Second night...

She was out on the street, back among mortals, and there were a pair of heartbeats, slightly out of sync, throbbing throughout her entire body. Lifting her eyes, she saw them ahead of her; a man and a woman deep in an argument. They were alone on the street. No one would notice. No one would miss them. She edged closer, stalking them. She was just behind them when they noticed her and began to run away. As if they could, she thought. It was almost amusing to watch them scamper away from her.

A mere thought and she was in front of them, the only evidence of her flight a small breeze that scattered a few papers around on the street. The woman screamed, a frightening, exciting sound. But when Natalie seized the man she stood there, silent, the smell of her terror thick in the air.

The woman was the real prize, the real treat. She'd finish with the man quickly. Natalie tilted her head back, preparing to strike. She hissed, then...

For a panicked moment, Natalie couldn't figure out where in the world she was. It should have been dark, but her surroundings looked strangely lit and distinct if unfamiliar. And she realized she was standing near her coat, sucking desperately on a bag of blood. From the flat taste, it was one of the expired ones, too. It took several groping moments to shake off the remnants of the dream that were still clinging to her, and for her to recognize her surrounds. She'd gotten up and gone to the blood while still in her sleep. The thought terrified her almost more than anything else--that she had answered the blood's call from her dream.

With a shudder she brushed her fingers across her damp forehead, a shudder that renewed itself when she saw her fingers were covered with blood.

She was sweating blood.

She knew that; Nick had told her that he often woke up bathed in a fine sheen of blood perspiration. But somehow the knowing did little to prepare her for the reality in this case, and it did absolutely nothing for the gross-out factor. Making small noises of disgust she began frantically wiping the moisture from her face with her hands and sleeves, realizing too late that it was staining her only shirt.

Hoping the water was still on in the building, Natalie made her way up to the washroom. The door was locked, but one quick shove caused it to fly off its hinges to land with a clatter in the middle of the women's lavatory. The electricity had definitely been turned off--not that it mattered. So had the water, she soon discovered as only a trickle of water ran out of the first one she tried. Gathering up a few paper towels, Natalie wet them down at the next faucet and scrubbed at her face and neck, after being thoroughly horrified at her reflection in the mirror.

The blood had clumped in her hair too, causing her bangs to stiffen and stick up from where she'd run her hand through them earlier. Once she'd gotten her face clean, Natalie used the remaining water to work the blood out of her hair. Drying off, she glanced back down at her watch.

It was only ten am. She still had most of the day to get through.

The remaining two bags didn't make it until noon, though she was fully awake when she consumed both of them. In fact she was afraid to go back to sleep. She finished them off because she simply couldn't stand the pain anymore. Natalie didn't even bothered to consider trying to save all or part of a bag for later. All that mattered was easing the gut-wrenching hunger now.

Just before three she curled up in the corner of the cellar, weeping and shivering. The raincoat again after feeling a chill steal over her did nothing to warm her. "Nick, where are you?" she moaned. "I need you so much." In fact, Natalie was pretty certain that had LaCroix shown up just then, she would have jumped up and thrown her arms around his neck in gratitude.

But there was no one; just her and the hunger. She tried naming the bones of the wrist as a distraction. After discovering she couldn't remember the mnemonic she'd used in medical school to learn them, she forgot why she needed to remember it in the first place.

At four, Natalie couldn't take anymore. She was only barely aware of making the decision to go out, to give up. She struggled to her feet and stumbled up the steps, falling to her knees once. Then she blindly made her way past the bar, down the little hallway to the door that lead outside to the loading area. She had to get out. She had to end the hunger and there were people out there. There was food out there.

But all of her senses screamed at her to move away from the door. Natalie didn't even manage to get within six feet of it. Before she could grab it and open it, she fled in absolute terror back into the dark recesses of the club, back down the stairs, as far away from the lethal light as possible.

Sleep was impossible. Thinking was impossible. Misery was the only option.

She couldn't go out. There was nothing to eat. She returned to the far recesses of the cellar to huddle in the darkness, shaking with hunger.

There were rats in the walls. She could hear them scratching about. More importantly, she could hear their rapid heartbeats and smell their blood. And she tried getting to them. Jumping to her feet she ripped down the two closest racks, raising a huge cloud of dust. When she found their tunnels she shoved her hand down them, hoping to seize one of them by the tail. But they'd been alerted to her presence by all the sounds she'd made, and had darted out of reach. She could sense them running away and there was nothing she could do to stop them, though she tried, clawing away huge chunks of dirt and wood and stone until her fingers bled.

Natalie was stretched out flat on the floor, one arm buried to the shoulder in one of the rat tunnels when she sensed him. He might have been there at the edges of her awareness all this time.

She didn't know; she didn't care. He was out there now, nearby.

Pulling her arm out, she slowly rose to her feet, all but a small portion of her attention focused on the man in the alley, the rats forgotten in favor of better prey. She could hear him going through the dumpster near the back of the building. She could smell the filth and alcohol on him. As she reflexively dusted off her clothes and started to climb the stairs feeling as if she were in a trance he finished his search and stopped to drink something. Then he settled down near the dumpster to sleep. Natalie could hear his soft snoring as she made her way upstairs. She could smell his blood.

And it was almost dark.

The hunger pains continued, more violent now that food was close. It was torture. She stood near the bar and listened to the small sounds he made in his sleep. His snoring had gotten louder, and Natalie caught the smell of cheap whisky.

But all that was secondary, only registered as a backdrop to the smell of his blood. She could hear it. That and the beating of his heart, punctuated by the occasional premature contraction of his ventricles, made a strange sort of music, a siren call.

The sun would be down in a matter of moments. She stood ready, the pain still coursing through her body, but largely ignored as she listened. In her mind she saw the alley again, from above, when she'd landed. She saw it with such clarity that she knew exactly how many steps would take her to where he lay. The dumpster wasn't that far from the street, but he was behind it, shielded from view.

She could always bring him inside if she needed to.

Almost time. She covered the short distance from the bar to the door and stood ready. Natalie couldn't help herself. From a small corner of her mind, the only rational place left, Natalie Lambert watched, helpless. Her fangs were down, sharp and occasionally grazing her lips and tongue as she repeatedly moistened them. Natalie knew that if she could look in a mirror, her eyes would be blazing red, making her face seem even more alien than it already was. There was no hope of stopping herself. She was going to kill this man, drink his blood. No amount of willpower, no amount of wishful thinking to the contrary was going to stop her.

Nothing was going to stop her.

Darkness. With the last fading rays of the sun she moved. The door moved easily away from the frame beneath her hands. There was still some light, but the sun had dropped down behind the tall buildings of the city. She knew instinctively that the twilight would not hurt her, that only the direct rays of the sun were deadly. Silently, swiftly she stepped out and turned, concentrating on the sensory presence of the man. It was as if she could almost see him through the building as she stared intently. There was no need to get her bearings. She knew exactly where to go.

The alley was in deep shadow as she moved to stand over him, seeing him for the first time. He was old; perhaps he had lived a long time, or perhaps he had lived too long out on the streets. A black man, with grizzled white hair and beard, his skin dull and gray with filth. He was wearing baggy gray sweatpants covered with various stains and an old red and black plaid shirt. Had he been healthy it would have been a size too small for him. Now Natalie could see it hanging off his pitifully thin frame. He was sound asleep, dead to the world, curled up next to an overloaded shopping cart, curled around a paper bag with the lip of a bottle peeking out through the opening.

All these details, his face, his clothing, everything, were taken in during that moment of hesitation as she stood over him, preparing to take his life. Bending, she seized him by the right arm and wrenched him to his feet, pinning him against the wall as he cried out. Something shifted unnaturally in his arm and his startled cry turned to a scream which she quickly smothered with her free hand. She'd dislocated his shoulder; she could tell by the bony, obscene distortion of his shoulder beneath the ragged shirt.

She'd fix that for him later, some part of her irrationally assured her.

Holding her hand firmly over his mouth, she spared a brief moment to look at his face. His eyes were wide with fear and pain, and she felt his jaw working beneath her hand, felt his body struggling uselessly against her. The smell of his blood was intoxicating, tangy and heady.

Her hand was a blur as it lifted from his injured arm and ripped at the collar of his shirt, tearing it away to expose his neck and chest. A quick angling of her left wrist and his head was tilted away from her, exposing his throat. Actions her body had never even dreamed of performing were playing out with the ease of someone who had practiced them a thousand times.

With complete abandon she pressed herself tightly against him and placed her lips against his skin. She could feel the blood pounding through the veins, could taste the barest hint of it in the salty silkiness of the skin against her mouth. She could feel his heart beating wildly against her.

It was too much, too much, and she was too hungry. Her head tilted back; her fangs ached in her jaw as she opened her mouth wide. Slamming her eyes shut she drew a deep breath and drove her face down into his neck, her fangs tearing unerringly into the vein.

It was almost scalding hot, and each beat of his heart caused more and more of it to flood into her mouth, almost faster than she could pull it into her body. It wasn't possible to compare the richness of this experience with the bottled blood she had been drinking up until this point. There was no way to describe this. He filled her, renewed her, gave her strength.

He gave her life, both figuratively in the form of sustenance and literally as she saw his life play itself out in her mind. Childhood tribulations gave way to teenage trauma and abuse. A woman, a child. Violence. A prison, ugly frightening men and more violence.

The streets. Despair.

With a small sob she pulled away from him, lifted her head, and watched as blood ran down his neck in two small rivers that merged somewhere near his stomach, felt his tears run over the hand she had clamped over his mouth.

The blood. There was more. She had to have it all.

He was silent now, his movements the feeblest of protests against her. She lowered her hand and wrapped her arms around his chest, pulling him closer as she buried her fangs in his neck again. His arms hung limply at his side, her strength supporting him against the wall. His heart was beating sluggishly, erratically now. She had to work harder for his blood. And she did, she pulled hard on the puncture wounds, drawing in smaller and smaller mouthfuls of his blood. Her arms tightened even more around him; she felt ribs resist, then bend, then snap.

She pulled on the vein, on the wounds until his heart gave a series of quick, irregular beats then went still and his body went limp in her arms.

Natalie allowed his dead weight to carry them both to the ground. Unthinking, she rested against his chest, lay there panting, dazed, feeling incredible. Strong, invigorated, powerful.

She wanted to fly. And the best part was, she could.

When at last she opened her eyes, he was looking at her. His eyes were cold and dead and wide open, and they made her insides turn to ice even as his blood flowed through her.

In horror she pushed herself up and away from him, scrambling to kneel several feet from his body. He was still looking at her. On hands and knees she skittered over and closed his eyes, then moved away from him again.

If this had been a body she'd encountered in her old life, one who was the obvious victim of a vampire, she would have immediately begun thinking of ways to hide the truth. She would have come up with a list of likely stories that would have hidden the true nature of the killer. Now she was the killer. And worse than that, she'd hurt him, and not really cared that she'd done so.

She had to get out of here, had to get away from him. She couldn't live with this. She couldn't live like this. She had to find someplace exposed where she could wait for the sun...

Natalie rose and whirled away from him, preparing to flee skyward.

And stopped dead in her tracks

The young woman couldn't have been more than sixteen years old, and it was like she appeared out of nowhere. Natalie spent a shocked moment taking in her long dark blond hair and simple cotton dress with a floral print. Except for the heavy, studded combat boots she wore partially laced up on her feet and the cold smile on her face she would have looked the picture of wholesome innocence.

For one horrible moment, Natalie thought she was a mortal.

None of the other vital pieces of information were there, though; no heartbeat, she had a smell of sorts but it was strange and unfamiliar. There were other more obvious clues as well--the pallor of her skin, the silent way she'd slipped up behind her.

Not that she'd been particularly attentive to her surroundings, Natalie thought with a renewed sense of horror. The body of the man she'd killed lay behind her. Just about anyone could have snuck up behind her just a few moments ago and she wouldn't have cared.

Natalie opened her mouth, started to speak, to ask her who she was, but before she could do so, the young woman stepped forward, brushing past her to crouch next to the body.

"Were you just going to leave him here?" she asked, glancing up at her.

"I--I" Natalie stammered, more than a little unprepared for the question.

She shook her head. "Sloppy." She straightened and walked back over to Natalie, taking in her appearance. "They hate sloppy eaters." Natalie stiffened as she demurely lifted the edge of her skirt and pulled out a knife from a sheath fixed to her thigh. As she held it up, light from the street glinted off the blade, and Natalie could clearly make out the serrated edge. Natalie shuddered, wondering if the blade would match a couple of unsolved she had sitting on her desk. "It's too early to take him with us," she said again moving to crouch beside him. "I usually take them somewhere else. It makes it that much harder for the police." Natalie choked back a gasp of horror as the girl pulled the dead man's head back by the hair to expose the better part of his throat, then made several deep slices with the knife, being particularly careful to place a few ragged cuts over the puncture wounds over on the side.

There wasn't much blood, and she looked up at Natalie appreciatively. "Hungry, were you?" she asked, then casually wiped the blade clean on his sweatpants. "He's dirty enough, so it probably won't matter, but you should drag him back over there." She rose and pointed toward the back of the club with the knife. "Or toss him in the dumpster."

Natalie thought she was going to be sick as she stared at this...child, who looked like she should have just put away her Barbie dolls because she'd decided boys weren't totally gross and disgusting. Instead, Natalie was getting a lecture on the vampire equivalent of littering.

Natalie knew her expression must have been one of wide-eyed horror, and something in the strangers casual demeanor turned cold. "Don't look at me like that," she said, her voice low and dangerous as she quickly sheathed the knife. Then she looked straight into Natalie's eyes. "You killed him, not me."

The words made Natalie go rigid, as she looked past the girl to the now-mutilated corpse. She was right, but Natalie also knew she'd definitely seen this woman's' handiwork before. Not recently, but there were a couple of cases a few months ago. She'd even hypothesized to Nick that it might be a vampire covering his or her tracks with mutilation, and he'd agreed. He'd promised to look into it.

"What's your name?" the girl asked suddenly, breaking into Natalie's reverie. Reflexively, she opened her mouth to give her name, then for some strange reason thought better of it. She needed more information.

After a few moments of silence, she shrugged, then turned and lifted the body with one arm and carried him toward the back door. "Mine's Joanne," she said. "It's OK if you don't want to tell me yours just yet." Then she disappeared into the club with her burden.

Natalie stared after her, seriously tempted to take off, and realized that Joanne was giving her just that opportunity. She had a lot of things to deal with--and what had happened just moments ago, the crime Joanne was even now covering up was at the top of the list. It would be easier to just take off, find some place by herself and wait for the sun. It had been a horrible accident, but one she was certain she could have prevented had she planned better. Now a man was dead by her hand and she knew that she would see his face as it was in his last moments for as long as she lived. It was a terrible cliche, but Natalie also knew it was the truth. She didn't think she could live with it.

And yet she felt like she should, in some odd, terrible way, and she realized she was closer to understanding Nick and his struggle than she ever had before. Maybe this existence was some kind of justice, some kind of apt punishment for horrible sins against humanity.

Now she knew she'd been around Nick too long. Was it a sin to seek out food, she asked herself. There'd been a part of her that recognized that she was going to kill this man before she'd committed the act. But during, Natalie hadn't been thinking about maliciously taking a life simply because she could. She'd been hungry, nearly starved, and getting food had been her only thought, her only instinct.

But she was justifying murder and using the food chain to do it. Natalie dropped her head into her hands. She didn't know. She just didn't know what to do. She hadn't meant to kill that man, she hadn't wanted to. But what if it happened again? For it to have happen once was only remotely acceptable given the circumstances. It would be criminal to allow it to happen again.

Before she could reach a decision, Joanne emerged from the club empty handed. "I put him down in the cellar," she said, seemingly satisfied with herself. "Looks like you had quite a party down there today," she added with a grin. "I'd love to see their faces when they show the place to the new owners. Ought to drive the property value way down," Joanne giggled. "Hey," she said, grabbing Natalie's arm suddenly, "you wanna come to a party? Come on," she said, giving Natalie's arm a squeeze before releasing it and shooting up suddenly into the sky.

Surprised, Natalie looked up after her, and saw her leaning over the roof of the club, grinning impishly down at her. "Come on!" she said. Still Natalie hesitated. Her instincts were screaming to stay away from her, but at the same time she was the only vampire she'd encountered since waking up in Nick's loft yesterday. There didn't seem to be too many options, and she might be able to get a few answers out of Joanne if she tagged along.

"Wait," Natalie called up. "I---" Her mind scrambled for a way to stall for a moment. "I just need to run inside for something. Wait for me?"

Joanne nodded. "Hurry, though."

With a quick nod, Natalie ducked back into the club. Digging into her pocket, she quickly pulled out her wallet. She tucked her credit cards and bank cards into her sock and pulled the leg of the sweatpants down over it. The money and ID she tucked into her bra, where she could get at it easily. She'd ditch the wallet later, she decided. It probably wouldn't be a good thing to have it turn up at a murder scene. Natalie wasn't quite sure why she was taking these precautions, but they seemed like a good idea. She was about to follow a strange, and she suspected more than a little unbalanced, vampire to parts unknown. If nothing else, these precautions made her feel like she had some handle on the situation, like she had some measure of control, even if it was mostly an illusion.

Back outside, Natalie was reassured to see Joanne still waiting for her on the roof, and joined her without hesitation. "Where are we going?" she asked, trying to sound casual.

"Mel's," Joanne answered promptly. "Some friends of mine hang out there." Again she seemed to appraise Natalie. "They probably aren't your type, but I think you'll like them," she added. "Follow me."

And she took off again. Natalie almost lost sight of her, but after a few minutes spotted her several buildings away, waving at her.

There were a lot of people out, walking, driving, hanging around on street corners. Natalie was certain she could hear the heartbeat of every man, woman, child and small furry thing in the city. It made it very difficult to concentrate. At one point, she seriously considered taking out the walkman and using it. But then she caught Joanne looking at her with a knowing expression on her face.

"It gets better," she said sympathetically. "At first, it nearly drove me crazy. You ever see King Kong'? When they get to the island, and there's all the drums. It's like that, only worse." She shrugged. "I used to hum. All the time, even when I was asleep. Instead of me going crazy, that drove everyone else crazy." She laughed. "You should try it." Then she was gone, and Natalie spent several frantic moments scanning the nearby buildings looking for her until she spotted her again.

It was like that for several blocks, an annoying game of tag of which Natalie was growing increasingly tired. She'd catch up to Joanne, only to have her zip off again, leaving Natalie to take several seconds to get her bearings. Natalie supposed she should be grateful that Joanne always waited for her, always made sure that Natalie could find her before taking off again. But Natalie was in no mood to be charitable.

And it wasn't too long past that that Natalie decided she'd had enough of Joanne's games. They'd been at this game of tag for nearly half an hour, and as far as Natalie could tell, Joanne was leading her around in circles. They were down on Granville, not too far from her office, actually, when Natalie stopped. She just stopped and stood in the middle of the roof and waited, with her arms folded across her chest. If Joanne came back they could have a little chat. If Joanne decided to ditch her and go on to Mel's by herself that was fine. And if the sun came up and found her out there, she was okay with that as well.

Joanne came back, though it took her a good ten minutes. Natalie waited patiently. She even tried humming to herself, and decided it didn't work quite as well as the walkman, but it did help. Finally she felt the air stir nearby, and Joanne was standing next to her. She didn't say anything, just stood regarding Natalie from her perch near the edge, overlooking the street.

Joanne seemed like a kid, Natalie reasoned. But with vampires, as she well knew, it was sometimes hard to tell. Her companion looked like a child, and she certainly acted like one in many respects. But for all Natalie knew, Joanne could be centuries old. Unlikely, but a possibility, one that she needed to keep in mind while dealing with her.

"Joanne," Natalie began, saying her name aloud for the first time. If that was her name.

"Hmmmm?" Joanne replied, She'd been standing near the edge, looking down at the pedestrians.

'"Where are we going?" she asked.

"Mel's," Joanne replied, frowning at her and looking at her like she was some kind of idiot.

Natalie closed her eyes. "Yes, I know that. But what is Mel's. Is it a bar? A friend's house?"

"Oh," Joanne said, turning back toward the street. "It's kind of a club. It's kind of hard to explain. You'll see when you get there."

That got her nowhere, Natalie realized. "Where? We've been flying around in circles for no good reason!"

At that Joanne looked almost hurt. "I thought you could use the practice. We're almost there."

"I'd just--" She paused and stepped toward Joanne, trying to control her anger. Getting mad would serve no purpose. "I'd just like to know where I'm going, that's all," she continued in a softer voice.

That seemed to work as she watched understanding flicker across Joanne's face. "You don't have to be scared," she said with a smile. "I just want you to meet my friends."

She could certainly use a few friends right now, Natalie thought to herself. She was lonely and confused and scared as hell of everything. Even being outside and walking around beneath the stars was terrifying. The world had suddenly become horribly unfamiliar and twisted, a world Natalie was certain she had no real place in anymore.

"And," Joanne began, then hesitated. "Well, I was going to say if you needed a place to stay you could always stay with me. I wouldn't mind."

Natalie blinked at her in confusion. "Thank you," she said automatically. "That's very kind of you, but I couldn't impose."

Irritation flashed briefly across Joanne's features. "Like you have somewhere else to go!" she said sharply. "Or did you think you could go back to The Raven?" Joanne began pacing. "What are you going to do for food?" she challenged. "You can't run around killing homeless people every night!"

Natalie looked away quickly, willing herself to remain calm. "That won't be a problem," she said in a low voice.

"Oh yeah? Where you gonna get blood? The way you were chowing down on that guy a few minutes ago it didn't look to me like you had a stash somewhere."

Natalie's face hardened. "It'll never happen again. One way or the other."

She heard Joanne snort in disgust. "Oh, you're one of those," she said sarcastically. Then in a singsong voice, she began dancing around Natalie. "I can't be a killer! I won't take lives. I'll end it all. I'll stay here and wait for the sun." She stopped and glared at Natalie. "Give me a break!"

"Why should you care?" Natalie demanded. "You don't know me."

Joanne walked backwards, away from her, towards the edge of the roof. "I'll be two blocks that way," she said, indicating the direction with a nod of her head. "I'll give you five minutes. Stay or come with. It's up to you."

And she turned and was gone.

Natalie stood for a full minute on the deserted roof hugging herself. Instead of getting answers, some sense of support and help, she was becoming more confused and unsure. Joanne made her too uneasy for Natalie to trust her. Yet she didn't feel like she had much of a choice. The other choice was to stay here and try to make her way alone, but she knew Joanne was right. Where was she going to find blood? She might manage to break into a blood bank or hospital and get herself enough to last a night or two, but without a steady supply Natalie was all too aware of what would happen. Her earlier miscalculation, her mistake of not having an alternative plan had led to a horrible consequence. Natalie did not want to make the same mistake again. Ever.

She needed Joanne badly. Her situation was far too delicate for her to try this on her own. But she needed to be constantly on her guard. Joanne could be leading her into some kind of trap, the purpose of which Natalie couldn't even begin to guess. Or she could just be a lonely young girl looking for a friend. Or at least a dozen other things that her mind conjured up quickly for her, some all right, some ugly, all of them frightening in some way.

Natalie just didn't know. And that was the worst thing of all.

With a sigh, Natalie decided that for now, her best bet was to stick with Joanne. See what these friends of hers were like.

No sooner had she made the decision and was preparing to take off in the direction Joanne had disappeared in when Joanne appeared beside her, a huge grin on her face.

"I knew you'd come with," she said, squeezing Natalie's hand. "Come on. It isn't far."

Natalie nodded reluctantly, and the two of them took off with Joanne leading the way.

Heading into the seedier part of the city, they finally landed on top of a rather run down townhouse on a secluded street. Natalie hadn't been in this part of town much, except when she had to come down during work. And then she'd always been surrounded by cops. Now, there was just Joanne.

It was fairly quiet, no traffic, but Natalie could hear muffled music and it seemed to be coming from the building upon which they stood.

"This is it," Joanne said. "Everyone's inside, probably downstairs. " At Natalie's puzzled expression she added, "It's an after-hours type club, but I guess you could say this is more like an after-sunset club," as if that explained everything. "Ever been to one of those?"

Natalie shook her head solemnly. In her old life, clubs in general were not the sort of thing she frequented. She'd been lucky to get out to an occasional movie or dinner, but even that had become an increasingly rare occurrence after she'd met Nick.

She closed her eyes, willing the tightness in her throat to go away. "No," she said, but there was a slight tremor in her voice as she spoke, one that was not lost on Joanne who tilted her head and looked at her curiously. She seemed to ponder something for a moment, then turned and led Natalie over to the stairwell door. As the door swung open, the sounds from inside swept over her. There were a lot of people down there, Natalie realized, mortals and vampires. Music and alcohol, marijuana and several other substances Natalie was sure she didn't want to identify.

And blood.

It all washed over her, overwhelming her for a second, then Joanne was taking her arm, leading her into the building, down the steps.

Natalie was shocked as she'd looked around, feeling for one disorienting second as if she'd walked into an Escher painting. For as run down and dilapidated as the building looked from the outside, the inside was beautiful. They were standing in an open stairwell. Most of the walls and portions of the floors had been removed, giving the center of the building a very open, airy feel to it. The oak steps that they were standing on now led down for several floors, finally disappearing into the ground floor many yards below. Along the way were several balconies and alcoves, not all of them obviously accessible in any way that Natalie could see. Some looked like precarious platforms protruding perpendicular from the wall. A ladder leaned conspicuously against a bare, far wall and Natalie realized that was for the mortal visitors, knowledgeable and otherwise. The vampires, obviously would have no need of it.

Couches, armchairs, futons, lamps, shelves of books and several sprawled bodies populated a couple of the odd rooms. Some of the alcoves were completely bare, or had a single painting hanging in them. Natalie stared about her in amazement, wondering about the physics of this, how someone could have designed all this to be stable and safe.

"Neat, huh?" Joanne said, looking back over her shoulder at her with a grin. "I told you you'd like this place."

She led Natalie down the winding staircase which took up one whole corner of the building. They turned and passed through a small hallway and stood before a closed door. It was all red--the door, the walls, the floor--everything. It was illuminated by a single, dim light fixture. The visual was particularly obvious; all that seemed to be missing was a mural of lips and fangs on the door, wide open and inviting, Natalie thought with more than a little distaste.

The music was even louder down here, and Natalie thought it sounded like a live band of some sort. Not quite heavy metal (thankfully), but close. It sounded like one of the local alternative bands that had recently struck it big, Natalie decided. Obviously with a little help from a benefactor of some sort. Though the door was still closed, Natalie could almost feel the press of mortal bodies, and unconsciously licked her lips.

The door opened. As it had up on the roof, sound and smells assaulted her, though which much more force this time. Had she been mortal, the heat pouring out of the underground club would have been almost unbearable, but Natalie discovered that it didn't seem to bother her that much as she followed Joanne into the room.

There was a bouncer. Of course there was a bouncer. Natalie didn't pay much attention to him, other than to glance at his large, handsome features as he grinned and hugged Joanne then waved them through. She was too busy dealing with the smell of all the blood. The music thankfully drowned out the sound of the heartbeats, the sound of blood.

But something was wrong. They'd moved a few feet into the club and were standing on the edge of the crowd, near a bar. Natalie began to feel a now familiar ache in her upper gums. Her fangs had emerged! With horror, Natalie tried to will them away, clamped her lips tightly together to hide them. Someone might see. How could this be? She'd fed not that long ago. Why was she so hungry now? Was it all the flying?

A body abruptly brushed past her, lingering for a second too long. It was enough to short circuit her attempts to conceal herself. She turned and moved after him, heard herself hiss as her arm reached out. She almost had him.

But someone else was faster, someone huge and strong and angry judging from the rough way he handled her. Before her hand made contact with the kid, who remained thankfully oblivious to the activity and just kept working his way to the bar, Natalie was grabbed tightly from behind, one hand on her outstretched arm, the other clamped down tightly on her shoulder, and she was half dragged across the floor toward a doorway set in the wall of the club, near the stage. Natalie didn't care; she hadn't even been aware of being hungry. She was becoming used to it being there, she thought dimly, getting so used to it that she didn't pay that much attention to it, didn't monitor it.

She struggled with him, snarling, and tried to bite his arm. That's when another pair of hands joined the first, and before she could continue her protest, she found herself in a much quieter and less crowded room, pinned roughly against a wall by a pair of meaty hands. Something cold and hard was shoved against her lips. Instinctively, she turned her head away, but a hand tangled itself tightly in her hair and pulled. The glass was again forced into her mouth, and Natalie realized it was blood. Someone was giving her blood.

Then they didn't need to hold her anymore. She stopped struggling and was gulping at the bottle which was tilted against her mouth, heedless of it dribbling down her face and chin. When they released her, she immediately grasped the bottle, tilting it higher and pouring the blood into her mouth. When that was gone, another one was shoved into her hands, and the empty one quietly removed.

When she'd finished with the second bottle, Natalie realized that Joanne was in the room with them, as was the bouncer. He must have been the one who grabbed her. She wanted to thank him, but given the way the fourth occupant of the room was glaring at all three of them, Natalie decided it might be wiser to keep quiet for the time being. Instead, she looked at the woman and decided, given her demeanor and the way both Joanne and the bouncer were apologizing, that this might be Mel.

She was a vampire, as was the bouncer; Natalie realized that immediately. She was older than Joanne, at least physically. Natalie guessed maybe thirty, thirty- five. She had a round face, deep blue eyes, stood about medium height. Her features were rather plain, as was her attire, simple black silk pants and blouse, but there was an air of casual elegance about her. She probably rolled out of bed looking beautiful, Natalie thought. She certainly felt more than a little shabby and worse for wear in her presence, not unlike the way she used to feel around Janette.

The bouncer, whom Joanne had called Dave, was trying unsuccessfully to explain why he'd let them in, as the woman filled a glass of blood and silently handed it to her without looking in her direction. Natalie took it and forced herself to sip, though the temptation to gulp it down was still there, still strong.

"All right, all right," the woman said, with a dismissive wave of her hand. "We'll discuss this later. We'll need to come up with a new job for you," she added. "You can go. Send Boris down. He's going to take your place." Natalie looked over the top of her glass at Dave, expecting an argument. To her surprise he was silent. But as he turned to go, Natalie saw a look of intense hatred flash across his features, directed first at the woman who had turned to Joanne, and then quickly at her. He made no attempt to hide it. Then he was gone.

"I'm sorry," Joanne said. Natalie almost had to laugh at how utterly insincere she sounded, but quickly bit her tongue. Another thought occurred to her as well, and it sent a chill rushing through her. Joanne had done this on purpose, knowing that it might have ended in disaster.

"No you're not," the woman replied, her voice clipped with anger. "And I think you know how stupid and dangerous this was," she added, with a wave of her hand in Natalie's direction. "You should have checked with me first."

Joanne glanced over at her. "Can she stay?" Natalie suddenly felt like some stray puppy who'd been picked up off the street.

"Go on," the woman said, pointing Joanne toward the door. "I want to talk to her for a few minutes, and we'll see."

"I'd rather stay," Joanne said suddenly, moving to hover protectively next to Natalie. "I found her. I should stay."

"I'll deal with you later," she said firmly, pointing toward the door again. With a sigh, Joanne turned quickly to Natalie. "I'll be outside. It'll be all right. Don't be scared." Reluctantly she moved to the door.

"Now," she said, addressing Natalie for the first time. "What's your name?"

Again, Natalie had that strange feeling that she should be careful, that she needed to keep information about herself close. Briefly, she considered lying, giving her a fake name.

"She doesn't talk much," Joanne said from the doorway. "She's barely said a word since I found her."

"Joanne," the woman said, obviously getting annoyed.

"I found her over at The Raven," Joanne added quickly. Natalie watched as the woman's eyes narrowed suspiciously at that. "She'd just killed a homeless guy. But don't worry. I took care of it."

"Do you want me to call Boris?" the woman asked in a calm voice, her gaze never leaving Natalie.

At that, Joanne left without another word, quietly closing the door behind her.

"Now, what did you say your name was?" the woman asked, leading them both over to a small sofa in the corner.

"I--I didn't," Natalie replied, hating the tentative way her voice sounded. Would she ever get past this, past being afraid of everyone and everything?

She reached over and took the now-empty glass from Natalie's hand and silently refilled it. "Well, I'm Sarah," she said. Natalie frowned at that, wondering who in the world Mel was. "What?" Sarah asked.

Natalie shook her head quickly. "Nothing," she said.

Sarah seemed to accept that as she filled her own glass. "I take it you need a place to stay," she said matter-of-factly, filling her own glass. When she didn't answer, Sarah looked over at her with a small frown. "You're welcome to stay here, at least for tonight. In fact, I insist on it."

"I can take care of myself," she blurted out. It was a lie, a complete and total lie. And given the skeptical expression on Sarah's face, she recognized it for the lie it was as well.

"Joanne mentioned that you killed someone earlier," Sarah said after a pause instead of arguing directly with her. When Natalie averted her eyes, and stared intently at the floor, she continued. "It happens. For us, it's necessary sometimes. I doubt anyone will condemn you for it, especially since Joanne took care of it." At Sarah's light touch on her arm, Natalie looked up, and found herself pinned by Sarah's eyes. "But I won't tolerate too much of that in my city," Sarah said. "And neither will the Enforcers."

"The Enforcers?" Natalie asked before she could stop herself. She had an idea of what Sarah was talking about. Although Nick had never told her anything outright, she'd surmised early on that vampires must have some sort of internal police force, one devoted to maintaining their secret. Sarah had just confirmed this. But Sarah's reference to Toronto as "my city" disturbed her--three days ago it had clearly belonged to LaCroix.

But Sarah also suddenly decided not to be too forthcoming. "Just do exactly what I tell you and they won't bother you. And remember what almost happened earlier." She took a long sip of her own drink.

Natalie cleared her throat. "I'm sorry about that," she said sincerely. "I don't know what happened."

Sarah nodded. "It won't happen again," she said. "Any incidents, and you won't be welcome here. I don't keep a low profile, as you can see for yourself, but I do try to keep people from becoming suspicious."

Natalie dropped her eyes, examining the liquid in her glass. "I'd like to be able to promise that nothing will happen, but..." she allowed her voice to trail off as she looked up.

"It's to be expected," she replied. "Judging from things, I'd say you're very new, maybe only a couple of days old. That's why you need to stay here, at least for a little while. I'll keep an eye on you."

Sarah was doing all the right things. There was sympathy and understanding in her expression, her words were meant to be reassuring, Natalie knew. And yet, something about the demeanor of the other woman bothered her. It could just be her own fears and suspicions and insecurities speaking. It was certainly understandable, given everything she'd been through in the past day and a half, having been thrust into a strange and disorienting and violent world that she was unequipped to deal with. But it was also the fact that if' she stayed here, Sarah would be watching her, and Natalie guessed that very little escaped her notice. She wasn't sure she was comfortable with that, but she acknowledged that this woman had every right to dictate the rules of her own house.

"Joanne won't be needing her room tonight, so you can sleep there. I'll make sure there's plenty for you to drink." As she spoke, Sarah went to the door and waved to someone. Almost immediately, a slim young man with long dark hair appeared. Natalie also caught a glimpse of Joanne hovering near the doorway, dancing with another woman. The newcomer fixed her with a curious stare as the door closed behind him, but caught himself and turned to Sarah's expectantly. "She's going to be staying with us, at least for tonight, Put her in Joanne's room," Sarah said, addressing him.

Sarah returned and sat down next to Natalie, casually reaching over to finger the sleeve of Natalie's coat, running the tips of her fingers across the material. "We should get you something better to wear," she said after a moment, and Natalie knew she'd noted every speck of dust and spot of blood on her clothes. "And cleaned up. We'll talk some more tomorrow. There are some rules of the house that you'll need to understand if you're going to stay." She paused and searched Natalie's eyes for a moment. "But that can wait until tomorrow."

Rising abruptly, Sarah walked over to the young man. "This is Jose," she said placing her hand on his shoulder. "He'll show you around, get you whatever you need." At the door, Sarah turned back. "Jose?" she said. When he looked up at her, she continued. "No mortals here today, all right." She looked pointedly at Natalie, which made her feel very uncomfortable, almost ashamed, because she knew exactly why the order was being issued. "Make sure everyone knows."

"I will," Jose assured her. After the door closed behind Sarah, Jose turned and smiled at her. "I'm sorry," he said. "Joanne didn't tell me your name." Studying his features, Natalie decided she liked the look of him.. She liked the kindness in his eyes, the gentleness in the way he moved.

"You can...call me Natasha," she said reluctantly after a few minutes. It wasn't a lie, exactly; it was her name, sort of, though Natalie had no idea why she quickly threw out that name and not her own. But she decided for the time being, she'd continue on instinct, and instinct was telling her to remain as anonymous as possible for just a bit longer.

"Natasha," he said, nodding, though she saw one eyebrow quirk quickly and wondered if he already knew, if she was making a fool out of herself.. "Pleased to meet you," he said smoothly, extending his hand, which she clasped. Maybe she'd been imagining things a moment before; it wasn't like everyone in the city, vampire or otherwise, would know her on sight. He had a firm grip. but soft hands, and when he squeezed her fingers reassuringly Natalie found that it worked. She'd started to relax as soon as Sarah had left her alone with him. But Natalie made a quick mental note not too let her guard down too much or too quickly. Disaster had very nearly struck earlier when she'd not been paying attention. It was another mistake she didn't want to repeat if she could possibly avoid it.

He was talking again. "I think some of Jenny's things will fit you," he said. "She's out of town for a few weeks, but I'm sure she wouldn't mind if you borrowed something to sleep in and a change of clothes. When you're ready, I'll show you where you can clean up and where you'll sleep."

"Thank you," Natalie said. She wanted to ask him why Joanne wouldn't be needing her room, but couldn't bring herself to do so. Instead, she quickly downed the rest of the contents of her glass and rose. "I'm ready now," she said.

Jose nodded. "Then follow me," he said.

When they stepped out into the heat and noise of the club, Jose reached over and grabbed her hand, a simple gesture that he seemed to give no thought to. But Natalie found it gave her courage. It gave her something to focus on so she could hold the noise and confusion at bay to a small extent. As he led her through the club, Natalie took a moment to glance around. She spotted Sarah talking with someone in the corner, then did a double take when she recognized the man Sarah was with. He'd just been elected to the city council and given that he was hanging out here, Natalie realized the municipal gossip she'd heard about his playboy ways was absolutely true. Joanne was nowhere to be seen, and Natalie wondered where on earth she was. Earlier the girl seemed quite intent on hovering protectively over her, and Natalie thought it odd that she'd suddenly disappear without a trace.

Out in the little red hallway they passed several people heading into the club. There were several mortal young women and another female vampire. The mortals were all young, definitely underage, wearing too much perfume and makeup. Natalie could feel the heat from their bodies and was glad Sarah had just given her so much blood just a short while ago. Even so, Natalie found them nearly irresistible. Jose must have sensed it as well, because his fingers tightened on hers and he stepped up his pace ever so slightly. To distract herself, Natalie glanced at the vampire who was with the mortals. She wasn't positive, but she thought she might have seen this one at The Raven once or twice.

They went up a short flight of stairs, and toward a small room on the main level, just above the club. This floor was all hardwood, and fairly barren, though there was a small clump of couches and chairs in one corner. Natalie also spotted a front entrance, several doors and curtained alcove. Now that it was a little later in the evening, another bouncer had taken up position at the front door. Screens had been set up to keep people from wandering around the main house without permission. They'd have to go directly past the guy keeping watch at the front in order see anything..

Jose led her over to one of the curtained alcoves and swept aside the heavy green drape. Natalie peered in around him. It was really nothing more than a cubbyhole and was bare, except for a mattress and a large wardrobe.

"This is where you'll sleep," he said. "The bathroom," he said, releasing the curtain and walking several feet over to a black door, "is right here. It's the private bath," he added, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a key, unlocking the door. "Towels are there in the cupboard. Feel free to take a shower."

Natalie trailed after him silently, taking in everything he said, but feeling oddly disconnected. Even though she was in a strange house, she wanted nothing more than to take a long, hot shower and crawl into bed. Maybe when she woke up she'd discover that this had all been some horrible nightmare.

Jose ushered her back into the cubbyhole, telling her he'd be back in a few minutes. Natalie sat down on the mattress and ran a hand through her hair. She didn't want to be here. But there was no place else to go. Without The Raven, this was the only safe place for the time being. Natalie dropped her head into her hands and took several deep breaths. She felt numb, dead inside. Last night she'd been able to use this feeling to her advantage so that she could get things done. Now, there wasn't much she could do except sit here and wait for Jose.

When he returned after ten minutes or so, his arms were laden with a red silk nightgown, a change of clothes for tomorrow, and several bottles of blood. Natalie automatically rose when he entered and took one of the bottles from him. As he carefully lined the rest of them up next to the bed, she opened it and took several long swallows.

"It gets better," he said, sympathetically, watching her intently as she drained half the bottle without pausing.

"Everyone keeps saying that," Natalie replied with more than a little bitterness in her voice as she wiped her lips with her hand. "I killed someone earlier tonight. Tell him that." She wanted Jose to just leave her alone, to think, or cry, or whatever the hell she felt like doing.

Jose patted her arm reassuringly. "Do you need anything else?" he asked, dropping the subject. "A book? Anything? Just ask." When Natalie glanced up at him she was slightly taken aback by his earnest expression, and realized he absolutely meant it--all she need to do was ask and he'd make every attempt to get what she wanted or needed. She wasn't sure how to respond to it; it was something she was familiar with, but not as the recipient..

Somehow Natalie managed a smile for his benefit. "I'll be fine." Then she paused and added ruefully, "At least for the time being. I don't want to keep you."

He nodded. "You should try to get some rest, but I'm afraid until the club shuts down it's going to be pretty noisy. Nobody'll bother you in here, though," he said, turning to go.

"Thank you," Natalie said sincerely, picking up the nightgown and clutching it to her chest.. "Thank you very much."

He nodded, his lips curving into a small smile. "I'm three floors up, near the stairs. Come get me if you need anything."

"I will," Natalie promised.

With a final nod, Jose was gone, leaving her standing alone in the room. With a sigh of relief over having some small measure of privacy at last, Natalie dropped the nightgown to the mattress and untied the sash of the coat. Shrugging it off she was about to hang it on the hook in the wardrobe when she noticed that it was lighter than it should have been. Frantically she passed her hands over the folds of the coat, then drew them away slowly.

Her wallet was missing.

So were her keys. Natalie was now doubly glad she'd emptied it out back at The Raven, but she was still disturbed that it was missing. Granted, it was very possible she'd dropped it while chasing Joanne around the rooftops of Toronto. She paused a moment and reviewed that moment back in the club, when she'd gone after that boy. But it was no use; she couldn't recall if anyone had surreptitiously searched her pockets or not.

Bending down, she quickly made sure all her credit and bank cards were still in her sock. They were, along with her drivers license and some other pieces of ID. Her cash was still tucked in the front of her bra. She could feel it crackling against her skin.

So, whoever had taken the wallet wasn't going to learn anything about her from it. And Natalie was certain that's what this was about. The keys weren't that big of a deal either, she decided. They were for her car and her apartment. Assuming they could figure out who she was--if they hadn't done so already--little things like locks and doors weren't going to stop them from gaining access if they wanted it.

Sitting on the bed, she considered this new wrinkle. She hadn't exactly been forthcoming with information about herself to anyone she'd encountered, even Jose whom she so far trusted more than anyone in this place. And she'd nearly attacked someone in Sarah's club. If she were in the other woman's shoes, she'd feel perfectly justified in doing a little checking.

But why not ask or demand some answers to questions? Why use this method of getting it from her?

For a moment, Natalie seriously considered packing up and leaving. Jose had brought her four bottles of blood, one of which she was halfway through. She could take them with her, find some place else to stay.

Be realistic, Natalie admonished herself. Four bottles--three and a half really since she was already working on one of them--weren't going to last her that long. Then what? She'd be right back where she'd started from: an abandoned, starving newborn vampire struggling for survival. It was the same situation that had led her to follow Joanne here in the first place. If she left now she'd find herself holed up someplace all day tomorrow just like she'd done today. And she already knew what the outcome of that would be.

That must be avoided at all costs, Natalie decided, even if it meant staying here, among all these strangers and dangerous people whom she didn't trust. When she looked at it closely, she was, in a sense, trapped by circumstance. Wasn't that the story of her life--at least her life as it had been over the last few years. She had to stay.

Because they had answers, even if they weren't forthcoming with them.

Because they had blood.

The decision made, Natalie snatched up the nightgown Jose had brought for her, the one belonging to Jenny. It was totally not her, Natalie decided, holding it up and getting a good look at it for the first time. It was even more inappropriate than the black teddy Grace and the others had bought her a couple of years ago for her birthday.

Jose hadn't brought her a robe, she realized looking around to distract herself. Those memories were associated with yet another painful episode in her life. Her old life. The coat would have to do, she decided, grabbing it from off the hook she'd just hung it on and throwing it over her arm. Cautiously she slipped through the curtain that covered the door and looked around. A couple of people were having a very heated discussion over near the couches, and she could hear other voices as well as other activities all around her, coming from the upper levels of the house. Interwoven through all of that was the sound of the club below. The guy at the door was sitting in a wooden chair looking thoroughly bored. He watched her as she made her way to the bathroom.

The bathroom was spare in terms of fixtures, simple black and white, but it did have all the essentials. Natalie stopped for a moment and looked at the toilet. Now that was something she'd never discussed with Nick, and somehow she couldn't see herself asking Sarah or Jose about this aspect of vampire life. She certainly hadn't since waking up yesterday.

It was their incredibly efficient metabolism she decided. She'd actually realized that was the case when she'd first started studying Nick. The rapid healing, the steady state maintenance of his body so that he never aged. A vampire's system must use practically every scrap of material in the blood and use it efficiently, by and large eliminating waste. Experiencing it first hand certainly drove the point home, she thought. The sheer volume of nutrients needed to maintain a vampire, at least a new one, was staggering. Nick hadn't seemed to required quite so much blood, though she was now beginning to question that assumption. At the very least she was beginning to realize what exquisite control he had.

Had, that was the operative word, wasn't it, she thought bitterly. Exquisite control except at that last, most crucial moment. Natalie felt a wave of anger wash through her at the thought--that when the stakes were supposedly the highest, when he should have fought the hardest for control, he'd given in, hadn't been able to stop...

Just as the anger reached its peak and threatened to overwhelm her, she glanced up. Her reflection in the mirror over the sink looked back at her. Her eyes were gold, probably from the anger. Natalie stepped closer and looked long and hard. She'd seen the metamorphosis in Nick, and had been simultaneously frightened and fascinated by it. But looking at it on her face, knowing that it was a part of her now, that it would always be there...

She swallowed, feeling the anger drain away. She watched entranced as the gold slowly gave way to the normal color of her eyes. In a minute, there was no trace of gold at all.

Staring at her reflection for a few moments longer, she finally turned away with a sigh. Natalie walked over and twisted the lock on the bathroom door, trying not to think about what she'd just witnessed. Trying not to think at all. A lock certainly wouldn't keep out any vampires who wanted access, but at least she'd have some warning. And it would keep anyone else from walking in on her unannounced while she bathed.

Sitting on the closed lid of the toilet, she pulled off the huge sneakers and the sweatsocks, tossing them into the corner. The oversized purple t-shirt, which was now covered with at least three separate sets of bloodstains, followed, as did the sweatpants. She'd have to go out tomorrow night and buy herself some new clothes. These would have to be thrown away.

"Well this is interesting," she said aloud, looking down at her body. Why she hadn't noticed this particular change was beyond her, but it did explain why she'd never seen an overweight vampire before. Natalie was actually quite pleased with this new revelation, the first she'd been honestly pleased with since this whole nightmare had started. All the extra pounds she'd gained in the last couple of months were gone, melted away as if they'd never existed. Her waist was as trim as it had been when she'd started medical school, as were her thighs.

She'd let herself go in the last couple of months. She'd started out knowing it, had not bothered to pay attention somewhere in the middle, and had ended up not caring. It wasn't like there was anyone who was actually going to see her, and she'd kept telling herself that if that actually did happen it wouldn't, shouldn't matter in the long run anyway.

"Too bad I can't market this," she said to her reflection again. Silly idea, really. So far this was the only good thing that had happened to her in a long time, and she was including the last several years with Nick in that time estimate. And of course the other side effects were deadly, not to her personally, but to a lot of other innocent people.

There were several bottles of shampoo and soap in the shower, and Natalie hoped they didn't belong to anyone in particular since she didn't have any of her own. Turning the water on full, she let it run for a few minutes while she opened the cupboards and pulled out two large towels and a washcloth. Then she stepped under the stream of hot water.

It was amazing, the restorative powers of a shower, she thought. As she stood under the spray and washed a day and a half worth of the worst parts of both the city and herself off, she began to feel a little more at ease. This was the first normal thing she'd done since yesterday. She was taking a simple shower, something she did every day of her old life.

She scrubbed herself. She washed her face and neck and arms where there had been blood. She rinsed away the grime on her hands and legs that had resulted from her flying lessons. Her hair was the worst. It was always a production to wash it because there was so much of it, but it was absolutely necessary in this case. She could feel clumps of it stiffened with blood and dirt.

After a long time under the spray, when she finally felt clean, she stepped out and wrapped herself in one of the large towels she'd pulled out of the cupboard, amused to note that the skin at the tips of her fingers hadn't puckered or wrinkled from standing in the water too long. Another uselessly noted fact of being a vampire, Natalie decided, though she realized she needed to start paying better attention to these things, useless or not. You never knew when one of those useless facts might become crucial.

Yes, the nightgown was completely inappropriate, and Natalie felt more than a little uncomfortable in it, even though it fit quite well. She'd never have dared to wear something like this before, she thought. Shrugging into the coat again, she gathered her dirty clothes up into a bundle and ducked out of the bathroom. The bored bouncer was still there, and watched her absently as she walked barefoot across the hardwood floor and slipped quickly into the cubbyhole.

There, she carefully began folding her old clothes, then paused as she held the shirt. After a moment of hesitation, she ripped a small piece of it near the bottom hem. She held it up in her hand, rubbing the fabric against her fingers, then slowly lifted it to her face. Everything she'd been through in this shirt was there. She could smell it. But so was his scent, the combination of aftershave and that awful, tacky cologne he'd started wearing. Natalie was certain Schanke had given it to him, but hadn't noticed it on him until after the plane crash. Far beneath that she could faintly smell the detergent used to wash the garment, and beyond that the smell of the caddie, of The Raven before it had been abandoned, of blood. She thought about how the olfactory system was tied intimately with the limbic system, which many believed regulated affect. Sitting here with the scents of Nick's whole life on this little piece of cloth, given all the things she was now feeling, Natalie could well believe that that was also true for vampires, though she had no real idea if vampires had a limbic system or not. Somehow, though, this seemingly odd similarity made her feel less out of place in the world, if only for a moment.

Someone had made up the bed while she'd showered, putting fresh sheets and a comforter on it. Natalie guessed Jose had ducked down here while she'd been showering and done up the room. She'd have to remember to thank him tomorrow for trying to make her feel more comfortable. Again, she wondered where Joanne was. She hadn't seen her since that glimpse of her on the dance floor. Even though it was obvious that Joanne could take care of herself, sort of, Natalie was concerned none the less.

And that scene earlier down in the club made her wonder. If it wasn't for the missing wallet, Natalie thought Joanne might simply be acting out. It reinforced the idea that she was very young, but what a dangerous way to get attention. However, since she was slowly becoming convinced that her wallet and keys had been lifted during that encounter, maybe it was some well-practiced drill designed to fulfill a lot of purposes. Now that Joanne had fulfilled her role, had she been sent off to stand guard, looking for others like her? And if that was the case what about Jose, or Sarah herself?

With a sigh, Natalie finished folding her clothes and placed them in a neat pile in the corner of the room, near the wardrobe. She took her cards and money, and the small scrap of cloth and tucked them under the pillow, then climbed in beneath the sheets and comforter. They were cool and soft and clean, Natalie felt the familiar easing of tensed muscles in her upper back and wondered if vampires had phantom pains, old somatic ghosts of their former lives until they'd spent enough time as a vampire to forget their mortal lives, their mortal responses. Clean and warm and dry, though certainly not safe, Natalie tried to relax and allowed her mind to wander.

When Nick had told her that an eternity of darkness was worse than death, she'd replied that an eternity of regret had to be just as bad. Laura's suicide had suddenly made her feel as though she didn't fit in her life anymore, that there were huge pieces missing. She'd turned to Nick in an attempt to fill that void, to give her life some validation, make it less empty.

Now there wasn't anything she wouldn't give to have that old life back, as dissatisfying as it had become. She'd take the loneliness, the job she was rapidly burning out on, the sad and angry and frustrating pseudo- relationship with Nick. All of it, and she'd wake up every day and thank God for giving it to her.

But this was her life now, the only one she had, at least for as long as she wanted to keep it. She'd told Nick that maybe Laura had the right idea. She hadn't really meant it; Laura's suicide had torn down a lot of well- constructed walls, put more than a few chinks in her formidable armor. But suicide wasn't a path she wanted to take. When she'd talked about it to Nick it was more an attempt to understand, to try to see into the place where Laura had been. Maybe then it would've all make sense.

But the timing had been bad. Between her crisis and Tracy Vetter's death, she knew that now. But she'd needed...something. Needed it more than she'd ever needed anything in her life even if she hadn't been able to put her finger on exactly what it was. Maybe it was just simple closeness, feeling loved, feeling as though she had a significant place in someone's life, in Nick's life. That there was hope for the future, that there was a reason to have hope for the future.

She was exhausted. She'd often seen Nick looking worn and weary, and given the physical and emotional toll on her in the last few days, she could well understand the fatigue etched on his face. He had eight centuries worth of this to deal with. What were two days compared to that?

But of course sleep wouldn't come. Part of it was the noise. She curled up on her side, resisting the urge to form a tight, fetal ball, and listened for a moment to the sounds of the club. It wasn't that late, really. Technically, it was like she was going to bed at noon, but she didn't feel like dealing with anyone. Ironic that-- she'd spent yesterday planning her escape from Nick's loft and her trip to The Raven in the hopes of finding someone. Now that she had, all she wanted was to be alone.

The party was still going strong, and the whole house was filled with the sound of many heartbeats. She felt hungry again--when didn't she feel hungry anymore?--and reached out in the dark to pick up the opened bottle sitting next to the bed. She finished it in several long, careful sips; the last thing she wanted was blood in her bed.

It had only been hours since she'd killed that man. It felt like a lifetime. She wished it was a lifetime, that she had at least the cushion of time to ease the pain and horror of it. If she closed her eyes she could see his face, and with every sip of blood that she took from a bottle, she thought about how different it was from the hot blood spurting into her mouth straight from the vein. How that had been so much better. She didn't even know his name. Having seen his whole life in his blood, Natalie felt the unjustness of this down to her bones. And she promised herself that she would always remember him as a life, one that she had stolen when she had no right to do so.

She was shaking now, her fingers clutching at the comforter. It wasn't because she was cold, she knew.

When she got the news that her grandmother had died, she'd sat there and listened to Richard tell her over the phone, wondering what she was going to do about the test she had to take the next day. Then she'd started shaking, for no good reason. She laid in bed that night and shook. When she woke up the next morning she'd still been shaking. She'd felt as though she hadn't gotten a bit of rest during the night. It was like that now--another phantom mortal response she supposed. Some sort of delayed stress reaction.

Natalie laid there in the dark, shaking and sipping occasionally from one of the bottles of blood near the bed, and began to plan. It was better than sitting there thinking through all the things she could have done differently. What was done was done, and she would have to work at finding some way to live with them.

And she wanted to live, she realized. She didn't know exactly when the decision had been made, but now that it had she hoped there would be no second thoughts. Or any reasons for second thoughts.

They were probably looking for her. The thought struck her then; her picture might have been on the news. If anyone here watched the news, or paid attention to the police bands, they'd probably figure out who she was, if they hadn't already done so. Natalie figured she'd find out more about that tomorrow, one way or another. She had some money in the bank. Not a lot, but she'd get as much of it out as possible tomorrow night. That and cash advances on her credit cards. The authorities would know, then, that she was still in Toronto, but she'd have to live with that. She'd need clothes, things that weren't her usual style: jeans, hats, things like that

And then she needed to get out of Toronto. She couldn't stay here, she realized that now, and wondered if Sarah would help her leave the city. Or maybe Jose. Unless she could come up with some kind of disguise that she could realistically pull off and travel at night, public transportation was out. Natalie supposed she could make her way out of the city on foot and by air, but she'd definitely be in trouble when the sun came up. Nick had once mentioned something about an expert who helped people disappear. At first she thought he'd been referring to himself, but apparently the vampire community had some kind of relocation service. What would be the price for that sort of thing, she wondered.

And Natalie wasn't entirely certain they'd let her leave--with good reason, she had to admit, given what had happened earlier, both outside The Raven and here. Until she reached the point everyone kept promising and things got better, she was too dangerous to release unsupervised on an unsuspecting city. This, above everything else, she had to always keep in mind; always remember when she considered what plan of action she was going to engage in at any given point.

And once all this stuff was achieved, she'd start to look for Nick. He had to be out there somewhere, running, trying to put the past behind him yet again. Could she sense his presence, she asked herself, like she'd sensed the rising and setting of the sun at The Raven? Nick hadn't talked much about his relationship with LaCroix to her; oftentimes she got the sense that there were volumes he wasn't telling her. And then there were other times when he got that strange faraway look on his face. Some of those were bad memories, she knew, but other times it almost seemed to her as if he were listening to someone, or sensing some kind of vibration she couldn't feel.

Where was he? Where had he gone after he'd left her in the loft? It had only been three nights; there was a chance he'd gone far, but somehow Natalie didn't think so. He wasn't near, in Toronto, but he wasn't on the other side of the world either. Of that she was certain.

Was this part of it then? Was the link that bound a fledgling to his or her...master, did it involve some knowledge of proximity?

Her mind had hesitated over that term, and she took a minute to consider it. Master. She had never liked the implications of that. Like a father, or a brother Nick had told her once, speaking of LaCroix. Nick was her master now--technically at least. Though in her mind, that was a title in name only. Even if he'd stayed around, she was not about to acknowledge him as her master. Teacher, yes, but that would be about as far as she would be willing to go on that particular score.

She didn't have the faintest idea how to do this, how to cast her mind out across a thread that might or might not exist, to draw his attention to her. But she'd been able to sense the rising and setting of the sun. Sunset and sunrise were both physical events; she could pinpoint them in time. The only thing she had to on here was the sense of proximity, her certain knowledge that Nick was not somewhere off in China or Russia, but still within some reasonably accessible geographic location.

Making a concerted effort to relax, Natalie focused on that tenuous sense of distance and hoped it would lead her to some sense of him. As she did so she finally realized that she needed some brief, distal contact with him more to assure herself that he was still alive, that he was still out there somewhere more so than she needed to draw his attention to her. It was strange; it should be just the opposite, but Natalie was fairly certain she would be satisfied in just knowing that he still existed, as desperate as her situation was at the moment. If he was still alive, the rest would fall into place eventually, even if she had to struggle to make it so

For what seemed like hours, she searched, or tried to, imagined casting her mind out over the city, across great distances. But if there was anything, any tiny scrap of him in her mind, Natalie couldn't find it. And if she did, she realized, it would not necessarily be the case that she would be able to recognize it for what it was. Maybe it was one of those things that required training. She pictured Nick wandering through a dark, ancient maze looking for LaCroix, plaintively asking why he'd been left, and LaCroix assuring him he was still there and to seek him out. But she allowed herself to take hope in the fact that perhaps her efforts were not in vain. If she accomplished nothing else, she might have somehow made him aware that she still existed, that she still lived, and that he would come and find her.

It was a fairy tale, of course, the type of which she rarely allowed herself to indulge in. But there were just times, particularly times where Nick was concerned, that she just couldn't help herself.

In the darkness, she smiled.

The building was beginning to quiet down. Natalie listened as the heartbeats diminished, thinned out, became one or two hold-outs who foolishly refused to go home. Finally, after a very long time, it was quiet. Not still; she could quite clearly hear the stirrings of several occupants, those without seventy-plus heartbeats a minute. But quiet in the sense that there were no mortal lives in close proximity. Then she heard footsteps, a light tread, slow and measured. They moved quietly across the hardwood floor of the main level, moved toward the room in which she lay.

She went absolutely still, feigned sleep and sensed the curtain being moved aside. She didn't need to open her eyes to know it was Sarah who stood in the doorway, who watched for several moments in contemplative silence. Natalie wasn't sure if Sarah knew she was faking it or not, or if she did know whether the other woman even cared. For several long moments she felt Sarah's eyes on her, taking in every detail, could feel the soft ambient light spilling into the cubicle. She didn't want to think about what kind of expression she might see on Sarah's face if she were to open her eyes just then. Something ugly, something cold and calculating and dispassionate, she was sure.

In the dark, Natalie tried not to shiver. And when at last she felt a faint breeze, when Sarah allowed the curtain to finally fall back into place and withdrew from the room, Natalie breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

Sleep did not come for a long time after that, but when it did, sometime toward noon, she dreamed of Nick.

---

Third Night

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