Title:       Two
Author:      DCE aka ViciousGurl
Email:       geek-tastic AT gmx DOT com
Archive:     Okay to archive on www.fkfanfic.com , all others must 
             ask permission.
Disclaimers: This is a FK/HL xover. All the FK characters and concept 
             belong to TriStar, Inc. and the HL characters and 
             concept belong to Davis/Panzer Productions, Inc. No 
             infringement is intended. The rest of the cast and this 
             story are created and copyrighted by me. 
Notes:       1) I owe Kylie BIG time for helping me out with the 
             Aussie strine and Dawn for beta reading. Thanks guys :) 
             2) This story took me a small eternity to write as case 
             files really aren't my forte. I hope, whole-heartedly, 
             that this is easier to read than it was to write. Hope 
             you'll enjoy it :)
Feedback:    Please don't make me grovel <bg>

This story follows my previous one, 'Only You' which can be found 
on my web page at http://www.dlc.fi/~dce/fic/index.html


TWO
by DCE aka ViciousGurl
<geek-tastic AT gmx DOT com>
(c)2000


Antonia stepped in to the silent, dimly lit church. There was no buzz
revealing the presence of another Immortal. She was early. But that
was by design.

She did a quick scan of the interior and liked what she saw. The
atmosphere was peaceful. Very medieval, but nice. There were a couple
of lone prayers sitting at the front. Not wanting to disturb them she
stayed at the back, close to the entrance.

It really was quite a beautiful church, Antonia decided, eyeing
around herself again. She especially liked the tall stained glass
lancets right above the organ.

Duncan had called her a few days ago to let her know that an old
friend of his was coming to New York and had agreed to meet her. He
was also willing to take her on as a student if he decided to stay in
the Big Apple for a while.

His name was Michael. No last name. Antonia had always thought it was
interesting how some Immortals, as well as some vampires, preferred
to go by their first names only when ever possible. Maybe they had
trouble remembering their ever changing aliases, or something?

Duncan hadn't told her much about Michael, only that he'd spent the
past fifty years or so in Australia and New Zealand. But Duncan had
assured her that even though he hadn't actually seen Michael for a
while he did trust him. He had also promised that Michael was an
excellent swordsman who would be a fine teacher.

A couple of days later, Antonia had received a quick call from
Michael himself and they'd arranged to meet on neutral ground. That
St. Bart's also happened to be Holy Ground hadn't been mentioned, but
it certainly helped to make this first meeting more comfortable.

Antonia's musings came to an end as a sudden, familiar tingling at
the back of her skull became a full blown buzz.

Michael had arrived.

Antonia turned to look at the door and saw a tall, tanned man enter.
The long coat he was wearing was a dead giveaway for a concealed
sword but Antonia had expected as much. She certainly hadn't left her
shamshir at home. As the man got a little closer Antonia felt herself
dwarfed by him. He looked like he'd probably even tower over LaCroix.
The impression of a giant was furthered by his broad shoulders and
legs which seemed to stretch on for ever. His dark brown hair was cut
short and in the dimness of the church his brown eyes looked almost
black. Antonia couldn't hazard a guess as to how old he was. He had a
certain timeless quality to him, and he looked as if he could've been
anything from early thirties to late forties; quite handy for an
Immortal. He wasn't pretty or good looking in the traditional sense
but there was certainly something about his face that made people
look twice.

Antonia wasn't the only one who'd been busy taking stock. With a
quick glance the other Immortal had given her the once over and
categorized her accordingly.

Then, extending his hand, the man stepped closer. "G'day. You must be
Antonia."

His low voice was pleasant, and he spoke with a wide Australian
accent.

"Michael." Smiling politely, Antonia shook the proffered hand. "It's
nice to meet you."

"Bonza. Now that we've got that out of the way, how 'bout we go for a
nice cuppa? There's a small coffee shop just down the road. Or at
least, there used to be one in '52."

"Was that the last time you were here?"

Smiling, Michael nodded. "The coffee shop's probably gone, but I
reckon we can find a new one that's close by. That is, unless you're
too chicken to leave?"

Antonia regarded his jovial face for a moment with dry amusement,
contemplating his dare. She wasn't too crazy about the idea of
leaving with this stranger mere seconds after she'd met him. Then
again, they would have to leave the church sooner or later, anyway.

She motioned towards the doors. "After you."

If Michael had a problem letting a strange Immortal behind his back
he didn't show it. With a half-grin he led the way out.

*

"Mac said that you just came back from Australia", Antonia remarked,
nursing a steaming cup of mint tea.

Nodding, Michael took a gulp of his Earl Gray. "Yip. Spent the last
twenty years down there fossicking for opals."

"And, did you find any?" Antonia was genuinely intrigued.

"Well, it's mostly just a hard slog but sometimes you get lucky."
Michael gave a small smile, remembering his own triumphs. "I had my
moments. Once or twice I even stumbled across some fair dinkem black
opals."

"Sounds exciting", Antonia said. "I've never been to Australia.
What's it like?"

"Big." Michael's tanned face split into a wide grin. "Well, it
depends on what part of Oz you're in. Big cities are pretty much the
same everywhere, but if you go further inland, well... It's a
beautiful country. Rough and demanding, for sure, but beautiful. I
reckon it's not for everyone but I liked it good enough."

After a short silence, he then changed the topic. "But, enough chin
wagging about me. Mackie didn't tell me much but he did say that you
were looking for a teacher."

Setting down her cup, Antonia leaned back on her seat. "Yeah, that's
right."

Michael regarded her for a moment. "Why not just go back to Mac?"

"Initially, it was simple geographics. At the time I first called
him, I was still living in Toronto and he was in Seacouver", Antonia
explained. "But, I've had some time to think about it since then and
a new teacher is probably a much better idea than I first believed."

Michael met her gaze steadily. "How's that?"

"Diversity."

He seemed a little amused at her economic way with words but appeared
to agree with her.

"All right. Come to my place tomorrow and we'll see what you've got."
He wrote down the address and gave it to Antonia. "10 p.m. okay with
you?"

Michael smiled at Antonia's surprised look. "Mackie mentioned
something about the odd hours you keep."

Glad that Duncan had saved her the trouble of explaining herself,
Antonia gave a short nod. "10 p.m. is fine. Thanks."

************

LaCroix had been less than satisfied with the way they'd had to leave
Toronto after the shooting incident. There had been no time to make
any plans for their new lives nor to decide where they should settle
down next.

Nick and Natalie hadn't been exactly thrilled, either, at LaCroix's
decision to make New York their rest stop while he and Antonia would
figure it all out. LaCroix, of course, couldn't have cared less about
their opinion, his stand being that "the children had run rampant for
long enough, and it was high time to remind them of the benefits of
parental guidance". In short, it was pretty much business as usual.

LaCroix and Antonia had rented an apartment but that hadn't stopped
LaCroix from popping by the de Brabant residence at will. Silently,
Antonia hoped he wasn't pushing the envelope too far but she held her
peace; Nick and Natalie were both adults, they could fight their own
battles. She had enough on her mind without getting involved in this
particular round of the family feud. LaCroix, on the other hand,
seemed to thrive at the renewal of the old, familiar conflict.

*

"Why? Why now?"

Natalie's question had really been rhetorical but Nick answered her
none the less.

"You know why, Nat. He had to leave. He was shot."

"Too bad it didn't do any lasting damage", Natalie muttered. "But why
did he have to come *here* of all places? And if he has to be in New
York, *why* won't he stay at his own apartment? He comes over here so
often we should begin to charge rent."

"Now there's a thought." Nick smirked. "Don't worry, as soon as
Antonia is through with her new teacher they'll move on. I hope."

Natalie gave him a look. "That didn't sound very reassuring."

"What do you want me to say, Nat?" Nick shrugged. "We both know that
there's no telling what LaCroix's up to at any given time. But I can
tell you this, the more you react to his little games, the more
pleased he'll be and the longer he'll stay."

"Great", Natalie sighed. "And just how am I supposed to *not* react
when he pushes all my buttons, Nick? He can read me like an open book
if he wants to. How am I supposed to conceal *anything* from him?"

For Natalie, the worst part of being a vampire, except for the bloody
diet, was the loss of control over herself. That, and the loss of
privacy, over everything, including her innermost thoughts.

Nick walked over to his distraught wife and comfortingly enveloped
her into his arms. "Let him push our buttons. He won't stay here
forever. Sooner or later Antonia will drag him away and we'll have a
breather, until the next time."

Resting her forehead against his chest Natalie couldn't help a small
laugh from escaping. "Are you trying to comfort me or create more
nightmares?"

*************

Michael lived in one of the older skyscrapers in Manhattan. The
apartment itself was spacious with large rooms and high ceilings. The
furniture was quite sparse, but carefully selected. What surprised
Antonia was that it all looked relatively contemporary. There were no
antique chests or cabinets or lavishly ornate Rococo clocks anywhere
on display, as she'd half expected. Then again, she had no idea how
old Michael really was. Just because Duncan had called him a 'pretty
blade' it didn't automatically have to translate to as old.

Old or not, Michael certainly seemed to be a minimalist. Not only was
there no excess furniture in the apartment but there were also very
few decorations and no photos, as far as Antonia could tell. All in
all, the place gave an impression of a home that hadn't been lived in
for some time.

Michael gave her a faint smile. "I know, it's not much but it's
home."

"No, I -- " Realizing that she'd just stood there, appraising,
Antonia turned to face her host a tad embarrassed. "I'm sorry. This
is just different from what I expected."

"Well, what did you expect then? A private museum?" Michael's smile
turned into a teasing grin.

He wasn't too much off mark. Smiling a little, Antonia shrugged.
"Well..."

"Yeah, I know. It's a bit sparse right now but my stuff hasn't
arrived from down under yet", Michael said, taking a look around.

Antonia could sympathize. Even under the best of circumstances moving
was a bitch. She hadn't taken much with her from their Toronto home,
mainly because she and LaCroix still hadn't decided where they would
be settling down, but closing down the house hadn't been much fun,
either. It might've been easier to simply sell it but she really
loved that house. It was home, and she definitely wanted to return
there one day.

Antonia's sudden bout of homesickness was forgotten when she noticed
one of the few personal touches visible in the room. It was a
beautiful colored glass bowl and its entire surface had been
decorated with highly stylized forms of plants and different
geometrical forms.

Stepping closer to get a better look, Antonia admired the
workmanship. "Looks unusual. From Arabia?"

"Close. It's from my mozarabic days", Michael said with a distant,
reminiscing look in his dark brown eyes.

"Mozarab?"

"Cordoba, during Abd al-Rahman's time, the third, that is, back in
al-Andalus." Michael rattled the names in a strange short-hand code,
expecting her to grasp his meaning. However, seeing her confusion, he
explained it in plain English. "It's a Christian who adapted to the
Moorish culture."

"Oh." It was the word 'Moor' which finally led Antonia to the right
track. Then, realization truly dawned. "Oh."

Suddenly, she viewed him more warily than she had just moments
before. He was old, ancient, even. Much closer to LaCroix's age than
to Duncan's, and she really didn't know anything about him.
	
Seemingly oblivious to his guest's sudden distress, Michael fetched
his blade.

It was a simple, no nonsense 16th century German hand and a half
sword. Quite beautiful in its own unadorned way but it certainly
didn't improve matters as far as Antonia was concerned.

"Well, I showed you mine." Michael grinned roguishly, flashing his
white teeth. "Now, let's see yours. Fair's fair."

Feeling the hair at the back of her neck stand up, Antonia kept her
eyes on Michael as she shed off her long coat and fished out her
shamshir. Raising the sword, she stood at the ready.

"Now, that's a beaut." Setting his own sword on a nearby table,
Michael stepped closer. "May I?"

Reluctantly, with a sense of doom, Antonia surrendered the shamshir.
Backing a few steps, she watched as he studied the sword.

"Oh, she's a beauty, all right", Michael breathed, fingering the
carved, pink jadeite hilt and the tiger-head finials. "Indian?"

"Persian. 17th century."

Glancing up from the double-edged blade for a moment, Michael gave
her an approving look. "It's in excellent condition. Have you had it
for long?"

"A few years. It was a present from my husband."

"He's got good taste."

Then, flipping the sword in his hands Michael handed it back to her,
hilt first.

Letting out a quiet breath, Antonia felt instantly better. The feel
of the familiar weight of the shamshir calmed her nerves immensely.
But, at Michael's words only a second later, her newfound calmness
flew out of the window.

"Righty'o. You ready?"

He picked up his sword again and walked to the other end of the huge
room.

"Antonia?"

At his questioning voice Antonia snapped out of her paralysis and
slowly followed him.

***********

"So, how did it go?"

"It went." Antonia shrugged, taking off her coat.

"That well?" LaCroix arched his brow sympathetically, drawing her
into his cool embrace.

Antonia relaxed in his familiar arms but the smile she gave him was
still a little tight. "I don't know... Maybe I should try to work
this out on my own. Maybe getting a new teacher wasn't such a bright
idea, after all."

LaCroix looked at her. "Why? You think he pushed you too hard?"

"That's just it, he *didn't* push. At all." Antonia bit down her lip.
"Though, this was the first time... Maybe he was just being easy on
me."

"Well, you'll find out next time." LaCroix paused for a moment to
give her a questioning look. "There is going to be a next time, isn't
there?"

"Yeah." Antonia's smile came more easily, now. "Might as well take
advantage of him while I can. He really is very good, you know, even
if he was just playing around tonight."

"Hmm, should I be worried, my dear?" LaCroix kept his face
expressionless, but his eyes betrayed his inner amusement.

Shaking her head a little, Antonia gave him a slow grin. "I was
talking about his sword play."

LaCroix was all wide-eyed innocence. "So was I."

Playfully, Antonia slapped his arm as she broke out of his loose
hold.

"So, how was your night? Did you manage to drive Nick or Nat crazy,
yet?"

"Still working on it", LaCroix answered with a devilish glint in his
blue eyes as he followed her into the kitchen.

Peering into the fridge, Antonia tried to find something she could
simply heat quickly. She was absolutely famished. "Have you eaten,
yet?"

"No, I was waiting for you."

Antonia threw a warm smile at his direction, glad that he'd waited.
She liked eating with him, it was so much more fun than just having
him watch her eat. She'd even become used to the odor of warm blood
floating under her nose as LaCroix would relish his microwaved drink.
However, she still preferred her stakes well made, even if LaCroix
claimed that it spoiled the whole thing; he much preferred the smell
of a bloody, raw stake. Of course, it had become something of a game,
him complaining that the smell of her food made him nauseous, and her
describing in detail just what a delicious dish he was missing out
on.

Settling finally with the remains of the chicken soup from the
previous night, Antonia closed the fridge door. She waited as LaCroix
nuked his dinner before doing the same with hers. When they both had
settled down at the table, she continued their previous discussion.

"So, you never told me what you did tonight?"

"Yes, I did." LaCroix took a savoring sip from his cup. "I visited my
errant children."

"And how are they?"

LaCroix gave her a meaningful look. "Still the same, I'm afraid."

"Lucien." Antonia didn't know whether to be exasperated or amused at
his persistence. "You don't really expect them to change, do you?"

"Of course I do." LaCroix had that glint in his eyes again. "Nicholas
changed once before. He'll change again."

Seeing genuine worry flash through Antonia's grey eyes before she
could conceal it, he gave her a reassuring smile. "I am a patient
man, my dear. I've waited all this time for Nicholas, I can wait a
little longer, still."

"And what about Natalie? She's got a mind of her own, you know. What
if she chooses not to change on command?"

LaCroix gave her a tad indulgent smile. "Natalie will not be a
problem, my dear. Where Nicholas goes, she will follow."

Despite his confidence in the subject Antonia had her doubts. No
matter how in love Natalie was, she'd still make her own decisions.
They might not be easy ones but she wouldn't blindly follow anyone,
not even Nick.

"So, while you *patiently* wait for them to see the error of their
ways, you kindly keep reminding them, just in case?" Antonia then
gently teased her husband.

LaCroix smiled faintly. "One can always hope that they'll find their
way sooner rather than later. Besides, there is an end even to my
patience."

Antonia arched her brow knowingly. "Come on, Lucien. You wouldn't
*want* your children to be pushovers. If they were you would've left
them ages ago - out of boredom."

"Perhaps." Finishing off his drink, LaCroix gave a slight nod.
"Still, pushovers or not, a little respect towards their master is
called for."

Swallowing the last of her soup Antonia met his eyes and held them,
serious for the moment.

"They respect you. I mean, they may not always be crazy about you,
but they do respect you."

"Yes, I know." There was a pleased smile on LaCroix's face.

***********

Antonia was ready to throw the proverbial towel in the ring.

She'd been coming to see Michael for a better part of a month now,
and still she couldn't say that she'd made any progress. She still
didn't feel up to facing anyone in a real fight, and what ever was
left of her confidence was fast dwindling in the wind.

Michael was a great swordsman, Duncan had been right about that. But
Antonia wasn't so sure that he was a great teacher, as well. He
didn't push her, didn't drive her to her limits, didn't kill her.
Instead, he insisted that she should find enjoyment in the exercises.
Well, she wasn't there to enjoy herself, she was there to learn how
to survive.

"I just need to know that I can do this, that I won't freeze when I
meet another Immortal in battle."

Michael regarded her with faint amusement which made Antonia bristle.

"Course, you've still got a lot to learn but you *do* know how to do
this. You've got good speed and you handle the blade well. What you
need now is to let go, loosen up. If you don't enjoy swordplay, you
might as well throw your shamshir away and retire on Holy Ground."

"It isn't a question of enjoying..."

"Of course it is! Look, if you're having fun in practice then you're
more loose, you'll take more chances, and that's the best way to
learn. Take chances, make mistakes - here, then you won't have to
make them out there. If you don't enjoy it, you'll be too afraid to
try anything new, you'll fight cautiously, and ultimately, that's
what's gonna get ya carked."

Usually, Antonia found Michael's use of strine quite diverting but
tonight it only managed to irritate her further.

"It's gonna get me what?"

"Killed. For good." There wasn't a hint of amusement left in
Michael's voice. For once, he was deadly serious.

Antonia understood what he was saying and deep down even agreed with
him, but she wasn't feeling very generous just then. "Being cautious
is going to get me killed?"

Michael ignored her bitchy tone. "There are times to be cautious and
times to take chances, but if you never take a chance you won't last
very long."

Antonia stared at him in defiance, knowing that he was right but
unwilling to acknowledge it. Michael stared back at her, waiting
patiently as if he had nothing better to do with his time. Maybe he
didn't.

After a small eternity, Antonia sighed heavily in surrender. "Fine."

"Bonza." A wide grin broke on Michael's face. "Don't worry, having a
little fun won't hurt a bit. Who knows, you might even enjoy it."

***********

To prove that they *could* be civil towards one another LaCroix had
invited Nick and Natalie to join himself and Antonia to a concert.

The music was wonderful, and the rendition of 'Sicilienne' brought
back fond memories for LaCroix and Antonia; the last time they had
heard it had been at their Reno wedding.

Somewhat to their surprise, Nick and Natalie had also enjoyed the
evening. Though, as Nick at one point whispered to his wife, it might
have owed a little something to the fact that there was no talking
during the concert. Still, they all had a good time and not even Nick
really minded when Natalie invited LaCroix and Antonia over for a
late nightcap afterwards.

But as they got to the building they were greeted by flashing lights
of several police cars and a horde of grim looking officers.

"Excuse me." Nick stopped one of the passing policemen. "What's
happened here?"

"And you are?" The young officer gave him an inspecting look.

Nick fished out his fake ID. "Nick de Brabant. I live here."

The officer glanced at the ID before waving them towards the front
doors. "There's nothing to see here anymore, so you people just go on
inside and let us do our job."

While Nick stayed behind, not taking 'no' for an answer, the rest of
the party continued inside to the lobby. As they waited for the
elevator Antonia suddenly felt herself stiffen at the unexpected
sensation of -- another.

"Lucien." Her voice held a note of urgency as she touched her
husband's sleeve. "Someone's here."

LaCroix looked at the swarming crowd in the lobby, then turned back
to see Antonia with a question in his blue eyes.

Shaking her head imperceptibly Antonia continued to scan the lobby,
as well. She hadn't detected the one yet, either, but the buzz was
getting louder by the second.

As was her urge to run like hell.

Just when she thought she couldn't stand it anymore the elevator
binged, signaling its arrival. Oddly enough, that sound managed to
dissipate some of her tension.
 
One of the passengers getting out of the lift caught Antonia's eye,
and suddenly she knew just who she'd been searching for only a moment
before.

Now confident, she approached the tall, blond man whose green eyes
were surreptitiously skimming through the people occupying the lobby.

"It's a small world, after all, Mr. McCormick."

Turning around to meet her gaze there was a flash of recognition in
his eyes. "Miss-- Devereaux, was it?"

He spoke with a thick, but pleasant, Southern accent.

"Jones, actually. Devereaux was my sister's name."

"Ah, yes of course."

"You two know each other?" With interest, Natalie looked from Antonia
to McCormick.

"I'm sorry." Antonia's smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "Mr. --
excuse me, *Special Agent* McCormick here is with the FBI. They call
him the 'serial killer guy'."

LaCroix's amusement was evident in the sound of his voice. "Indeed?"

"Yes." Wicked as Antonia's smile had turned into it was now also a
genuine one. "But, I'm afraid it only means that he's supposed to
catch them, not commit the actual deed."

"Pity."

While they were having fun at the expense of his nick name, Matthew
McCormick inspected the three faces in front of him.

The curly-haired woman in the royal blue dress didn't seem to think
the serial killer comments particularly funny. Her lips were turned
into a polite smile but her huge, blue eyes remained serious.

The blond older man looked, in a word, impressive. The way he carried
himself revealed that this was a man who was more used to giving out
orders than taking them.

Then, turning his attention to the only one of the three he'd met
before, Matthew allowed himself a faint smile. Antonia Jones had
changed since he'd last seen her. She looked better, now, happier. Of
course, the last time she'd just lost her sister. Not an ideal time
in anyone's life. But the biggest change was that she no longer
thought herself mortal. She'd died - and she'd come back again.
Matthew wondered if her companions knew what she was.

"So, is there a serial killer on the loose somewhere in this
building?"

Antonia's voice brought Matthew back from his musings. Switching back
to agent-mode he shook his head. "No. The suspect's long gone by now,
I'm afraid."

"But someone *was* killed here tonight?" Understandably, Natalie
wasn't altogether reassured by his last statement.

"Yes, I'm afraid so, ma'am."

McCormick turned to leave then but was stopped by Antonia's next
words.

"Must be a pretty high profile case if they sent you here."

Returning her narrow-eyed stare he considered the thinly disguised
question for a moment before nodding shortly.

"You may have read something about the so called 'Coastal Murders'
from the newspapers."

With a slow nod, LaCroix recalled a line from the New York Times.
"Two victims within two days, and then he moves on to the next city
down the coast."

"That's right."

"And now he's here?" Natalie wasn't thrilled at the prospect. "What
makes you think that this was done by the same suspect, Agent
McCormick?"

"What suspect?" Nick finally joined them.

"The serial killer Special Agent McCormick is after", Natalie
explained.

Matthew considered how much, exactly, he could tell these people but
since most of what he'd been about to say was already public
knowledge, he at last answered Natalie's question.

"The reason the newspapers are eating this story up is because of the
unusual method the killer uses to finish his victims." He paused for
effect. "Decapitation."

Antonia considered something she'd been thinking of the first time
she'd read about the murders. "Could it be one of us?"

Her question provided an answer to Matthew's earlier musings. Not
only did her companions know what she was, but now they also knew of
him. She really should be more cautious in the future. Not all of
their kind wanted their secret spilled so carelessly.

"It could, but I seriously doubt it. And now, if you'll excuse me, I
have a report to file." He quickly turned to leave before they could
hurl any more questions at him.

Four pairs of eyes followed him as he left the building.

"Did you know that the victim is Daniel Manser?" Nick asked them
quietly, his eyes still following McCormick's retreating back.

"No!" Natalie looked shocked.

"Who's Daniel Manser?" Antonia asked.

"He's -- he was out next door neighbor." Natalie took her husbands
hand and squeezed it tightly. "What did you find out?"

Nodding towards the people still lingering in the lobby, Nick
suggested that they'd go home first and talk there.

*

"Did you know him well, your neighbor?" Antonia asked.

"Not really", Natalie said. "We'd exchange a few words if we met at
the hall or happened to share an elevator, but... We were
acquaintances. I suppose that's the word for it, good acquaintances."

"I first met him at the University", Nick explained for his part. "He
wasn't one of my students, though. Daniel was a psych major."

Natalie smiled a little. "He used to joke about not daring to throw
any loud parties since Nick was a Professor at the NYU, in case he'd
someday want to change his major."

Suddenly Natalie thought of something. "What about Jack? What's going
to happen to him now that.."

"Daniel has family, I'm sure they'll take care of Jack", Nick said.

"And pray tell, who is Jack?" LaCroix asked, sounding a bit bored
with the subject of Daniel Manser already.

"Jack's a West Highland White Terrier."

LaCroix's only reaction to Natalie's answer was a raised brow.

"Speaking of Jack..." Nick began to report what he'd been able to
find out about the case, which wasn't very much. "He's the reason
Daniel was found so quickly. His barking kept one of the neighbors
up, and she finally called the police to complain about the noise."

"You mean Daniel was murdered tonight?" Antonia asked. "I thought I
read somewhere that it usually takes several days for this guy's
victims to be found. That's supposed to be one of the reasons the
cops haven't had much luck with the case, yet."

"Yeah, that's right." Nick nodded. "But because of Jack the police
may have lucked out this time. Fresh crime scene means fresh
evidence. I hope they'll catch the guy."

"Well, now that we've hashed out this little incident, I believe it
is time for Antonia and I to take our leave", LaCroix declared,
setting aside his half-full glass as he got up from the comfortable
armchair.

"You're right, it is getting late." Antonia followed his suite. "But
we should do this again some time. Only hopefully, without any dead
bodies that time around."

Her attempt at a joke fell a trifle flat, even if the others did
share her sentiment.

*
  
"That Agent McCormick..." LaCroix began as they reached the street.
"I thought I detected a cold front towards him, so I assume there
must be story there?"

Antonia gave him a small, tired smile. "Not really. Now that I think
of it, he was pretty decent back then. Not that I appreciated it at
the time, of course."

Sighing, she glanced at LaCroix. "He interviewed me once, right after
Elaine's murder. At that point they thought she might've been the
latest victim of some killer they'd been after for months. They said
she fit the profile..."

Antonia grew quiet as her mind was flooded with sudden, painful
memories. Then, taking a deep breath, she determinedly chased the
unwanted thoughts away. "Anyway, that's how McCormick and I met. But,
it was all a long time ago. I was kinda surprised he remembered me at
all."

***********

Matthew McCormick stared at the screen of his computer. Closer to
five months they'd been after this UNSUB and so far they didn't have
a whole lot to show for it. On the plus side, they'd gotten a few
latent fingerprints off of the victims and some trace evidence from
the eight previous crime scenes. The bad news was that there was no
match found for the prints in IAFIS and the trace evidence they'd
been able to gather had been minimal.

Sighing, Matthew turned away from his computer to look at the
organized mess on his desk. Crime scene photos, various police and
autopsy reports, all of which he'd spent many a night studying until
he knew them by heart.

He was good at what he did. That's why he was called 'the serial
killer guy'. That's why he was given some of the most high profile
cases the BSU got. The brass wanted results and they wanted them
fast. But this case was driving him nuts. Nothing seemed to fit and
the UNSUB wasn't slipping, becoming careless, even after all this
time.

Eight victims in four different cities along the East Coast. With
Daniel Manser that number had just gone up by one, perhaps two,
depending on whether he was was the first or the second victim in
March.

The UNSUB liked the number two. There were never more than two kills
per month. He killed his victims in pairs, always two days apart from
each other, before moving on to the next city.

The victims were always the same, young men of 22 years with dark
hair and brown eyes, always of slender build and medium height.
Except for the fourth victim, all of them had been murdered in their
own homes. There was never any signs of forced entry which lead them
to believe that each of the victims had let the UNSUB in. Which meant
that they'd had to know the UNSUB. And yet, they had been unable to
find any connection between the victims.

Time had not been on their side, so far. It usually took at least a
few days before anyone reported the victim missing, in some cases
weeks or even months. In fact, they'd found the second pair of
victims before the first pair because there had been no missing
person's report on the first two. It hadn't been until the neighbors
had complained about the smell that they'd learned of them.

This time they'd gotten lucky; they'd found the victim within hours
of the murder. The UNSUB had been disturbed by the dog and some of
the neighbors. Hopefully, that meant that he'd finally made a mistake
they could use. Hopefully, it meant that they'd at last gotten some
piece of evidence which would make all the rest of it fit.

Glancing down at his watch, Matthew suppressed an impatient sigh. It
would still be hours before he could expect any results from the
autopsy, and the lab reports would take longer still.

Resigning himself to waiting Matthew turned back to his computer. He
had a report to write and a profile to revise.

*

Early next morning Matthew was on the phone, harassing Jordan Moss,
the pathologist in charge of the Manser autopsy, to fax over his
findings, preferably yesterday.

"McCormick, I'd be done a lot faster if you didn't keep me chatting
over the phone." Jordan had been up all night, filling in for the
night shift. He hadn't had his hourly dose of steaming coffee and
wasn't feeling overly charitable.

"Yes, but can you give me anything? Any preliminary findings other
than the usual?"

"So far there's been nothing out of the ordinary on the body itself."

"But?" Matthew perked up at Jordan's careful tone.

"I found a strand of hair which doesn't belong to our Mr. Manser."

A big smile spread across Matthew's tired face. *Finally* they were
getting somewhere with the case.

"Have you had it analyzed, yet?"

"I sent it to the lab but you know these things take time if you want
to get it right."

"Yes, I know," Matthew sighed, trying not to sound as impatient as he
really was.

"I sent it to Kathy. She owes me one, so she'll make it a priority,"
Jordan consoled him while pouring himself a much needed cup of old
coffee. The smell alone was making him feel uncharacteristically
generous.

"You're a prince among men, Moss."

"Yeah, yeah. Can I go finish my autopsy now, or would you like to
discuss the contents of Mr. Manser's stomach while we're at it?"

"Pass. Thanks."


Drumming his desk with a pen, Matthew tried to rein back his soaring
hope. A single strand of hair wasn't the Holy Grail. There were no
guarantees that it even belonged to the UNSUB, much less that they'd
actually be able to match it with anyone. But it was something new to
focus on.

************

"Elegant, isn't it?" Michael slashed the air with a very nice 17th
century Spanish cup-hilt rapier, enjoying the feel of the fine Toledo
blade. "Makes me feel like Errol Flynn."

"And what am I supposed to be? de Havilland?" Antonia joked.

Grinning, Michael kept on playing with the sword. "Nah, she didn't do
any swashbuckling, as far as I can recall. No, think -- Xena, or
Scathach."

"Who?"

"Xena's a ..."

"No, the other one."

"Scathach? She was a great sheila warrior in the Land of Shadows,
according to Celtic mythology."

Michael stopped playing with his rapier and gave it over to Antonia.
"Here, try it out."

It felt strange. The balance and weight of the weapon were very
different from what Antonia was used to with her shamshir. The blade
was also far too long for her and she couldn't relax her arms.

"I don't think these things suit me."

"Sure they do." Michael handed her another sword, one with a shorter
blade. "Give this one a go."

It was a surprisingly light weight French rapier with very elaborate
handguards.

"How does it feel?" Michael asked, watching with interest as she
carefully moved the sword back and forth.

"Not bad. But rapiers aren't much good in an actual fight unless the
other guy's carrying one, too."

"Yeah, it won't stand well against much sturdier blades but still, it
is a beautiful weapon. More importantly, though, it takes real skill
and finesse to fight well with one of those." Michael nodded shortly,
as if to underline what he'd just said. "You learn to use it properly
and it'll help your work with other blades, as well."

Antonia regarded the thin, almost flimsy blade of the rapier
doubtfully. "You think?"

"Abso-bloody-lutely."

Smiling, Antonia shook her head a little at his colorful phrases. His
Australian accent seemed to become less prominent every day but he
still used some terms which she couldn't be absolutely certain of.

Well, not that 'abso-bloody-lutely' was so out of the ordinary, she'd
probably used it herself on occasion. No, it was terms like 'arvo' or
'yobbo', or her favourite, 'dinki-di', she had trouble getting
without having to ask for a translation. But, he was getting better.

"All right, let's begin then."

**********

Nick scanned the room carefully. The CSU would've looked for and
found everything usual and obvious. He was looking for something less
obvious to the naked eye.

He wasn't sure whose idea it had been, precisely, but somehow both he
and Natalie had 'found' their way to Daniel Manser's apartment. Just
to have a look around.

"Anything, yet?" Natalie emerged from the kitchen.

"Just what one would expect, nothing out of the ordinary." Nick got
up from his squatting position beside the couch. "The kitchen?"

"Besides the mess the New York's finest, or the Feds, left behind,
nothing."

Nodding, Nick turned to take a final look about the room. He hadn't
really expected to find a huge sign saying 'important clue right
here', but it would've been nice.

"Okay, let's check the bedroom."

The smell of dried blood had been lingering in the air but as they
opened the bedroom door it hit them square on the face. Natalie
breathed in deeply. She couldn't help herself. She'd liked Daniel.
But the scent of his now stale blood still triggered a response in
her.

"It's okay, Nat." Nick stopped right behind her, giving her shoulders
a light squeeze and nuzzled her neck. "It's okay."

"I'm fine, Nick." It was just a little white lie and it wouldn't fool
him for a second, but on some level she truly meant it. She *was*
getting better at controlling her reactions towards blood. She *was*
learning how to control her vampiric nature. Baby-steps.

She took a step forward, away from Nick's safe hands. "Let's get to
work."

Methodically, they went through the crime scene, millimeter by
millimeter. It felt like old times, them working together. All that
was missing was a body for Natalie to poke and bag.

Search as they did, in the end, though, they had to concede to the
fact that either the perp had been extremely careful, or that the CSU
had been very thorough in bagging all the evidence last night. Either
way, they didn't find anything.

"Well", Natalie sighed, pushing a strand of hair off her face.
"There's always the body, you know. If I could just take a look I
might be able to find something."

"Yeah, there's that", Nick agreed. He didn't bother mentioning that
they couldn't exactly just waltz in and ask if they could do a second
autopsy. She knew that. But, it was a thought.

Then, contemplating the stains on the floor, he said slowly, "There's
also the blood."

Making a face Natalie looked at him. "You're not thinking what I
think you're thinking of, are you?"

Still staring at the floor, Nick didn't answer her.

"Nick, that blood is as dead as Daniel." Natalie tried to make him
see reason. "Look at it, it's all dried and flaky, already. There is
no way it could still tell you something."

"I don't know, Nat." Squatting down, Nick looked up to her. "The
image of your murderer can be a pretty powerful thing. I'm not
looking for his life story here, just his last moments as he saw
them. And this may be the only way we'll ever know for sure."

Without any further ado Nick chipped off some of the dried blood and
tossed it into his mouth.

The taste left a lot to be desired but dry and stale as the blood was
it wasn't completely dead yet, either. There were the faintest echoes
of Daniel's life left still, if too weak to be actually read, but the
most recent memories were still somehow viewable.

*
 
"Anything interesting in there?" Nick asked, fidgeting a little on
his seat.

"Mmm, give me a sec."

They had been unable to arrange a second autopsy for Daniel but
they'd 'stumbled across' a copy of the results of the one already
done on him. Not wanting to wait until home to find out what was in
it they'd stopped by an all night cafe to have a look. Natalie had
been engrossed in the report for awhile already and Nick was getting
anxious.

"Well?" Nick asked when Natalie finally raised her head and set down
the report.

"It made for an interesting reading. Did you know that the
decapitation was done with a small saw?"

"A saw?" Nick repeated, keeping his voice quiet.

Nodding, Natalie took a quick look around them to make certain that
they couldn't be overheard. "Yeah. From what little Agent McCormick
said, I expected it to be a sword or something similar. A saw is just
so -- messy, don't you think?"

"Yes", Nick agreed thoughtfully. "But it's easy enough to get a hold
of one. No curious questions asked, and it's practically
untraceable."

"Makes gruesome sense, I guess," Natalie admitted.

"What else was in there?" Nick asked, nodding towards the report.

"Well, the decapitation was done post mortem. What actually killed
him was sever trauma to the head; fractured skull and massive brain
damage. In other words, someone hit him from behind with a heavy,
blunt object."

*

When they returned back home in the early morning, they found a
visitor lounging in the living-room, waiting for them.

"LaCroix?"

"Nick. Natalie." LaCroix's greeting was perfectly hospitable.

Nick was used to having him drop by whenever he was least expected
but tonight he just didn't feel up to the inevitable irritation.

"Well?"

"Is that any way to greet your father, Nicholas?"

"Is this any way to come and visit your 'children', LaCroix?" Natalie
was just a little pissed off at finding him in their home. The old
geezer just didn't know how to respect anyone's privacy.

"Such thoughts, my child." LaCroix chided her, his voice effortlessly
sliding from mocking to threatening. "You'd do well to control them
better in the future."

It had been a long night and Nick wasn't in any kind of mood to fight
with his master. "What do you want, LaCroix?

Sitting on the plush armchair LaCroix carefully steepled his fingers,
looking the image of concentration. Finally, feeling the patience of
his children begin to slip, he raised his head and smiled at them.

"You two seem to have some trouble letting go of the past."

Nick and Natalie waited for him to continue but he seemed to be in no
hurry. His blue eyes traveled from one of them to the other,
meditating, measuring them.

"Your point?" Nick refused to play like a good little boy. He was
tired and he wanted him out of there.

LaCroix considered him for a moment longer before speaking up, at
last. "Let the FBI take care of it, Nicholas. You seem to have
forgotten that you are no longer a Detective. This is a new life, a
new city. You're a mild mannered Professor now, and Professors of
Medieval History do not chase after criminals."

How he'd found out about their interest in the case, Nick had no
idea. But he did know that neither he himself nor Natalie were
finished with it, yet.

"Even Professors can ask questions. Which do you think would be more
odd, LaCroix? That we take a personal interest when one of our
neighbors is murdered, or that we simply ignore it as if it never
happened?"

LaCroix's smile was but a distant memory as he got up and positioned
himself directly in front of Nick.

"Do not draw attention to yourself, Nicholas."

"I thought I was fitting in. We're not the only ones talking about
the murder, LaCroix. The whole building is filled with gossip."

"Precisely. There's gossip, and then there's what you and Natalie
have been up to." LaCroix turned a fraction to get Natalie within his
range of vision, as well. "You shall both drop it. McCormick is
Immortal, and I will not have the two of you exposing the existence
of our kind to him."

************

"McCormick."

"This is Sheriff Wilson from the Franklin County. I was told you're
in charge of the investigation of these Coastal Murders?"

"That's right. How can I help you, Sheriff?"

"I think we may have found something that might interest you."

*

Fifty minutes later Matthew was ready to leave for the airport. While
he checked his briefcase he rattled some last minute instructions to
Agent Anderson.

"You'll be in charge while I'm at Glenview, Anderson. I should be
back late this evening or early tomorrow morning. Have Ogawa check
those phone tips, and call me when you get the lab results from the
hair sample."

"Yes, Sir."

"I'm also waiting for the tox screen results. I don't expect there'll
be anything special in there but if you haven't gotten the report by
three o'clock check in with Jordan Moss."

"Will do, Sir," Anderson assured him. "Have a safe flight."

*

Matthew took a cab from the airport and drove straight to the
Glenview Sheriff's Office where Sheriff Wilson was already expecting
him.

"You made good time, Agent McCormick," Wilson commented, extending
his hand.

"Well, I'm afraid I'm on the clock, Sheriff. There's going to be
another murder in less than thirty-six hours and I'd just as soon
avoid it if at all possible."

"Right. Well, we better get started, then, because those bodies I
called you about aren't getting any fresher." Wilson turned to pick
up his keys from his desk. "I'll drive us to where we found them."


Only twenty minutes later they were tramping through the woods.

"You said a couple of local children found the bodies?"

"That's right. Judy and Ricky Brown. Fluffy, that's their Dalmatian,
ran away from them again. When the kids caught up with him, he was
busy digging up what turned out to be a hand," Wilson explained.
"Needless to say, the kids got the shock of their lives when they
realized what they'd found. Took us closer to an hour to get them
calm down enough, so we could find out exactly what had happened."

"Have you been able to identify either of the bodies?" Matthew asked.

"No positive ID, yet, but it looks like one of them might be Clara
Simmons."

At Matthew's questioning look, Wilson elaborated. "We found a
necklace buried with her. Now, the necklace belonged to Clara but we
can't say for certain that it was her body out there."

"How can you be so sure about the necklace, Sheriff?" Matthew was
curious.

"Glenview isn't a big place, Agent McCormick. When Clara Simmons
disappeared, oh, fourteen years ago, that was pretty big news around
here. I worked on the case myself, while it lasted, and I do remember
that piece of jewelry. She wore it in every picture that was ever
taken of her."

"What do you mean 'while it lasted'?"

"Well, pretty soon after she'd gone missing her son Gerry got a
postcard from her. We checked it, of course, but since it looked like
the genuine article Ben Russell who was the Sheriff back then closed
the case. And that was the last I ever heard of Clara Simmons, till
now."

After a few more minutes they arrived to the scene. There were two
rather shallow graves almost side by side.

Matthew inspected the scene from a short distance, first. It was
instantly clear to him that whatever physical evidence had possibly
been on the scene was now contaminated beyond any use; far too many
people had already been stamping about. It didn't really surprise
him. Not that he'd been holding his breath waiting to find much from
there, anyway. From what Sheriff Wilson had told him over the phone
he'd gathered that both bodies had been buried quite some time ago.

Their next stop was the City Morgue.

Sheriff Wilson had been right. The two bodies lying on the steel
tables weren't smelling like roses. The good news was that there
seemed to be enough of them left for a possible identification. If
they got lucky.

"You said you found the heads buried under their feet?" Matthew
checked.
 
"Yep. Have never seen anything like that in my whole life, and I've
seen some weird stuff in my days."

"Dr. Evans." Matthew turned to the pathologist. "Have you been able
to define the cause of death, yet?"

"I haven't began my autopsy on the Jane Doe, yet, but I can tell you
what killed Mr. Doe, here."

Dr. Evans picked up a gruesome looking head and turned it in his
hands, so that Matthew would have a better view.

With a concealed smile Matthew thought the good doctor was wasting
his time if he was trying to gross him out. He'd seen his share of
corpless heads before, albeit most of them hadn't been quite as
decayed as this one.

"Now, see this?" Dr. Evans explained. "This is where his skull was
fractured with deadly force. Over here and here we have smaller
fractures but this is the one that ultimately killed him."

Thoughtfully, Matthew nodded. So far it sounded like their guy, all
right. "What about the decapitation?"

"That was a little bit trickier," Dr. Evans said, putting down the
head. "But, from the marks I found on his neck vertebrae I'd say his
head was sawed off. Not by a professional, either. The workmanship
was very crude and rather sloppy."

"Anything else?"

"I'm afraid I haven't been able to determine the time of death in any
great accuracy, Agent McCormick. My best guess is that Mr. Doe has
been dead for at least six months. I should be able to give you a
more precise estimate after I get the lab results back."

"What about their clothes, Sheriff?" Matthew asked, turning back to
Wilson.

"I bagged them and sent them to the lab. They said they'd call me the
minute they had anything."

"All right --" Matthew's cell phone interrupted him. "Excuse me."

Flipping out his phone, Matthew stepped aside to get some privacy.

"Sir, I got those results from the hair sample you wanted," Agent
Anderson said.

"And?"

"The sample is from a female, Sir."

"Did they do a DNA analysis on it?"

"Yes, Sir. They're running the results through the database to see if
there's a match."

Anderson didn't have to tell him that it would take awhile.

In deep thought, Matthew finished the call. *If* the hair they'd
found on Daniel Manser belonged to the UNSUB then it would certainly
explain the difficulties he'd had constructing the profile. He'd
considered the possibility of a female killer but all the evidence,
what little they'd been able to amass, had pointed to the other
direction. And it *still* didn't quite fit.

************

"Oh, I'm beat."

With a heartfelt sigh, Antonia dropped on her back on the couch and
threw one arm over her eyes for good measure.

LaCroix contemplated her theatrics with faint amusement. "I take it
you had fun at tonight's session, my dear?"

"Fun?" Antonia lifted her arm and cracked her eyes open just enough
so she could see her husband. "Fun? That guy is so *not* funny it
almost makes me cry. He's got me confused with some long since dead
*slave* of his who he can order around with a crack of his whip!"

"Glad to hear you enjoyed yourself." LaCroix grinned.

With a contented sigh, Antonia dragged herself up into a sitting
position. "It was great, Lucien. He taught me how to use a rapier
with a left hand dagger. That stesso tempo stuff is much more
difficult than it looks, but it's a great move. But the best part is
I took some ridiculously outrageous chances tonight and never even
thought twice before doing so."

LaCroix arched his brow slightly. "I'm assuming that's a good thing?"

"The best. I think I'm finally getting out of my funk." The smile
Antonia directed his way was a tad tired but there was no mistaking
her obvious satisfaction.

"Then, perhaps we should begin to make some decisions, my dear."
LaCroix sat down next to her on the sofa.

Antonia's smile turned a bit sheepish. "I know. I've kinda been
putting it off, haven't I?"

"A little, but there was no rush," LaCroix said generously.

Turning to face him, Antonia gave him a quick peck on the lips. "I
know I haven't been easy to live with of late and I just want you to
know how much I've appreciated your patience with me."

"Patience?" LaCroix repeated, his tone deliberately light. "I know
I've always considered myself a patient man but it's not an attribute
others have often accused me of."

"Well, I'm accusing you of it now, and I've found you guilty as
charged." Antonia smiled up at him. "But, you're right. It is time I
got my act together, or we'll be in New York come the next
millennium."

"So, have you given the matter any thought, my dear? Where would you
like to live for the next few years?"

"To tell you the truth, I don't really have a preference one way or
the other," Antonia confessed. "How about you?"

"Paris would be my first choice, but I'm open to suggestions. I hear
Ireland is supposed to be a rather interesting place."

"I've never been to Ireland," Antonia said thoughtfully. "But I do
love the Paris house."

"I'm afraid the repairs for the damage done to it by the New Year
storms haven't been completed yet. If we do decide on Paris then I
believe we'll have to wait for a little bit longer still," LaCroix
informed her.

"Well, we don't have to make up our minds tonight, do we?" Antonia
asked.

"No, but we really should begin to think about it."

"We will. But, right now, all I want to think about is that hot
shower screaming my name." Getting up from the couch, she gave him an
inviting smile over her shoulder. "Care to join me, handsome?"

"Thought you'd never ask, honey-wine." LaCroix flashed her a devilish
grin. "But let's make it a hot bath, shall we? We'll be more
comfortable."

**********

"Did you have any luck with the picture?"

"No, not yet," Nick said, shedding off his coat. "Although one of the
students was interested in getting her phone number."

Natalie smiled a little at his joke before turning serious again. "We
don't have much time, Nick. She's going to kill again, tomorrow."

"Yeah, I know." Sighing, Nick went over to his wife and enveloped her
into a hug. "We're doing everything we can, Nat. The FBI is doing
everything within its power. We can only hope that our best is
enough."

"But I still feel like there should be something *more* we could do,"
Natalie said, pressing her forehead against Nick's chest. "Don't ask
me what. Just, *something*,"

"Well, why don't we hit the streets after dinner. See if we get
lucky. What do you say?"

"Sounds like a plan." Natalie raised her head and gave him a smile.

While Nick went into the kitchen to warm up their drinks Natalie
picked up the picture he'd drawn of the killer. It was based on the
images he'd gotten from Daniel's blood the night they'd visited his
apartment.

The young face staring back at her from the piece of paper didn't
look like a face of a serial killer to her. But then, looks could be
deceiving. She herself was a living, or at least an undead, proof of
that.

**********

Rubbing his eyes tiredly, Matthew re-read the sentence he'd just
written. It still didn't make any sense to him.

Shaking his head, he got up to pour himself a fresh cup of coffee.
He'd been up for two days straight and he was dead tired.
Unfortunately, there was still a vicious killer on the loose, getting
ready to off yet another innocent young man, so sleep really wasn't
an option right then.

Sighing, Matthew returned to his desk and tried to find some free
space in between the clutter occupying it to set down his mug.

The case wasn't going well. There had been no match for the DNA in
the database, and none of the tips from the general public had panned
out. The only 'good' news was that the John Doe found in Glenview had
been verified definitely as being one of the UNSUB's victims. The
Jane Doe found at the same site, on the other hand, though killed in
much the same fashion, didn't seem like a match. According to the
coroner, she'd been dead for at least a decade.

The ringing of the phone snapped Matthew out of his thoughts.

"McCormick."

"Sheriff Wilson here. I got the lab results you wanted done to the
clothes of both victims. My assistant is faxing the reports to you as
we speak."

"Great. I appreciate you could do it so fast, Sheriff."

"Thank you. I also wanted to let you know that we've positively
identified both victims."

"And?"

"I was right about the woman. She was Clara Simmons. The younger man
was her son, Gerry."

"That's quite a coincidence, don't you think, Sheriff? The two of
them being buried so close to one another, not to mention the MO with
which they were both killed."

"That it is. But the coroner concluded that they weren't killed by
the same person. And, there was over a decade between the murders,"
Wilson reminded him.

"You worked on the Simmons case when she disappeared, Sheriff. Do you
recall any suspects from back then who might've had a grudge against
the son, as well?" Matthew asked, trying to find a new angle to the
case.

"No. But I suggest you check out those lab reports, Agent. They made
for very interesting reading. Especially the blood analysis."

"Care to debrief me, Sheriff? Save me some time."

"It's not conclusive until they get the DNA results but the blood
samples would suggest that Gerry-boy killed his mother. His blood was
found all over the remains of her dress. She must've fought him
pretty hard."

The news made Matthew stop drumming the desk with his pen. "So, any
idea who killed him, then?"

"Like I said, it's not conclusive, yet --"

"But?" Matthew waved his free hand to hurry the Sheriff along as if
they were standing face to face instead of speaking over the phone.

"There was quite a bit of blood found on Gerry's clothes, as well. We
can't tell whose for certain but the analysis suggested a close
relative." Wilson finished, sounding pretty pleased with himself.

"Did he happen to have any sisters?" Matthew asked, holding his
breath.

"How did you know?" Wilson was a little surprised. "He had twin
sisters."

***********

Matthew was ready to kill someone himself. Time was running out fast
and they hadn't gotten the first whiff of the Simmons twins yet.
Glancing at his watch for the umpteenth time he spouted orders to the
poor agents on his task force.

It wasn't their fault, he knew that. They were all doing the best
they could. But it was easier to play the hard-ass than to keep
kicking himself over not figuring out the twin aspect until it was
shoved into his face. It was all so patently obvious, now. All the
little pieces he'd been trying to arrange to get the bigger picture
had finally fell into place. And now it might be too late. The little
sisters might have already finished the second victim of the month
and moved on to the next city.

*

"Excuse me, Professor?" A lanky youth stopped Nick just as he was
about to leave campus.

"Yes? What can I do for you, Bernard?"

"I was just thinking about the picture you showed me yesterday, about
the girl. I wasn't sure at first but I think I might've seen her
before."

"Where?" Nick tried not to sound as anxious as he suddenly felt.

"She was with Griffin. They were going to some exhibition. I only saw
her for a short while but I'm pretty sure it was her."

"Griffin Samms? You're sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure."

"Thanks, Bernard." Nick gave him a small nod. "Well, I best be going
now. I'll see you in class, okay?"

"Sure thing." Bernard waved his hand good-bye and hurried to catch up
with his friends.

Instead of continuing to his car Nick turned around and hurried back
to the University. He wasted no time in locating Griffin Samms'
address, as well as checking his age. He'd just turned twenty-two
last month. He fit the profile.

*

"Sir, we've got a possible sighting near the 5th Street."

"Let the NYPD check it out, Ogawa. We can't afford to spread our net
until we have confirmation, you know that." Matthew sounded
uncharacteristically impatient.

"Yes, Sir." Agent Ogawa made a hasty exit.

Matthew gulped down the rest of the black liquid the office staff
called coffee. It tasted bitter. He'd lost count on how many cups
he'd had the stuff but it was the only thing that kept him running at
this point. They'd gotten at least a half a dozen 'possible'
sightings on the twins since they'd put out the APBs. So far, none of
them had held any water. And the clock was ticking.

"Sir?" Agent Anderson braved the lion's den.

"Let me guess. Another sighting?" Matthew sighed tiredly.

"Yes, Sir. But this one's been confirmed. We have a positive location
on one of the twins."

*

"Nooo!"

Natalie watched the still warm body of Griffin Samms lying on the
floor, a pool of blood forming under his head. Two young girls,
identical twins, were kneeling beside him, with a small saw in their
hands.

Nick and Natalie had gotten to Griffin's apartment as soon as they
inhumanly could, and they'd almost made it. Their best had almost
been enough. Almost.

Later, Natalie couldn't say for certain what happened to her. She saw
the body and the girls next to it, and she felt something snap.
Without any conscious thought she grabbed the twin closest to her and
forced her head to the side, exposing the vulnerable neck. Her eyes
blazed and she didn't hear anything Nick was shouting at her. All she
was aware of was the intoxicating smell of Griffin Samms' blood and
the erratic heartbeat of the girl she was holding in her iron grip.

Piercing the girl's jugular, Natalie kept her golden eyes on her face
for as long as she could; she wanted to see how life drained out of
those brown eyes. She savored every last drop she could suck out of
her, reveling in the horrible images she saw in her blood. When she
was finished, she broke that delicate neck and dropped the limp,
lifeless body to the ground as if it was merely a sack of potatoes.

Licking her lips, Natalie turned her attention to the remaining twin.

*

"What the hell has happened here?"

The rest of the team echoed Anderson's heart-felt question. They'd
expected to find *a* murder victim, not three of them piled on the
floor. Two of which, on top of everything else, had been the main
suspects on the previous murders they'd been investigating.

Frowning, Matthew looked at the bodies. Had he not been so tired he
might've found this latest twist in the case most interesting. But,
as he was practically sleepwalking, all he could think of was that at
least it was now over. Except, of course, that it wasn't. Now, he'd
have to begin the search for yet another killer. But at least he had
good reason to hope that the 'Coastal Murders' had at last come to an
end. And until he got a day's worth of decent sleep it was enough for
him.

*

"What's happening to me, Nick?"

"Nat, it's all right." Nick tried to close Natalie in his arms but
she side-stepped him.

"No, it's not all right! I sucked her dry, and I *liked* it, Nick! I
*liked* what I saw in her blood. I could understand her need to
avenge her mother's death, over and over, using look-a-like
substitutes for her brother. How is that *all* right?!"

"Nat, listen to me." Nick grabbed her by the arms and shook her a
little. "It wasn't your fault. You only did what comes naturally to
us."

"Naturally?" Natalie couldn't believe he was trying to defend her
actions. "Naturally?!"

"Yes." Nick kept his blue eyes locked with hers. "You're still a
fledgling, Nat. There are situations you can't handle. I should've
kept that in mind and not take you with me. It was my fault, not
yours."

"It was *my* fault, Nick. *I* killed her, and then I left you no
choice but to kill the other one, too."

"That was my decision." For the first time Nick averted his eyes.
"She was a resistor, I did what I had to."

"But you wouldn't have had to do it if I hadn't first..." Natalie's
words were muddled by her tears. "What if I'm turning like Richard,
Nick? What if I'm losing control?"

She *had* lost control. They both knew it.

"You are not your brother, my child."

Nick and Natalie whirled around at LaCroix's unexpected voice.

He stood right behind them on the rooftop, wearing a brilliant smile
on his pale face.

"Welcome to the family, Natalie. At long last."

***********

A few weeks later, Antonia finished her last session with Michael.

She was more than happy with her progress and her newly found
confidence in her swordplay but saying good-bye was still harder than
she'd expected. She'd come to like Michael, not only as a much needed
teacher but also as a friend. Much as she looked forward to facing
the world without him as her crutch, she knew she'd miss him, funny
strine expressions and all.

"You feel ready to move on, then?"

"Well, as ready as I used to be, at least." Antonia laughed.

"You'll be fine. Just trust yourself and you'll have a fair go
against anyone," Michael assured her.

"I'll try to remember that."

"So, where will you and your husband go from here?" Michael asked.

"We couldn't decide, so we're going to travel around first, see if
something would happen to strike our fancy." Smiling, Antonia
shrugged. "Maybe we'll end up in Paris. Or somewhere in Britain. I've
always wanted to visit Scotland."

"Sounds like a bloody good plan. Just don't forget - have fun."
Michael grinned.

Antonia laughed out loud again. "I will."

Then she grew a wee bit more serious. "Thanks, Michael. I truly
appreciate everything you did for me, especially that kick in the
ass. I needed it."

Michael smiled modestly and gave her a courtly bow. "We aim to
please, my lady."

"Well, I should be going. Lucien's waiting for me." Antonia ended the
short silence which had ensued Michael's last words. Walking to the
door, she turned to give him one last smile. "I hope we'll see again
one day, so watch your head, Michael."

Feeling an odd mixture of pride and loss, Michael watched her close
the door behind her.

"You too, kiddo. You too."



The End

--------------------------------------------------------------------
Acronyms and Aussie strine translations:

BSU - Behavioral Sciences Unit
CSU - Crime Scene Unit
IAFIS - Integrated Automated Fingerprint Identification System
UNSUB - Unknown Subject

arvo - afternoon
beaut - excellent, fantastic
bonza - good
dinki-di - the real thing
fair dinkum - genuine
fair go - fair chance
fossick - prospect (for gems or gold)
sheila - woman
yobbo - uncouth, aggressive person