Disclaimers Here

Nick slouched against the front of the couch, feeling exhausted in mind and body. The unlit fireplace facing him reflected the dark, despondent mood that had settled over him. He reached for the nearby bottle and cradled it in his hands, mesmerized by the faint play of light on the green glass. Breaking free of his fatigued daze, Nick considered reaching for the nearby goblet but after a second of thought, he chose to ignore that particular cultured response and upended the bottle instead. Once drained, the bottle joined several others that were scattered on the floor around him. Since his arrival home, the hunger had been unrelenting, demanding more than he usually allowed.

The gentle strumming on the link that ran between his father and sister and himself felt like light fingers gently plucking the strings on a harp, the resonance quietly vibrating down the taut line between them. He knew they were concerned; however, he didn't respond to their subtle probing, choosing to ignore it for now.

Feeling all of his 765 years, Nick rose from the floor. As he turned toward the kitchen, the telephone rang. Ignoring it just as he had all morning, Nick reached for the refrigerator's handle then paused when Schanke's voice boomed out from the answering machine.

"Knight? You awake? Nick...?"

Nick hesitated, then decided to answer. He picked up the receiver, as his partner was about to leave his message.

"Yeah, Schanke. I'm here."

"Hey, Nick. I thought I would drop some info on you, since I had to come in this morning."

Using his vampiric senses, Nick could feel the sun beating outside and calculated it was close to 11:00 in the morning. He carried the cordless phone over to the kitchen table and slowly sank into one of the chairs. "Why did you have to go in, Schank?"

"They had some of the tests back on our latest case, and since you told them to report the findings immediately, they called me when they couldn't reach you," Schanke replied. "Then Smith, down in Forensics decided he needed the paperwork signed right then too." Don's tone conveyed his opinion about Smith and his 'request'.

"So, what did they find that was so important that it couldn't wait until tonight?"

"Evidently, they found a match on some of the stray hair samples taken from both sites." Nick leaned his head down and rubbed the back of his neck as Schanke relayed his facts. Fatigue was really weighing heavily on him.

"...So it looks like we have a confirmed serial killer on our hands. Don't that just make your day," Schank cracked.

Oh, Great... just what I need! Nick thought, sighing.

"Nick? You there?"

"Yeah, sorry," he mumbled, fatigue echoing in his voice.

"I'm heading home now. See ya tonight." He paused briefly then added, "Try and get some sleep too. You sound like you need it!"

Pushing the off button, Nick looked at the receiver cradled in his hand and whispered, "You don't know the half of it, Schanke."

Dropping the phone on the table, Nick staggered to his feet and returned to the refrigerator. Pulling it open, he reached inside and removed two bottles then hipped the door closed before heading up the stairs. Bone wrenching fatigue made each step a chore to take. Halfway up the stairs, the telephone rang again, shattering the silence of the room. Nick paused and looked over his shoulder, but made no move to answer it. He knew who was trying to contact him. She had already called several times since dawn, though he hadn't answered her pleas to talk.

When the answering machine picked up, Nick heard her voice whisper through the loft. "Nicola? Please pick up, mon amour." Her need caressed him through the link, but he made no move to answer. He wasn't ready to face what had driven him from her arms and into the dawn -- not yet.

With a deep sigh, Nick continued up the stairs and headed for the bathroom. A long, hot shower will feel good before going to bed, he wearily thought. "And maybe it will work some of the tension out too," Nick mumbled to himself as he walked into the tiled room.

Placing the bottles of wine laced blood in the sink, Nick pulled the shower door open and turned on the water. He moved back to the sink and leaned on it, looking at his reflection in the mirror. Ancient life experiences, many of them laced with pain, reflected back in the deep blue eyes, belying the youthful, handsome face that encompassed them.

Grimacing, the blond vampire sat down on the closed toilet and began to remove his shoes and socks. Dropping his shoes to the floor, he reached for one of the bottles in the sink and jerked the cork out. Draining off half the contents, Nick set the bottle on the floor and stood to continue undressing. He discarded the dark blue silk shirt, revealing the broad shoulders and well-developed torso of a swordsman. With his belt buckle hanging loose, he slid his pants and underclothes over his slim, firm hips.

The silky black underwear caressed against his groin as it floated downward, leading his thoughts back to his encounter with Janette and the glorious way that she had stimulated him toward arousal. The thought provoked a low growl of need to rumble in his chest. His clothes continued to slide down his legs, finally pooling around his ankles. Nick stepped out of them and left them in a crumbled pile on the floor. He grabbed the open bottle and finished it in a couple of quick gulps. Though the hunger was finally abating, he still grabbed the second bottle from the sink and moved toward the steaming shower. A great wave of mist and heat enveloped him when he moved into the shower, caressing his body.

Nick stepped into the spray, letting the water massage his back. The hot water flowed across his tight muscles as he worked the cork out of the bottle and took a small sip. Feeling a little intoxicated on all the blood he'd consumed, he set the bottle carefully in a back corner of the shower and turned into the water, dropping his head into the spray.

Nick closed his eyes and let the water wash across his body. The spray beating against his chest reminded him of fingertips moving across his skin. A soft moan whispered from him as he leaned his head back, letting the water strike against his throat and shoulders. His nipples hardened as the water flowed around them. It was almost like a wet tongue gently massaging him, preparing him to receive pleasure.

Is it my imagination, or do I feel hands stroking me? Nick thought with a start, his eyes blinking open. "My mind must be playing tricks on me," he whispered, trying to assure himself as he reached out with his senses. Feeling no one in the loft, he closed his eyes again and tried to slip back into the pleasant fantasy, but it was gone. With another sigh, he opened his eyes and reached for the soap. Working the bar into a thick lather, he began to cover his body with suds. Thanks to whomever, for the joys of modern bathing, he mused, smiling slightly as his thoughts skipped back through the ages, remembering all the alternatives he had been forced to use in the name of cleanliness.

A flashback seized him, thrusting him into the shadows of a small room. Haze obscured most of the details, but he could tell someone was being bathed with tenderness and great care. The young person seemed asleep, though it was difficult to tell through the mist. Nick watched as a tall figure supported the bather while gently washing away the grime covering the young individual.

"This is from BEFORE," the eternally young vampire gasped as he realized which era the scene before him supposedly represented. As the bath progressed, a strong sense of depression settled firmly upon him. I don't remember anything like this happening? Where's all this coming from? Nick wondered, confused. "What's going on?" he demanded to the empty room as he jerked back to the present. He felt the hot water beating against his chest, then groaned as his legs gave out. Sliding to the floor, he laid his head on his knees and wept as the depression that had begun during the hazy vision intensified, drowning him in sorrow.

LaCroix was lying in his large, four poster bed, his hands curled tightly into fists when Janette burst into the dark room, nearly frantic. He shifted into a sitting position as his daughter rushed toward him, her sheer gown billowing around her svelte form.

"LaCroix!"

"Yes, my dear, I feel it too." LaCroix tried to reassure her after she had settled within the circle of his arms. The partially open door allowed the hallway's faint light to fill the bedroom. LaCroix gently rubbed Janette's arms, as she laid her head on his shoulder and began to cry.

"Shhh, mon petite. It will pass," the ancient soothed as another mental wave enveloped them both. Hugging his distraught daughter tightly, he regretted permitting Nicholas' earlier retreat. He knew his son was gripped in a powerful backlash of emotion. LaCroix closed his eyes and grimaced, as the suffocating impressions coming through the link tried to engulf him. LaCroix thought, sighing. He pushed through the barrage coming through the link and located his son, who was huddled on the floor of his shower, totally caught in the emotions flooding his mind.

Tightening his end of their link, LaCroix turned toward Janette and informed her in a deep, rhythmic tone, "Nicholas is broadcasting. Close down your link to him and it will become easier to deal with."

Tears streaming down her pale cheeks, Janette wrapped her arms around her father and closed her eyes. Pinching off contact with Nick, a low sigh of relief escaped her when the pounding emotions lessened to a mere trickle.

"Oh, LaCroix. What are we going to do?" she entreated, sniffing back the last of her tears.

"I do not know, ma petite. Somehow, a door has been cracked open in our dear Nicholas. I'm not sure if it can be closed again, particularly since he would fight any attempt either of us made to deal with this...situation." Shifting slightly, LaCroix softly suggested, "Rest now, Janette. Go back to sleep." The vibrant tones of her master caressed her as she settled comfortably within his arms.

Nick raised his head and leaned against the wall. Reaching for the bottle in the corner, he drew it to him like a preserver to a drowning man. The hunger sluggishly stirred then grew quiet, essentially sated. He settled the bottle against his lips and let the bland liquid pour into his mouth anyway, needing the security the blood gave him, while the lukewarm water beat down upon him. It wasn't until the bottle lay empty on the floor that he attempted to rise and exit the shower.

Staggering to his feet, Nick felt another wave of fatigue sweep through him, stronger than before. He knew he had to get to the bed or spend the rest of the day huddled on the floor of the bathroom. As he braced himself against the wall, he turned off the water and stumbled out of the shower. Grabbing a fluffy towel from the shower door, he carelessly wrapped it around himself and stumbled into the hall, water still dripping off his ageless frame. Nick reeled into his bedroom, dropped the towel, and collapsed onto the bed, face down. Pajamas or covers were forgotten as he groaned in relief and quickly slid into an exhausted sleep.

LaCroix carefully shifted Janette off his lap and onto the bed. He wrapped his robe securely around himself and exited the room, only to return a few minutes later with a crystal goblet and a bottle of the club's best vintage. Settling into one of the wing-backed chairs that occupied the far corner of his room, the former Roman general poured himself a drink and leaned back against the cushions. He knew there would be more from Nicholas before this day was over, so after glancing to make sure Janette was deeply asleep, he settled in to wait.

Nick twitched in his sleep, displaying the only physical sign that he was starting to dream. He was still sprawled across the bed, lying on his stomach with an arm resting above his head. Another twitch flinched across his shoulders and a soft whisper sighed from him as he slipped into the dream flirting across his subconscious.

The room he was standing in felt cool and damp. Where have I felt that before? he mused, feeling strangely dazed and out of control. The blond vampire struggled for dominance over this dream. Exerting as much control as he could, Nick attempted to will away the dense, misty haze that was surrounding him. As it receded, he noted a stone walled room, with long, narrow windows that were covered with heavy drapes. Several of the drapes were pulled back to allow fragrant, warm air to move into the room. The room's illumination came from a single candle burning steadily from a small table. A nearly full moon peeking through one of the western windows cast the rest of the room in a silver glow.

Staring through the haze, Nick was able to see a large circular, wooden tub sitting in the middle of the room, a light mist of steam rising gently from its depths. A large, curtain shrouded bed was barely visible in the corner of the room. He watched as a young boy entered, carrying a bucketful of hot water as well as several towels slung over his shoulder. The boy threw the towels across a nearby stool, then began pouring the steaming water into the tub. When he was finished, the lad took the bucket and left.

Nick heard someone entering behind him. Turning, he sensed an imposing, dark cloaked figure moving by him carrying a still form in his arms, though he couldn't make out many details. He moved a couple of steps closer, curious as to whom they were.

The tall, dark shape gently laid his burden on the bed and began to remove the fouled clothing from the unmoving figure. After the last bit of cloth was dropped onto the floor, the imposing figure picked his charge up, walked over to the tub and with his back to Nick, carefully lowered the limp body into the water. Nick could hear the soft utterances of a quiet, one-sided conversation mingling with the musical sounds of the water, though he couldn't make out what was being said.

As the tall man moved away from the tub, Nick glanced at him. He could sense the fury rising within the man, though he somehow knew it wasn't directed at the unconscious person. A low moan of pain mingled with the quiet noises of the night as the bather stirred slightly and lifted his head. Nick sensed the older man whirl around at his charge's movement, but the young vampire was no longer interested in anything but the person in the bath. The tousled, blond hair and the youthful, attractive features were definitely known to him, since they were his own!

He struggled with himself, as the dream began to lose solidity. Nick barely heard the shadowy man whisper as he bent over the boy's head, "I am sorry... Though you won't ever know it, I *will* avenge this action against you!"

With a soft groan, Nick turned onto his back as the dream gave way to deeper sleep. The wet sheen of blood sweat speckled his face and body as he settled into a comfortable position.

LaCroix released a deep breath as he felt Nicholas slipping into a deeper sleep. "What caused this to happen *now*?" he mumbled to himself and glanced over at Janette, who was still asleep. Hopeful that Nicholas would sleep for a while, he rose to locate other accommodations, since his daughter had confiscated his bed.

To Chapter 5

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