WARNING: This story contains scenes of graphic violence. If you are at all squeamish of or easily offended by such things, please choose another story to read.

First night...

It felt so good just to be held. It felt like a dream. Nick's arms were around her, so strong and secure, and she felt so incredibly warm and safe. At peace, for perhaps the first time in as long as she could remember. She felt his soft, cool lips brush gently against her neck as she pressed against him, trembling ever so slightly.

"Yes...." she murmured softly. His kisses became bolder, one hand moving smoothly across her shoulders and down to the small of her back, the other burying itself in her hair.

"Are you sure about this, Doctor?" a soft, cold voice from across the room murmured. Natalie's eyes flew open and she saw LaCroix standing near the fireplace, dressed in black as usual, his hands clasped in front of him.

Watching them.

In panic, she dropped her arms down from around Nick's neck and pushed firmly against his chest in an attempt to get his attention, to make him look. But instead Nick wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her tightly against him, his face buried in her neck and shoulder. She could feel his cold breath on her flesh.

"I do not love this woman," Nick said, his voice muffled against her hair and skin.

"Then bring her over!"

Horrified, Natalie struggled to break free from Nick's now painful embrace with all her might, shoving at him with her elbows. But it was useless as Nick effortlessly spun her around and pinned her against him with one arm across her body, so tightly she almost couldn't breathe. With the other he brushed her hair back from her neck then gripped the top of her head, tilting it back to gain better access to her neck.

Helpless and desperate, she looked to LaCroix, and wanted to beg him for help. But LaCroix simply looked on, his expression dispassionate and Natalie knew there would be no aid from that quarter.

As if to emphasize her thoughts LaCroix repeated "Bring her over."

Nick lifted his head away from her, and she heard him hiss, just before his fangs pierced her throat. The pain was sharp and intense and she gasped. Tears welled up in her eyes, tears of fear and sorrow over what was happening intermingled with her tears of pain. In a matter of seconds she felt the cold seep into her bones, saw the world fade away until there was only LaCroix's face looking down on her, his expression unreadable, except for the coldness in his eyes.

With a small shriek, Natalie sat bolt upright, gasping and shuddering. "It was a dream, just a dream," she muttered over and over again, as she rocked back and forth. It was a horrible dream, but one she hadn't had in months. Why now, she wondered. What had brought the Valentine's Day dream back with such force and clarity?

Bewildered, Natalie looked around Nick's loft from her position in front of the fireplace. What on earth was she doing on the floor? And where was Nick?

"Nick?" she called out, rising unsteadily to her feet. Had she fainted? She felt so strange and...

Something hit her with such ferocity that it took her breath away. With a groan, Natalie staggered over to the couch, one arm wrapped tightly across her abdomen. Falling to her knees with a shudder, she dug her fingers into the black leather, feeling it give way and tear.

"Nick?" she screamed again. "NICK!"

Her voice rang through the loft, echoing off the ceiling and walls of the empty room

No answer.

And then whatever was inside her was screaming insistently, drowning out all other thoughts and feelings. It was painful and completely unlike anything she'd ever felt before in her life.

Over there, to her left. She could smell it! Before she knew what she was doing she rose and darted to the kitchen, going up and over the sofa rather than around it in her desperation. In one swift move she ripped one of the doors off of the refrigerator, vaguely hearing it clatter to the floor behind her. Hands trembling, she snatched up the half-empty green bottle that was standing in the front. The cork just wouldn't come out, and her fingers fumbled with it for a moment or two before she managed to pry it loose. Tilting her head back, she drank deeply, barely finishing its contents before reaching for another.

It was thick and cold, with a bitter metallic tang to it. But it eased the awful ache ruthlessly shredding her from the inside out. So she continued to gulp the liquid down without any real thought as to what it was.

That didn't occur to her until she was well into her third bottle.

Blood. She was chugging blood.

The thought made her gag. She pulled the bottle away from her lips, allowed it to slip from her suddenly numb fingers to the floor. It smashed against the tile just as she moved to the sink, leaning over it. Covering her mouth tightly with one hand she instinctively willed herself not to vomit She was only beginning to process the information mentally, but her body already knew it was going to need this blood.

The nausea passed after a few moments, and she stood there over the sink breathing deeply. "Oh God, Nick," she murmured, feeling her eyes begin to burn with unshed tears. Janette's cure hadn't worked. Nick had been unable to stop. Some part of her mind dispassionately analyzed what had happened, what she had become, and she numbly accepted the information with clinical detachment. Until she moved to wipe her eyes and her hand was stained crimson. That nearly brought on a fresh wave of tears, but she willed away. There was a lot to do right now. Crying was definitely not one of them.

How long had she been...unconscious? Natalie was uncertain of the proper term, and for some reason that bothered her. But that was something better left to another time, she thought turning away from the sink and leaning against the counter, looking around the room. She had nothing but time now, she realized. And at the moment she decided to be more concerned with finding out how much she had lost.

Or more importantly, how much of a head start Nick had.

Even without the obvious evidence in front of her eyes and ears she knew. Natalie wasn't sure how she knew, but she did; he wasn't in the loft and he wasn't even close by. Nick was gone. Had she been left behind, presumed dead? Or was there another reason?

How she was going to deal with that Natalie was uncertain. And now wasn't the time, either, though she guessed she'd have to address it soon. It was a huge can of worms yet to be dealt with. Feeling the spark of fury within her over the thought that Nick might have abandoned her, Natalie fought it down for the time being.

Sinking down onto the couch, Natalie instead began carefully laying out a plan of action. First she would find out how much time had passed. Next she would take stock of the...nutrition situation. Pausing, she frowned. Maybe the food situation ought to take priority, she reasoned, an image of Richard forming unbidden in her mind. A hungry, abandoned fledgling vampire on the loose would not be a good thing.

It was settled. Food first, then she'd find out how much time had passed since she'd been unconscious. She nodded slowly in satisfaction; these were two good short term goals. There was so much more she had to do, she knew. But not at the moment. Right now she needed to keep things at a level she could handle, to ensure her survival. She could handle this.

Leaning forward she picked up the TV remote off the table, and glanced down at her watch. Thank heaven she lived in the era of twenty-four hour news channels. And that the shutters were closed, she added with a small sigh of relief. If they'd been opened, she had no doubt there would have been a pile of ash added to that small bloodstain over there on the floor...

Her blood.

The realization made her feel slightly nauseous. She'd have to clean that up soon. Better make that item number three.

But something nagged at the back of her mind, something about the shutters. Hadn't they been open? Rubbing her eyes, she dismissed the thought. Nick had probably closed them just before he'd left to keep unwanted visitors out and to make it look as though, for the day at least, he was maintaining his routine of closing them.

Natalie rose and went to the refrigerator. The door was lying in the middle of the kitchen floor, the hinges twisted and bent. With a sigh Natalie reached down and lifted it, amazed at how little effort it took. A quick examination of the damage to the hinges on the refrigerator unit itself revealed that she could do a quick patch up, provided she could bend the hinges back into place. She wouldn't be able to use this door, but at least the thing would still be functional.

She cleaned up the blood and the broken bottle first, then hefted the door again. Holding it up with one hand, she grasped the twisted and torn pieces of metal that comprised the top hinges and easily bent them together. It wasn't pretty, but it would hold, she thought as she leaned down and squeezed the lower one together as well. The door ended up being a little crooked, and not quite aligned with the seal, but Natalie decided she wasn't going to get it any better. At least vampirism was proving to be useful for those annoying home repair chores, she thought.

Carefully opening the other door, Natalie counted the bottles. There were three more full bottles. Considering the fact that she had a pretty good idea of how much blood a normal, healthy vampire required, as well as how much she'd guzzled just a short while ago, this wasn't going to last very long. Dismayed, she realized Nick had been drinking human blood on a very regular basis lately, though under the circumstances she couldn't complain. As much as she might hate the idea, right now she was far better off with human blood than cow. Richard...

There he was again, an unwanted spectre. Another mental door to slam and deal with later. She still had items on her list to get to and he wasn't even on it.

Crouching down, she pulled open the freezer. A bag of blood tumbled out. Natalie reached down and picked it up, hefting it in her hand. A quick glance at the date told her it was still fresh enough. Setting it aside, she reached in and pulled out five more bags, two of which had expired. She'd hang onto them anyway. She might need them in an emergency. Placing them carefully on the counter to thaw , she pulled a bottle out and uncorked it. It was tempting to just rip the cork out, tip the bottle up and drink the whole thing down without any thought. In fact, she very nearly did. But that would be stupid; she didn't have a readily available supply of blood at hand.

And she was already hungry. Feeling those horrible pangs she'd experienced upon waking up beginning to twist again inside her, she knew she should indulge the hunger, keep it at bay as best she could until she could get a supply. Reaching up, she took down a glass from the shelf, holding it gingerly and filled it with blood. The smell of it made her mouth flood with saliva. One part of her made note of that fact. But she was predominantly focused on the blood in the glass as if there was nothing else in the world. But she forced herself to replace the cork and put the bottle back into the refrigerator before picking up the glass.

And then she gulped down half the contents of the glass before she could stop herself.

Shaking slightly, she sat the glass down on the counter, putting both physical and mental distance between herself and it. It horrified her, this lack of control, her worst nightmare lived out in reality.

What was that second thing on her list?

It was a deliberate ploy to distract herself. And it worked.

Forcing herself to be calm, controlled, she casually picked up the wine glass and carried it with her to the couch, consciously trying not to think about how hard it was not to take one sip, then another, then another from the glass. With deliberate care, she sat the glass down on the coffee table, picked up the remote, and sank down into the leather cushions.

She realized that she was still in a state of shock and was grateful for it, actually. It helped to keep the horror of the situation... everything...at bay for a bit. It left her detached but functional. During her intern days in the emergency room, Natalie had often marveled at the concept of shock, both psychological and emotional. While the consequences could be devastating if prolonged, it was also an amazingly adaptive response to trauma, a biological stop-gap measure. Then, it had been more of an abstract concept though she saw the effects of it in nearly everyone who was rushed from the scene of an accident. Now, this brief grace period was allowing her to take steps toward ensuring her survival in the long run.

And she would survive. She would take the information she had gained from six years of studying Nick and use it to her advantage in this situation.

She would survive.

Her hand as it reached out for the glass on the table was almost steady, and what little tremor remained Natalie pretended simply didn't exist. Making a conscious effort to sip the blood slowly, she turned her attention to the screen, leaving the sound muted. The last thing she needed right now was some blaring announcer undermining her concentration when she needed it most.

Normally Natalie opted for the quick news updates on the radio on her way to work, and now she was acutely reminded of the advantages of that approach. Though this was the era of sound bites and quick cuts, most channels assumed that viewers had a longer attention span and therefore did not provide crucial information every thirty seconds.

Not that the date would be that crucial to the average person, Natalie reflected grimly. Only the newly undead coroner in town would have need of such information.

But patience paid off soon enough, and Natalie leaned back a little further against the cushions in despair.

Almost two days had passed while she'd been...sleeping.

Two days.

She knew from the experience with Richard that a substantial amount of time had most likely passed, but two days? Why hadn't anybody come to the loft looking for either her or Nick? Had he done something to mislead them, keep them off the trail?

From finding her body before he made his getaway?

The thought came unbidden, and she felt something vile rise in her throat. It made a horrible kind of sense, though. And Nick certainly had experience with abrupt departures before.

No, she reassured herself that it was simply a case of the police not having enough reason for a search warrant. The police had no official reason to get in, she decided. Nick's alarm system might have made things difficult as far as access was concerned, but Natalie was well aware that the police had ways of dealing with problems like that. They could have access if they needed it.

For one insane second, Natalie wondered if she really had died and was in some horrible kind of purgatory. Was she doomed to spend her days in solitude, trapped in this loft looking for a supply of blood for her sins? At the moment is seemed all too fitting and completely ridiculous all at the same time. Natalie dropped her head wearily in her hands. As soon as the sun went down she could test the theory soon enough, and there was always the phone....

She sat bolt upright, cursing herself for being an idiot. "Become a vampire, lose all your brain cells," she muttered to herself thinking that certainly explained a lot about Nick. Pulling her legs beneath her, she turned and leaned over the back of the couch to look at the blinking light on the answering machine.

Someone had tried to call. Several someones. A lot of someones given the number of blinks. Natalie couldn't decide if that was a good sign or a bad sign.

The first one was from Joe Reese, with the news about Tracy.

Tracy... The memory sent a pang through Natalie. She had completely forgotten about Tracy. She'd missed the memorial service and probably the funeral.

The next dozen calls were from Reese, his voice filled with warning, eventually informing Nick that there was to be a formal investigation into the circumstances surrounding Tracy Vetter's death and that he was to make himself available for questioning. That message was on there several times, and Reese's voice turned pleading.

In the midst of the messages from Reese was an empty one. No one spoke. Even though the call had come in probably a good twenty-four hours ago, the sense of fear and anxiety coming across the line was palpable. Natalie strained her ears but could hear nothing on the tape. It was as if the call came from a huge black void. It disturbed her.

When the messages ended, Natalie reached over and lifted the receiver off the hook, then dialed. She'd never actually called The Raven before, but there were a couple of nights a few months ago when she'd dialed the number, even let it ring once or twice. She knew Nick was there and had on several occasions given in to anger and temptation and nearly called him.

Never, in any of her wildest dreams, would she ever have imagined she would be calling The Raven for the reason she dialed the number now.

Natalie started when she heard the familiar three tone beep that indicated something was wrong. The electronic voice informed her that the number was no longer in service. Frowning, Natalie disconnected and dialed again with no better luck. She had the right number, she was certain.

Fighting down a sudden rush of panic, Natalie checked her watch again. Someone had to be there, she reasoned. There was just something wrong with the phone lines, that was all. It would be dark enough for her to venture out in less than an hour. She would go to The Raven and find out what was going on herself. Someone had to be there.

Because Natalie didn't know what she was going to do if they were gone.

Restlessly, she rose and wandered around Nick's living room, her steps echoing hollowly throughout the loft. She'd started to tremble again, at some point; she didn't know when. Nothing seemed to make it stop, either. But, she figured pragmatically, she was about due for some kind of breakdown. This remarkable facade of calm, of rationality, had started crumbling the moment she'd realized she was drinking blood. Maybe if she let herself go for a while, she'd be more successful at reigning it in, rather than waiting until it forced itself out, to potentially disastrous results.

She wasn't very good at the former. In fact, by her reckoning, she was an expert in the latter, but now she couldn't afford the luxury. As she wandered around the loft willing herself to let go, to relax, she spotted the small, ornate mirror Nick had hanging on the wall near the television. It was cracked. Funny, she didn't remember it being cracked before She walked toward it slowly, in wonder.

A stranger looked back at her.

A stranger with flawless, white skin, and a mane of shining curls. But it was the eyes that caught her attention the most. They were normally the stand-out feature of her face, when her hair was cooperating, that was. But now...now they practically glowed, dark and luminous. Hypnotic eyes. Powerful eyes.

She watched herself in the mirror as if she were in a dream, her hand drifting slowly to her cheek. This was real. It had happened. Those frightening eyes looking back out at her, taking in every detail, drove the reality home for her like nothing had before. Not her careful assessment of the facts. Nor the blood.

She was a vampire.

"Hi there," she said, addressing her reflection, her tone wry. "We haven't met. But something tells me we're going to be together for a long, long time."

Her weary, amused expression nodding reassuringly back at her helped, though it still seemed odd, surreal. This was her new face, her new existence. This would definitely take some getting used to, she mused.

A thought occurred to her and she stepped forward. Pushing the edge of her lip up she carefully examined the eye tooth on that side. It was disappointing, actually, she decided. There was a slight change in the tooth, which protruded no further than it normally had, and it was definitely more pointed. With the index finger of her free hand she carefully probed the gum above it. It didn't feel any different.

But she had to admit that there was a distinct difference, even beyond the physical ones she'd already noted in Nick and now herself. It was hard to put her finger on it, but she was more...aware...of those two particular teeth than the others, that they were somehow more sensitive. Or, she reasoned, they were placed strangely in her jaw due to the metamorphosis wrought by the change.

With another glance at the mirror, Natalie wondered how she could make them descend even as another voice wondered if she even wanted to do that. She quieted that second voice. She needed to know as much as she could.

Actually, she thought, what she needed were her notes. When she'd first met Nick she'd questioned and examined him at length on his physiology. He'd allowed her to examine his teeth, take blood samples, all the various physical things she'd asked. Nick had been surprisingly forthcoming, and at the time she knew he was still testing her, still possibly attempting to scare her away, though he'd been unsuccessful at it. They'd talked about the physical manifestations of his vampirism, what brought the teeth and fangs on, such as extreme hunger or anger. And Natalie knew he could control that when he wanted to, bring down the teeth and make his eyes glow at will. Was that something that one had to learn or did it come naturally? Natalie looked at her teeth again and willed them to descend.

Nothing.

Damn.

Obviously not something that came naturally then. With a last look at the mirror, Natalie tilted her head to the side. No marks, nothing to indicate that she'd been bitten and nearly drained of all her blood. There weren't even scars.

With a sigh, Natalie turned away from the mirror and looked slowly around the loft. As far as she could tell Nick hadn't taken anything with him. Nothing on the ground floor had been disturbed, and she was certain that if she went up to the second level she would find the same. A quick investigation of the bedroom and bathroom bore out that assumption.

Standing up on the second level, Natalie leaned against the railing and chewed her lip thoughtfully. It was almost dark. She'd be able to go out soon. Should she use the street entrance, or would someone be there? It was a likely possibility, even if Nick hadn't officially been charged with anything, particularly if he were missing. And she realized it wouldn't take much to block off the building. It was a solitary structure in a fairly deserted part of town. Nick was the only inhabitant, and had, in fact, owned the entire building and several others nearby to ensure his privacy, a fact she'd only discovered about a year ago. The only entrance at street level was through the garage and easily blocked off, and the only access to the roof was up and through the building.

The roof. As she considered her options, she began to think it was her best bet. It was doubtful that anyone was up there. Going downstairs to investigate had its problems- -she couldn't risk being seen by anyone until she was ready. And truthfully, she was more than a little frightened at the prospect of any plan that might put her in close proximity to anyone.

To mortals, she corrected herself and immediately felt uncomfortable for having done so.

The roof it was, she decided, and made her way back down to the main floor of the loft. Nick usually kept the stairwell door locked from the inside unless he knew she was coming. It was locked now.

In the stairwell, Natalie paused and winced, unable for a moment to think or assimilate the surge of sound that suddenly overwhelmed her senses. She could hear everything--traffic noises, conversations, the rumbling of trains. All the inherent clamor of the metropolis assailed her ears. For an insane moment, Natalie reflexively tried to identify and sort through them, to recognize snatches of conversations. It was when she became aware that she could hear thousands of heartbeats that she clapped her hands over her ears and ducked back into the loft, into blissful silence once the door closed behind her.

She didn't know why it had never occurred to her before. She'd never thought about it really, but given what she'd just experienced, it made perfect sense. It was the only way he could have coped, the only way he could have had peace and quiet, if only for a part of the day.

The loft was soundproofed, and remarkably well. Barely a stray noise slipped through.

"Is it always like this?" she asked aloud, her voice laced with despair. How hard it must have been for Nick, especially the heartbeats, the constant thrumming, the reminder of food so close for the taking--

With an abrupt shake of her head she shook off those dangerous thoughts. How was she going to move about the city with all the noise assaulting her senses? She knew it was only going to get worse. She'd just had a small taste of what the auditory capacity of a vampire was like. There was no telling how augmented and tortuous the other senses were. How was she going to manage? She could smell bottled blood in the refrigerator as clearly as if someone were waving it under her nose. How on earth was she going to cope with being out in a city full of blood?

Natalie leaned back against the stairwell door and allowed the knowledge of just how desperate her situation was to sink in. There was a huge, noisy, dangerous world out there, and for all her newborn strength and sensory acuity, for all the data she'd amassed over the years, she was an infant. She wasn't going to survive alone. She needed help.

She needed Nick.

The thought of him now was enough to abruptly send her on a steep, downward spiral as her legs gave out beneath her. She sat huddled against the wall, knees drawn up to her chest, arms clasped tightly around herself, and rocked. Nick had done this to her, he was to blame. She'd believed in him, had faith in him that he would take only a little, that they would find the cure they were both desperately seeking.

She'd believed with every last fiber of her being that they'd be together, that he wanted it as much as she did.

That was a lie, she realized that now. Nick had given in to her out of guilt, out of his own anguish. He'd lied to her. He'd lied to himself.

But knowing that did nothing to change the fact that she was here, that he'd left her alone.

All alone.

She pressed her face against her knees and allowed the tears to come, the shuddering sobs that wracked her body with such force that it hurt. Damn him to hell for doing this to her. And damn her for pushing him into doing it.

The pain washed over her. Tears for Nana, for her parents, for Richard. For Cynthia, for Schanke, Cohen, Tracy, Lora--for all the people she'd loved and lost, for all those souls who'd left her behind to cope with the questions and the void their absence created. There were angry tears for Nick, for Janette, and at last, for herself as well, for all the different lives she might have led, all the paths she might have, should have followed that led anywhere but to this.

After a long while she leaned back and looked down almost unfeelingly at the dark crimson stains on her skirt. Though she rarely indulged in crying jags, and this one had to be the mother of all crying jags, some part of her had to admit she did feel better, cleaner. Some of the tension had eased out of her body, and while she still felt vulnerable, afraid and horribly out of control, almost raw, she was also filled with an uneasy sense of...something. Not quite peace.

Equilibrium, perhaps.

She drew in a deep calming breath and thought about going outside again, about the inherent problems with leaving the quiet and safety of the loft. She couldn't stay here, she knew that. She was going to have to leave sometime and the sooner she tackled the problem, found a practical solution, the better off she would be.

OK, so all the sound was going to be a problem. Natalie leaned her head back against the wall and forced herself to think about the problem. Earplugs? She quickly ruled that one out, reasoning that it probably wouldn't work that well, and any makeshift pair she could fashion would be less than adequate. And she doubted that Nick kept a pair handy; he'd never mentioned using them.

Natalie smiled to herself as a sudden image of herself walking about Toronto, hands clapped over her ears humming "God Save the Queen" or some other such nonsense filled her mind.

But it did give her an idea, and she quickly pushed herself up off the floor and walked over to her purse which she'd left on the kitchen table. She couldn't block the sounds out completely, but maybe she could give herself a dominant sound that she could focus on, that would allow her to tune out everything else. She had a walkman in her purse, one she barely ever used. As such, the batteries were probably dead or close to it, which might render it useless. Fortunately, she had a fairly fresh set in her hand-held tape recorder in her bag, which, out of habit she'd carried up with her when she'd arrived several days ago.

Yep, the batteries were dead, and Natalie wondered briefly about her own taste in music when she found an Erasure tape in the walkman. She quickly replaced them, then walked over to Nick's stereo and selected a tape of piano concertos that Nick had sitting out on the shelf. It was dusty. Brushing it off, Natalie slipped it into the walkman, carefully put the headphones into her ears and pressed the play button.

And nearly dropped the walkman when music blasted painfully into her ears. Recovering herself quickly, Natalie quickly turned the volume way down, amazed at how clear and loud the music coming from this little machine was. Not to mention all the whirring of the little gears and the tape heads that she could hear clearly as a backdrop to the music.

Twisting the dial carefully Natalie was able to find a music level that she was comfortable with.

Time to test the effectiveness of this, she decided, heading toward the stairwell door. Once there she hesitated, steeling herself for the onslaught of information that would pour into her as soon as she opened the door. But she had to know. With a quick twist of the stairwell door knob, Natalie opened the door and stepped out into the hallway.

She could still hear the sounds, but the music was helping, muted them, pushed them into the background where they could be dealt with, not processed. Natalie sighed in relief. One thing she definitely needed, in addition to blood she reminded herself wryly, would be batteries, until she could practice dealing with all the noise without the music.

With the strains of a piano filling her ears, and thousands of heartbeats running as counterpoint vaguely behind it, Natalie quietly climbed the two flights of stairs to the door that lead to the roof of Nick's apartment building. The door that led out onto the blacktop roof was locked from the inside. Quickly twisting the lock, Natalie stepped out for the first time into the night.

The first thing to catch her attention as she walked out were the stars. She'd never seen the stars, never really seen them, seen the flickers and the colors, and now she knew why Nick often liked to come up here and look out at the night sky. The stars seemed to dip down out of the heaven to twinkle just for her as her gaze passed over them. They were so close, Natalie was certain all she had to do was lift her hand, sweep it across the heavens, and her hand would be filled with sparkling jewels. It was breathtaking.

And it reminded her of something, of a far happier evening spent out on this very roof. Tearing her gaze away from the sky, Natalie looked around and saw that it was exactly where he'd left it, though he'd taken the precaution of throwing a waterproof tarp over top of it. Walking over, she carefully shifted the stones that held the covering down away with her foot and pulled the tarp away. They'd used it to view the comet that had passed by several weeks ago. He'd' bought the telescope, a ridiculously powerful and sophisticated one for strictly amateur use, just for her. He hadn't needed it.

Lovingly, Natalie ran her hand over the barrel of the scope, and leaned down to look through the eye piece Nick had spent hours adjusting for her so that she could get the best, clearest view. So that she could have some inkling of what the sky looked like through his eyes, she thought suddenly, though it seemed so inadequate in light of her new vision.

"Ten thousand years," she'd said, her voice teasing. "Finally, something in my life that's older than you!"

He'd laughed as he'd looked up at the sky. "That's about the worst pick-up line I've ever heard," he'd said playfully.

"Um, how about 'what's your sign?' then?" she'd returned. "Seems appropriate, all things considered," she'd added, glancing up at the sky.

"Can you see the colors in the tail, Nat?" he'd asked.

"Show off!" she'd admonished. "Next thing you know, you'll be telling me how many times you've seen Haley's Comet."

He'd glanced down at her then. "Never, actually. I was never very interested in the skies," he'd said. "Fleur was, though," he added.

She'd tilted her head at that, choosing her next words carefully. "Fleur?" she'd asked.

But he was already gone, off in some other time, some painful memory, and Natalie knew only too well what it was, given the pain in his expression as he'd looked back over at her, at the abrupt halt he'd called to the evening.

She hadn't been able to get him to talk about it, and had finally left him to brood, sad and frustrated and angry at no one and everyone, especially LaCroix and the silly charade he was forcing her, forcing Nick to play.

Yet he'd bought the telescope for her, and had seemed to take so much joy in sharing the rare voyager's visit with her that night. She remembered and loved the wonder in his face, his voice, recalled her own excitement as they'd gazed up together at the stars, the way his head was tilted so far back, the fingers of the hand he had around her shoulders squeezing and caressing her lightly.

Oddly enough, seeing the telescope again served as a hopeful reminder of how much more she and Nick might share once she managed to get through this nightmare and whatever ensuing nightmares the coming nights might bring. A small corner of her heart had already started on the long journey toward forgiving him for leaving her behind. That she didn't find odd at all. That felt like home.

A small piece, a small peace indeed, a flicker really that was in danger of being blown out of existence by the fear and anger still cascading inside her. A reunion with Nick, whatever form it was going to take, was a long way away. She had yet to get through a single night in her new state. It was decided; Nick was simply going to have to wait until she took care of a few important matters first.

Remembering the real reason why she'd come up here, Natalie walked carefully over to the edge and looked down. Her car was parked out in front of the building, and Nick's caddie was pulled haphazardly onto the curb next to it, parked illegally as usual. A man in a blue uniform was leaning casually against it, arms crossed in front of him, looking intensely bored. Another one was sitting in a car parked across the street. He was sipping something from a Styrofoam cup. Coffee, she thought as she caught a whiff of the beverage.

Toronto's finest all right. Natalie didn't see any of the tell-tale yellow and black tape which meant this wasn't a crime scene, though she already knew that. They were here to keep an eye on things.

She turned and sat down, shielded from sight by the waist-high wall that surrounded the roof. Not that that was really a problem. Those guys looked like they were barely able to stay awake.

Natalie took a moment to consider the implications. Reese had talked about a pending investigation, yet no one had searched the loft, either because they couldn't get a warrant or a real reason to search the loft hadn't as yet presented itself. At best she and Nick were considered missing, and she'd have to remain that way. Which meant her usual resources as far as money and information were out of the question..

Though she and Nick had never really discussed it, she knew damn well he was loaded. All one had to do was look around the loft to realize that. He had that air, too. Natalie had overheard one or two cops comment on Nick's aura of wealth, of refinement, of not really being one of them. If only they knew just how right they were, she thought ruefully. She'd meant to broach the subject with him; the comments made just within her hearing were warnings from the other officers who thought Nick was on the take, letting her hear so that she could mention it to him so he'd be more careful. They were afraid he was going to blow it for all of them.

All right. Nick had...drained her, assumed he'd killed her, panicked, and ran, ducked out of town like there was no tomorrow. Nick had the money to do that, and even if he didn't, LaCroix, or possibly even other members of the vampire community would most certainly cover for him, one way or the other.

It seemed a likely scenario and explained a lot. Not that it did her any good. Her car was parked in plain sight of the two guards downstairs, effectively cutting off her access to it. Which meant, in turn, that it cut off her access to everything; money, blood, fresh batteries.

The last brought a small smile to her lips. The walkman idea was working far beyond her expectations. She could still hear the sounds of the city, but muted in a manner that she could handle. Given enough time, Natalie was certain she could train herself to deal with the onslaught of information by gradually turning down the volume during her trips out. For the time being, though, this arrangement would allow her be outside without going mad. A good thing, she decided.

Only a few scant hours had passed since the beginning of her new existence as a vampire. Though it felt like she had accomplished much, Natalie knew she'd barely scratched the surface of her problems. Her situation was beyond desperate. While she had conquered the problem of going outside the safety of the loft, she was still, in effect, trapped in the building..

And just to remind her not to become too complacent, the hunger began to tear at her again; she could smell the two officers below, the scent of blood mixed with nicotine and spearmint gum and coffee torpedoing up to her. And just beyond that was the scent of others, nearby. Others living in alleys, stinking of neglect and alcohol, of others further out past that, smelling of perfume and sweat and garlic and cologne.

Human scent.

Food scent.

It was time to go in, time to go downstairs and feed on what little bottled or bagged blood she had left before the awareness of food close by turned into action. Before she acted on the flaring of her nostrils and the flooding of saliva into her mouth, before she turned into the swift hunter her new nature demanded she be. That she could not allow.

Rapid movement seemed to be fairly instinctual, she realized as she found herself standing at the stairwell door that lead to Nick's loft almost without realizing that she'd decided to move.

This time it took two more bottles of her precious, dwindling supply before she could think of anything except appeasing the tendrils of hunger twisting through her body.

As she lowered the second bottle from her lips, Natalie reached a decision. She couldn't get to her car, but she had to get to The Raven, had to secure herself a steady supply of blood or do something, become something she knew she would not be able to live with

She would have to fly.

God, it sounded completely ridiculous, reaching a conclusion like that. But she knew Nick could fly, had seen him do it on occasion, though he had never offered to take her flying. Not that she would have asked, but secretly, she wouldn't have said no if he had. It was the one ability he had that she truly and honestly envied, though she would never admit that to him. Yes, she'd once joked that she wanted him to teach her how to hypnotize people. But the flying? That was different. That was freedom, and nobody had to get hurt in the process. She knew it was one of the few guilt-free powers he had, and he reveled in it.

Now she wished she had. Hell, now she wished she'd asked him and demanded answers to a thousand questions he, no doubt, would have found awkward and painful and embarrassing, but the answers to which she would have found invaluable considering the circumstances.

But that wasn't an option, and she wasn't one to dwell too long on what she didn't or couldn't have, but make the most of what she did have. She might not have much at the moment, but she did have her intellect, her limited knowledge of vampires and above all else, her willingness to try.

Flying suddenly didn't seem quite so ridiculous.

Making her way back up to the roof, Natalie stood near the edge farthest away from the front of the building where the cars were parked. She didn't have the first clue about exactly how she was supposed to fly. For all she knew, it was something instinctive, like the teeth. Tilting her head back, Natalie looked up at the sky and concentrated very hard on being up there, among the stars.

Of course it didn't work, and Natalie lowered her eyes, feeling more like some morbid, silly Tinkerbell than a vampire. With a sigh Natalie looked over the edge at the deserted alley below. She could always try simply jumping off the building and hope that instinct kicked in. It wasn't like the fall could kill her. Stupid idea, though, since she'd have no way of getting back in if it didn't work. Besides, she'd seen Nick fly at will so it could be done. It was simply a matter of figuring out how.

She could try the ledge, the small half-wall that ran around the circumference of the roof. It was wide enough to stand on. She could try jumping from that while concentrating on flying, just to see what would happen. Provided she could curtail her embarrassment over it. She certainly hoped no one was watching her right now.

Before she could second-guess herself out of it, Natalie clambered up onto the foot-wide ledge. Closing her eyes, she visualized herself being airborne, bent her knees and pushed herself off of the ledge with all her might, arms spread wide.

She shot across half the width of the roof, and landed face down and spread-eagled, skidding for a foot or so across the blacktop. She also discovered that while she may be a vampire, skinned knees and elbows stung, though not quite as badly or for as long as they had when she'd been a little girl. In fact, she spent a fascinating thirty seconds watching the skin on her right knee heal and become flawless. She'd seen Nick heal up before her eyes from serious injuries such as burns and bullet wounds and such. But there was something almost irresistible about watching a minor abrasion that should have left a scar disappear without a trace in a matter of seconds on her own body.

Slowly, Natalie stood, wondering what on earth to try next. The only other thing she could think of was to simply jump straight up into the air. Which of course led to a really ridiculous image of her bouncing her way to The Raven through the streets of Toronto that nearly made her laugh out loud.

She'd tried imagining herself flying, then giving herself a boost while imaging herself flying. Maybe the flaw in her reasoning was in thinking that being able to fly was a state of mind. Or maybe her problem was that she was thinking of flying as a mental state in and of itself rather than as something that had a greater purpose. And she didn't need to be a genius to figure out what that other purpose was.

Hunting.

This was dangerous. This was beyond dangerous.

She'd just fed, but with the two guards so close, in so much danger, Natalie wasn't sure she wanted to even try this little experiment, all too aware that it could end in disaster for herself and at least one other unfortunate person. However, she didn't see that she had that much of a choice. And it might not work.

Swallowing, Natalie climbed back up on the ledge. Then she closed her eyes and allowed herself to hear the heartbeats that slipped in past the music filling her ears. She thought about blood, about the taste of it, about the contentment of it, and she launched herself up into the air, bending her knees and pushing up from the ledge with all her newfound strength.

And shot up. And up. And up.

At some point she opened her eyes. Big mistake. It broke her concentration which might have been a good thing because she found she'd shifted position enough so that she could swoop down on the guard lounging against the caddie. But she lost it. She was able to keep it together long enough to alter her trajectory enough so that she'd hit the roof again.

On the way down she discovered that flying in a skirt was a bad thing. She was really glad no one was watching.

This time she hit hard, much harder than before. This time she heard something crack. That was just moments before she blindly bit into the flesh of her forearm to keep herself from crying out, alerting the guards. She'd landed badly, her last minute attempts to adjust her position causing her to intersect with the roof at an awkward angle, despite the fact that she came down feet first. And of course she had no way to slow her descent down and hit the blacktop at full speed.

When the pain subsided to a dull roar Natalie twisted around. No compound fracture in her leg that she could see, But to her amazement she could feel the bones shifting around in her calf, rearranging and aligning themselves. It didn't hurt exactly, but it definitely felt strange. And within seconds, it was as if the fracture had never existed.

But she felt hungry again, and realized that the injury had taken precious energy. Deciding to push it just a little bit, thinking that part of mastering the new powers was understanding how far to push, Natalie lifted herself up off the roof, dusting her skirt off. Boy was she a mess. Natalie didn't remember being this dirty and bloody since she was about nine years old and Timmy Lewis dared her to jump out of the big oak tree in the park. She'd broken her leg then, too, come to think of it.

She'd try it again, but this time focus on managing some kind of controlled descent. It seemed to require slightly less effort to become airborne, though it was no less disorienting, she realized, as she watched the roof slide away from her. She was pleased that she'd managed to keep her eyes open this time, without any adverse lapses in concentration. The wind whipped through her hair and tugged at her clothes as she rose in the air. With an effort she tried to keep herself focused on the building below her, rather than looking out at the breathtaking view of Toronto that hung before her. It was when she began to feel afraid of the drop, of injuring herself that she felt her ascent begin to slow.

Natalie decided it felt like she'd reached the top of a hill, or crested some pinnacle because she seemed to hover, to float suspended for several long, quiet seconds. It seemed to her as if the whole world stopped. Then, ever so slowly, then with increasing momentum she began to drop.

That's when she began to panic. Though the pain from the broken bone had only lasted for seconds, Natalie did not look forward to repeating the experience. Nor could she afford to expend the energy to repair the damage, knowing that it would cost her in blood. She did the only thing she could think of; she began another ascent. It worked. It slowed her down, then she was rising in the air again.

That was how she managed to get down to the roof again. She allowed herself to drop, then reversed it, since she seemed to have gotten the hang of going up. Her third landing, while not smooth, at least resulted in no injuries. Hadn't she read somewhere that landing was the hardest and most dangerous part of learning how to fly a plane? Obviously that was as true for vampires as it was for mortal pilots.

A few more runs and she was maneuvering well enough around the roof, though one of them took her unintentionally close to the ledge that looked down on the guards, reminding her that she was getting very hungry. As her last run before going in, Natalie flew over and landed on the roof two buildings away, then returned, pleased to note that her landings were getting better with the practice. Now she felt fairly confident that she could navigate without crashing into an intersection and causing a major scene. Rooftops and alleyways would help, and if worse came to worse, she could walk along the street if it was deserted enough.

Back downstairs, she headed directly for the refrigerator and downed the last bottle of blood, not bothering with a glass. For good measure she ripped open one of the blood bags and drank that too. Glancing up at the big sun clock Nick had up on the wall over his unused stove, she realized she'd lost nearly four hours while up on the roof. It was after midnight, and she didn't know exactly what time dawn was. Though the bulk of the night remained, she thought she should hurry.

First thing she needed to do was clean up. She was dusty and covered with blood, and her clothes were basically ruined. Not that that was a problem--she'd just borrow something of Nick's. Whatever she could rummage out of his closet would no doubt be far more comfortable than what she was wearing now anyway.

Climbing the stairs to the second level, Natalie stripped off her ruined skirt, blouse and shredded panty hose. She really would have liked to take a shower, but settled for scrubbing the dried blood and dirt on her face, arms and legs away with hot water and soap. It made her feel instantly better, made her feel human again.

The thought made her pause, and she looked up at herself in the mirror. "That's not going to happen anytime soon," she admonished her reflection. She wasn't human anymore. But while there were fundamental changes in her senses, in the biological cravings which could overwhelm her, she didn't feel any different. She was still Natalie Lambert, Forensic Pathologist, and next to the night she'd met Nick, she'd just been handed the biggest set of puzzles she'd ever gotten in her life. Maybe she could write a book.

In the dresser she found a pair of black sweatpants. They were huge on her, but they stayed on when she pulled the drawstring tight. Next she pulled on a dark purple t- shirt. All she had with her were her dress shoes, which she'd kicked off during her flying lessons earlier. They really weren't appropriate, given the rest of the outfit. Nick had several pairs of really expensive sneakers (what was it with men and ridiculous sneakers?) stacked neatly in his closet. Two pairs of sweatsocks and a few tissues balled up in the toes and they fit. Or more correctly they stayed on her feet, though she felt like a circus clown, one of those guys with the huge feet. A simple rubber band tied most of her hair back out of the way. Another glance in the mirror and she decided she looked like a homeless person with expensive taste. Or a little girl who had just raided her father's closet, playing dress-up. The clothes held his scent, and for a brief moment it brought tears to her eyes.

Shaking off the image, Natalie looked through the remaining drawers and closets for anything else that might come in useful. There really wasn't much, though she did find a twenty dollar bill in the pocket of a pair of pants hanging on a hook in the wardrobe. She also found a black raincoat she didn't remember him wearing in a long while and pulled that out too. It wasn't because the weather was that crisp out given that it was late spring or even that she really needed a jacket. It had lots of pockets, and that's what interested her most. Plenty of room for the remaining bags of blood in the refrigerator.

Deciding there was nothing more of value in the bedroom, she made her way downstairs. As she'd guessed, the blood bags fit nicely in the deep pockets of the coat. She also pulled a few things out of her purse, including her wallet and keys. Everything else, she decided, she would leave behind. The box she'd packed up at the morgue, that could stay, even the journal. She'd read it, she'd memorized it.

She'd learned from it. The hard way.

Buttoning up the coat, she carefully tied the belt so the coat wouldn't flap too much while she was up in the air. At the door she paused for one last look around. She wasn't certain if she'd be coming back here, though it was tempting to use this place as a haven. Probably not safe, though. So she just studied it for several moments, taking in every detail again to make sure she wouldn't forget it.

"You're stalling," she said finally. And she was. Despite all her preparations, all her planning, she was afraid to leave, afraid to go out. This was a safe place, a familiar place.

A controlled environment.

Outside everything was anything but controlled, filled with a thousand different variables she couldn't even begin to anticipate.

But she had to go out. Her life depended on it. With one last, final look around, Natalie bit her lip, pulled the headphones over her ears, and walked out into the stairwell. She stood with her back to the door until it had swung shut behind her determined not to look back. Then she continued up the steps.

The roof again. Checking her watch she saw it was close to one o'clock. There'd probably still be people about, but not too many. When it got too crowded she'd head for alleys or rooftops.

She'd driven to The Raven from Nick's place on quite a few occasions and was quite familiar with the route. Wishing she'd had more practice flying Natalie briefly considered trying to get all the way there using that means of transportation. But she quickly ruled it out. Sure, she'd driven to The Raven before. But trying to navigate the city from the air was another matter entirely. A study she'd read in a psychology class in college about cognitive mapping came to mind. Rats had no trouble swimming a maze they'd learned to walk through. If she flew, there was no way she'd find a straight line between here and the club. She'd have to follow the route she was familiar with. Which meant she'd have to be up in the air for a good ten to fifteen minutes. There was simply no way she could sustain flight for that long. She was lucky if she managed to stay up for a minute at a time.

But flight could take some time off of it, and get her out of potentially dangerous situation if she needed it. She estimated that it would take about forty minutes to walk to The Raven. Before she could talk herself out of the journey and went instead to huddle in the loft until she ran out of blood, Natalie launched herself into the night sky, heading for the roof of a nearby building.

She needed to get about three blocks over, which proved to be quite easy. This was an industrial section of town and there were plenty of large buildings with flat roofs. Glancing up the street in the direction she needed to go, she saw a few roofs she could use. She also spotted an alley at an intersection about fifteen blocks ahead. Easier to drop down off this building here, in the shadows near the dumpster, and then walk for a bit.

Her landings were still not that great, but she did manage to miss the dumpster, though she tore a small hole in the knee of the sweatpants. Creeping up to the edge of the alley opening, she looked up and down the street. Traffic was light and pedestrian traffic was almost non-existent. She'd have to be careful, though and suddenly realized she should have worn a hat. The last thing she needed was to be spotted. Given all the calls from Reese on Nick's answering machine there was almost certainly an APB out on her, and every cop in the city would have her description.

Pulling the collar of the raincoat up, she waited until there was a break in traffic, then stepped out and began walking up the street. God, this was too nerve- wracking she decided, and almost turned back, intending to go up onto the roof. She felt too vulnerable, too exposed. But as she glanced behind her she saw several cars coming up and a young couple several yards behind her. That effectively cut off her retreat. Gritting her teeth, she turned back and fixed her eyes on her feet, concentrating on putting one before the other, tried not to think about how close the couple were.

Tried not to sense how close they were, though she could feel them approaching and picked up her pace. Their heartbeats were louder than all the others, penetrating the wall of music that filled her ears. And the heat from their bodies! That was almost more disconcerting than the sound of their hearts pumping, of the swishing of the blood in their veins.

They were having an argument. Natalie tried not to listen in, but she could hear every word. The man was doing most of the talking, admonishing the woman for something she'd said. She listened as the woman apologized, but that didn't seem to be enough for the man as he became more and more agitated. And with his rising anger Natalie sensed the increase in his heartbeat, and the air was filled with a peculiar, tangy scent more appealing than anything she'd ever smelled before in her life. It made her want to turn around and grab him...

The oversized sneakers slapped against the pavement. She was practically running, seeking to put as much distance between herself and the two people as she possible could. A little voice in the back of her mind reminded her that she must not draw attention to herself, and managed to stop just prior to breaking out into a run. The alley was just ahead, only four more blocks away. She could make it. She could make it.

Now the woman was getting angry too, and her scent, milder, not quite as spicy was mixing in with his. Natalie thought she would go mad if she didn't get away from them soon. She fought down the urge to whirl around, tell them to run as far away from her as they could, show them what a monster she had become...

That thought almost stopped her cold, but she forced her legs to keep moving. Only two more blocks, now. A monster? No, no. She had never allowed Nick to think that way about himself; she wasn't going allow herself to buy into that either. But at the moment it was so hard not to, when her mind was assaulted again and again by the image of her sinking her fangs into the man's neck, of the hot, heady tang of his blood as it filled her mouth.

This time she did break into a run, shooting into the alley and digging frantically into her pocket for a bag of blood which she promptly tore into, vaguely aware that her fangs had descended for the first time. Part of her mind attended to the couple, and from their continued conversation she quickly surmised that they'd been too wrapped up in their argument to notice her abrupt disappearance.

In the shadow of the building she leaned against the wall shuddering and sucking desperately on the bag. As the blood, cold and somewhat congealed filled her mouth, the couple passed by only a few feet from her. Natalie tore into the bag again, squeezing the blood into her mouth, pushing every last drop out against her greedy tongue, then dropped it from trembling fingers and sat there panting for several long moments.

She was aware of the couple for several more blocks, until the sounds of their heartbeats faded and the scent of their blood receded to become indistinguishable from the scent of the thousands of others in the city.

Natalie passed a hand over her eyes, then pinched the skin above her nose, an old habit she wasn't quite sure where she'd picked up. She couldn't risk this. Or rather, she couldn't risk the lives of innocent people like this again. That had been too close. Had she not had all the blood just before leaving this encounter would have ended very differently.

No, she would have to make the rest of her journey in the shadows and on the rooftops. She couldn't walk among them just yet.

She rested and tried to calm her nerves for several more minutes, before launching herself up into the relative safety of the night sky again. She had to go out of her way to find a navigable route, going nearly a dozen blocks east, coming up to the club from the opposite side than she was used to. Thankfully she made it without too many flying mishaps, and no encounters with people whatsoever.

The back doors were closed tight. She'd have to make her way around to the front and hope the bouncer would let her in.

Natalie didn't hear any music coming from the club as she made her way around the building. When she'd been to the club before, including at least two times she'd rather forget, the music was easily audible from the street, even when the front doors were closed. Could they have closed up for the evening?

Turning the corner she saw that the street out near the main entrance of the club was deserted, and only a few cars were parked nearby. This was not a good sign. A knot settled in the pit of her stomach as she walked quickly over to the closed door.

The sign was still above the club, but there was a large poster on each door announcing that the club had closed. A heavy set of chains wound around the doorhandles and intertwined with a sturdy padlock.

"No!" Natalie said aloud, fingering the chains for a moment, then began pounding on the door with the palm of her hand. "Hello!" she yelled, not caring if anyone heard her or what they might think. "Somebody!" She pounded ineffectually for another minute, then stopped abruptly, running a hand through her hair. With a sinking feeling she realized there wasn't something wrong with the phone like she'd hoped.

They were gone.

Or rather he was gone. Of course LaCroix would clear out of town when Nick did. But somehow Natalie had hoped the club would still be open for business. Not hoped; she needed the club. Without it she had nowhere to go, no one to turn to.

Maybe there were still a few of them still holed up in there. It was a desperate thought, she knew, but at the moment she decided that desperate measures for desperate times was anything but a cliche. But not out here, not in the front. She'd already spent enough time making a scene out here. The last thing she needed was for someone to call the cops because they thought some crazy woman was going to burglarize the place.

Natalie turned and glanced up and down the street. She didn't think anyone had seen her, but just to be on the safe side she casually walked away from the club, in full view of anyone who might be watching the front door. It was deserted enough, so she walked for several blocks then doubled back, landing once again at the back of the club.

She'd noted earlier that the doors were closed tightly, though there were no chains on them like on the front door. They were locked nonetheless and, in fact, had no handles on the outside. This was the delivery entrance of the club, which meant handles and locks were located on the inside.

Why was nothing easy, Natalie wondered, not for the first time this evening. Why couldn't there just be normal doors with normal handles that she could pull on just like every place else in the world? Then she noticed that they were designed to both be propped open at the same time in case any large crates or pieces of furniture needed to be moved into the club. As such, there was no central post. One door had a lip, probably a police guard to protect against crowbars that sat over top of the other one. If she could get a purchase on that she might be able to pull the door open.

It wasn't that wide of a lip, but Natalie thought she could get enough of a grip with her fingertips on the edge. Positioning her hands carefully she squeezed.

Just a little too hard as she felt the metal give beneath her fingers. When she pulled her hands away there were eight little indents where her fingers had been.

"Hmm," she said in an amused voice, blowing on the tips of her fingers. "I guess I don't know my own strength."

Bending down a little lower, Natalie tried again, making a concerted effort to not grip too hard. She was rewarded with the whine and creak of protesting metal when she tugged on the door. Another quick tug, a little harder, and she felt it shift beneath her hands. Setting her jaw, Natalie gave one final tug and the door flew open, almost hitting her in the face.

Dusting her hands off, Natalie stood in the doorway and peered inside breathing a small sigh of relief; she hadn't thought about an alarm until the door was swinging open toward her. "Hello?" she called, trying not to make her voice too loud. The ones she was looking for would hear her if she whispered. If there was anyone in there, she had no idea whether they were friendly or not. But she'd deal with that if and when the time came. If necessary, she'd make them be friendly.

She took a tentative step inside, looking around. There were no lights but she found she had no trouble at all seeing. It was as if all the corners and shapes and objects were illuminated by a spotlight sitting on the floor at an angle behind them. One thing she did note that was rather odd was that everything seemed to be tinged with red. Interesting, that actually. Was the color originating with her, or was she somehow specially tuned to pick up these long wavelengths? Vampires obviously had amazing visual acuity with their rod system, unlike humans. That might account for the red.

Natalie shook her speculation off. Plenty of time to be clinical later, she thought, turning to pull the door shut behind her. No sense drawing attention, should someone pass by. As soon as it was closed, though, Natalie briefly considered opening it again. For some reason she'd found the ambient light washing a few feet into the hallway more reassuring than her night vision.

She was standing in a short hallway. She remembered this place. If she continued on down it, she'd find a small room. Janette had kept a bed there. Natalie didn't want to think about what LaCroix might have used it for. Just beyond that was the bar and the main dance floor of the club.

The air inside the club was still and quiet, but she could sense the passing of thousands of beings through it. The scent of stale sweat and smoke and blood assaulted her senses as she moved down the hallway. She wrinkled her nose in disgust.

Passing through the door behind the bar, Natalie looked out at the deserted club and knew that they were gone; they were all gone. The chairs had all been placed up on the tables, the chains and lights had been removed. The bar was empty. There wasn't even any litter to indicate that anyone had been here as recent as two days ago.

Knowing it was fruitless, she searched the premises anyway hoping to find some trace of them, some indication of where they might have gone. Natalie checked the small bedroom and found it empty. There was nothing but a chair and an empty filing cabinet in the office. All the radio equipment had been removed. Even the soundproof booth was gone. There was not one trace remaining to indicate that a late night radio personality named The Nightcrawler had ever broadcast from here.

Eventually she discovered the door to the wine cellar. It too was locked, causing hope to flare. But it was deserted, filled with dusty, empty racks. She even searched the walls and hunted around in every corner for some type of secret passage, a bolt hole.

Nothing.

They were all gone.

She finally gave up. Pulling down a chair from a table near the bar, she sank into it wearily and put her head down on her folded arms. What was she going to do now? It was nearly dawn. She was ravenously hungry again. Her batteries were dying. She realized she'd placed far too much hope in finding someone here who could help her. She should have come up with an alternate plan. Now the sun would be up in less than an hour and she would be trapped here all day.

Three bags of blood were not going to be enough. And Natalie was very afraid of what was going to happen when they were gone.

Blood bank, she thought morosely, resting her chin on her folded arms. She should have set aside part of the night for a visit to a blood bank. She'd already discovered she could travel around the city, though there was a certain danger in that. Vampires were built for hunting. She probably could have slipped inside undetected and stolen a supply of blood, one that would have lasted her the day.

Now she would have to make do with three bags, two of which were older than the expiration date. Not too much past, but she had no idea what effect it might have on her.

But she would be trapped inside all day. It wasn't like she could go anywhere, and if she could hold off, ration herself until dusk when she could head for the nearest hospital she might...

With a shake of her head, Natalie passed a weary hand over her eyes. She was fooling herself, being overly optimistic. In her first hours as a vampire she'd already consumed a fairly large quantity of blood and she craved more even now with such intensity it was as if she'd never fed before at all. If she made it through the day with some shred of her sanity left she would be very lucky indeed.

With a sigh, Natalie sat upright and pushed her chair back. Rising, she made her way toward the wine cellar. A glance at her watch told her the sun would be coming up soon. Then a thought occurred to her. Could she sense the sunrise? Given that it was a vampire's deadliest enemy it only made sense that there would be some mechanism for that. She stopped in the middle of the room and closed her eyes.

At first, nothing. Then, as the seconds passed she became aware of a slight mental tingling, of a heaviness in her limbs that hadn't been there most of the night. She guessed that the sun was probably a few minutes away from making an appearance over the horizon. After all, it wouldn't be a very adaptive mechanism if it only informed her of the obvious after it was much too late to do anything about it.

"OK," she said, opening her eyes. She resumed walking down into the wine cellar. "That was interesting but useless. At least for right now." She'd have to remember to check it out again this evening.

Provided she was capable of that or whether she would be operating on instinct by then.

Grimly, Natalie slammed the door shut on those thoughts. Best not to make it a self-fulfilling prophecy by dwelling on it, she decided. She shrugged out of the raincoat and hung it carefully on the back of the door which she closed tightly. She wasn't exactly dressed for the ball now, she thought with a glance down at her baggy, extremely casual attire. The raincoat would hide a multitude of sins. Taking a deep breath, she switched off the walkman and slipped that into the pocket of the jacket. She'd chosen the wine cellar to spend the day in because it was under ground, more isolated. It wasn't soundproof, but Natalie thought she'd be all right down here for the day. If she was lucky she might even manage to get some sleep.

She certainly felt like it, she thought. The sun must have risen. That, as well as all the recent emotional and physical trauma she'd undergone were all beginning to take its toll on her. Maybe she'd be lucky enough to sleep the day undisturbed by the hunger. Resisting the urge to drink one of the bags before she tried to get some sleep, Natalie settled down in a relatively dust-free corner. Lying on her side, she pillowed her head on her arm and closed her eyes.

Sleep didn't come immediately, mostly because she couldn't relax. It was hardly surprising really. When she closed her eyes, the events of that last evening with Nick, the events of tonight played themselves out in front of her. Natalie wondered where he was right now, wondered what he was doing. Was he mourning her? Or had he truly moved on, adding her name to the top of his long list of guilts with which to torture himself? Until someone or something eventually replaced her. What would she say to him if she could see him right now?

The thoughts wouldn't stop, and most of them were too painful for her to dwell on. She had an eternity to deal with the pain, if she could survive the day and the night.

To give herself something else to think about she concentrated on the sounds of the city. Not the heartbeats, though they were, if anything, worse and louder and more insistent than they had been at night. Probably because most of them were asleep; circadian rhythm demanded that everything slow down at night. Now, if she let them, they would pound against her ears, drowning out all possibility of thought.

No, she concentrated on the sounds of traffic, of people rising from their nightly slumber to face another day at work. She'd been one of them, only two days ago, she thought; now she sat huddled in a darkened abandoned nightclub trying not to think about the lethal differences that distinguished her from them. Trying to ignore the hunger. She concentrated on the conversations, listened to the voices, hoping to find one among the vibrations of the city that she recognized. But all she could hear were the voices of strangers.

She wasn't aware of falling asleep, only of the noises of the city sliding into a void that ended in a dream.