Date: 96-12-24 19:09:11 EST
Present to My DKL Friends.
(This will be posted to FKFIC-L - you get first dibs! Enjoy, mes amis...)
"Storm Watch"
A Forever Knight/Dark Knightie Story
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Date: 96-12-24 19:09:11 EST
Present to My DKL Friends.
(This will be posted to FKFIC-L - you get first dibs! Enjoy, mes amis...)
"Storm Watch"
A Forever Knight/Dark Knightie Story
Copyright, 1996
by Marcia Tucker
He blew into the Raven ahead of the storm, his eyes briefly flashing
murder before the veil of control fell. Casting a quick glance about, Nick Knight noted
that the approaching storm had discouraged the night's patronage to the club. There were
few mortals, rather more vampires, more than a couple of which glanced his way with
widened eyes before discreetly turning back to their supposed glasses of red wine. Despite
the dark atmosphere and weirdly strobing lights, Nick saw as if in daytime, casting his
sharp gaze about for one individual in particular. Suddenly the midnight blue eyes fixed,
not on the individual's normal post to one end of the bar, but on the radio booth at the
far end of the club. Target, acquired.
He never noticed the hasty swath that cleared way for him through the
sparse crowd, bodies moving effortlessly aside as if guided by the gentle push of wind. A
few pairs of eyes followed him, sides were nudged with elbows, and eyebrows raised. To the
denizens who dared to witness, the passage of Knight was intriguing to no end, considering
this particular vampire's history of mortal aspirations. Carefully noted were the slight
flare to his nostrils, the tight focus of his gaze ahead, the powerful set of his
shoulders, the clench and unclench of fists.
Sliding to a stop at the door of the radio booth, Nick Knight hesitated
patiently, knowing an invitation would be forthcoming. Sure enough, he felt a slight but
unmistakable "something" in the mental link he possessed with the occupant of
the booth. The corner of his mouth making an ironic twitch, he entered the booth, closed
the door behind him, and leaned back on the door, crossing his arms over his chest.
The booth's occupant kept a smirk off his mouth with effort.
"Nicholas," Lucien LaCroix murmured, glancing up the length of his son's tall
form. "It's quite a night to be out, isn't it? I believe I heard thunder
earlier."
There was a bit of white showing above Nick's eyes, another sign of the
high tension in his body. He looked at his maker. "It's glorious, LaCroix. The wind
whipping at your clothes, the cold smack of rain on your face, the delicious electricity
in the air..."
"The ions in the air, Nicholas," LaCroix corrected him
mildly, then glanced back down at his radio console. He'd switched over to a taped
commercial, but as this could take longer than commercials could comfortably be used,
something else would have to do in the interim. A tape of a pre-recorded session was begun
as he continued. "Your vampire body reacts to the presence of charged ions in the
atmosphere. They send your senses singing - quite a 'charge' at that."
"Yes," Nick agreed, sighing, and closed his eyes, again
letting the singing still in his system surge. When he opened his eyes again, they were
gold. When his lips parted, there was a flash of fang.
LaCroix stood hastily to stand before his son, who met his eyes - also
gold. "You feel the power, don't you, Nicholas?"
"Oh, yes," the younger vampire agreed, his voice raspy.
"I feel powerful." He emitted a soft snarl, then his glance fell past his
master, upon a bottle sitting on the far edge of the radio console. Nostrils flared again
in recognizing an unmistakable delicate odor. With a couple swift steps, Nick had
retrieved the bottle, tipped it up and drank.
LaCroix made a huff of surprise as Nick had brushed past him, then
half-raised his hand toward his son, stopping when he turned and saw what he was doing.
"Nicholas..." he started to say, then remained silent, his hand falling back to
his side, watching him with intense interest. Savored him, memorizing the sight as if it
were one he hadn't expected to see and might never again.
Nick brought the bottle back down, his eyes closing, and held the
bottle against his chest as he let the heady libation pervade his being. It was, of
course, human blood, incredibly delicious, filling his veins with warmth and liquid power.
For once Nick did not let himself think about what it was, where it was from, what it
meant for him to drink it - all of that did not matter at this moment. He was a vampire
who fed on human blood, alive, free, and powerful. For once any guilt he might have felt
was distant, or at least not allowed to intrude at this moment of permitted indulgence.
His link with his master tingled as well, for he was hyperaware of
LaCroix's eyes on him, of the intense regard boring into his back. The gaze did not
irritate him, not this time. The approval of his master he even welcomed, allowing a rare
moment of harmony between them. It... felt good.
LaCroix was loathe to break the mood, wanted it to last forever if
possible, thought of ways he might be able to encourage his Nicholas to stay on this path.
He came over to stand at his back, inches away, leaning just close enough to whisper in
his ear without touching him. "Is this... so terribly bad, Nicholas?" he asked,
his voice pitched to caress carefully.
"No," came back the immediate answer, unthinking perhaps.
Very good.
"Your senses are alive, sharpened..."
"Yes..." Nick opened his eyes slowly, though they were still
hooded and Other.
"Yours to control, to own."
"Oh, yes." Knowing LaCroix for as long as he had, Nick knew
full well what the other was trying to do, and he almost smiled. In fact he felt far too
good to let the other's tactics concern him.
"You know, Nicholas, you could do much good with your
powers."
The blond head turned around, and Nick, with blue eyes again, stared at
LaCroix, who was surprised yet thrilled to see a faint smile on his son's wide lips.
"I could, couldn't I?"
LaCroix returned the smile, his eyes normal as well. "But you've
always known that. And you already do that. You just... don't allow yourself to
acknowledge it." There, he'd said it. His smile faded as LaCroix waited for the
potential explosion.
Nick studied his master's eyes for a moment, then relaxed minutely.
"I guess I don't." He looked down at the bottle again, then took another drink.
<This is more than I could have hoped for,> LaCroix thought,
drinking in the sight of his son feeding. <Dare I dream of more?>
The blood drained down the inside of Nick's throat, burning with life
and fire. Life - his life, the lifeblood, the essence of life for his species, that which
embued him with power. That power felt so wonderful and seemed to stiffen his control,
enslaved to his will as it should be. The painful hunger that was so a part of his
everyday life was distant, an echo, and it was occurring to him that keeping himself in a
state of constant hunger by drinking only steer's blood had been an unnecessary danger to
the mortals in his life.
A third deep swallow, then Nick was handing the bottle back to LaCroix.
"Thank you, LaCroix," he murmured, a faint hint of amusement in his voice. Not
at LaCroix, but at himself. He turned to go to the door when he felt the other's hand on
his arm. He looked up.
"Anytime, Nicholas," LaCroix replied, smiling with open
pleasure at his son, who, for once, did not squirm to be so regarded.
Back out in the club area, a couple pairs of eyes looked after the
tall, handsome blonde vampire who appeared considerably more relaxed than when he'd come
in. Nick halted and turned sharply to regard one of the pairs of eyes, looking down at the
deep brown eyes of the female vampire they belonged to. To her relief, he broke into a
smile, and even looked her over with evident pleasure. "Ah, I don't dance much,
but..." Winking, he held his hand out to her in invitation. She accepted, grinning.
The other pair of eyes watched a moment longer from the door of the
radio booth, then withdrew. "Weather gods be praised," he murmured, and returned
to his console. Activating his microphone, he took up the radio program, a new vibrancy
evident in his voice. "This is the Nightcrawler, mes amis, on a wild night of nights!
A storm is brewing... and I couldn't be happier!"
The End
Marcia Tucker / scfimarci@aol.com