God, no!  He couldn't let them hurt Natalie! Nicholas thought as he fought
to free himself with renewed vigor.  Disregarding ithe consequences, he
started to shout a warning to the lift's occupant in hopes that she would
hear it and retreat.  Before the first syllable could escape, however, the
griffin was upon him like a baby bird demanding its share of its mother's
food, avidly lapping up that which it craved.  He felt the pulling as the
creature took back nearly the rest of that which had entered him long ago in
the surreal world of the Duke's garden when he thought he had killed the
winged beast. And it wouldn't stop with just there.  It would take away all
of the last remnants of his humanity!  Yet, what good was it to him if he
caused the death of another innocent?  Despairing, he tried twisting his
head this way and that in hopes that even part of his cries of warning would
escape to be heard by mortal ears.
 

Knowing that his temporary ally had Nicholas well in hand---or should that
be *talons*?---LaCroix transferred his grip to a feeding position.  It had
been centuries since his Nicholas had willingly allowed his master to feed
from him, and then his son had managed to keep some part of himself hidden.
Or had he simply been too angry with his child to relish his flavor at the
time?  No matter---he would indulge himself now.  One hand fisting into the
wavy golden hair at the back of the head, the other still wrapped around the
knight's heaving chest, LaCroix sank his fangs deep into Nicholas' neck
until he felt the cold blood spurt into his mouth.  Avidly, he began sucking
the magical elixer of his favorite child into himself, reveling in the fact
that Nicholas was too absorbed in physically escaping to even try to hide
from him.  The blood was even more delicious than he remembered.  Let the
griffin have its hoarded emotions--as long as *this* remained his!  It was
ambrosia!  It was as if forgotten colors in light waves were blended within.
It was--
 

It was telling him the truth.
 

Once again, LaCroix 'saw' the second meeting between his son and the griffin
back in 1591, only this time via the blood and not ghostly recreations.
Nicholas had not been lying to him in order to win his aid---the griffin
*had* decieved him!  It's appetite was voracious, and it meant to steal his
child for itself.  He felt Nicholas' horror when he first realized that this
incubus was going to feed off of him for the rest of his unnatural life like
some sort of prized livestock:  A lamb imprisoned in a box for the sake of
its veal.  Relived his abject terror as the emotions gathered over the
course of millennia fused themselves to his pyche.
 

Growling in outrage, LaCroix released his fangs from Nick's throat and
attacked his former ally, intent on tearing the creature into multiple
hand-sized chunks!  He grinned with pleasure when the griffin screeched as
his fingers tore open a patch of wheaten hide.
 

The smile quickly faded, however, when his opponent leapt away from its
prize in order to hiss at him, its wound closing as fast as any vampire's.
 

The griffin was no longer the weakened thing that he had confronted in the
empty warehouse.  This was a figure half-again in size, covered with
luxurious feathers and fur.  Ribs no longer showed, and every inch radiated
a tightly controlled power.
 

*This* was the monster that Nicholas had battled.  And it was clear to the
elder that it had no intention of 'pulling its punches' where he was
concerned.  He was not its 'Food'.
 

Eyes the color of flowing lava glared at the ancient vampire with utter
disdain as the corners of its beak twisted into a macabre smile at the
general's look of amazement.  It's dark wings extended out sideways like
some heavy cloak catching an updraft as it glanced at the half-collapsed
form of Nicholas, then back at the elder, its intent clear.
 

[Mine!]
 

"Like bloody hell," LaCroix snarled as he flew at it.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Donald G. Schanke, homicide detective and very mortal partner to the man he
knew only as Nicholas B. Knight, uncaringly stepped on the papers that had
fallen out of their file folders as he willed the lift to hurry its ascent,
one hand grabbing for the firearm strapped to his chest.  Earlier he'd been
getting ready to head home for the day when a serendipitous last-minute call
to the morgue had been answered by Grace, who'd let slip that a certain
blond detective of their mutual acquaintance had invited over a certain
brunette coroner--also known to them both--for a private dinner.
 

Hoo hoo!  So his standoff-ish partner had made a date with Natalie?  An
*intimate* date?  So *that* was why he'd requested off tonight!  About time
Nick started seriously going after the pretty doctor.  Heck, if he hadn't
already made the most spectacular catch of his life with Myra, he would have
made his own pitch at the coroner.
 

Unable to keep the Chesire grin off of his face at this news--- 'Just
friends', his great Aunt Mattie's chicken pie!---he'd impulsively grabbed
the pile of unfinished paperwork folders from Nick's desk and hurried out of
the precinct. The drive to the warehouse district had been spent imagining
the look on his partner's face when he walked in on what he hoped would be
the preparations for a candle-light dinner, him thrusting the folders under
his overly private co-worker's nose as he jokingly demanded with maliciousl
glee that they go over the information together--right then and there!  Even
if Nick turned into the 'Knightmare' (as he was half-jokingly referred to by
the rest of the precinct on account of his effect on the criminals he
collared) and bodily threw him out, it would be worth it!
 

At least, that had been the game plan until he had heard that ungodly
screech from above while he'd been riding the elevator up to the second
floor.  Damn---when did this thing start taking so long to get to its
destination!  Man o man o man!"  He paced in the confined space like a caged
tiger anxious to escape.  It sounded like a barroom brawl was happening on
the other side of the metal door!
 

*God, hold on Nick, I'm coming pard!*
 

With a mighty heave, Schanke yanked open the lift door, dropping into a
defensive crouch as he leveled his weapon at the room in general, expecting
to see Nick fighting with burglars or hired thugs.
 

"FREEEZZ---"  What the hell?!
 

Schanke stared bug-eyed at the carnage, feeling like he'd stepped into one
of the Twilight Zone's weirder episodes.  And the fact that his eccentric
partner's living space was enshrouded in grey mist---were those oak trees
appearing through the walls?!---was the least of it.
 

Blood was splattered everywhere, its smell permeating the place.  And in the
back, some nightmarish mixture of bird and feline was well into the process
of ripping open the chest of whom he could have sworn was that Nightcrawler
radio guy Nick listened to.  Only he didn't remember the disk jockey ever
sporting glowing red eyes or elongated fangs.  As he stood frozen in place
trying to think what to do, a dark blur rose from the floor with an
anguished yell, and threw itself between the hellish
monster ---monsters!---he mentally corrected himself.  This other red-eyed
demon  bit forcefully into a leonic flank and retreated just before that
torn body part took on a metallic sheen.  It turned its head, allowing the
detective to see its facial features more clearly.
 

"Nick?!!"
 

The angry red eyes turned blue, but the fangs stayed in place as the 'demon'
looked at him in confusion.
 

"Schanke?"
 

Before either could say another word the griffin came to back to fluid life,
one wing sweeping his transformed partner off his feet to tumble half-way to
where Schanke was.  In a single leap, it was pinning Nick to the floor, beak
opened wide to strike.
 

Deciding that any questions could wait, Schanke wasted no more time and
emptied his bullets into the four-legged monstrosity, hoping that when it
fell it wouldn't crush his partner underneath it so Nick'd still be able to
tell him what the heck was going on and what had happened to his face.
 

Only the griffin didn't fall as the bullets pierced its upper chest.  It
didn't even bleed.
 

Don swallowed hard as it's head turned to regard him like an eagle regarding
a baby mouse.  As he watched, one of tthe chocolate-brown feathers that met
against the wheaten chest fur turned a shade of leaden grey before hitting
the floor next to Nicholas' head with a decidedly metallic clunk.
 

*Oh..  Sh--*
 

"Myra," Don prayed undea his breath as he saw his death in the fiery eyes
and imagined his sorrowful co-workers going to his home to relate the news
to his wife and daughter, "I hope you and Jenny remember how much I loved
you."
 

What happened next seemed to be played in Super Slow Mo, yet he knew it
couln't have taken more than a few seconds.  As the griffin's back haunches
tensed to deliver its silent threat, Nick's arms and legs wrapped themselves
around its torso, stopping it before it could make the lunge.  At the same
time, another befanged demon flew down from above and hovered several feet
above the floor.  This one was balding even worse than he was, and wore a
pair of glasses  to boot!
 

Good grief!  Was *everyone* turning into a monster, like in those horror
flicks where an irradiated comet or asteroid turned people into flesh-eating
mutants?  Schanke almost reached for his own mouth, scared he'd find a new
set of dentures there as well.
 

"Gods!," the newcomer gasped, as he took in the crimson tableau of spilled
vampire blood, the nearly shredded body of Toronto's Elder struggling to
make itself whole again, and the impossible creature locked together with
the vandalized loft's owner.  Nicholas looked like he was about to have his
back relieved of its outer layers of skin and muscle from the way the
griffin's talons where positioning themselves.
 

"NOOOO!"
 

The partially-healed LaCroix used all of his regained strength to wrest the
monster away from his son.  He had no illusions that he would survive this
battle, but this thing would never have his child---even if he had to escape
from Hades in order to harry it throughout eternity!
 

"Schanke..."
 

Hearing the strangled plea, Don tore his eyes away from the raging battle
and stumbled towards Nick, thankful that he now looked normal...if a bit
worse for wear.
 

"The staff.. help me find the staff," Nicholas gasped as he struggled to get
up off the floor.
 

Staff?
 

Hands and lower knees enshrouded in an intensifying fog as he felt around,
Schanke found what he hoped his partner was looking for.  He proferred the
broken half of what looked to have been a giant leprechaun's walking stick.
 

"This?"
 

Nodding, Nick took the tapered length of wood and got to his feet,
unceremoniously pushing Schanke towards the lift doors.  "You can't help."
 

Schanke felt inclined to agree---he knew he was in over his head here, but
he wasn't ready to leave just yet.  He had to know what was going on.  And
Nick might need him.  Befanged and blood eyed, even purple with pink
polka-dots, Knight was still his partner.  In Schanke's book, partners just
didn't abandon each other---no matter what.
 

"Nicholas--"
 

Ignoring the Greek vampire for the moment, Nicholas lifted the pointed end
of the staff until it hovered above his chest.  His steps were shaky as he
approached the combatants.
 

"Griffin!" he rasped out.
 

The griffin lifted its head from where it was about separate LaCroix's head
from the rest of him, eyes narrowing at the stake it's prey was holding so
strangely.  From its throat came a questioning sound as it sought the
knight's eyes.
 

"Stop,"  Nicholas informed them in a steely voice, for all its lack of
volume.  "Or you won't have anything left to be fighting *over*.  He pushed
the wooded point into the spot where his heart was and was gratified to see
the eagle eyes widen in comprehension.  It knew what a stake through the
heart meant to a vampire.

Good.
 

Aristotle flew down to stand beside him, offering to his friend's lips an
open flask.  Nick downed the contents, revelling in the way it soothed his
aching throat and muscles; not caring just then that it was not of his
chosen diet.  Now was not the time to be picky.
 

"Aristotle, I must say I'm happy, but rather surprised to see you," Nicholas
greeted him while not moving his eyes one whit from his enemy's.
 

His friend almost smiled.  It was rare indeed these days when he traveled
beyond his computerized abode.  But his news was urgent and Nicholas had not
answered his phone.  Probably, he mused, upon spying some shattered bits of
plastic, because it had been smashed into its component parts.  He wasted no
time getting to the point.
 

"It's origin is unknown and accounts are sketchy and few, but your incubus
is tied to emotions."
 

Nick had to squelch an hysterical laugh before he could sarcastically reply,
"Tell me something I don't already know."
 

Aristotle nodded a bit nervously, adjusting his glasses as he kept Nick
between himself and the griffin.  Debt to Nicholas not withstanding,
anything that could reduce the likes of LaCroix to near confetti...  "It
doesn't appear to have had much contact with lifeforms other than its human
victims.  But I think I've found a pattern based on what I've read and what
you told me.."
 

"Yeah?"
 

"It reacts as its reacted to.  So if you act as prey, it reacts as a
predator, or challenger to rival---even mother to a child."
 

Thinking back to his previous encounters, Nick had to agree with the
assessment.  When he had hid or run from it, the griffin hunted him down;
when his Beast challenged it, it fought him like an alpha male protecting
its turf.  But when he had been afraid of his mortal father, it had offered
him a sort of comfort---though he had been too terrified at the time to
recognize it as such.
 

Still, its primary objective was to feed from him.  He couldn't help but
point that out.
 

Aristotle shrugged.  "Food is a necessary ingrediant for survival, Nicholas.
I have to admit that if I ever found a human whose blood was like some
Nectar of the Gods to my Beast, I'd be going out of my way to keep the
source close too."
 

Nicholas grunted in reluctant agreement.  Hunger *was *a powerful motivator.
During his long life, he'd been just as guilty in giving into its demands.
As much as he hated to admit it, perhaps the griffin and himself were not so
different after all.  To the mortals like Schanke, they were both monsters.
And yet, the humans were no heavenly angels either.  He'd put away enough
homicidal agressors to realize that.  Hell, he'd had amble proof of it even
during his own mortal lifetime.  So who was he to label the griffin as an
abomination and himelf as worthy of life?  He didn't want to die, he didn't
want Schanke to die, or LaCroix, or Aristotle.  God help him, he was no
longer even that anxious for the griffin's demise.
 

All he really wanted right now was to crawl under his nice, satin sheets
upstairs and go to sleep.  Let the world sort itself out while he was
happily oblivious to it.  Unfortunately, that was as likely to happen as the
Archangel Michael giving him special escort through the Pearly Gates.  Weary
gaze centering first on the griffin, then switching to LaCroix's pleading
eyes silently calling his name, he finally lowered his vision to the piece
of wood he clutched in both hands.
 

Damn.  This situation was making his head hurt...and his arms were getting
tired.  What was he going to do?  He didn't want to be the coveted slave of
either LaCroix or the griffin:  his twin incubi through the centuries.  Was
this stake really his only viable option?  And what of Schanke and Natalie
if he died?  Would Aristotle let his mortal partner live with his knowledge
of vampires if Schanke was too traumatized for a whammy to stick?  Would
LaCroix take out his grief and anger on Natalie?
 

"What do I do?" he whispered aloud in indecisive anguish.
 

Of all the beings present---a veritable gathering of ancients---it was
Schanke who answered him.
 

"Nick, I don't know what is going on here.  Heck, I don't even know what
*you* are anymore---except that you're the partner whose saved my keester
more times than I can count.  But if 'four-eyes' there is right---no
offense", he hurriedly added as the smallest of the vampires raised an
eyebrow at his remark---"then maybe you should just...you know... *change*
the relationship to something better?"
 

"Schanke?" Nicholas asked, after a lengthy silence had passed.
 

"Yeah, Nick?"
 

"It's almost 8 o'-clock.  Would you mind going downstairs and keeping
Natalie from coming up?  And while you're down there, you can use my cell
phone to call Myra and let her know you're okay.  It's on the caddy's front
seat."
 

"Sure... Thanks."  Schanke looked like he was going ask something, but
changed his mind and headed for the lift.  Before he closed the door,
however, he offered the knight a sympathetic smile.  "Hey, Nick?  Just
remember that your the best partner I ever had, and that I'm not anxious to
have to go breaking in a new one."
 

Nicholas allowed himself a small smile as he heard the lift begin its
descent to the garage level.  He'd never liked the garlic-eating detective
when they had first started, and the feeling had been mutual; but they had
grown on each other.  Perhaps it was because when Captain Stonetree had
first put them together, they had been forced to change and see each other
from a new perspective.

============
End of Part 4
 

Back to Part Three! / Onto Part Five!