KIND SOUL A Forever Knight Novel by Susan M. Garrett CHAPTER 2 "You don't look good." Natalie removed the palms of her hands from her eyes--even though the pressure seemed to increase in the area of her frontal lobes at the movement--and glared up at Nick. He leaned down over her desk with a sympathetic smile. It took all of her willpower not to smack it from his face. "," she announced sharply, "have a headache." When his lips parted, she pointed a finger at him, warning, "And if you tell me you don't get them, I'm sure as hell going to give you one!" Nick held his hands up in mock surrender, but when she didn't smile, his eyes narrowed in concern. "Have you taken something for it?" "Everything within legal and medical boundaries. It was there when I woke up this morning." Natalie closed her eyes for a second, then opened them again and blinked, having found that seemed to ease the throbbing somewhat. "Nothing's working at the moment. At least it's only an annoyance, not a migraine." "So, go home." "I'm waiting for the blood sample results from the Impala." She met his eyes. "I saw the scene photos taken by the Burlington police department--I can't believe they got off that car." "It stripped clean," admitted Nick. Seating himself on the edge of her desk, he shrugged. "But the VIN matches--it's Jeff Bartnichak's car. If it's his blood, this goes from missing persons to homicide." "That's why I'm waiting--I know how much is riding on this one." Natalie managed the faintest of hopeful smiles for his benefit. "Anyone could have stolen that car. The blood could be from one of the kids who stripped it, there's a lot of chance for injury. Have you- -uh--seen Ed?" Nick shook his head slightly, as if dismayed. "Hard to. He's been haunting the station." "You can't blame him. Any word on his brother is better than this . . . not knowing." Nick intertwined his fingers and stared down at them a second, then looked back at her. "Even being told that Jeff's dead? That the blood on the car was his?" "Blood doesn't mean there's a body to be found--" "No, it doesn't." Nick still held her gaze. "You tell me-- it better to know for certain? Or to not know?" Natalie met his eyes and thought about the question, not at all sure that he was asking about Jeff and Ed Bartnichak. "I think . . . it depends on the circumstances. And the people involved. I'd only worked with Ed a few times before he resigned and I met Jeff maybe twice at the division picnics. How close were they?" "Ed raised his brother after their father was killed." "Their dad was a sergeant wasn't he? Shot in the line of duty?" "Long before my time," noted Nick. "Or yours." That brought a smile to her lips--the thought that even though she'd been at her job longer than Nick, there were people in both the Coroner's Office and the divisions it aided that had spent a lifetime serving and protecting the citizens of Toronto. The Bartnichaks were police blue, down to the bone. Jeff's disappearance had been given top priority in all divisions and departments for the first few weeks. Even now, two months later, when other cases would have slowed to a crawl or been buried by more recent problems, this one was still on the top of everyone's list. "I don't know," she answered, pausing again. "If I raised someone, cared for them for all that time, I think I'd want to know. I think I'd to know, before being able to get on with my life." "But," countered Nick, "there's always hope that they're still alive, that they'll come walking through that door at any moment. Isn't that worth something?" Natalie looked away, not certain what thoughts were behind that blue gaze. Every now and again, Nick got into a funk about something. Jeff Bartnichak's disappearance seemed to have struck a chord. She knew Nick had made some rather abrupt departures from other places, in other times. And for some reason he'd begun to realize that there were people he'd left behind, people who wore the same anguished face, spoke in the same weary but hopeful tones as did Ed, Jeff's brother. But what worried her was the possibility that he was feeling out her thoughts on the matter for a reason. Maybe Nick had accepted the inevitability of his having to leave her behind some day. And he was trying to decide on the best way to do it. She closed her eyes and massaged the throbbing spot between them, not knowing what to say. The more he dwelt on the impossible nature of the task he'd set himself--to cross back into mortality--the more unlikely it was to happen and the more difficult her job became. How could she find a cure if he didn't believe one existed? She knew how attitude affected a patient's ability to heal, as did any physician. Just as she knew that a doctor's ability to effect a cure could be as strongly affected by the patient's attitude as the patient himself. "Nick, I've already a headache," she said sharply, opening her eyes into slits and fixing him with her gaze. "You're making it worse." "Where does it hurt?" She pointed to her forehead, between her eyes. "Here." To her surprise, Nick leaned forward and kissed the spot, then moved back and asked, "Better?" She couldn't help but smile. "It's no miracle cure, but I'll survive." Natalie sat back in her chair and picked up a pencil from her desk. "Why's Ed bothering ? He should know it's not your jurisdiction. And he resigned--what--two years ago? Just after you came on the force, right?" Again, Nick shrugged. "Once a cop, always a cop." He rubbed his chin with the top of his fist and looked away, his expression thoughtful. "We'll have to see how long that lasts. Maybe a couple of centuries." "Once a knight, always a knight?" mocked Natalie lightly, trying to keep him from falling into brooding again. It worked--he grinned at her. "We'll see. As for jurisdiction-- they found the car in Burlington, Vermont, which means the FBI is involved. The RCMP's are involved. And half of the local jurisdictions between here and there. If we found a body and could prove that he'd been killed here, in Toronto . . . ?" Nick shook his head. "Can't do much more than keep tabs on it, keep looking--" "And keep Ed from doing something stupid." When Nick raised an eyebrow, she added, "Well, he's a private investigator, isn't he?" "Does a lot of work for security firms, employee theft and such. Pretty successful, from what I hear. He's trying to talk Schanke into going to work for him." He slid from the desk and smiled again. "No leads, there. We been doing our homework, Lambert." "That's not what I mean." Natalie rose from her chair, her headache abating slightly, and walked over to the filing cabinet. "I just think you should be careful." Nick followed. "In what way?" "With Ed. I remember what he was like. He doesn't let go of something when he thinks he's on the right track--even when someone proves him wrong." She picked up the clipboard from the filing cabinet and glanced over the test the lab was supposed to return this evening. "That made him a good cop. And a good P.I." "And dangerous." Natalie turned and bit her lip, then added, "He's fingered the wrong suspect before, Nick." "We all make mistakes." "But don't destroy evidence to back them up." There, she'd said it. Nick's eyes widened and he took a step toward her. "Ed Bartnichak destroyed evidence on one of his cases?" Natalie met his gaze and hesitated again. "It's . . . rumor. None were my cases. But I know that evidence from a scene was tampered with between the scene and here. Some items disappeared entirely. And . . . it wasn't a one shot deal." "Then, his resignation might have been forced? Why didn't you tell me this?" "I thought you . And then, when I realized you didn't--" Sighing, Natalie took the clipboard back to her desk and fell into her chair, suddenly weary again. "Look, it's just rumor, okay? That's why it took so long for the alarm to sound when Jeff disappeared from the police academy. Everyone knew Ed had put a lot of pressure on him to graduate with honors. A lot of people assumed that Jeff just took off." Nick nodded, his expression thoughtful. "And that's why Ed to prove it was foul play--to save face." "He won't look kindly on anyone who suggests otherwise," she warned. "I know he's got to be investigating this on his own time. I may be overprotective--hell, it may be this damned headache--but . . . . be careful around Ed. Nick, you take enough chances as it is. And if Ed thinks there's anything off about you--" "Yes, mother." His grin could get so damned irritating. Natalie picked up the clipboard and swatted him. "Go back to work and leave me alone. I'll send over a copy of the test results when they get here." "And then you'll go home?" he pressed. When she hesitated, Nick leaned toward her, over her desk. "Because I'll call Grace. And tell me." "You fink." With a sigh, Natalie relented and leaned back in her chair. "Yes, I'll go home." He'd turned to leave when she snapped her fingers and reached behind her, for the styrofoam coffee cup. "Nick, one more thing--?" By the time he turned, she was holding aloft a plastic speciman baggie filled with water . . . and containing a small goldfish. Nick eyed the bag suspiciously as he took a step toward her. "You want me to drop off Sidney's dinner?" "No. It's the next step in your treatment." "Nat--I don't eat fish." With another sigh, she rose to her feet and walked over to him. Lifting his hand, she transferred the bag to him, closing his fingers over the plastic tie at the top. "It's a ." "A . . . pet." "It's time we got something else living in that wasteland you call a loft, other than dust mites." Returning to her chair, she rested her elbow on the desk and watched him, watching the fish. "I thought about plants, but you'd have your cleaning people water them for you. I wanted something you'd have to care for by yourself, something that ." "A . . . goldfish." She grinned, seeing the idea slowly sinking in past his thick 'don't you dare move that chair' skin. "We'll start you off slow. Maybe move you up to a hamster by next year if you cooperate." Finally, Nick looked at her, grimacing. "But fish . . . smell." "Only when they're dead. And--" she pointed to the bag, which he held with such dread that it might have contained unprotected plutonium, "this one isn't. I expect you to keep it alive." "I don't think I'm ready for this." His eyes narrowed and he looked at her suspiciously. "This doesn't have anything to do with the fact that you've got a headache, does it?" "I've been planning this for a while," she admitted. "If you want to cross over, you have to change your way of thinking. Having to care for something alive and--more or less--breathing might just help with the transition." "Are you . . . that close?" There was such hope in those few words and it was so much of a contrast to his mood of only a few moments earlier that Natalie felt a lump rise in her throat. She wanted to tell him 'yes,' to throw her arms around him and promise him that she'd have him walking under the sun in a day, or a month, or a year. But she wasn't about to give him false hope. She wasn't going to lie to him. Not now, now that they it was possible. "No," she admitted, trying to keep her tone light. "But you need to start your conditioning soon. We have to ease you back into the mundane, humdrum, mortal world." Nick looked at the bag in his hand, which hadn't moved from the instant she'd closed his fingers over it. "And you think a goldfish will do this?" "Well, I can't think of anything mundane." Natalie picked up a slip of paper from her desk and held it out to him. "It's still early--I suggest you stop off at a pet shop on the way to the station. I wrote down some things you'll need." Barely moving the bag containing the fish, he reached over with his free hand and took the paper from her, then peered at it. "Fish food, a bowl--" "No fifty gallon tank," she warned. "Keep it simple. Some colored sand in the bottom, maybe one of those little castles for him to swim through . . . ." His eyes widened and Nick glanced at the bag again. "How do you know it's a him?" "I don't." When he met her eyes, she smiled and shrugged. "It's one of the mysteries of goldfish. The pet store clerk can probably tell you." "I'm not sure that's something I to know." Nick continued to stare at the fish, getting up enough nerve to turn the bag slightly as it swam back and forth inside the confined area. "What's its name?" "That's up to you." "You mean, I actually get some say in this?" Blowing a raspberry, Natalie rose to her feet and stalked toward him, her hand reaching out to take the goldfish bag from him. "If you don't want it--" But Nick moved it above her reach and backed up a step, saying, "No, no . . . it's okay. Just give me a chance to get used to the idea." He lowered the bag to eye level and watched the fish for a moment. "A name. I'll have to give it some thought." The phone on Natalie's desk buzzed. She lifted the receiver and seated herself on the edge of the desk as Grace said, "Nat, there's a call for you on line two. It's on hold." She glanced down at the phone pad, saw the second button lit, and answered, "Thanks, Grace." Then Natalie dropped the phone in the receiver and smiled at Nick, who was now entranced by the goldfish. "Just don't wait too long. It'll be all right in the bag for a while, but it'll need a bowl soon." "Yeah. Okay." Her smile grew wider as he barely moved his eyes from the bag. "I have to get back to the station. Hope you feel better." "So do I," she answered fervently. Nick looked up at that, then covered the few steps between them in a heartbeat and kissed her on the forehead again. "Just in case," he said, before turning and heading for the door. "No fair asking Schanke for help," Natalie called after him. "And if you name it 'Goldie,' I'm taking it back to the store!" She didn't know if he'd heard her, but she managed to keep the smile on her face until after she was certain that he was gone. Only then did she wince and press her palm against her forehead--God, did her head hurt! She was more than ready to call it a night and if this was the lab on line two-- Not up to par, she answered in as civil a tone as she could muster, "Dr. Lambert--" "Dr. Lambert? Yes. This is Janette." Instantly, Natalie's gaze went to the door. "Nick's just left. Were you looking for him?" "No!" said Janette quickly, but then her voice softened and she added, "No, thank you. I wanted to speak with . You're certain he's gone?" "Yes." "Good. I don't think you want him to overhear what I have to tell you." Natalie pressed her palm harder against her forehead and wished desperately that Janette would cut to the chase. "Which is?" "Dorian's here. He's asked me to phone you." They weren't so many words, but the reactions they elicited ran the gamut of fear, to anger, to loathing, to . . . something that she wasn't quite ready to give a name to. "And?" "He's in rather a bad way. Will you come?" Natalie's breath caught in her throat, she was still trying to get over the initial shock of Janette's calm announcement--why not just say the building was on fire and all the exits were blocked? "Bad way? What do you mean?" "I can't discuss it over the phone." Janette gave an annoyed and exasperated sigh. "Will you take him off my hands or shall I throw him into the street to fend for himself?" "Yes. No. I'll--I'll be there in a few minutes." "Good," purred Janette. "Use the service entrance and pull your car into the alley--I don't think you'll want to take the chance of being observed. May I suggest covering your upholstery with plastic? He's something of a mess." Natalie had only her head hurt before. Because now- - "All right. But--?" "I assume you know enough not to mention anything to Nicola? It would only upset him. And I do so dislike seeing him upset. " "Janette?" The phone clicked and then a dialtone rang in her ear. Natalie was stunned, but only for a moment. Instinct kicked in and she picked up her medical bag, shoving supplies into it as she crossed the room. Blood wasn't necessary--she'd be at the Raven and Janette would supply what she'd need, if she'd need any. Body bags could be opened to cover the rear seats; Dorian could lie there easily enough. What could have happened to him? And why, after what he'd put her through, was she even about helping him? The thought made Natalie pause, half in the process of shoving a folded body bag into her carry-all. She was doing this because of the oath she'd taken to heal the sick, no matter who or what they might be. Because he'd helped her save Nick's life, when she couldn't have done it by herself. Because . . . . Because he'd asked for her. Shaking her head, Natalie shoved the rest of the bag into her case and closed it. Better not to think, for now. She grabbed her purse from behind her desk, then headed for the door at a run. But stopped, slowing, as she moved through the doorwat and into the outer office. Grace looked up from her desk with a sympathetic smile. "Girl, have you come to your senses and decided to go home?" It was a good explanation. A explanation. The fact that it was a lie didn't matter. Not really. "Yes, yes I am," she said weakly, managing yet another wan smile. "This . . . headache . . . ." "Take my advice," said Grace. "Feed the cat, turn off the lights, and get some shut-eye." "Exactly what I'm going to do," agreed Natalie. She glanced back at the lab door over her shoulder. "Uh, I promised Nick, the lab sample from the Impala--" "I'll send copies to the station. You take a sick day," chided Grace. "It's not worth driving yourself into the ground. Take care of for a change." "I'm trying. Really. Thanks." Natalie wandered out to the hallway until she knew she was out of sight, then raced for the door to the parking lot. There was no way of knowing how long Janette's feelings of hospitality would last. Her thoughts were confused as she fumbled with her keys. Natalie opened the front passenger door, tossed her purse and medical bag onto the seat, then leaned inside and unlocked the rear passenger door. Pulling two of the body bags from the carry-all, she shook them open, unzipped them, then placed them across the back seat, until the upholstery was covered. At this rate, she'd have to order more body bags. But at least her seats were protected. How bad could it be? What could have happened to Dorian? Why should she care? She slammed the passenger doors at the last thought, regretting the action instantly as the throbbing increased in her head. Grumbling beneath her breath, Natalie fished the keys out of her pocket again, opened the driver's door and slid behind the wheel. The drive to the Raven wasn't very long. She had to pass the ninety-sixth division station to get there. And she conveniently forgot to make the correct turn, which meant going out of her way for a few blocks, around the station . . . . Who was she kidding? She knew Nick would be at the station right now; all she needed was him spotting her on her way to the Raven, after she'd promised to go right home. She didn't want to keep secrets from Nick. She didn't want hurt feelings getting in the way of communication again--the last time he'd nearly gotten himself killed, for God's sake! And she'd actually Dorian-- Shivering, Natalie decided not to think about it. She'd tell Nick that Dorian was back . . . but only after she took stock of the situation and knew what was going on. He had Ed Bartnichak to deal with, along with several other open cases. The last thing he needed was to worry about Dorian. And what did he have to worry about, after all? Supposedly, Dorian had given Nick an ace card, a secret that Nick could use to destroy him . . . as if Nick ever would. In the end Dorian had done them a favor, he'd told them in no uncertain terms that a vampire had crossed back to mortality, that Nick's dream was more than possible, that it had . The two weeks after Dorian left had been glorious. Nick had been astoundingly cheerful; he'd ribbed Schanke unmercifully about his choice of tie or music, conned her into an afternoon of mystery videos and then told her exactly who the murderer was just before the end--and that after swearing that he'd never seen any of the movies before. He'd even taken her to dinner on the wharf--their dinner breaks just happened to coincide one evening. Even though it was only take-away fish and chips she considered it a major event because he'd actually bought his own and it. The seagulls had gotten ninety percent of what he didn't eat or spit out, but still . . . it was a step in the right direction. He had hope again. But that was only the first few weeks. When no breakthrough seemed imminent, he began to brood. And with all that had happened since then--their inability to find out exactly what had happened to Jeff Bartnichak was only the latest in a long line of terrible events--his faith began to falter. Nick grew more and more pessimistic about finding a cure, and even she'd begun to doubt her line of research, her attempted treatments, and even the validity of her results. The goldfish was the first time in a long time she'd really seen him at all interested in her treatments. She'd have declared it a success at the start if it wasn't for this damned headache. And receiving the call from Janette about Dorian . . . . She steered the car into the alley behind the Raven, parking it just in front of the service entrance. Slinging her purse over one shoulder, Natalie picked up the handle of her medical bag, leaving the car unlocked. She walked to the heavy metal door, noticing that the ground outside it was wet. It hadn't rained in days . . . and was that blood mixed in with the water? Tilting her head, she sniffed and looked around, certain that she smelled Italian food, then passed it off as some refuse in one of the dumpsters. Not even Janette would be so desperate for camouflage that she'd locate her club near any restaurant that specialized in garlic foods. Knowing her, she'd pass quite a wad of money around to prevent such an occurrence in her chosen neighborhood, in an attempt to keep the area vampire-friendly. Natalie banged on the door with her knuckles and stepped to one side, the hollow metallic clang setting her head throbbing again. She pressed her fingers against her forehead and caught sight of a puddle on the ground. Even in the darkness, she could make out the thin red that drifted along with the oil from the tar. It blood . . . . She was on the verge of kneeling down and taking a closer look when the door opened, just a crack. Janette looked out, almost fearfully, but straightened as soon as she spotted Natalie. Immediately assuming the air of the propietress of the Raven, she leaned against the edge of the door, an eyebrow raised in challenge. "You took your time." "You've got enough of it to spare, why complain?" Noting the bloodstains that spotted Janette's very chic and expensive black dress, Natalie hesitated before adding any further comment. Following her gaze, Janette smiled. Then she stepped forward and placed her hand against Natalie's taupe work blouse and pushed her back a step. "I'm not in the habit of giving advice--" Natalie shrugged off Janette's hand angrily. "That's all right-- I'm not in the habit of listening to it." "--But before you do this--think carefully." Janette's blue eyes, lined with dark mascara, weren't as threatening as she'd anticipated. Even her tone was . . . concerned. "It's the last warning I'll give you. For Nicola's sake." "I'm not very good about warnings, either." Janette's lips curled into a sharp smile and she gave Natalie a measuring stare. "You can't say I didn't warn you. Remember that, when it all comes crashing down on your pretty mortal head." Stepping back into the entrance, Janette opened the door wider. For a moment, Natalie hesitated. She watched Janette, but could see little or nothing as the vampiress blended into the darkness. Janette, of course, could see her . A shiver started through her, but Natalie steeled herself and clasped the handle of her medical bag tightly. She almost scurried into the darkness, suddenly feeling very vulnerable and unprotected in the alley. Unfortunately, just after she entered the storeroom, Janette closed the door behind her, leaving her feeling even more vulnerable--she couldn't see a damned or undead thing in the pitch blackness. "Where my manners?" asked Janette, in a dry tone of voice, from behind Natalie's shoulder. "One often forgets the limitations of mortals." There was a click of a light switch and a small overhead bulb gleamed. Natalie glared at Janette, then took a quick look around the storeroom. It was filled with boxes, odd pieces of bric-a-brac-- nothing like the back room she'd seen the last time she'd been at the Raven. That time, too, she'd been brought by a phone call from Janette. And Nick had been-- She closed her eyes, trying to compose herself, to keep herself from being shaken by the memory of Nick out of control. When she opened them, Janette was watching her, a taut smile on her lips. "You should visit more often." "It's not my kind of place," said Natalie lightly. "No offense." "None taken. Although, you really give it a try. You never know what you might like, until you've tried it." Janette gestured with her hand, then took a step forward. Natalie fell in behind her, suddenly realizing the garlic scent had grown in intensity. And there was a trail of blood and water across the cement that led from the doorway to-- She fell to her knees beside Dorian the moment she reached him, tossing aside her purse and letting her medical bag drop to the floor with a thump. He'd been wrapped in a coarse, thick woolen blanket and was curled into a ball, shivering. The stench of garlic and blood was so thick, she felt her stomach flip. "Not a pretty sight, is he?" commented Janette, from behind her. She didn't like the fact that he was shivering--vampires didn't feel temperature extremes as much as mortals. Touching the blanket, she realized it was wet-- was wet. But that still wouldn't account for the shivering. With her hand on his shoulder, she tried to force him to lie on his back. His face had been cleaned off, faint scars indicating cuts that had already begun to heal. Natalie touched the back of her hand to his forehead--his skin was cold and clammy. As he turned his head, she realized that his hair was wet, plastered to his skull by water and blood. "What'd you do, have a near miss with a Cessna and take a header into Lake Ontario?" she asked beneath her breath, as she started to pull aside the blanket. Janette coughed lightly. When Natalie turned to look at her, she cleared her throat. "He reeked of garlic. We couldn't touch him. I thought it best he be brought inside, so--" She stared at Janette a moment, then bit back her immediate response and returned her attention to her patient. She didn't really have time to take a pulse--not with one beat every ten or eleven minutes. And even though she was probably the foremost mortal expert on treating assorted vampire injuries, she still didn't have a clue as to what she was doing. Dorian's eyelashes flickered. Taking that as a good sign, she touched his cheek gently, tapping it with her fingers, trying to rouse him to some sort of consciousness. "Dorian? Can you hear me?" His eyelids opened almost lazily, as if he were drowsy. He half- smiled, seeing her. "You're . . . here." The words was hoarse and low--there was a rattling quality to his voice that she didn't much like. Even though his eyes seemed focused, she didn't see any gold or red, and they appeared glazed. "Let me take a look at you," she said softly. "Just relax for a moment. Then we'll get you cleaned up and comfortable. All right?" Dorian didn't answer, merely moved his head slightly against her hand in assent, his eyes closing almost immediately. He might be asleep or unconscious--there didn't seem to be that much difference between the two in vampire physiology. And there were times when Nick was wide awake, but said such stupid things that she would have there was no one home . . . . "Classic symptoms of shock from blood loss," she muttered to herself, as she eased back the blanket that covered him. She'd seen the blood in the alley and the trail of it across the cement floor-- Dorian was leaking like a sieve. So why wasn't his body making any attempt to heal itself . . . ? The garlic smell was amplified a hundred times as the wet and bloodied blanket fell away and she heard Janette let out a muttered oath in French. Natalie ignored the vampire behind her, professional curiosity getting the better of her as she automatically began to identify the size and type of wounds. The knife wounds were first--the cut clothing a good giveaway that the blade had been fairly clean and sharp for at least the first half-dozen strikes. She lost count somewhere about forty. Bruises consistent with the use of brass knuckles were also apparent when she pulled back shards of his shirt that hadn't been shredded by the knife. The wounds hadn't even begun to heal, the cuts still welling with fresh, wet, barely congealed blood. If not for that, she would have guessed the attack had occurred several hours ago. But with the fresh blood-- Natalie sat back on her heels and took a deep breath, amazed at the sinister brutality of his attackers--she guessed more than one because of the spacing of the wounds and the various depths and degree of the bruising. This hadn't been the result of a casual brawl. No thug or mugger in his right mind would bother coating a knife blade or brass knuckles with garlic . . . unless he was going after a vampire. And, to add injury to insult, she was pretty certain the gray- white residue clumped in his wet clothing was garlic salt or powder that been sprinkled into the wounds after the attack. Of Dorian was shivering--he was suffering from garlic poisoning. The shock, his inability to heal, the fresh blood . . . . She struggled to her feet angrily and turned to face Janette--only to find another vampire in the doorway. He was quite large, a scowl on his face as she stalked toward Janette. "Who did this to him?" she demanded, pointing at Dorian. "You?" Janette leaned against the doorjamb and took a drag from the cigarette Natalie hadn't even noticed her light. "I have done this--and believe me, I have good reason--but then why would I have called you here?" She lifted the cigarette to her lips and shrugged. "My guess is the Enforcers." The large vampire in the doorway hissed at the word. Janette shot him an annoyed glance, but her face was composed as she looked back to Natalie and asked politely, "You know about them, don't you?" "Yes." Natalie cleared her throat, her gaze going back to Dorian. "I know." "Nicola has more common sense than I gave him credit for." She stepped past Natalie and flicked the ash of her cigarette to the floor, not far from Dorian. "As hunters know their prey, so prey should know the hunters." She swallowed another answer, knowing that ignoring Janette's barbed comments would antagonize her more than any sharp response. "Do you know why they tried to kill him?" An eyebrow raised in surprise, Janette gave a short laugh. "If they'd wanted to destroy him, he wouldn't be here. This is their form of a warning." She continued to walk around Dorian, as if studying him. "From what I've heard, they'd be happy to see him gone. But before they could dispose of him without any . . . difficulties, they'd need a good reason. A good reason." "If he broke the Code?" Janette looked up quickly, then walked away as if unimpressed- -Natalie gave herself points for having surprised her. "Nicola been chatty, hasn't he? What do you know about the Code? No!" She held up her hand quickly, before Natalie could speak. "Don't tell me. It's better I not know. Just . . . just get him out of here." Natalie narrowed her eyes and frowned. "I've got to clean that garlic out of the cuts first. he starts healing, I've got to start pouring blood in him--I don't know what garlic does in a vampire's system, but he's probably in shock from blood poisoning. He shouldn't be moved until I've gotten him stabilized." In an instant, Janette stood in front of her, arms folded. "You to move him. If the Enforcers come by--and they --I can say he's been here and left. They'd never think to ask if a mortal offered him shelter--it would be too absurd of a question. And they'll believe that no vampire took him in. " Her eyes flashed an angry blue and she shot a glance of disgust over her shoulder, in Dorian's direction. "None would This one has too many enemies. And . . . no friends to speak of." Janette's stance and words left her no choice. Natalie looked down at Dorian and sighed. "Where can I hide him?" she asked, half to herself. "That's not problem." Janette snapped her fingers and the vampire in the doorway stepped forward quickly. She pointed toward Dorian and said, "Get rid of him--put him in her car." The vampire followed her instructions. Before Natalie could move, he leaned down and lifted Dorian into his arms, then carried him toward the service entrance. Janette turned her head toward Natalie asking, almost politely, "Did you cover your upholstery as I said?" "Yes," answered Natalie without thinking, still trying to come up with some place she could hide a wounded vampire. "Good. I had a feeling you were the practical sort. Perhaps practical." Janette tossed her cigarette to the floor and ground it beneath the heel of one of her shoes. She gestured toward a wooden case that contained less than a dozen bottles--filled. "He's had two of those. You can take the rest. I'll send more along as necessary." Natalie reached down and lifted one of the bottles from the case. She looked into the green depths of the glass, than back at Janette. "Blood? No alcohol? Aren't you taking a risk, supplying him with this?" "It's mine to take," countered Janette. She touched her finger to the choker around her neck, running her skin across the velvet. "Do you think you'll have luck finding him another source? You, perhaps?" She held up a hand before Natalie could express her anger in words. "Spare me, please! Don't bother being noble or assume that's what I'm doing--I have my own reasons for making certain Dorian escapes the Enforcers." Again, Natalie bit back her first response, not wanting to give Janette the satisfaction of knowing she'd scored any points. "Reasons? And what might those be?" "Those might be my concern. yours." Natalie met Janette's gaze for as long as she dared, then she looked down at the case of blood. "All right," she said, after a moment's pause, "but I'll pay for it, later. Thanks." She leaned down and tried to lift the wooden box, then realized just how heavy that many bottles of blood must be. "Oh, let me," said Janette in annoyance. Muttering something about 'mortal weakness' beneath her breath, she picked up the box easily, and, resting it lightly on her hip and balancing it with one hand, headed toward the door. Natalie followed. By the time she arrived outside, the trunk was already open. The large vampire had placed Dorian across the back seat of her car. Janette leaned down to put the case of bottles in Natalie's car trunk, then straightened and wiped her hands against one another. "From one girl to another, you shouldn't leave your car unlocked here. It can be a . . . dangerous area. Unsavory individuals might get into your things." "So I see," answered Natalie. Janette slammed the lid of the car trunk closed, then snapped her fingers again. The male vampire moved quickly into the rear of the Raven, disappearing almost instantly into the darkness. Natalie half expected Janette to follow and she started to, then stopped, eyeing Natalie. "I'll tell you what I told him--" she gestured toward the back seat of the car, indicating Dorian. "Nicola will hear nothing of this from me . . . unless he asks." "I plan on telling him myself." "How . . . charming." Janette didn't bat an eyelash. "I don't know why Dorian asked for your help. All I know is that Nicola seems to value you. And I value Nicola. So I warn you--Dorian's nothing but trouble. Get rid of him quickly." Janette paused and looked at her expectantly. After a moment, Natalie smiled, suddenly realizing just what she was waiting for. "Thank you." "My pleasure. If you'll excuse me, I have a club to run." Turning on her heel, Janette stalked through the rear service entrance. The heavy metal door slammed shut behind her and the deadlock clicked into place. Natalie reached for her throbbing forehead out of habit, then realized that her headache had eased somewhat. Smiling at that small victory, she walked to the rear passenger door and opened it. Dorian was stretched across the back seat of her car, still wrapped in the blanket. She leaned over him, sorry that she hadn't thought to bring something dry and a bit more comfortable for the trip to--where? "Is there a safe place I can take you?" she asked quietly, not certain that he was even capable of answering her. His head moved slightly, the best he could manage, along with a hoarse, "No. Nothing . . . left." "Then we'll work something out. Don't worry." Natalie found a bit of dry blanket and wiped away some of the water that trickled down from his wet hair, across his face. "Two bottles?" she asked aloud, in wonder. "What the hell did you look like when Janette found you?" Dorian's eyelashes flickered slightly. "She was . . . kind to me." "That harpy? You're lucky she didn't put a stake through you." Natalie looked up at the door to the club, remembering that Janette had her 'reasons,' whatever they might be. And as for her own reasons . . . . "Why did you ask her not to tell Nick?" Again, the question was more for herself than for him. But he struggled to answer, this time managing to open his eyes, staring up at her as she leaned over him and secured him with the seatbelts. "Not . . . cause you . . . trouble." His answer seemed so earnest and heartfelt--God, he was a mess! Natalie straightened, grasping his hand for an instant. "Rest," she instructed. "I'll take you somewhere safe. Once you're all cleaned up, you'll feel better." There was no response this time--she was certain that he'd drifted off to sleep. Or had fallen unconscious again. It was so hard to tell with vampires. Shaking her head, she walked to the driver's side of the car, then turned, knowing she'd left her medical bag and purse in the Raven. But . . . no, Janette had somehow managed to put them on her front seat. Slipping behind the wheel, she glanced over at her things, more than a little annoyed that she'd forgotten about them, then backed the car out of the alley and into the street. It took her a minute before she realized she'd headed the car for home. But, as she glanced over her shoulder, she knew in her heart of hearts that she didn't really have any other choice. With Dorian looking the way he did, she couldn't drive around Toronto trying to find a place to treat him. The sun would be up soon and he'd need shelter in a bad way. And Nick . . . well, she didn't want to bother Nick until she knew what the story was. She wouldn't know that until she got Dorian fixed up, which meant finding a safe place for him-- Her forehead was beginning to throb again. Sighing, Natalie decided that her apartment was the best option, the option. She'd take Grace's advice and call in sick tomorrow evening, if she had to. For now, if anyone wanted to check on her, at least she'd be home. Tending to a wounded vampire on her couch. For the first time in her life, Natalie hoped against hope that Nick wouldn't choose this particular evening to drop by unannounced. End of Chapter 2