(Author's Note:  In this story, Third Season never happened.  Nor did Be My
Valentine.)
 
 

Friday, October 13th of the Year 2000 A.D. by the Gregorian calendar:
 
 

Far away... in a distant country....the cooling earth released the small
patch of moisture it had held for centuries.  A dark fog drifted upwards
into the sky for several meters before pausing, tendrils of minute water
vapor seeming to curl upon themselves as the mist hung in the air.  Then it
shot forward like a hound with a scent.  Those few mortals native to the
area who chanced to witness the event spoke of it appearing as if the shadow
of the new moon itself had disintergrated into a taloned claw before
disappearing from human sight altogether.
 

The time for rest was over.
      The hunt was on.
               And this time...
 

This time the prey would be taken.
 
 
 

November 21st, 2000
 

Aristotle rose from his chair and stretched his back, glancing at the data
displayed on his computer screen with prideful satisfaction.  His current
project was going very well.  It only remained to inform his client of the
various options that were available to him.  Muscles eased, he reached for
his phone and punched in a number that would connect him with the owner of a
brick warehouse in Toronto.  His finger paused on the last two digits as he
felt something like a cold dampness pass over.  Frowning, the vampire cast a
wary glance around his room.  That was the second time in the past week that
the humidity level had unexplainably risen.  Maybe it had just been his
air-conditioning unit acting up.  Not a great matter---what with all of his
sophisticated and highly delicate electronics, he kept several backup units
ready to keep his hobby running smoothly.  But then... why the feeling of
unease?
 

A buzzing noise alerted him to two uniformed humans waiting outside his
secured abode, one with clipboard in hand.  A shipping crate of metal-bound
wooden planks large enough to pack a St. Bernard in at their side.  Mortal
deliverymen?  Perhaps it was that new system he had ordered, but why had
Fredrick sent mortals to bring it?  Ah, well... Fredrick wasn't known to
have the best processor in his grey matter if he'd been recently
overindulging at the Raven.  The vampire just could not hold his favorite
curare-laced bloodwine very well, it was a wonder that LaCroix let him
imbibe it there at all.
 

Aristotle greeted the men through the use of his security monitor, directed
them to pass the necessary paperwork through a slot in his door, filled it
out, returned it through the slot, then commanded that they send the package
down through a particular chute.  The humans did as they was bid, wrestling
the crate onto the chute, where modern machinery gently eased it down into
some hidden room.  Delivery made, the humans finally walked back to their
truck, shaking their heads in conversation.  Wondering what hi-tech firm the
'paranoid nerd' worked for, probably.  Aristotle didn't care.  He hadn't
survived so long by not taking extreme precautions.  Besides, he was not
only protecting himself, but the confidential information on thousands of
his kind.
 

Scanning the box first with the aid of a remote-controlled robotic device,
Aristotle was gratified to see the x-rays show that the package did not
contain anything noisome like a bomb.  On the other hand, neither did it
contain what he had ordered from Fredrick.  Unlocking the door that
separated his office from the delivery room, Aristotle walked over to the
crate and picked it up, searching for the packing label.  He was a bit
surpised at the weight---no wonder the humans had had trouble unloading it;
however, he was even more suprised at the instructions on the label.  Hadn't
Nicholas agreed to stop using him as a way to sneak his latest finds past
his master?  True, he owed the Brabantian knight his life---but this was
getting out of hand---he was not set up to be some sort of P.O.Box for
paranoid children.  One night he wouldn't be surprised if the Roman General
made good on his past threats to 'stuff you into one of your computer
casings' if he didn't stop.  Not that Aristotle blamed LaCroix for being
upset---most of the odd religious artifacts Nicholas received ended up
hurting the obsessed youngster.
 

Running a weary hand over his face, Aristotle sighed.  Well, this would be
the last time he would allow himself to be put in the precarious position
between the powerful Black King and the self-styled White Knight.  As of
tonight, Brabant could find another place to stash his 'little' projects.
 

Making a phone call, Aristotle arranged for the box to be removed from his
place and taken to its rightful owner's.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

In his broadcast booth within the Raven nightclub, Lucien LaCroix pondered
the blood held within his glass as the current song he was playing wound to
a close.  He moved the microphone closer to his lips as he set down the
glass to flip a well-used switch.
 

"Welcome back, gentle listeners.  Was that tune to your liking?" he purred
into the device.  "Or did it merely serve to pass the time as you flounder
from one minute to the next, seeking a diversion from reality?
 

But what is reality?  Is it something outside of ourselves--- a communual
environment that we, like fish, swim in together?  Or is it something far
more personal?  Individual skits being enacted upon a common stage, yet kept
separate by the minds conducting them unless the participants happen to bump
into one another's sets.  And what happens if you find your carefully
constructed 'set' to be invaded by the neighbor you never knew even existed?
 

Ah, you protest:  "I've already survived the horrors of Samhain; I am safe
for another year."
 

But is your perceived world of safety and surety what it seems?  Or is it
all an illusion?  Or worse---an elaborate spider's web created to ensnare
the unwary?  Are you really dancing on that stage called Life?  Or are you
but the trapped fly, dreaming of freedom as you hang enshrouded within
silken threads, waiting for the spider to come and suck you dry?
 

So I ask you, my children, what is reality?  What is illusion?  And if it
all is but a web that must be carefully side-stepped as you flit around
eternity...  Who or what is the spider?
 

This is the Nightcrawler, wishing you all.. interesting... dreams?"
 

Flicking off the switch, the ancient vampire snorted into his glass as he
powered down his booth for the night, watching as all the tiny diodes that
had lit up during his little closing speech died back down as his 'faithful'
gave up their pathetic attempts to engage him in debate.  Tonight, he just
wasn't in the mood to indulge in ripping their arguments apart.
 

Really, the more he spooned out this morbid talk, the more the dumb masses
seemed to flock to his broadcasts.  What was this fascination that the
humans had with horrrifying images?  Each year the coming of autumn saw more
and more gruesomely created displays for what was becoming an even bigger
human festival than Christmas.  Once a province of children, Halloween was
rapidly being taken over by the adults, who appeared just as anxious to
scare each other silly as they had been as tykes, sweating hands clasped
together in 'seances', covered in ghostly-white sheets, flashlights angled
to best distort their facial features.  Yet faced with real nightmares, they
cringed and slunk away.  But that, he supposed, was the whole point, wasn't
it?  It was easier to face down a perceived illusion than reality.  At any
rate, they would soon be giving Thanks that their nightmares were only
rubber and plastic; to be followed before long with yet more delusions of
Peace on Earth and fat jolly elves with nothing better to do than bring
'good cheer'.  Then on to celebrate another year of the same.  Humanity was
getting boringly predictable these past generations.  Thank gods for his
volatile offspring who, conversely, was getting more entertaining each
decade.
 

"Nicholas...my most annoying, changeable, and delightful child, what are you
up to tonight?"
 

Stepping out into the chill air, LaCroix contemplated the cloudy sky as he
felt along the bond he had with his son.  His Nicholas, he sensed, was
enaged in a hunt.  Closing his eyes, LaCroix savored the nearly feral
emotions unconsciously pouring through to him from his youngest child.  It
seemed like centuries since Nicholas had joined him in a hunt.  Oh, what a
glorious time they had had!  He gathered the current feelings coming from
his son and let them mix with older memories.  His own cherished illusion he
realized, for in reality Nicholas was probably just involved in tracking a
wanted felon for his current folly as a homicide detective; the unnatural
end result of his bloodlust tamed for the sake of the human court system.
For that was Nicholas' chosen delusion:  that he could become mortal by
'playing' mortal games.
 

Perhaps he should visit his favorite tonight.  It had been weeks since he
had caught his prodigal cub in his lair.  Mustn't let him become too secure
in his delusion.  Time for a dose of reality.  "Playtime's over, Nicholas,
time for another lesson."  Smirking evily, the ancient lifted up into the
night air, veering off towards the warehouse district on Gateway Lane.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

As  was his wont, LaCroix used the skylight over Nicholas' living room as
his entryway, disdaining the usual 'mortal' convention of a door.  He landed
quietly near the leather couch and walked from there into the kitchen.  A
quick check of the refrigerator's contents showed that his son was still on
his self-inflicted diet of bovine.  How Nicholas could stand to drink the
horrible-tasting stuff, the ancient didn't know.  Surely, if his fool child
felt he must abstain from his natural fare, he could at least find something
better than 'cow'.  Cattle were about as boring as you could get, their
lives utterly mundane.  Moving back into the living room, LaCroix noticed a
large crate sitting by the fireplace, where the wooden dragon and other
carved icons of the mantelpiece seemed to be watching over it with wary
stares.
 

Well, this was new, he thought as he stepped over to the box.  What was his
son up to now?  Probably another 'cure' for his unwanted condition, LaCroix
sneered, noticing the well worn stickers on the box:  Parisian House of
Antiquities.  When would Nicholas learn that there was no going back?  That
the gift he had bestowed upon his golden child was as eternal as the stars?
And what agonies would this latest venture cost his son if he let it go and
abandoned his duty as a parent?  Yes, and he would have to have another
little talk with Aristotle too.  The Greek's place in the Community was
invaluable, true;  but LaCroix would not tolerate the other's involvement in
activities that could harm his child---no matter how Nicholas would argue
about his right to decide his own life.  He was the boy's father---Nicholas
'had' no rights.
 

Angrily, LaCroix broke open the box---some of his annoyance directed at
himself for having let this go unnoticed in the first place.  He should have
been keeping a closer watch on Nicholas' activities!  If this was part of
another 'Mayan jade cup', or 'a translation of the Abbarat' scheme, he would
smash or tear it to shreds.  But first he must learn what it was, and why
Nicholas desired it, so he could circumvent any future attempts in this
direction by his rebellious protege.  Carelessly tearing out bits of packing
tissue, he stopped as his fingers brushed against something hard and
unyeilding.  Rage toned down to be replaced by curiosity as his efforts
revealed burnished gold and bronze.
 

A statue?
 

LaCroix studied the highly detailed figure of the griffin, his pale fingers
trailing along a golden wing where it joined the body.  The workmanship was
superb.  Such a pity it would have to be destroyed.
 

A thought nagged at the back of the ancient's mind; there was something
about this metal beast that stirred his memory.  Ah...yes.  That party back
in 1591 at the good Duke's.  The silly legend that had upset his son so
because it parelleled the nightmares he had been periodically suffering from
since a young boy.  Strange that Nicholas would want to have such a thing,
considering.  Come to think of it, it was about that time that Nicholas had
relapsed into having a mortal's conscience---a mentality that had manifested
itself even during his first meal.  He and Janette had had to actively
encourage his new fledgling into an act that should have come by pure
instinct:  the taking of his first meals.  Time after time he had soothed
his worried child that the feelings of guilt would soon go away.  And
eventually, they had.  But for some inexplicable reason they had never
'totally' disappeared.  It was one of the few failings Nicholas had.  Then,
mysteriously, they had come back more powerfully than before, until Nicholas
was no longer drinking human blood at all, but would feed only from animals.
And placid, cows at that.  It was embarrasing, it was ludicrous, and it must
stop!  He had been patient with the boy for nearly 800 years and now his
generosity was wearing thin.
 

LaCroix had turned away from the statue as he mused on this new development
and what to do about it.  Now a noise from behind him made him turn around.
Had he been so distracted with his own thoughts that Nicholas had managed to
return home without his being aware?  But no.... it was early yet, his son
would still be playing at his mortal job for another quarter hour or more.
 

"Who is there?" the ancient growled, his voice deepening to that of a lion's
timber as he let his Beast strengthen him.  There was none of the thumping
of a mortal's heartbeat, so he was certain that this was a vampire come to
call on his son.  It was bad enough that Aristotle played postman for him,
that yet another of his own would dare to actively help his son in his quest
to pull away from his sire..!
 

Or perhaps not to aid, but to punish?  Either way, it was overstepping unto
LaCroix's authority and the other would pay for his insolence with his or
her life's bl---
 

The statue was gone?  How?  Who could possibly have snuck by him unsensed
and unseen in order to carry the thing away?
 

Golden eyes scanned the room.
 

"Who is there?!  SHOW YOURSELF AT ONCE!"

=============
End of Part One
 

Onto Part Two!