He brushed the soft brown hair off the boy's forehead, noting the furrows. A young man who had had much on his mind, Nick decided. Tracy looked around. "Hey, Nat, where's Julian?" "Sent him back to the car. He knew this kid." "They're from the same town. Trace, why don't you go talk to him?" Reese suggested gruffly. "See if he's up to giving us the phone number of the next of kin." Natalie waited until Reese left to talk to one of the uniforms. "It's a little too soon to tell, but I don't think this one was strychnine like the others. And there's something else, Nick, take a look at this," she beckoned, pulling the boy's right arm out for him to see. On the inner arm, near the elbow joint, were a series of puncture marks, made up of several sets of neat little holes. "It's the same on the other arm. Any ideas?" "He could have been feeding someone. Someone with a lot of restraint whom he trusted a great deal. It is less obvious than the neck," he pointed out. "I heard of it being done but I've never seen it." He paused. "These are pretty recent." Nick put his nose to the wounds, trying to find a trace of the feeder's scent. "Nothing." "Not all that recent, then." Nick rubbed his chin with the back of his hand, thinking. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Natalie lift something from around Robert Spenser's neck. *** LaCroix leaned on his bar, gazing out over the dark fantasy world of the Raven like a foreboding god. Foreboding, that was the very word for the cloud that was gathering in his mind. Something was bothering Nicholas, something beyond his usual self-inflicted troubles. Something that LaCroix could not put his finger on. And that bothered LaCroix. "It's a great little place," he overheard one of the patrons saying to another, "you know, just to go and have a quiet drink. A lot of the books are that funny fake crap that the mortals buy, all Anne Rice and Anita Blake, but if you ask right, you can get some real good books. And the stock's not bad, either. The owner's a little on the funny side, though. Spacey, you know?" Spacey. A knife slashed through the clouds, allowing LaCroix a flash of insight before the darkness merged together again. LaCroix thought in profound annoyance. *** End Part Seven, Section One April French daomir_darkfell@yahoo.com __________________________________________________ Do you Yahoo!? U2 on LAUNCH - Exclusive greatest hits videos http://launch.yahoo.com/u2 Subject: A Shroud of Crimson (07-2/?) Date: Thu, 7 Nov 2002 10:43:24 -0800 From: Daomir Darkfell To: FKFIC-L@LISTS.PSU.EDU Disclaimers in the first post... A Shroud of Crimson (07-2/?) "Anything interesting?" Tracy asked, following Nick into the morgue. Natalie looked up. "Aside from the fact that he's got the weirdest eyes I've ever seen?" Nick tipped his head to one side. "Eyes?" Natalie pulled back one of the eyelids. The iris was yellow-brown. Striking in death, they could only imagine what they had looked like when Spenser was alive. "Well, that explains the nickname," Tracy said, shrugging. "Julian said that Spenser was known in Black Falls as 'The Cat.' He was a musician. A piano player." "How is Julian?" Tracy bit the inside of her lip thoughtfully. "He's... coping, I guess. I wanted to drive him home, but he wouldn't let me. Said something about going for a walk to clear his head." Nick thought. Natalie caught herself before she agreed with a comment that hadn't actually been voiced. "There was no trace of strychnine in his body," she said, going into clinical-mode. "He died from a massive overdose of heroin." "Probably brought on by musical angst," Nick mused. "That all?" "Yep." Natalie tossed Tracy a file. "Another case for the 'Tragically Simple' category." "It's getting fatter and fatter all the time. Coming, Nick?" Nick felt a twinge at the nape of his neck, a feeling that was becoming pleasantly familiar now that it was mutual. "No, I'm gonna... stick around." Tracy smothered a smirk as well as a prick of jealousy. "Right," she said, trying not to think of Vachon.