SquidgeWorld Archive

Knowing the road (Revenge and Redemption)
By Danii

Detective Ezekiel Stone, formerly of the NYPD (not to mention the land of the living), sighed tiredly and lowered his gaze to the ground. Though he knew it was important, he couldn't help but look away from the distorted remains.

He hated this. He hated to see the people, the faces...those he had failed without even knowing it. Whenever he walked onto a crime scene, or found a dead victim of one of the Damned that he was chasing, Zeke couldn't stop the emotions and thoughts that would run through his mind. The -would'ves'...the -couldv'es'...the -shouldv'es'. And worst of all, the -maybes'.

Maybe if I hadn't had breakfast this morning, I could have caught the bastard before he did this.

Maybe if it hadn't rained...

Maybe if I'd slept less...

Maybe...maybe...maybe.

But none of this brought the body before him, or the three others he'd seen in the nights past, back to life.

"Aw, is this little hunk of flesh upsetting you, Ezekiel?" asked a familiar voice from behind his ear, "And I thought you were made out of tougher stuff then that, detective..."

Zeke was silent for a moment, then slowly turned his head until he met eyes with the bane of his existence. Namely, the Devil.

"It's not a -hunk of flesh'," he told the fallen angel quietly as he held his rage within. It didn't pay to get angry at his employer. Fury only served to make matters worse for Zeke. But he wasn't going to let that comment stand. "It's a she. And she used to be young, happy...with a whole life ahead of her-"

"But now she's not..." the Devil pointed out with a grin, "And for the time being, -she' is nothing but evidence for all intents and purposes..."

"Maybe to you," Zeke told him, allowing just a sliver of his anger into his voice. It was one thing to avoid trouble, and another to let the bastard walk all over him.

The Devil smiled once more. "And I suppose that she isn't to you?"

"No..." he answered, his voice tight.

"Yes, maybe she isn't..." the fiend mused with a raise of an eyebrow, "But she will be...eventually. You can't keep thinking of her as a person, Ezekiel. Not forever. You'd go mad if all those bodies you'd seen over the years were people to you, and you'd never get anything done at all."

"Shut up."

"Just an observation, my dear detective..." the Devil hissed quietly, "A simple-"

"I said -shut up'..." Zeke repeated once more, his tone now completely hostile. He'd had enough of the bastard's taunting for the night, especially since his -employer' hadn't told him anything of value.

"And to think, I haven't even said anything yet..." came a totally unexpected voice from over his shoulder. Shocked, and more then a little spooked, Zeke spun around to face the source of the comment.

When he spun, he found behind him a man of around 5'10'' with dark blonde hair and blue-hazel eyes set in a handsome face. The stranger was dressed in a sharp black suit, far too expensive for any cop to own (let alone go to work in), with a burgundy vest underneath that did nothing to lighten the tone of the outfit. Then again, considering the setting and situation, there was no need for lightening.

"Um..." Zeke began intelligently, "Who're you? Any relation to the deceased?"

The stranger gave a small chuckle, but he obviously refrained from anything more joyous due to the dead body within a few feet of them.

"Am I under suspicion, detective?" he asked without answering.

Zeke shrugged. He didn't want to lie, but he also didn't wish to be impolite. The dead man figured that this gesture covered both bases. Plus, something about this guy was wigging him out, and he didn't want to speak just yet.

"I see..." commented the stranger in response to the detective's shrug, "But since I know I didn't do it, I'll be happy to answer both questions for you."

"Okay..." Zeke finally got out. Yes, there were definitely some strange vibes coming off of this dark-suited gentleman, and despite the man's obvious friendly manner, Zeke had a feeling that the guy in front of him was a very dangerous person.

"I am Dr. Nicholas Chevalier," the newly introduced Nicholas told him, "This office is where my wife and I practice."

"Oh," the dead detective responded half-heartedly. True, a part of him was interested in finding out as much about this peculiar doctor as was possible, but another part, the more base part of his instincts, told him that he should go. Away. Now. However, both parts agreed that they needed to stop whichever Damned asshole was doing this, and the first part knew that a component of that was getting to know the man before him.

"And as for relation to the deceased," Nicholas continued, looking at Zeke as if he knew about the conflicting emotions boiling within the other man's mind, "She was a patient of mine. Natasha Singer."

Though there was little emotion in the voice as he mentioned the name, Zeke could hear the pain within the doctor as he mentioned his now dead patient. It was faint, controlled, but very there. The detective supposed that it must be horribly agonizing for a doctor to lose someone, especially when there was nothing he could have done to save her. Zeke also had a feeling that this cheerful bit was merely a façade to hide this pain and anger.

Yes, that's what was making Zeke uncomfortable, he realized. The anger. The raw, unadulterated rage that was silently pouring out of the man before him with such strength. It was this that was scaring him. This, and the sense of power that accompanied it. Old and dark, this too oozed out of the figure standing in front him, and the almost tangible nature of both these usually intangible things had him puzzled beyond his normal limit of caring. Who (and what, a dark corner of his mind added) was this man really?

Zeke's question was somewhat answered as the good doctor placed his hand upon the detective's shoulder. He watched as the dark-suited man's eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed in malice. What had he done to-

Suddenly, the touch on his shoulder tightened to a steely grip that, to Zeke's surprise, hurt, and the friendly smile twisted into a heated snarl.

"What do you think you're doing here?" the man asked, no longer a sweet-hearted doctor, "Do you think being a detective is a game, boy?"

"Boy?" Zeke asked in confusion, "I'm not-"

"You're a boy to me, fledgling..." hissed the one before him, "A foolish boy, trying to play with those who know no better, those he thinks he can control."

Zeke was still as he watched the other's face. What was going on?

"Well, I'll tell you now, child, that I could obliterate you faster then you could imagine, and that I don't appreciate such games being played...especially with me, or those I care about."

"What are you-"

"Did LaCroix send you for some reason? Perhaps to mock me about the past? Was it his idea to-"

"Listen, buddy, I don't-"

"Hush..." he silenced the one within his iron grasp, "I don't know what you were planning to do, but I suggest that you instead make your way out of my building, forget whatever my bastard of a father told you to try, and never get within my site again. Is that clear?"

"But-"

And now an even more peculiar and terrifying thing happened.

The face in front of Zeke changed. As he watched, two of the teeth in that angry snarl lengthened till they were nearly down to the bottom lip, and those once blue-hazel eyes were drained of their peaceful color only to be replaced with a rather feral amber. What was left after this change was something far more frightening then anything Zeke had dealt with thus far. Not by much, but it was enough.

"Don't make me tell you again, detective..." the creature (for there was no other word the dead man could think of to describe the being before him as) hissed out, making the last word sound like an insult, "Now, get out..."

Zeke nodded, and then yanked himself out of the grasp of the creature. He definitely needed to get out of there.

"Go..." repeated the thing he had thought of as Nicholas Chevalier with a growl, "Now..."

And Zeke, throwing his rebellious nature out the window for the time being, did just that, actually hoping for once to meet his torturer/employer in hopes of finding out just what the hell was going on, and just what he was getting himself into.

Part 2

Dr. Nicholas Chevalier got out of his car with a deep sigh and walked to his door, all the while trying his hardest to keep his anger in check. Considering her condition at the moment, he certainly didn't want to upset his wife, and at this distance, the bloodlink he shared with her would alert her to his ire most certainly if he didn't calm down.

But it was very hard.

He knew he had overreacted with the fledgling. No doubt his master had forced the young vampire to come and check on him; it wasn't his fault that he'd been unlucky enough to be caught in the crossfire between LaCroix and himself. But Nick had needed an outlet, and the young vampire had been perfect to let off some steam.

And there was a lot of steam to let off. Between the stress of the office, Natalie's condition, and poor Natasha, the blonde vampire was ready to be put in a straightjacket...voluntarily. But he couldn't think of that now. Now, he had to be the loving supportive husband for his lovely wife.

Forget the office; he was home.

Forget all the things that could happen to his wife, and think of all the wonderful things that were ahead.

Forget...

No, he couldn't forget Natasha. Even pushing aside the grief that he felt for his former patient, Nick couldn't quite still his mind concerning the deceased young woman. Every-thing about her murder screamed trouble to his sensibilities, and not just because her body had been found in his office.

It was too close to...Nat. Of all the people to be killed by the Flower-Bearer, as the newspapers were calling him due to his tendency to leave a bouquet at the scene, the murderer had chosen Natasha.

Natasha, whose auburn curls had often been the source of comparisons to his wife.

Natasha, who he'd often called Nat simply out of habit.

Natasha, who wore the same perfume as his beloved.

And from what he read in the papers, all the victims had been young, with curly red hair, and petite.

It was all too similar, all too close...all too frightening. It made him think of all the times his wife had been in danger in their past, and he didn't want to think of his past. He'd left Toronto, left that life, for her. To start a life with Natalie as free from hazard as possible. True, there was nothing he could do about the Enforcers, but he would protect her from anything else that came. He would-

Stand there blankly while Natalie poked him in the stomach.

"Nick?" she asked carefully, waving a hand in front of his face. It was standard procedure for when she thought he was flashbacking, and this vacant look was a tell-tale sign that her knight was currently in another century. "Nick, are you okay?"

Nick, plastering a smile on his face, shook his head and caught her hand with his mouth in a playful nibble. The mischievous action served to make his wife smile, then laugh, in a way that almost made her glow. God, but she was beautiful, he thought with a mental sigh, what would I ever do without her?

"You back from the twilight zone, or were you imagining that my hand was some blonde bimbo's throat?" Natalie asked with a wide grin.

"No, I'm back..." he assured her with a kiss on the cheek and a lighthearted chuckle, "And the only bimbo I want to bite is right here in front of me!"

Natalie gave a mock-growl, then plunged her hand into his hair, mussing it horribly. "Oh, I'm a bimbo, am I?"

"Well," he reasoned as he pulled her into his arms, "You'd have to be, because there is no way that a woman could be as perfect as that. The most beautiful, AND the most intelligent? No way..."

"Nick..."

"And if there was, she CERTAINLY wouldn't be smooching with a mussed-up vampire on the front porch."

Nat smiled, then gave him a light punch to the shoulder. "What do you mean? We aren't smooching..."

Nick seemed to think for a moment, then pressed his lips to hers, gently massaging those warm familiar lips with his own. Gradually, his tongue snaked out past his teeth and into her mouth, savoring the taste of his wife, knowing that he'd never find anyone as perfect, as wonderful, as the woman he was kissing this very moment.

When the two finally unlocked from one another, Natalie, with a rather woozy smile on her lipstick-smeared lips, proclaimed with a giggle, "I stand corrected..."

"Ha," Nick replied with a grin, "You shouldn't be standing at all, you know..."

Natalie had the good grace to look slightly ashamed. But only slightly.

"Well, I just saw you standing at the door with that look on your face, and I got his strange vibe from our link, and-"

"And nothing..." he admonished gently, "You know the doctor's orders. You know how close it's getting."

"I know." His wife admitted, "But I must say it was worth the effort..."

"Thank you." Nick answered with a smirk as he guided Natalie, then himself, into the house. After this, he closed the door, grabbed the remote, and plopped unceremoniously on the couch. Despite the playful scene at the door, he was tired both emotionally and mentally. Which is why he was very delighted to feel familiar warm hands slip around his neck and begin kneading his muscles.

A second later, Natalie walked around the couch and sat down next to him, still massaging his shoulders and neck.

"What was it, Nick?" she asked quietly as he turned and leaned gently back into her lap, "What was bothering you earlier at the door?"

Nick froze, desperately not wanting to talk about it.

"It was upsetting you, I could tell..." Natalie continued carefully, the pressure in her hands never changing despite the obvious concern in her tone, "I...we felt it."

Immediately, the vampire's eye turned to look at his wife's enlarged abdomen. There, inside of the woman he loved above all others, grew their child, their reason for everything. The child that had saved her life, and the love they shared.

He remembered the night so clearly.

Losing Tracy. Admitting his love for Natalie. Their fight. Their love. The feeling of her blood rushing into his mouth. The emotions that spilled into him as her blood filtered into his body, as her mind fused with his own. The sound of her heart beating as if it was his own.

All interrupted by the sound of ANOTHER heartbeat within her.

Shocked, he'd pulled away from her, the bloodlust that had been creeping into him blasted away by confusion. Just in time. Just in time to prevent him from killing her, from taking too much.

He felt another poke, this time to his back.

"Nick?" Natalie asked, momentarily stopping her massage.

"Just thinking about the baby..." he admitted in half-truth.

"And?" she continued, knowing her husband better, perhaps, then even he knew himself.

"Natasha..." Nick confessed tiredly, looking up to stare into her eyes, "Natasha, and those Flower-Bearer murders...they worry me."

Natalie raised an eyebrow.

"Why?"

"Well-"

"It wouldn't happen to have anything to do with the victim profile, would it?" she asked suspiciously, "How it happens to resemble me a bit?"

He nodded wordlessly. There was no use in lying to her. Somehow, she always found out.

"Well, you shouldn't worry..." she admonished as she continued with her work on his still-tense shoulders, "I know how to protect myself. I'm a big girl, if you didn't notice..."

Nick sighed tiredly, letting go of some of the worry that had plagued him all night, then grinned as he claimed her lips with his own. His arms wrapped around her body as he carefully pulled himself up to eye-level with Natalie.

"Oh, I've noticed..." he whispered seductively, remembering the first time he'd uttered those words to her, "I've noticed."

"Then do something about it..."

And he did.

PART 3:

Zeke Stone blinked.

Then he blinked again.

There, another blink.

"Did he say VAMPIRE?" Zeke asked no on in particular, even though he hoped that someone in particular did decide to answer him, because he was very confused.

However, Zeke, unable to shake the cop instincts that he'd honed for years in life, decided that confusion might be solved by curiosity, and thus, followed the couple from outside, all the while watching from the windows.

True, he couldn't hear them, but he did watch them, which reassured him. He had been worried, having seen the frightening visage from earlier in the night, and hearing what he'd heard, that the woman was some sort of sick victim, but he could tell from the easy and loving way they treated each other that their relationship was mutually wanted. In fact, their playful snuggling reminded him of similar nights spent with Roz so long ago.

But none of this helped him figure out just what was going on, nor what connection this strange man had to the Damned soul he was after. There was a connection, though. This he knew. The Devil might be one hell of a bastard, but there was a method to His madness. He needed to find out more about this Dr. Nicholas Chevalier.

"Let's try the direct approach then..." muttered a voice behind his ear.

Zeke didn't spin. He didn't even jump.

"Direct approach..." he repeated to the being behind him, "You want me to try the direct approach on a vampire?"

"Yes." The Devil answered simply, "I do. It's not as if he could hurt you anyway, you know."

Zeke thought this over, then realized something.

"I notice you never denied that that guy in there is a vampire."

The dead detective finally did turn around slowly. He wanted to see how his -boss' would handle this comment.

The Devil smirked.

"Well, it would be pointless to do that, since that is exactly what he is."

"A vampire."

"Indeed."

"As in -I vant to suck your--"

"Indeed, Detective," the fallen angel repeated, sounding vaguely annoyed at his employee's unwillingness to believe the obvious, "He does drink blood, but only that cow swill his conscience insists on."

"Cow?" Zeke asked, getting more confused as the conversation went on, which was not very unusual, but still upsetting.

The Devil snorted. "Oh yes...Nicholas used to be a bundle of fun. Maiming, killing, stealing, seducing. But then he just stopped being a normal little vampire, and ceased killing humans."

"You mean-"

"Actually, there was that stage where he killed only those he thought worthy of death, which I found to be quite amusing," the Prince of lies continued, "You know, vanity and all that...but then he stopped that too. Damn Master of his always pushing him too far. Why, if I got my hands on that boy for a night, he'd-"

"YO!" Zeke cried, his anger overriding his common sense. Sure, he didn't always want the Devil's attention (as no one in their right mind should), but for now, he needed it.

"I'm sorry, Ezekiel, but it is irritating to lose one of my souls...especially one like Nicholas..."

"Lose...his soul?" the dead detective asked in wonderment, "You mean, he used to be yours but he-"

"He's destined for redemption at this point, unfortunately." The Devil told him with an angry sneer and a voice full of disappointment, "But at least he doesn't know that yet, so I get to see him squirm..."

Zeke sighed, then gave a sideways glance at the Devil.

"You really are a bastard, aren't you?"

The fallen angel smiled that wide grin he knew so well.

"Oh yes, Ezekiel. I am a bastard. A bastard who wants you to stop watching the soft porn through the window and get back to work. Now go do your job!"

As the last syllable left his lips, a crack of lightening disturbed Zeke enough that he blinked. Unfortunately, that was all the time that his employer needed to get away, so to speak.

"So..." Zeke said to himself as he took one more look at the happy couple through the glass, "Direct approach. I can do that..."

Then he boldly strode around the house and to the front door, all the while wondering if his unlife could get any stranger.

TBC