**********************

LaCroix snorted when he saw the bra and panties waving over Dr. Lambert's
head.  She certainly wasn't going to roll over and play dead for him.  He
grimaced at the poor choice of words; he definitely didn't want her dead.
After all, Nicholas would be very upset, he told himself - incomplete, but
true as far as it went.

He smiled when the lights went off in the bathroom and once again chose not
to turn on the infrared camera.

************************************************

When she came back out 15 minutes later, her hair tamed by a bottle of spray
detangler she had found in the shower, and held off her face with a band of
alternating amber and cat's eye beads that played peek-a-boo between the
strands, she felt much better.  Even though she hadn't been able to see what
she looked like, she knew it had to be pretty good.  She'd plucked an orange
scarf from a rack in the closet to tuck inside the jacket's neckline.
(Matches the panties, she thought whimsically).

She looked around for something that would pass as a hamper to drop the
rumpled blue pantsuit into.  She found it near the kitchen and walked toward
it; she could have another serving of fruit while she was there.

She stumbled as movement caught the corner of her eye and the bundle of
clothing fell from suddenly lifeless hands.  Then she had to force them to
clench around the hem of the suede jacket to hide their sudden tremor.
Otherwise she remained motionless.

"Your clothing bill must be quite extraordinary if you treat your own
clothes as badly as you've treated these."

Nat whirled around at the sound of the voice, a rich baritone that held more
than a hint of humor under its sarcasm, and blinked in confusion.  The voice
was familiar, but she'd never seen his face before.  Or had she?   Something
tickled her memory, but she  couldn't grab a hold of it.  She was sure she
didn't know him, but -

"The Nightcrawler.  You're the Nightcrawler."

The words were out before she had time to stop them.  Nat regretted letting
him know she knew who he was; that information could have been more useful
if she'd kept it to herself.

"Are you a fan, Dr. Lambert?"

Nat's eyes widened at his use of her name.  How did *he* know who *she* was?
This was obviously much more complicated than she had thought.  It was an
effort to keep her voice from wavering as she answered the question.

"Actually, I'm not.  I think most of your ideas are absolute drivel.  They
sound like they come from the dark ages."

She gasped at what she had said, but then decided to continue.  Maybe she
should begin to find out how far she could push him.  Based on Nick's
comments, that wouldn't be very far and the consequences could be...deadly,
but she needed to know.

"Of course, in your case, that's probably true."

She watched nervously as he unfolded himself from the chair he'd so
comfortably occupied.  Taller than Nick - almost a foot taller than her
5'5" - and...sleeker, he was the panther to Nick's lion.  In his black suit
and shirt, he seemed to loom over her even though he was half a room away.
She shrank back for a moment; Nick was right about how powerful he was.
Although she didn't sense the evil that Nick said permeated everything about
him.

But anyone that powerful could probably hide anything he didn't want known,
she reminder herself with a shudder.

He took several steps toward her, stopping when he was still a short
distance away - a distance that would have been comfortable with another
person.  But *he* was definitely not just another person and Nat had the
distinct feeling that she would never be totally comfortable in his
presence.  It frightened her to realize she didn't find the thought all that
repugnant.

Nat wondered what was going on behind the pale blue eyes and bland
expression, but then decided she really didn't want to know.  Instead she
studied his face.  It still seemed somehow familiar, but she couldn't
remember where she might have seen it before.  Maybe on a poster advertising
his show?  She shrugged.  Wherever it was, she'd remember eventually.

"...Lucien LaCroix."

Nat dragged her attention back to the present.  What had she missed?  Should
she just pretend she'd heard whatever it was?  No.  Any piece of information
about him, no matter how insignificant, could prove critical not just for
gaining her freedom, but possibly for her very survival.  If he thought her
a little less than sharp so much the better.   She forced herself to meet
his eyes.

"I'm sorry.  I'm afraid the blow to my head has affected me more than I
thought.  What were you saying?"

LaCroix inclined his head in acknowledgement of her comment, but not before
she saw what might have been amusement flash quickly through his eyes.  So
he did have a sense of humor.  Nick certainly hadn't mentioned that in his
description.

"I was just agreeing that much of my...philosophy was molded prior to the
Renaissance, and suggested that since you seem to know so much about me you
should probably call me something besides 'The Nightcrawler'.  I am Lucien
LaCroix".

He held out his hand, although Natalie had the feeling he would have been
more comfortable with a brief bow.  He waited while she fought a silent
battle before providing her fingers for a handshake short enough to be rude.
He raised an eyebrow but merely asked, "And you?"

Two could play at this game.  Nat raised an eyebrow in response and formally
replied, "I'm Dr. Natalie Lambert, as you seem to be quite well aware."

"Ah, yes.  But it is always good to observe the amenities, is it not?"

That tore it!!  Nat's eyes opened wide causing LaCroix to step back from the
anger they projected.

"You can't really think this is some kind of...tea party!!!  You brought me
here unconscious and are holding me against my will and you want to 'observe
the amenities'.  Well, here's an amenity for you!!!"

Nat kicked her foot forward, aiming for LaCroix' beautifully trousered
crotch.  He was so startled he almost didn't get out of the way in time.
Luckily, his reflexes were among the best of his kind's and he could slip to
the side, taking the blow on the point of his left hip.  His bones were too
strong for her to break them, but it still hurt like hell.  She packed quite
a wallop.

Without thought, he grabbed her arm and pulled her toward him.  He would not
tolerate this from some mortal chit who should be thankful he hadn't killed
her while he had the chance.

Nat gasped as pain shot from her shoulder to her wrist, but then she saw the
look on his face and she forgot about mere pain.  She had wondered if he
ever showed his feelings.  There was an old saying, something like 'don't
die wondering'.  She wouldn't.  But, based on the absolute rage that
contorted his face, she *would* die.

Well she wouldn't die a sniveling wreck.  She took as deep a breath as she
could, - probably her last, she thought with resignation - forced herself to
stare into the inferno of his gaze and said without inflection, "If you
really wanted to kill me, you'd have done it before now."

LaCroix had put his other hand on the side of her head and begun to apply
pressure before her words registered.  He looked at her, his hand forcing
her head almost to her shoulder.  One more short push with just a little
twist and she would be out of his life - and Nicholas' - forever.

But she was right.  He couldn't kill her.  Not that he didn't want to, but
there would be too many questions without adequate answers.  She had been
healthy, if somewhat battered, when she left the hospital; a large number of
people could identify him as the person she had left with.  And in the
twentieth century, young women didn't throw themselves in front of trains or
off buildings because they were mugged.   There was just no sense of shame
anymore.  A couple of hundred years ago a respectable woman would not have
been out unescorted after dark.  And if she were, she would not have
survived the ruin of her reputation if it had been found out.  But Dr.
Lambert -

LaCroix flung her to the floor in disgust - at her or at his own weakness he
didn't choose to examine - and strode to the door.

Nat lay where she'd fallen, her head pounding once again and her upper arm
throbbing where he had gripped it.  Well at least he hadn't killed her.  She
definitely knew how near a thing that had been.

But now he was going to leave her here for who knew how long.  No matter how
elegant the furnishings and how succulent the fruit, it might as well have
been a dungeon.  He had even found a way to torture her in the middle of all
this luxury she realized as she heard the soft strains of music once more.
The words flew from her mouth with no thought of the consequences.

"AND TURN OFF THAT GODDAMNED MOZART SYMPHONY WHEN YOU GET BACK INTO THE
OTHER ROOM!!!"

The sound of LaCroix' response filled the room, overpowering the music,
vibrating against her eardrums, reverberating inside her head forcing her to
curl into a ball with her hands over her ears, their fingers protecting as
much of her head as they could reach.  She lay there wiling herself to be
still, to be silent.

A hand grasped her arm and she groaned as it touched the bone-deep bruise
his last contact had caused.  The pressure lessened and moved away from the
pain, but did not release her.  Nat felt herself being pulled off the floor
as though she were weightless.  She tried to struggle, but it made no
difference; she was almost immediately on her feet, held in place by iron
strength as she swayed dizzily, the room spinning in a blur.

She fought the nausea that rolled in waves through her stomach, not knowing
whether it was better to keep her eyes closed or try to focus on some
elusive stationary point.  Her breath came in rapid shallow gasps and her
heartbeat accelerated.

"Look at me."

The command - and it could be considered nothing else but that - was issued
in a voice so soft it didn't add to the pounding inside her head.  She
sought LaCroix' face, found his eyes for a moment, but then lost contact as
they whirled past - part of the unfocused blur she couldn't control.  Her
stomach lurched again and she tried to bring her hand to her mouth.

"Oh, no you don't."

The humor-tinged warning was accompanied by a light touch on her chin that
tilted her head up and held it steady.

"Now...look...at...me."

The measured words seemed to help a little and Nat was able to find those
remarkably pale eyes again.

"Good.  Now concentrate.  Focus.  Ignore everything but my face and my
voice."

Nat wondered if her were trying to hypnotize her.  Wouldn't he be surprised
when he discovered she was - what did Nick call it? - a resister.  But she
gave herself over to the suggestion anyway.  If it helped stop the room from
spinning, she'd agree to anything.

Whether LaCroix had influenced her reaction or the worse of the vertigo was
ready to end on its own she didn't know, but the room slowed down and she
was able to break eye contact with no further problems.  Even her headache
had receded somewhat.

She gestured weakly toward the chair LaCroix had occupied when she'd walked
back into the bedroom and was grateful when he helped her to it.  She
dropped her head forward and cradled it in her hands while she steadied her
breathing.

"Dr. Lambert?"

Surprised by the concern in his voice, Nat lifted her head slightly,
produced a wan smile and waved her hand dismissively.

"I'm fine. Really.  I just need a few minutes to get myself back together.
Then you can explain all..."  Another wave of her hand and a hardening of
her voice.  "..this to me.  In words of one syllable so that I'll be
absolutely clear on why you found it necessary to bring me here against my
will and hold me -"

LaCroix held up a hand, palm out, a pained expression on his face.  Nat
thought he looked like nothing so much as an overwhelmed rookie trying to
stop traffic before there was a major wreck.  She smiled: perhaps that
wasn't so far from wrong.

"I'm glad to see your sense of humor has returned, Doctor - even if it is
most likely at my expense."

How did he do that?  Know exactly what she was thinking.  It wasn't fair; it
forced her to fight from a decided disadvantage.  And she was fighting for
high stakes, even if she no longer knew exactly what they were.  The thought
made her temper, already short, flare once again.

"At least I *have* a sense of humor.  You probably haven't enjoyed yourself
in centuries."

LaCroix, with two millennia of practice, hid how close to the mark her
assessment had come.  At least until tonight.  He had 'enjoyed' Dr.
Lambert's behavior in way he hadn't enjoyed anything since Fleur.

He strangled the memory before the pain of it could show and presented only
his usual bland mask as he offered pointedly to "change the music to
something more palatable".

Nat stared at him for a moment, ready to snap again, but then she mouthed a
silent "Oh"  and blushed to the roots of her totally disheveled hair.  She
gulped twice before she could make any sound at all.  And then all she could
do was babble.

"You were *laughing*.  Oh my God.  I was so sure you were angry; that you
were going to come back and kill me.  At first I thought that you would
leave me in here until...I don't know what, but then when I yelled about the
Mozart and I heard your reaction, I didn't even take time to realize what it
was.  I just assumed I'd made you so angry you'd -.  For all I knew Mozart
is your favorite composer.  And Nick says you have a really bad temper and
the smallest things can set it off and you...tend to act out when you're
angry.  So I was sure -"

LaCroix again did his traffic cop impression, only this time it was obvious
he was at least somewhat amused.

"To take your points one at a time.  Yes, I was laughing.  I'd just almost
killed you, left you in a heap on the floor with your arm almost broken and
all you could think to yell at me was to turn off the music?  You must
*really* hate Mozart."

His voice turned cold as he continued.

"And yes, I was angry.  I do not appreciate being challenged.  I'm sure
Nicholas has mentioned that ad nauseum in his recitation of my "sins".
However, my reaction was just that - an automatic response.  One that I've
needed since I was a mortal solder in the Emperor's legions.  I do not allow
my enemies to survive an attempt on my life.  That...philosophy has kept me
unharmed through more centuries than I usually care to think about.  Just as
your - very well aimed - kick was more a reaction than a conscious thought,
I believe.  Luckily I came to my senses before I did you permanent harm."

Nat rubbed her arm and glared at him pointedly.

Again a smile quirked at the corners of the ancient vampire's mouth.

"I did not say I did you no harm, just that it was not permanent.

"Fatal, you mean."

" Not one to shy away from the truth are you?  Very well then - 'fatal'."

"And finally," LaCroix cut off yet another interruption, "Mozart *is* a
favorite of mine.  Although he was not always the most pleasant person to be
around."

Natalie could no longer contain herself.  Her voice squeaking almost off the
scale, she blurted, "You knew Mozart?!!"

"Yes."

LaCroix watched with amusement as Dr. Lambert fairly danced in place in her
attempt to keep more questions from tumbling out.  He gave her credit for
the effort.  He'd known very few people who even tried to control themselves
when something excited them as much as this obviously did her.

He waited an agonizing two minutes before taking pity on her.

"Nicholas and I spent several months in Vienna with him.  Knowing we were
French," and more than friends, LaCroix thought with a melancholy smile, "he
personally taught us his six variations for piano and violin on the song
'Helas, j'ai perdu, mon amant' and arranged a concert for us to play them in
public."

He glanced at Dr. Lambert, accurately gauging her reaction.  His eyes wide
in seeming innocence, he asked, "Didn't Nicholas tell you?  Or is he too
busy with his litany of woe to mention all the enjoyment we also have shared
over the centuries?"

Nat didn't know who to be more angry at - Nick for not telling her more
about his amazing life or LaCroix for his patently fake attempt to
manipulate her.  After a short debate, she decided it was Nick.

She looked at LaCroix, her eyes just a wide as his and their expression just
as phony.

"He *did* tell me about Jeanne d'Arc.  He even showed me her cross."

Now it was LaCroix' turn to interrupt impatiently.

"He has her *cross*?!!!  Only *he* would keep a "memento" that would scald
him whenever he so much as tried to look at it.  Of course, it *is* a
reminder of his 'dark and evil' nature."

The last was said with such bitterness that Nat thought it best not to tell
her captor that, while it was by no means comfortable, Nick was able to
handle the relic without incinerating himself.  Instead she focused on
LaCroix' statement that Nick had enjoyed some of his vampire existence.
Perhaps she should take this opportunity to learn more about the detective's
earlier life.  She was pretty sure she wasn't leaving here any time soon -
she probably couldn't go too far anyway until her head settled down again -
and while listening to him talk about Nick, she might learn some things
about LaCroix as well.  So she could use them to find a way to leave, she
assured herself quickly.

She realized suddenly that she was alone.  She hadn't heard the vampire
leave; hadn't even heard the click of the lock on the door.  Her heart
started to pound and she found it difficult to swallow.  Might he have left
it open?  She stood up, ignoring the blurring of her vision and started
toward the door, deliberately not thinking about what she would do if it
were indeed open.

It *was*.

<End of The Best Laid Plans part 4>