Standard disclaimers apply.  Nick, LaCroix, Janette, and
Natalie aren't mine, I've just taken them for a brief spin.
Any similarities to real life happenings or other fanfiction
stories are entirely coincidental/unintentional.  Permission
is granted to archive at fkfanfic.com and the ftp site, all
others please ask so I can keep track of it.  For those of
you who are interested, my other stories are all available
at http://www.his.com/~eschmid/Homepage.htm.

This is a sequel to a story I sent out awhile ago in March,
called Do Not Go Gentle.  If you haven't read that story,
you're going to be royally confused.  Needless to say, DNGG
was kinda graphic so if you just want a summary:  LaCroix
brutalizes Nick and realizes he regrets it.  Angst ensues.
This story is a major CoTK piece, although Natalie and
Janette both get their parts in it, and there are reasonable
NNPacker undertones.  Anyway, I got lots of feedback on Do
Not Go Gentle, and I think I've addressed a lot of the stuff
you've brought up :)  Sorry this took so long to finish, but
I've been suffering from about six billion different cases
of severe writer's block, not to mention I found this story
very hard to write even when I WAS inspired :)

Rage deals with some disturbing subject matter and there are
some violent parts in it, and although I do not consider
this to be adult content, be warned.  I've really tried to
delve into the issues that make the entire LaCroix-Nick
relationship work (and not work), while at the same time
trying to keep every character in form.  Also, I've heard
some complaints lately that many fanfics tend to have Nick
cry a lot, and I discovered after going back to read my
stuff that I was a vicious perpetrator of the crime (guilty
as charged, what can I say).  Hopefully, I've fixed that up
somewhat!

Any and all comments can be sent to [email protected].  I
thrive on positive and/or constructive feedback and I just
recently lost all the backups to my mail files, so I need
some new stuff to go back and read from time to time, you
know, to keep my inspiration going!

Oh yeah, and I'd like to extend a huge thank you to my beta
reader, Lois Frankel, and to Marg Yamanaka for her extensive
knowledge on the Toronto area :)

Goodness, I'm long winded.  Okay.  I'm done :)

RAGE, RAGE AGAINST THE DYING OF THE LIGHT (1/10)

THE PRESENT

<Beg me, Nicholas.  Beg me to stop...>

The voice echoing through his head like a soft roll of
thunder made him snap awake in fear, panting heavily.  No!
Just barely, and only by clenching his jaws shut with such
force that his lips began to bleed where his teeth bit down
on them, he was able to stop himself from crying out aloud.
He began to tremble furiously as he realized there was an
arm wrapped around his abdomen, restraining him from behind.

He stilled in terror, but shivery tremors still coursed up
and down his body.   An arm...  Clasped around his abdomen
possessively.  Holding him...  Trapping him...  It was like
thick metal chains bound him to the bed, he couldn't move.
With his eyes wide in inexplicable fear, he fought the urge
to flee.  If he moved, it might wake up...  And for some
reason he concluded that that would be a bad thing.

Staring straight ahead as he lay there on his side with his
head resting gently on his hand, he was afraid to move a
muscle, even to wipe the bloody sweat forming on his brow
and dripping slowly down onto his black satin sheets where
they left small darker blotches of stain.  God...  He
inhaled deeply, but panic still crushed him like a three ton
weight on his shoulders.

The arm moved and all at once he tensed even more, if that
were even possible, his muscles shaking in protest from the
sudden and extreme stress placed upon them.  "Nicholas...
What's the matter?" a voice whispered from behind him
softly, the soft warm breath wafting over the nape of Nick's
exposed neck.

He knew that voice.  <Beg me, Nicholas.  Beg me to stop...>
It was _that_ voice.  <I can possess you totally>  The voice
that had hurt him.  <I OWN you!>  Hurt...  Get away!  No!
If I move, he might...  Letting a small, muffled whimper
escape from his lips, he remained still.  Unmoving.

"Nicholas?"  Another arm and hand snaked around him from
behind, this time over the top of his shoulder.  It brushed
the blond tufts of hair draping over his forehead, the
underlayers of which were already pastily matted to the skin
with sweat.  <I can possess you totally>  His eyes widened,
and he tried so very hard not to flinch.  But he did.
Slamming his eyes shut tightly, he waited for retribution.

It never came.  The hand at his face was gone at once.  He
wanted to tell LaCroix to move his other hand, but nothing
would come out.  Get away from me!  His mind was screaming,
but it was as if his voice had been ripped away, stolen out
of his precious possession.

"Nicholas, you're trembling.  I can feel your fear.  Tell
me, what is the matter?" the voice demanded a little bit
more insistently.  Just leave me alone!  Get away!  He
opened his mouth again, but his vocal chords simply refused
to work.  He was frozen in place with the exception of his
shivering muscles.

Finally, a blessing from above, the hand that was snaked
around his midsection unclasped itself.  "Nicholas, I..."
He didn't listen to the rest of the speech coming from
behind him.  He was free.  And as if his weakly trembling
body had a mind of its own, he found himself bolting
downstairs towards his familiar haven.

Within seconds he was at the fridge, downing a glass of
bovine blood.  And another.  Another...  The bitter taste
disgusted him even more than usual, and he curled his lips
in a nauseated grimace as his stomach heaved and churned in
bitter protest.  Even worse than the taste, it wasn't
satisfying him at all, and he found himself growling in
frustration as his eyes slipped to a glittering amber
color.

"Nicholas, that pathetic swill won't help you..." LaCroix
appeared in front of him, and the fear he'd felt of his sire
earlier returned tenfold.  Feeling his knees give out, he
barely had enough time to set the expensive glass that
contained the awful bovine on the countertop before he found
himself falling dangerously fast towards the floor.

His master caught him with vampiric speed in his strong
arms, holding him mere inches above the wooden surface of
the floor as he struggled to regain his footing again.  But
he couldn't.  <I OWN you!>  He yelped and thrashed about in
wild panic.  Don't hurt me!  Don't hurt me!
Don'thurtmedon't...

LaCroix picked him up and carried him over to the nearby,
black leather sofa.  "Nicholas, stop thrashing about!"
LaCroix said, slightly annoyed as he placed Nick onto the
sofa as gently as he could without getting kicked.

Nick stilled instantly, and LaCroix obviously saw this as
an invitation.  His breath froze in his chest and he felt
his fear bubbling under the surface, deep within his core
as LaCroix's finger brushed his cheek...  grasped his
shoulder...  Oh God...  Nick closed his eyes as he began to
tremble again.

Finally, he could stand it no longer.  "Don't touch me!" he
snapped at his sire, the pent up anger and terror tightly
gripping his words in a chokehold.  Yet he instantly
regretted speaking.  He didn't want LaCroix to seek
retribution...  Not again...  Please, please don't be angry.

LaCroix, with a pained look of pure shock, withdrew his
hand.  Nick didn't have time to care about his master's
startling reaction as the hunger welled up inside him again.
He snarled and clutched at his abdomen as the agony ripped
through his gut.  "Why..." he gasped as he fell off the sofa
and onto the floor.

LaCroix wordlessly caught his shoulders and forced his own
pale wrist in front of Nick's mouth.  "Drink!" he commanded
softly, but Nick felt the power behind it.  The hidden
warning.

But he couldn't.  He turned his head away...  "I can't.
I..." he muttered frantically, trying to pry himself out of
LaCroix's vice-like grip.  He had to get away...  Maybe if
he could make a dash for the liftmmmmmmph!  He growled
beastially in protest as LaCroix yanked his head back.

"Nicholas, you have to, unless you wish to starve.  The
bovine swill you keep won't satisfy you," LaCroix said, his
voice almost... regretful.  "Not anymore..." he added
softly, his eyes closing into tiny slits of pain.

Nick felt revulsion forming in the pit of his chest, his
stomach churning as he stared at the wrist in front of him.
This man...  This _vampire_ who had violated him to no end
expected him to perform such an intimate gesture...  No!
Nick shook his head and heaved himself backwards, LaCroix
careening to the floor for lack of balance as Nick's
shoulders teetered about like a punching bag.  "Get off of
me!" he cried and bolted forward.  Towards the lift...
Freedom...

He was stopped short in his bid for freedom when he was
suddenly tumbling towards the floor, a loud crack
resounding through the air as LaCroix backhanded him and
sent him flying backwards.  "Don't you run away from me,
boy!" LaCroix cried, a sudden hard edge to his voice, but
he immediately softened.  "I'm...  I'm sorry...  I didn't
mean..." he stuttered as he realized what he had just done.

Oblivious to LaCroix's frantic apologies, Nick floundered on
the floor, trying to regain his equilibrium from the blow.
He took in a shocked breath as he clawed at the wooden
floorboards like a landed fish.  He had to get away from
LaCroix...

<"Very well, Nicholas.  I think you've learned your lesson,
at least for the time being," LaCroix said as he got up off
the floor.  I'm sorry, Nat.  I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry.
Nick shook his head from side to side as he shakily reached
out with his good hand and pulled himself across the floor,
slowly.  Towards the lift.  Away from LaCroix.  Got to get
away...>

Nick screamed as a spear of white lighting pierced his head.
The memories came slowly at first.  A picture...  A smell...
A sound...  A hurt...  And then they were bombarding him
and he collapsed flat on the floor.  He didn't even try to
escape the rush of pain.  It was futile.

**This is the end of part 1/10.  All comments may be sent to
Diane Harris at [email protected].**

    ---------------------------------------------------------------------
 

RAGE, RAGE AGAINST THE DYING OF THE LIGHT (2/10)

THE PREVIOUS NIGHT

Nick swallowed dryly as he began to rock himself back and
forth, his eyes squeezed shut against the soft, unobtrusive
light of the loft.  Against the pain...  OhGodOhGodOhGod...
Was this what dying felt like?  Yes, he deliriously decided.
It was.  Almost as if he were incinerating from the inside
out, he felt his veins burning as LaCroix's blood rocketed
through them, healing him and making him feel like Hell at
the same time.

For the first time in several centuries, his master's blood
was coursing through him.  Making him feel like dying from
the pleasure at the same time as making him feel like he
wanted to wretch all over the floor until there was no
tomorrow.  He felt his innards coiling in nausea as his body
began to strengthen and heal.  God, it was too much.  The
power...

His jaw muscles clenched.  Biting back a moan as his stomach
flip-flopped around in his belly, he looked up.  LaCroix was
at the door of the lift, looking about ready to depart
despite his obvious weakened state and all at once Nick
found him mind protesting.  No!  He couldn't leave!  Not
now!

He blinked.  What the Hell was his mind talking about?  Let
LaCroix leave, walk into the sun and burn into soot for all
he cared.  The bloody bastard deserves it, damn it!  No he
doesn't...  Yes he does!

His stomach heaved and Nick was forced to place a hand down
to the floor to help support himself.  Fear flooded through
him as he nearly lost what precious little balance he had.
Leaving.  LaCroix was leaving and it scared him.  He
couldn't deal with this alone, he couldn't...  Yes you can,
you're fine.  You'll be fine.  Shut up, Shut Up, SHUT UP!
You don't know anything!  Don't leave me, LaCroix.

LaCroix turned and after a long hesitation, his lips parted,
his eyes wide in silent shock.  "I won't, Nicholas," he
whispered softly.

Nick gasped.  Damn, had he said that last part aloud?  He
hadn't meant OHGOD...  The nausea was coming in rolls now.
Terrible, agonizing waves of sickening vertigo gripped at
his sides, his head, his chest, his very being.  Don't leave
me...

AAAAUGH!  God, I can't...  I don't...  He struggled to
remain upright as his thoughts raced away with his mind and
into the great beyond.  I need...

"Here, let me help you," LaCroix said softly, his voice rich
and powerful despite the lack of volume.

Nick looked up to see a blurry form that could only be his
sire crouch down next to him on the cold wooden floor,
letting out a small yelp as two strong arms encompassed him
tightly.  And suddenly, he was in the air, being carried up
the stairs like an infant...  "Don't worry, Nicholas, it
will be all right once the blood fever settles..."

And something, perhaps it was his overwhelming fear, allowed
him to take comfort in that embrace.  The very same one that
had hurt him so badly before.

That was the last thing he could remember.

THE PRESENT

He screamed long and loud as the pain riddled his gut.  "You
bastard!  Why did you do this to me?!" Nick cried painfully
as he writhed on the floor underneath LaCroix's powerful,
unrelenting grip.

"Nicholas," LaCroix began calmly, obviously trying to
diffuse the situation, "You would not have healed properly
if I had not fed you.  Your own dietary habits have caused
this!"

Nick winced and bit his tongue so hard that blood began to
trickle out of the side of his mouth.  He would not scream
again.  He wouldn't...  LaCroix didn't need to see ANOTHER
one of his pathetic weaknesses...  "You knew this would
happen, damn you!  You knew it wouldn't be a onetime thing,
you knew I'd have to drink from you again," Nick accused his
sire angrily as he swallowed each and every heaving breath
he could muster, his eyes glowing crimson with the vampire.

LaCroix was getting annoyed now, Nick could see it, but for
some reason he didn't care.  "YOU KNEW, DAMN YOU!" he yelled
as he slapped LaCroix's hands away from him and wobbled to
his feet.  "I SAID, don't touch me!"  He had to get out of
here...

"Nicholas, I did what I thought was necessary..." LaCroix
said as he obviously restrained himself from helping Nick
up, but Nick cut him off.

"This was all one of your schemes to get me back into the
fold!  You healed me and as a price I'm a slave to you.  I
can't believe I ever trusted you!" Nick cried, incensed
beyond reason.  The world was spinning in a red haze of
dizziness as he placed a hand on the wall for support.  God,
he had to get out of here...

"Nicholas, this is only temporary, and you're the one who
told me to stay, I thought..."

There was something in LaCroix's voice that Nick recognized
even through his own distress.  Pain.  No one else could've
ever recognized it for what it was, it was hidden pretty
well.  His master was... in pain.  Nick almost felt some
regret before his raging id slammed into his brain and
repossessed him.  WELL GOOD!  "It was a mistake, I can
assure you..." Nick said menacingly through clenched teeth
as he fumbled towards the lift.

He'd stay away from LaCroix and basically all of humanity
until this blew over.  But when?  When would this blow over?
LaCroix's powerful blood had reawakened a very strong desire
to consume human blood again.  He'd already tried bovine, it
hadn't sated him whatsoever.

And he was hungry.

Very hungry.

With nothing but the bloodlust in his thoughts, he flung
the door to the lift open with a throaty growl.  God, he
could already feel his body slipping through the clenched
fingers of his consciousness into the comfortable and
familiar guise of a crazed predator.  No!  Damn LaCroix for
this!  He had to get away before all conscious thought
ceased and he was prey to his own beast.  He didn't know
where he would go, but he would have to go somewhere far,
far away...

But it was too late.  He was lost to his hunger before the
real battle could even begin.

"Nick!  What's going...  What the HELL are YOU doing here?!"
A petite brunette rose from the floor of the lift, where she
had obviously been examining the large bloodstain in the
corner from the previous night.  "Nick?"

Nick cocked his head slightly in response.  She sounded so
familiar, and yet...  The noise that had emanated from her
mouth was quiet, rich, very feminine, but his concentration
waned considerably as the thumping rhythm of her heart
blind sided him and forced all other thoughts to the back of
his conscience.  Blinking as the tiny figure approached him,
he instinctively growled deep and low.  Her big, light-blue
eyes wandered nervously back from his sire to him as he
bared his fangs at her in a menacing leer.  She gasped,
stopping short of him, and he could only find himself
grinning more.

Blood was always best when the victim was scared.

**This is the end of part 2/10.  All comments may be sent to
Diane Harris at [email protected]**

*****

    ---------------------------------------------------------------------
 

RAGE, RAGE AGAINST THE DYING OF THE LIGHT (3/10)

Natalie slowly stepped into the lift.  She'd thought of
Nick all through her shift the previous night, hoping that
he'd at least have one case that required him to come into
the lab for results on a body.  She had felt a strong sense
of dread ever since he'd insisted upon going to work.

And later... when she'd heard from Tracy that he'd freaked
out in the middle of an investigation and fled the scene,
she'd been even more worried.  Tired...  He was tired, she
had tried to rationalize.  It was probably too much to
handle so soon after such grievous injuries.  Yes, that was
it, too much to handle.

Yet she had found herself pacing through her shift, itching
to leave and check on her friend.  Somewhat more than
friend.  Significant other!  Yeah, you wish...  She snorted.
Well whatever he was to her, she couldn't help but worry.
Her heart was his even if he didn't know it.

She'd then rationalized that she could wait.  He would call
her if something was really wrong.  She could wait until the
next evening to look in on him.  After all, he'd been pretty
annoyed with her continual mothering recently.  Okay, very
annoyed.  Mad even.  That is, until he had virtually
collapsed in her arms...  But that was beside the point.  No
it's not!  He needs you to check on him...  No he doesn't!

Finally giving in with a silent scream of frustration, she'd
waited.  She'd suffered a terrible bout of insomnia, counted
up to at least 2452 sheep before she'd given up on that
avenue and moved to studying the intricacies of the chipped
paint on her ceiling, but she'd waited.  And she was damn
proud at herself for maintaining the willpower to do so.

But as her eyes slowly moved to the stained rusty-red puddle
in the corner of the lift, she began to doubt the wisdom of
that move.  She bent down, dreading a closer look but
braving one anyway.  Touching an index finger into the red
mess and drawing it closer towards her for examination, the
dread in her mind turned into a palpable, gut-wrenching
fear.

It was blood.

Blood that hadn't been there before, when she'd...  When
she'd arrived at the loft and found Nick practically dead on
the floor in a lake of his own blood.  Nat closed her eyes
as a strange queasy feeling overwhelmed her.  Please don't
let it be Nick's...

And suddenly, a growl ripped through the air, viciously
tearing from her from her thoughts.  Her head snapped around
of its own accord and she was greeted with Nick's vampire
face.  Nick's very _hungry_ looking vampire face, but she
was too dazed by the suddenness of the encounter to even
begin worrying about it...

"Nick!  What's going..." she heard herself beginning to
speak as her eyes involuntarily slipped to the space
directly behind Nick.  A space occupied by the individual she
least wanted to see in the world, and least of all within a
mile of Nick...

"What the HELL are YOU doing here?!" she screamed at LaCroix
as she rose to her feet, barely able to contain her sudden
fury at the elder vampire's presence, but LaCroix was barely
even paying attention to her.  His worried eyes were focused
entirely on Nick.

Nick...  "Nick?" she queried, but it was immediately obvious
that he didn't understand a word she was saying.  He cocked
his head to the side as if contemplating what to do about
this newest curiosity, and, as if suddenly coming to a
decision, he growled deep and low in his throat.

The fear that had been for Nick earlier was slowly beginning
to morph into fear _of_ Nick as she warily glanced back and
forth between Nick and his sire.  She felt the breath catch
in her throat as Nick began to smile at her like she was the
most delectable thing in the world.  Don't scream.  Whatever
you do, don't scream.  She thought frantically of all the
things Nick had told her about the hunger, the main thing of
which was that he'd remembered reveling in his victim's
fear.  Fear made it worse...

Natalie swallowed harshly.  Funny how when you thought about
something NOT to do, it was the first thing that you were
most likely to obsess about.  Hopefully Nick wasn't lucid
enough to notice that her hands were shaking enough to cause
a small earthquake.

He growled again, and she couldn't stop herself from taking
a small step backwards into the lift.  Please Nick.
Recognize me!  "Snap out of it, Nick!" she cried in a plea
she knew would fall upon deaf ears.  She'd never seen him
like this.  There'd been a few times when he'd been very
hungry, but never so completely lost to the bloodlust as he
obviously was this time.  It was a very fine edge that he
walked on, one that she'd never seen him unsuccessfully
straddle.

Until now.

His eyes peered at her, narrowing slightly at her obvious
panic, and yet they were sightless.  The red, angry pools of
inhumanity that stared at her didn't care that she was
afraid, didn't care that her life was something that
couldn't be rekindled after it was extinguished, didn't care
at all except that they were staring at a good, fast meal...
So cold...

It amazed her how easily she forgot that Nick was _not_ for
all intents and purposes, human, despite his constant
warnings and reminders.  She found herself unable to do
anything except stare back at him like a deer caught in the
headlights, silently resigning herself to her fate.  Her
death...

And as he lunged towards her with all the power and muscle
of a savage beast, she barely flinched.  But he never
reached her.  His body snapped backwards painfully like a
ball at the end of its tether.  LaCroix, it seemed, had
finally intervened.

"ENOUGH!" LaCroix cried angrily as he harshly grabbed Nick
and dragged him away from Nat towards Nick's large black
leather couch.  "Nicholas, as much as I'd enjoy seeing you
snack on our dear Doctor Lambert, I'd much rather you do it
of your own accord..." he explained to the writhing mass
desperately trying to escape his grip.

Nat sighed in infinite relief, but the fury rushed back as
she watched Nick struggling pathetically in LaCroix's arms.
"Excuse me," she began coldly, "but would you mind telling
me what the HELL is going on?"  The fury inside her was
about to boil over the top, exploding into a big scalding
mess.  She closed her eyes briefly.  One...  Two...
Three...  Four...

"Dr. Lambert, as much as I'd love to discuss this with you,"
LaCroix snapped as his eyes slipped to an amber hue and his
fangs descended, pausing only to bite into the pale flesh of
his wrist, "I'd suggest you leave now if you know what's
good for you."

Nat narrowed her eyes in disbelief.  She could not...
WOULD NOT trust him.  Not with Nick.  Not after what he'd
done.  And she couldn't believe that LaCroix obviously
expected her to.  "No way.  I'm not leaving," she insisted
stubbornly, folding her arms across her chest, but wisely
not daring to move any closer towards the pair.

LaCroix spared her a brief, annoyed glance.  "Fine, but next
time he tries to eat you for lunch, I'm not going to stop
him, I'm still trying to convince myself not to loose him on
you now," he whispered with a sick grin, the sarcasm
dripping from his voice like thick maple syrup.  Without
further comment, LaCroix put his wrist to Nick's wildly
gnashing canines, and at once Nick's struggling all but
ceased as he began to...

Nat gasped.

As he began to drink...  She felt the revulsion burble up
from her stomach and into her throat, fighting her gag
reflex as she watched the man she loved unconditionally
drink the blood of a man she hated relentlessly.  Of a man
_HE_ hated relentlessly.  Of a man who had brutalized him,
raped him, and driven him to unspeakable emotional
instability.

Her lips curled back in a grimace.  It was sick, that's what
it was.  Disgusting.

And it was too much for her to bear.

Leaping to action, she ran to the small shelf where Nick
kept it displayed and grabbed Joan of Arc's cross with utter
fury.  She rushed at the pair, waving it wildly in their
faces.  LaCroix hissed in surprise and stepped backwards as
Nick slipped dazedly to the ground, no longer supported by
his master's firm embrace.

"Get away from him!" Nat screamed, slowly backing LaCroix
up towards the wall with the old wooden cross.  DAMN YOU!
She saw Nick lying on the ground, bloodied, unclothed,
helpless, writhing around on the ground spasmodically under
the throes of an invisible memory.  DAMN YOU!  She saw Nick
curled up in agony on the sofa, red tear tracks racing down
his cheeks when he thought she wasn't watching.  DAMN YOU!

Her grip on the cross tightened, her knuckles turning white
as she clenched the holy object in her fingers.  BASTARD!
The anger erupting out of her was overwhelming as she forced
LaCroix backwards, corralling him like some sort of prized
cattle put up for slaughter.  DAMN YOU!!!  Damn you for
Nick, and definitely for myself!

Finally, there was a loud thump as LaCroix's back connected
harshly with the pale back wall of the loft.  She shoved the
cross in his face until it was scarcely three inches away
from the bridge of his nose.

"He NEEDED it!" LaCroix whispered, his eyes averted towards
the floor and away from the cross.

Natalie's eyes narrowed.  "Like Hell he did, what the Hell
did you do to him?!" she snapped, suddenly not caring that
the creature before her had at least two thousand years on
her.  Not caring that he was a ruthless Roman general who
had no qualms about killing mortals whatsoever.  Not caring
that he was the source of Nick's torment.  He wouldn't kill
her, she knew that now.  He'd had ample opportunity and he
hadn't taken it.

LaCroix took a deep breath.  "He was injured..." he began.

"Yeah, by you, you uncaring bastard!" Nat interrupted
angrily.

He winced at her tone but continued.  "He needed my blood
to heal, the blood of the master always heals.  He was ill,
and he would've been for quite some time without my
intervention.  So I gave him my blood when he came home
yesterday," he explained calmly, but Nat could detect
something in his voice.  Something well hidden...  Pain?
Regret?  No.  It couldn't be.  She shrugged it off.

"Well then how do you explain what just happened?  I thought
you said Nick was supposed to heal..." Nat said in
disbelief.  Of all the pathetic excuses she'd heard in her
short lifetime, this one took the cake!

LaCroix grunted softly as Nat pushed the cross imperceptibly
closer.  His flesh started to smoke slightly, but his face
was still an emotional mask.  "He did.  But..."

"But?" she prodded.  She wanted the whole story, and she
wanted it now.  Before she killed him.

"His system had gotten so used to that damn bovine swill
that my blood frenzied him.  It will wear off, he just needs
to readjust," LaCroix assured her.

"Well he can readjust fine," she snapped back.  Nick would
be able to readjust.  No problem.  They'd work it out just
like they always did when their progress took a giant leap
backward.  She continued to rationalize silently, but the
feeling that this wasn't just a simple leap backwards in
their progress towards a cure just wouldn't leave her alone.

And all at once the anger flared again, if what she'd been
feeling before could be considered calm.  "And he can do it
without you.  Now get out before I run the unbeating chunk
of ice you call a heart through with this lovely gift of
Joan's," she said coldly, withdrawing the cross far enough
to allow the two thousand year old vampire to leave before
she completely lost it.

With the cross out of his face, LaCroix looked at her
coldly.  "I don't take kindly to threats!" he growled at
her, bearing his fangs cruelly for her to see, "Especially
from you..."  But the smirk on his face that was obviously
meant to intimidate her only incensed her further.

"Bastard!" she cried, and before she realized what she
was doing, she backhanded him across the face, the wooden
cross scraping across his cheek, leaving small splinters in
the previously flawless flesh.  "That was for Nick, you
sonofabitch!"

The long end of the cross chipped off from all the abuse it
had taken and fell to the floor with a thud, but she barely
took note of it as she kneed him hard in the groin,
collapsing him mercilessly to the floor.  "That was for ME!"
she screamed as something in-between a whimper and a groan
emanated from his pale lips.

She raised the cross, noting triumphantly that the shards
and splinters that had come off the tips made it as deadly
as a genuine stake.  LaCroix curled up on the floor,
strangely not protesting her actions.  "And this is for
everyone else's lives that you've screwed up!"

And she plunged the make-shift stake home.

**This is the end of part 3/10.  All comments may be sent to
Diane Harris at [email protected]**

*****

Onto Parts 4 to 6!