Here's chapter one of a continuing work, it will be adult in
further chapters, hence the adult heading. 1. If you're under 16
don't read. 2. If you're in any way related to me: See rule number
one.
   The characters do not belong to me, they belong to Sony/tristar.
Only the story is mine, and if they want it, they better dish out the
chocolate.  *evil grin*  All comments welcome especially the good
ones.  If it's bad, feel free not to share. ;-P

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

  Natalie switched on the recorder and drew the sheet from the
woman's body.  "Victim is a caucasion female approximately twenty
three years of age.  Both wrists have scabbed over abrasions,
inflicted at least two days prior to death. Bruising around throat
coincides with  manual strangulation."  Natalie froze.

 Two hands gripped her own neck, the icy thumbs carressing up
and down her carotid artery.  "Do go on Doctor."   Lacroix.  His
velvet voice sounded from just above her left ear.  Natalie closed
her eyes and swallowed back a scream.   Where was Nick when she
needed him?

"What do you want Lacroix?"   There was no doubt that he
could hear the frantic beating of her heart, but giving into that
fear would only get her one thing.  Dead.

 "I want many things Doctor Lambert.  The question is,  what
are you willing to...sacrifice?"   He turned her to face him, and she
looked into the golden eyes of the vampire.  Not the blue of normal,
something was wrong, very, very, wrong.

 "If you're looking for innocent maidens and sacrificial lambs
you came to the wrong room.  The chapel is upstairs.  Now if there's
no other reason,  I do have work to do?"  She could have sworn he'd
winced for a split second before his mask slipped back into place.
What's going on here?

 "I came to extend an invitation to the Raven this evening,
we have much to discuss."  He stepped back and fingered his cufflink
without breaking eye contact.  "You are quite correct Natalie...there
are no innocent maidens here.  Don't disappoint me."

        She was looking straight at him and didn't see more than a
blur of his departure.  She sagged against the wall and stared into
the empty space he had occupied.  If he didn't kill her outright the
bastard was destined to give her a heart attack.

The humor,  however inappropriate helped pull her few
remaining nerves back together.  The corpse on the exam table
wouldn't wait much longer before starting to ripen,  and it was bad
enough now.  She finished the autopsy in silence prefering to write
down the notes rather than risk a repeat performance.   As with the
other two women that had come in this week,  she was in her
twenties,  caucasion,  large ammounts of amphetamines in her system,
and dead.  The hair color had varied from the other two, but
otherwise the builds were the same.  She signed off on the sheet and
gave up for the night.  It was a little after two a.m.  and she had a
lot of thinking to do.

 "Grace,  if Schanke comes down,  these are the reports.  I'm
booking off for the night."

 Smiling Grace took the files,  "Okay, have a nice evening
Nat.  This wouldn't have anything to do with a certain blond
detective calling earlier would it?"  Her eyes held a wealth of
knowledge.

 "Wait a minute -- Nick called?"

 "About three hours ago,  I put the message on your door."
The smile was gone replaced with confusion.

 Lacroix had taken it, grand.   "Did he leave a number or was
he at the loft?"

"A number,  hold on I have the yellow copy around here
somewhere."  She grabbed the message book and flipped through it.
Her face went blank when she couldn't find it.  "I don't understand,
it was here Nat. The entire page is missing."

 My HE was being thorough tonight wasn't he.  "Don't worry
about it. One of the interns must have used it for scrap paper.  I'll
try his cell phone."  She left before Grace could say anything else.
Tonight was not turning out to be one of her best.  Whatever LaCroix
wanted he was determined to get it.

 She stepped out of the coroner's building into the fog
darkened night. The traffic was dead in the background.  Only the
street lights high above gave off bits of flickering light. She
considered walking right back into the station and grabbing one of
the uniforms for an escort.  Too bad it wouldn't do any good.  If
LaCroix wanted her dead, she would be dead.  Having a policeman die
with her wasn't going to help matters.  She yanked the keys
from her purse and walked to her car.  There on the windshield was a
single luminescent white rose.

 Why couldn't she get flowers for normal reasons? Nick could
have given her flowers years ago, but no.  She gets them as a form of
death threat from his families' patriarch. She looked around the dim
parking lot, debating the merits of taking it, or leaving it behind
on the pavement.  The second option was more appealing, but dangerous
wouldn't begin to describe it.  Suicide came closer.    She grabbed
it and flung it to the passenger seat.  Damn him for this.
Since it was after two and the Raven would be closed to
public business.  Lucien would be waiting for her.  She pulled the
car out of the parking lot,  driving slow in the fog.  What did he
want?  Nick was gone, so it wasn't something she'd done to his son
this time, nor was he around for Lacroix to torment by playing with
her.   Whoa. Stop.  She frowned as she pondered being a toy in
whatever psychotic schemes he had planned.   But did he?  Don't be
stupid Nat, of course he has something in mind and she would either
be the bait or the main course.   Yet, here she was going to the
lion's den.   The only way she could see getting through this was
remaining in control of her emotions, both anger and fear.

 The lights were dim outside the nightclub.  The doors stood
closed, and the neon sign on the grooved cement flickered.   She
pulled up next to the door and turned the engine off.  The deserted
street was an unwelcome testament to the lack of help around her.
This was it.

 No noise came from the building other than the buzzing of the
pink light above.  Steeling herself, she knocked on the cold metal.
It swung open a fraction of a second later.  The tall bartender
gestured for her to enter.

 "Come in Ms. Lambert,  the General is expecting you in back.
If you'll follow me?"

She nodded.  The room wasn't filled with people, but there
was enough sound coming from those present that the building had to
be soundproofed.  Even more damning, there wasn't a single tan in
residence.  Most of them were appraising her with brazen hunger.
After noticing that she hurried to catch up.  Better the devil you
know.  She hoped.  LaCroix would never allow someone else to claim
his dinner.  It would offend his ego.

 The barristo escorted her to one of the rooms behind the bar
and left. The oak door clicked shut, leaving her alone.  It was a
huge room, complete with a kitchenette.  Leather bound books lined
most of the walls.  They emitted an odor...of antiquities.  Also
known as a dry mold.  Not unlike their owner.   For the first time
since entering the club she smiled.

 "You smile Doctor?  I was under the impression you did not
like my company."  His velvet voice came from across the large room.
He'd been there the entire time, managing to blend in with a ficus
tree.  Watching her.

 "I don't."

 He gave her a brief nod.  "Would you care for refreshment?
Please have a seat.  We will be here a while tonight."

  She would match his polite tone for now.  When he felt like
it, he would let her know why she was here.  "Tea would be fine." He
took the cup down and started fiddling with the tea pot. From his
occasional glares this was not one of his normal tasks. Confidence
was such an inherent part of him...seeing him fumbling with a tea bag
was almost humorous. Good, let him suffer this time.

"The tea belongs to Nicholas."

 Was that an explanation? And why did Nick keep tea here she
wondered? She took the scalding cup from him. "Thank you."

 He gestured to the lounge chairs. "Sit. For the moment you
have nothing to fear." He waited for her to sit before claiming his
own chair. His typical black suit hugged every curve of his muscular
body. In another life she would admire it. Now she ignored her
libido. He steepled his fingers in his lap and stared at her in
contemplation. "Has Nicholas informed you of our laws and what
happens if someone is careless enough to break them?"

 So now they came to the reason she was here. "Yes.  Since I
cured the fever, I thought I was passed that consequence?"  Nick and
her both assumed she was safe from the enforcers now.  No one could
consider her a threat.  So why did he bring that back up?
 "How naive."  The harsh tone made her draw back.  "Your
actions have brought a great deal of attention to you.  The council
has indeed sent along their gratitude."  His mouth clenched for a
second and his eyes bore into hers.  "They also included a strong,"
he paused, "request."

Natalie translated the last to `order'.   She doubted the
council of elders requested anything.  "And Nick is not the one
telling me this...why?"

 His brows arched.  In surprise or frustration she couldn't
tell.  "Ah, yes Nicholas.  Like always, my son has run from his
responsibilities."  His disgust over his prodigal son's actions still
apparent, he continued. "His exact words before retreating to parts
unknown were `She's better off dead.  If you want it done, you do
it.'"

 The tea sat forgotten half way to her mouth as she digested
his words.  There was no question what he implied.  She
swallowed.  "You've been ordered to bring me across."

 "No one is stupid enough to order me to do anything.  They
told Nicholas to do it."

         "Oh."  And Nick had once again abandoned her.

 "Indeed."   She tensed as he rose from his chair.  Looking
down at her from his impressive height, he smiled.  "Calm yourself
Doctor."  He walked to the counter and poured the green bottle of
private stock into a wine glass.

 "What are you going to do LaCroix?"  She watched his full
lips sip from the glass.  His eyes didn't change.  Nick's would be
glowing by now.  But, she acknowledged, Nick had a great deal less
self control.

"Lucien, my name is Lucien.  As for what I am going to do,
you have one week Natalie.  Then you will be joining my family.  Put
your affairs in order."  He finished off the glass in one gulp.  Now
his eyes were glowing.  In anticipation she wondered?  "You will
recieve a job offer from the DeBrabrant Foundation.  I advise you to
take it and inform your coworkers of the transfer.  I will not allow
a police investigation into your disappearance."

 She sat there stunned.  Everything was planned out already.
If she agreed to this, next week she would be immortal.  Did she want
that?  If it was Nick offering, the answer would be yes...wouldn't
it?  But he didn't care enough to offer.

 What did it matter?  Nick wasn't here.  LaCroix, always
dependable to make life a living hell was.  She would be a fool not
to take him up on it.  The hand brushing the hair from her neck
shocked her.  She hadn't been paying attention. "I thought you said a
week."

 "I did."  He continued stroking her hair.  The touch
mesmerizing in it's simplicity.  She didn't pull away. "Nicholas is a
fool."

 The words were quiet, but she had no doubt he meant them. "If
you think he is such a fool, why do you want him back? He's fought
you over a century. Why not just let him go?"

 His hands stilled, resting on her shoulder. "I will
never `just let him go'. He is my son. No sane parent sits passive as
their child attempts suicide."

Her skin prickled at the sense of danger now emanating from
him. She hit a nerve better left untouched.  He cared.  The
untouchable LaCroix cared. She doubted he would ever say it
outright.  Odd that he'd even allowed her that much insight.  Blinded
by the obvious, she hadn't seen the signs.

 Striking back, Lacroix demanded, "Why do you care?  Your
golden knight has abandoned you to the cruel whim of fate.  If he
believes this existance is so much worse than death, why does he not
put you out of your misery?  If not through death, then why is he not
here to defend you?"

 Natalie pause, considering how to word this without further
angering him.  "I care because I choose to.  Nick may have abandoned
me, he may not have.  If he did, his cowardice will not be mine.  I
understand loyalty Lucien, it is not turning your back at the first
sign of weakness."

 "Impressive.  Not many would grasp that.  If you consider it,
you've answered your own question.  Loyalty;  It is more important,
more dependable than the strongest protestations of love.  It gives a
mere soldier more power than the greatest of betrayed generals.   It
saves a son from his own stupidity."  He collapsed into his chair and
stared out at her from those ancient blue eyes.

 Natalie nodded.  The tea was cold now.  She swallowed it down
like a bitter medicine, the faster the better.   The antique clock on
the wall read half after four.  The sun would be coming up soon.
Standing, she placed the empty mug on the table. "I should go."
 "How remiss of me.  I neglected to mention you will be
staying here for the remainder of the week."

Whatever calm she'd expected to retain flew out the window,
along with most of her common sense.  "What!?"  She shook her head,
and stepped back. "No.  I am not staying here.  I have a cat."  Oh
god, that made a lot of sense.  She could have smacked herself right
then and there.  A cat? What the hell kind of arguement was that?  "I
have to feed my cat."  Oh, that was so much better.  He looked on in
bemusement.

 "Your cat will be brought here then.  Problem solved.  Your
room is through that door."  He pointed to the recess near the ficus
tree.

 "No."

 "What other reason do you have then?  I do hope it is as easy
to solve as your feline dilmma."

 He was rubbing it in.  Wishing him dead on the spot, she
started walking to the exit.  When he stopped her she glared down at
his hand on her arm.  "Force, my how the mighty have fallen.  In case
you hadn't noticed, let me make this very clear.  I do not like you,
I do not trust you and there is no way in hell I will ever sleep with
you. "  Her bloodshot eyes met his in defiance. "If I must stay
here,  tell me why."

 He laughed, the sound rolling down her back.  "My dear Dr.
Lambert, had I wished you in my bed rest assured you would be there.
The reason is Nicholas.  He may find some remnant of his meager
allotment of courage and come back to `put you out of your misery'  I
hope to avoid that."

She shook her head.  "Not good enough.  If Nick was going to
kill me, he would have done so long ago.  Try again."  She pulled her
arm away from his loose grasp.

 "You are wrong.  He has a habit of killing the objects of his
dubious affections.  True they have not lasted six years before,  but
you have something that he wants more than your fragile body."  He
ran his finger over her collar bone. "A cure, the promise of death."

 Her nose flared at the scent of roses.  "Any doctor could try
to cure him.  He knows that.  He could find another to do the job in
a week.  It wouldn't even be necessary to reveal the origin of the
virus."

 "I will not debate the point. You will stay here, or if you
insist on fighting, I will bring you across tonight.  Which shall it
be?"  He whipped his arm around her pulling her backwards against
him.  The lightning fast change sent her endorphins through the roof.

 What else could she do?  She wasn't ready. How bad could it
be to sleep in his guest room?  That would give her six more days to
think of a way out of this.  Better than digging the hole now and
jumping in.  "Fine."  She spat.  "You win.  Satisfied?"

 "Of course.  Now follow me."  He backed away and held his arm
out to escort her.  His face blank as he waited.  Back to the
gentleman, she reflected.  God only knew what a psychiatric profiler
would come up with on him.

 She didn't bother to smile when she took his arm.  Her
fingernails digging through the fabric of the soft black silk, trying
to reach the smooth skin beneath. "Lead on."

His other hand came up to cover hers,  the gentle presure a
reminder not to anger him.  The bare lift of his lips accepted her
unspoken challenge as he led her to the room.

 It was a bordello.  Red carpet ran from one red pinstriped
wall to the other.  Hanging over the silk encrusted king sized bed
was the largest chandelier she'd seen outside an opera house.  The
dresser was gilted in gold.

 She pulled her jaw back into the closed position and turned
frantic eyes to her host.  "Is this some sort of sick joke?  Let me
guess, it was the coroner in the whore house with a wooden stake?"
Natalie shook her head, "You can't expect me to sleep in this, this
room."  Unable to think of the apropriate word she flung her hand out
from his to wave at the eyesore in front of her.

 LaCroix walked around the room, his feet sinking into the two
inch deep carpet. "You do not care for the decor? Pity, Jeanette will
be disappointed. She gave specific instructions to the decorator
about your tastes." He pointed one manicured finger towards the
bed. "She was most adamant about that piece of artwork."

Natalie glared at him in disbelief. "Do not act innocent. You
knew I wouldn't care for it." When he gave no indication of hearing
her she stalked to the bed from hell. "Just forget it. It's late and
I want you out of here. She flung most of the mountain of pillows to
the floor. They could stay there, for all she cared. A sick portion
of her mind hoped they'd cost him a couple hundred dollars each. "Now
where are my PJ's? Since you didn't give me any warning of the
slumber party at Count Dracula's house I wasn't able to pack a bag."

 "PJ's?" He'd stopped by the dresser about five feet from her.
He genuinely looked confused.

 "As in flannel, not silk, and not lingerie." She had
confidence he would be able to figure out the definition on his own.

 "Ah." Enlightenment dawned and he rummaged through the top
drawer. He held up on bit of flimsy white material. Turning it in the
light, he looked at her in question. "I take it then, that lace is
out as well, Doctor?"

 She didn't answer, the look on her face saying it all.

 He frowned and stuffed it back in. "You will have to go
through the rest of that on your own. I am not your maid. If you
don't find something in there, go to bed naked. I couldn't care
less." With that he stalked out, slamming the door behind him.
Well, well. Was he angry, disappointed or uncomfortable? She
stared at the still vibrating wood. Nah. She'd bet her entire pension
he'd fled in embarrassment. The smile started small and grew to
encompass her entire face. Good. She hoped it would keep him away for
the rest of the night. For one so concerned over Nick's courage, he's
almost run out that door. Fine by her, she could find her own pajamas.

 She kicked off her shoes and padded across the luxurious
carpet to the god awful dresser. The only thing that could have made
it worse was a pair of fuzzy dice hanging from the overlooking mirror.
 Her hand trembled as she pulled the top drawer open. With one
eye squinted, she peeked down at the contents; silk, lace, leather,
and ick of all icks, fur.

 Plaid! Her hand couldn't move fast enough to pluck that one
promise of hope from the vulgar mess. Woohoo! It felt like flannel!
Life was good. She held it up and shook it out. It was a miniskirt,
without the back, complete with thong. Sick schoolgirl uniform came
to mind. She sighed and shoved it back in. There was not one single
scrap of fabric she would be caught dead wearing.

 The second drawer contained the essentials of every hotel
room; soap, shampoo, toothbrush kit and lubrication? She shook her
head. Next time she saw Jeanette they would be having a discussion, a
long discussion.

Without bothering to look in the third drawer, she took out
the toothpaste and went in search of a bathroom. There were just some
things she did not want to know. She poked her head out the door,
praying the coast would be clear. No such luck, he sat in the large
padded chair reading. When she stepped out onto the cold marble floor
in her bare feet, he looked up.

 She held up the toothbrush. "Where is the bathroom?"

 "There is one in my room and another in the main part of the
club. Mine is the safer of the two. Go now, later I will be
sleeping." He put the book down and regarded her. "If you must wake
me later, knock on the door. Do not come inside uninvited, I trust
you would not care for the consequences."

 A number of distasteful images came to her mind for that
one. "Not a problem."  Being a horrible morning person was something
she could sympathize with. Why else would someone volunteer for the
night shift?

 LaCroix contemplated her retreating back, it would have to be
done. The kitchen cupboard provided the clean wine glass and without
pausing he bit into his wrist and held it over the cup.  When it was
half full he pulled it away.  A bit of wine mixed in for flavoring
and it was good to go.  With any luck she wouldn't notice.  It was
too bad, he reflected, the Dear Doctor would not see things his way,
but the bond was necessary.

End chapter 1.