Part Three
 

Sleep was rapidly becoming a luxury that was only offered in small amounts and
at unusual times.  After waiting two hours to be able to confer with the best
in Psychology that the University of Toronto had to offer, Mark could have
fallen asleep on his well equipped lab floor.  And to top it all off, the
conclusion that the professor came up with was no more than hate your mother
psychobabble.  One thing that he knew for sure, Natalie's dream was not some
contrived bits and pieces of childhood conflicts.  It represented something
real, far too real to remember.  Moreover, it had something to do with what
happened the night she was found unconscious.  Something happened somewhere
between the time she left the Morgue and Detective Knight's discovery of her.
But, whatever happened, it was not a surprise.  She knew something was going
to happen.  She had prepared for it- even packed.  That was the answer that
she had gone looking for, and somewhere, somehow, she found it.  But it
destroyed her, no-almost destroyed her.  He pulled the small black book from
the inside pocket of his jacket, and placed it on the lab table in front of
him.  The answer had to be in this book.  Why else would she bring it?

Guilt tore at him as he stared at the closed notebook that he had stolen from
her suitcase.  He tried to shake off the unclean sensation that came with
having this private book in his possession, and he even tried to justify the
benefits of delving into its secrets.  However, he could not walk away from
the thought that he was in some way taking advantage of her situation, almost
violating her.  He picked up the notebook and nervously shifted it from hand
to hand.  What if this held the answers for her?  How could he just stand on
the sidelines, when he could be helping her?  Checking around him to be
certain that he was still alone, he flipped open the cover to the first page.
The first entry was dated over six years ago.  This experiment had been going
on for a long time now.  Now he understood more clearly her reasons for being
so secretive around him when using his powerful scope.  Her own study, but if
she were leaving, why would she need all this information with her?  Surely,
she could have locked it away in one of her drawers for a little while, while
she was on vacation.  And surely, she would not have been afraid to trust her
staff unless what she was working on was dangerous.  His eyes moved off the
page and he closed them tightly.  She wasn't planning a short trip.  She was
not coming back, she was arranging to possibly leave forever.  He slammed the
notebook closed, and shook his head sorrowfully.  She had gone to Detective
Knight's building.  Was she going to run away with him?  Was he involved in
this dangerous experiment of hers?  She knew something would happen that
night, but what did happen was unexpected and almost deadly.  Desperately, he
tried to imagine what the unexpected event could be, but nothing came to him.
Again, he stared down at the black book.  The answer was here within his
grasp, and he was going to uncover it.  Turning over the book, he flipped
blank pages until he came to the last written page.  The final entry had only
been last week.  There was only a short notation that stated, 'Nick is not
able to tolerate another ingredient.' A note stood out on the bottom of the
page.  It simply read, "Viable options appear to be becoming limited."  The
statement was clear.  The experiment was not giving satisfactory results, and
that alternate plans were scarce.  So, she must have been feeling desperate in
seeing a bleak future to six years of hard work.  She must have tried one last
attempt, something unconventional, something risky.  What did she do?
Whatever it was, it almost killed her left her with no memory of any of it.
This research was important enough to her to place her life in danger.  He had
to keep her experiment going.  He loved her too much to let her dream die.
One day, he would present to her all the answers to her questions.  One day
she would come to love him as much as he loved her.  Rubbing the sleep from
his eyes, he turned back to the beginning of the notebook and began to read.

                                   --------

Nick watched the last light of the sun dissolve away into evening, over the
city of Toronto, from his living rooms window.  Almost a year had passed, and
his life as a mortal was very fulfilling except for love.  Relationships still
were a large concern, at least long term ones.  He always had an excuse as to
why he could not get involved with any woman, but the truth was that in his
heart no one could take Nat's place.

Phil, his new boss, had turned out to be a great guy and a good private
investigator.  However, here too a void continued to persist, being in the
private sector was no substitute for being on the force.  Reese had been in
constant contact with him, and had made sure that the most complex of crimes
was followed through with Phil's consultations.  There were days when he was
certain that he saw Reese more as a consultant than when he worked with him.
But life as a private investigator lacked enthusiasm.  Most of their work,
when not consulting with the force consisted of tracking down runaways and
spying on unfaithful spouses.  He knew that he did not remain with Phil for
the work.  Phil had turned out to be his best friend.  In fact, many times he
thought that he could have been Schanke's twin brother.  So much about them
was the same, their sense of humor, their devotion to justice, and most of all
the enormous appetite.  All these attributes made him feel as if he had been
given a second chance with his past partner.

The appeals in the Internal Affairs department had turned out to take much
longer than expected.  With all of his influence, Reese had still not been
granted a new hearing date for Nick.  But time moved on, and he still thought
of Nat everyday.  So many times he had passed by her, or had seen her off in
the distance at the precinct.  So many times, he felt as if his heart were
being crushed by her almost non-existent knowledge of him.  Once she was
standing near him for close to an hour, and he had almost said something, he
had almost touched her.  He watched her every movement when she would appear
in the same room, but never once did she notice him.  Then only last week came
the worst blow of all.  Phil had sent him to pick up a few files from Captain
Reese at the precinct, and he by chance walked right into a surprise
engagement party for Natalie and Dr. Harmond.  As his heart broke, he watched
her.  She looked so happy, they both did.  Dr. Harmond had been in the middle
of toasting Reese for having brought them together when he turned towards Nick
to add an additional comment.  Nick felt that Mark Harmond had looked at him
strangely, but he dismissed the thought after the glowing acknowledgement of
Nick's part in their lives.  Mark had held his glass high, and thanked him for
bringing his future wife to safety on that fateful night.  Everyone had
cheered the tribute, and he had heard that the party had gone on for a long
time after he had left with the files.  Although it had hurt, he knew that
finally Nat was on her way to the life she deserved to be living.

Nick looked towards the lake.  The sky in that direction seemed to have an
unusual aura tonight and something definitely felt different in his bones.
Maybe it was his cop's instinct that he felt or maybe it was some part of the
vampire that still lingered, but the feeling was undeniable.  He turned
sharply to view the room, almost expecting to see LaCroix, but all was still.
LaCroix had been out of his life, at least he had not seen, or heard from him
since the day he had left Nat's apartment.  Time had gone by so quickly, only
four years remained.  Now that he saw for himself that Nat was well and happy,
he could feel more relaxed.  Although he had made certain that he would not
become serious with any mortal woman, he had not refrained from enjoying their
company.  The only thing that he needed to remember was that a long lasting
relationship would only end in disaster.  LaCroix would return to claim him,
he was only biding his time.  He turned back to the window when he heard the
hollow sound of a ship's horn in the distance.  Yes, something was different
tonight.  He closed his window blinds.

                                   --------

Buried alive.  Vachon had felt it before, but it was on his top ten list of
things he least liked to do.  Trying to move around in the wooden coffin
seemed hopeless, especially with the wood so swollen from the dampness.  There
was something worse than being buried alive, being buried in a leaky wet box.
Water droplets clung to the top of the box over his face, and slowly dripped
down on him.  This had to be some sort of torture; but then again, it was
better than being dead.  He was supposed to be dead.  It sure felt like he was
dying when the little girl, or should he say demon, attacked him.  The pain
and the pleasure from her attack had devastated him; there was no defense.
When Tracy had arrived at the abandoned church, he wanted to kill her.
Actually, he needed her to kill him, to finish him off.  Never had he felt all
of his life drained away like that, not even when his master had brought him
across.  He was possessed and too helpless to fight her effects off, the only
answer was to complete the destruction she had started.  Or so he thought,
until he had awaked to find himself half-starved and neatly put away into the
ground.  When he had asked Tracy to drive the wooden stake through his heart,
she had refused.  In his delirium, he waited for the exact moment to charge at
her and pin her to the wall knowing that the stake she held would do the job
for her.  It had been a direct hit to his heart, but she had removed it.
Didn't she know anything from all the vampire movies?  Now he could again
resurrect from the dead.  He started to laugh as he remembered scenes from
Dracula films with the vampire rising from his coffin deep in some ancient
darkened crypt.  The laughing came to an abrupt stop, why was he mocking that,
at least they were not under tons of dirt.  What he would give to not have to
dig his way out of this mess.

Looking around his burial box for a way out, he wondered how he could have
survived that vicious assault and the barrage of visions that had followed.
Maybe the act of driving the stake through the heart halted the progression of
the disease that consumed him.  Perhaps the evil thoughts that threaten to
take away his sanity could only be silenced by death.  Whatever had happened,
the effects of his unfortunate encounter, were gone.  He placed both hands
against the top of the coffin and pushed hard.  It would not budge.  Why did
she have to go and bury him in a coffin?  When he had buried Screed, he placed
him directly into the dirt and sand near the water.  But that was Tracy,
always doing things the proper way.  He stopped trying to force open the top
for a moment, and reminisced about how concerned she had been.  The sound of
her voice, her innocent youthful face, and the scent of her blood.  Blood, he
needed blood.  If he was ever going to see her again, and let her know that he
was alive then he had to get out of here and find some nourishment.  In
frustration, he kicked savagely at the end causing the wood to send cracks
down the sides.  He kicked hard again, this time crashing through the bottom
panel.  Well, at least his feet were out.  With the sides now severed from his
forceful kicks, he used his small amount of vampire strength to knock out one
long side that ran down the length of his body, and was then able to touch the
dirt.  It was almost the consistency of sand, and he realized that he wasn't
in a cemetery, unless he was buried in Las Vegas.  Pushing the wet sandy dirt
away to make room for his body to slide out, he slid himself to the side just
as the remaining splintered box caved in from the pressure above him.  Now, he
only wished to remain conscious long enough to find his way to the surface,
and with a little luck have no one around that would instantly become a long
awaited meal.

Feeling like he was in quicksand, he violently swung out in every direction
pushing away sand that threatened to suffocate him.  He closed his eyes as the
abrasive particles scrapped at the skin on his face and arms.  Time reacted
like it too was caught in this quicksand like consistency, as he struggled to
where he thought was the way up.  After expending energy that he really could
not afford to lose, his one hand finally reached up and felt nothing.  He
rapidly brought his other arm up in the same direction, and felt only a breeze
whisk across his irritated skin.  With his goal now so close, he found the
motivation to drag his worn body to the surface and collapse onto the ground.
After a moment to catch his breath, he rolled onto his back.  Still lying flat
against the ground, he stared up into the sky.  It was nighttime.  Funny how
he had not even thought about what would await him when he crawled out of his
grave.  Maybe he had known instinctively, maybe the night had called him.  A
fresh breeze from the lake washed over him as ship horns sounded far off in
the distance.  It felt good to be back.  Pulling himself into a sitting
position, he looked around him.  He was almost on a secluded part of the beach
near the water.  No wonder the place he was buried in was so wet and sandy.
Here is where he had buried Screed.  A smile crossed his lips.  Yeah, Tracy
would think to bury him next to Screed.  He breathed in deeply through the
drifting night mist that floated past him.  It was a good place to be buried.
No mortals around, and covered now in three-foot high weeds.  In the late
spring and the summer, this place must be almost invisible to mortals
strolling along the water's edge.  He could hear the occasional ringing of a
buoy as he looked over at the lighted tall buildings across the water.  For a
moment, the CN Tower's flashing tip mesmerized him.  The dirt that had just
imprisoned him had become an unconscious toy to be sifted through his fingers
as he just sat and appreciated life.  Even the simple act of watching the
lights from the shore reflect white streams on the waters gently rippling
surface, was a pleasure.

The view was captivating, but the hunger was stronger.  He closed his eyes and
listened.  The sound of a rapidly fluttering heartbeat renewed his desire for
sustenance.  A small animal was moving in his direction, most likely he had
also been in search of a meal when surprised to see an invader on his hunting
grounds.  Curiosity compelled the rodent like creature to investigate, and it
moved closer.  Playfully, Vachon smiled at the animal then locked onto its
eyes with his.  This wasn't his idea of gourmet dining, but Screed would have
understood.  Anyway, this was just to tide him over until he could get home
and indulge in his own vintage stock.  The rodent willing moved to within
Vachon's reach and encountered a rapid demise.  Shakily standing up, he threw
the animal's body into the brush before looking into the sky and taking off
into the moonlit darkness.
 

End Part Three

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