Ok. This is a tidied-up version of Dolenti Parole, which has been at my website for a little while. So, yes, it does look familiar to some of you.<g>

Usual disclaimer...need I say more.

Dolenti Parole

By Kylie Coleman-Tucker

Copyright 1999

Dolenti parole Painful words

Verdra' van destin' You will see, vain destiny

Ch'un cuor senza sangue That a heart deprived of blood

Non piu poi cantar'. Can no longer sing.

- Cuor Senza Sangue - by G. di Murta & A. San Giovanni

Before he even entered the house, he knew it was too late. Smashing through the living room window, he froze at the horrifying sight of his son's twitching body. He fell to his knees at his side, gently picking him up to cradle him to his chest.

"No, Nicholas..."

"Mon pere." The raspy croak brought tears to the ancient's eyes.

Nick looked up into his father's eyes, his love and pain becoming obscured by his tears. He gasped for breath as pain racked his body. He knew he was dying.

"Look after Natalie for me," he whispered, pleading to his sire. Then softly he breathed, "Je t'aime, mon pere..." The light faded from his eyes and his body became limp in his father's arms.

"No, Nicholas, wait...!!" Lacroix felt his son fade, then tear brutally from his mind. Lacroix let out a sob as he whispered. "...I have something...I must tell you."

But he was too late.

No longer could he feel the man who had been his son for over 900 years.

Nicholas was gone.

He clutched his White Knight to his chest and rocked him soothingly, just as he had comforted him so many times before in their life together. He had finally, and truly, lost his son forever.

He ran his fingers over the gaping wound where his heart should have been. It was nothing now but a pulverized mass of flesh. The stake which had been thrust into his chest was lying a few feet away on the floor. His son had miraculously found the strength to pull it out. But the aim had been too true, and he had been too slow to save him. He cast his gaze further into the room to find another body lying in a far corner. He felt for the link he shared with his granddaughter. She was alive.

He looked back down to his son, and he brushed the golden curls from his forehead before leaning down to kiss his lips one last time.

After a long moment, he laid his son back gently to the floor, then rose and reluctantly crossed to where Natalie lay unconscious. He scooped her up into his arms, and with a final lingering glance at his son, he took to the sky.

"Nick?" Natalie stirred under the soft silk sheets, and as she woke, her brow furrowed in confusion. She couldn't feel Nick. Where was he? She sensed another vampire in the room, but it wasn't her husband.

Lacroix.

"Where's Nick?" She was met with silence. Turning over, she cracked open her eyes. The room was bathed in red. Hunger. A bottle met her lips, clinking against her fangs, as she opened her mouth to drink greedily. She gave no thought to the blood she was gulping down. The warm liquid had been her sole sustenance for the past one hundred and fifty years.

The empty bottle was taken away from her tight grasp and replaced with another. Finally sated, she leaned back and frowned.

"Lacroix?"

"Yes." His voice was unusually rough. His tone level, impassive.

"What am I doing here? Where's Nick?" She frowned as she began to remember the events of the night before. She finally looked over to where the man was standing. He was eerily still in the darkened corner of the room.

"Do you recall what happened last night?" he asked her. Natalie shook her head.

"Not really. Nick and another vampire were fighting. He broke into our house. I can't remember anything beyond that, nor why he was there."

"Where's Nick? Is he hurt?"

"No." His voice barely a whisper.

"Then where is he?" She was beginning to panic. She still couldn't feel him. He had always been there, in her mind, a part of him forever entwined with her own. But now, it was gone. He was gone.

Lacroix moved into the light, and her eyes widened at the sight of his worn features. He sat at the edge of the bed, and looked directly into her eyes.

"Nicholas is dead." She saw the pain, which he attempted to hide, flare into his eyes.

"No." She brought her hands to her face and felt the tears begin to flow, just as they would continue to do so in the weeks and months to come.

He had left her to grieve alone, his own dark loss, barely hidden under the surface of his dispassionate bearing.

He was helping himself to a drink in his parlour when his Comm-unit trilled to life. Crossing to the small video phone, he tapped the manual response key.

"Yes?"

"Lacroix." A smooth voice crooned his name. It sounded familiar, but he was having trouble placing it.

"Who is this?" he demanded, having no patience for intrusions this evening.

"Why, Lucien, I'm offended, and after I did your precious son the favour of killing him quickly." The deep voice and it's smug arrogance resonated through Lacroix's very being.

"Who is this!!?" Lacroix demanded of the blank screen. It was audio only. The rage which fired through him threatened to drive him insane.

Ignoring the ancient's question, the voice replied smoothly and calmly,

"I really can't believe you don't remember. I said you would pay dearly for your slight against my honour, Lacroix, and now, I feel I have taken just recompense with the life of your favourite son."

Everything clicked into place for Lacroix--the voice, the man, the ancient promise...

<<<<<

1797 - St Petersburg

The castle was as grand as ever; Her Majesty seemed to have succeed once again in upstaging every other kingdom with her show of opulence. Lacroix led his children through the front entrance to be greeted and formally announced by the concierge.

"His Excellence, General Lacroix." The immortal family, gracefully swept into the large room crowded with guests of all persuasions, from every known part of the civilized world.

"This is wonderful, Lacroix. Never have I seen such an abundance of affluence in one room before," his son breathed as he admired the palace and its occupants. Lacroix smiled; he had though his young crusader would enjoy such rich pickings.

"Oh, it's beautiful, mon pere!" Janette cooed, clasping her hands together. Indeed, he had to agree; this was quite possibly the grandest residence ever to have graced his presence.

Couples were dancing upon the expansive ballroom floor as the orchestra played wonderfully in the background.

"Come, Nicolas! Let us dance!" Janette grabbed Nick's hand and pulled him out onto the dance floor.

Lacroix watched with fatherly pride as his children elegantly fell into step with the sea of dancers and waltzed their way across the room.

Drawing his attention away from his beautiful children, he sought out the object of his attendance. As he approached the crowd of well-wishers, he stood back and waited until the woman became aware of his presence. As the bodies parted for a moment, he smirked and their eyes met.

"Lucien! Come hither!" The regal woman beckoned him closer, waving the mortals away.

"Your Majesty." Lacroix bowed low and gracefully from his waist as he greeted the woman sitting before him upon her throne.

"Oh, Lucien, don't be so coy! You are anything but a humble man!" she tittered playfully. He smiled and moved to brush his lips across the lady's beautiful hand. "I am so glad you came to my party, Lucien. I do hope you will stay for the remainder of the evening, and perhaps the day."

Lacroix leered up to the woman, so openly flirting with him, as he replied,

"My dear, Catherine, I would be honoured." He and Catherine had met upon several occasions in the past year, and they had spent most of those occasions locked away in her chambers. He had received many a favour and much pleasure from his association with the great Queen of Russia, he was certain tonight would be no exception.

Vladimir watched the older vampire enter with his fledglings. Pompous. That was all he could say on the matter. Lacroix. He had been hearing about this vampire for quite some time. In his day he had been hailed as the greatest General in the Imperial Roman army, the strongest, and most ruthless man to have ever graced the Gods. But Vladimir could see none of the honour in this man which he had been led to believe. Pompous. Though he didn't flaunt his arrogance as many here tonight did, he could still see it in the set of his shoulders, the slightly up-turned air about him. He thought himself superior to all. And now, he was after his beauty, his lady. As he watched the vampire kiss his lady's hand and the smile she gave him, he snarled. He would soon bring an end to this treachery!

Lacroix left the queen to her well-wishers and moved to mingle with the other guests. He came upon a middle-aged woman, sitting slightly apart from the others. She was pretty enough to not have been sitting so alone, so he moved to introduce himself.

"Madame, may I introduce my self? I am Lucien Lacroix." He took the woman's hand and brought it to his lips. She smiled nervously, casting her eyes around the room quickly.

"Good evening, sir. I am Annabelle Roche."

"Enchante." He bowed slightly to her and she blushed, sending the blood rushing, tantalizingly through her veins. He smiled as he kept a hold of her hand, her pulse beating rapidly beneath his fingers.

"Would you care to dance, Madame Roche?" She smiled again and uncertainly nodded. He assisted her to her feet, and wrapping his arm about her narrow waist, he swept her onto the dancefloor to join his children as they indulged themselves in the occasion.

The night drew on as Lacroix made sport of the shy noblewomen. She was giggling freely as he spoke, and as he handed her another glass of punch, she leaned into him as he whispered into her ear,

"Monsieur! I am a lady!" she exclaimed, blushing profusely at his suggestion. He smiled as she giggled again. Rising, he held out his hand and helped her to her now unsteady feet. She placed her arm around his, and he proceeded to escort her from the great hall and out into the gardens.

As they strolled, he listened to her soft laughter. All the while, his attention was becoming increasingly drawn to her creamy, soft throat as she elegantly tossed her head, and the rich, intoxicating blood pumping sweetly within. After casting his senses about, he subtly guided her into an obscure corner, away from prying eyes and ears, and he softly kissed her lips, smothering her startled gasp. Then, slightly surprised by her boldness, he smiled as she quickly recovered and returned his attentions, deepening their joining. He leaned her against a nearby tree, and fumbled with her ample clothing. As he raised her skirts above her hips, he eased his hand within her pantaloons, and into its secrets beyond.

"Oh!" she gasped as he stroked her, but did nothing to halt his ministrations. He was most pleased when she made a grasp for his own uniform breeches. He helped her release him, then tore her underwear away, and thrust into her moistness, sighing as he lifted her and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He pounded into her, revelling in her climatic flurry until he let his own peak come rushing forth. Throwing back his head, he snarled and sank his fangs deeply into her beautiful neck and drank until she was drained of every drop of life.

Lacroix was fastening his last buckle when he found himself being thrown onto the ground with enough force to expel the air from his lungs. Leaping to his feet, he spun about, only to be confronted by the blazing glare and fangs of another.

"What have you done?!" the vampire demanded of him.

"My apologies, had you kept her for yourself?" he spoke eloquently, attempting to calm the man before him. He was roughly the same age as he, and from his accent, he was from these parts.

"She was mine!"

"There are plenty of others." Lacroix flicked his hand toward the palace, bending to ready the lady's remains for disposal.

"She was mine!" the other snarled, shoving Lacroix away from the body. Lacroix raised his eyebrows as he realized what the vampire was implying.

"She was mortal," he stoically told the distraught vampire.

"Not for long! Now you have ruined everything! You will pay dearly for this mistake, Lacroix! I swear you shall pay!" With a final snarl, the vampire shot into the air, burdened with his lost love.

Lacroix rolled his eyes and shook his head, brushing foliage from his clothing and straightening the sword at his waist.

"As bad as Nicholas," he huffed. Then without giving the matter another thought, he returned to the party.

>>>>>

"She was nothing but a mortal! A meal to be taken! She was not worth the life of my son!" He was shouting, his fury beyond any he had ever before endured.

"To you, perhaps. But to me, she was my life. Just as Nicholas was yours. Now, we are even. Good-day, Lacroix."

The link became silent. Lacroix screamed and ripped the unit from the desk and flung it against the far wall where it shattered into a thousand fragments of rage.

Rapidly pacing the room, his lust for revenge growing with every second, he finally let out a snarl and strode through the house and out into the night in search of his prey.

End part 1/2

Dolenti Parole

Part 2/2

Natalie had felt and heard his anguish, but had remained in her bed, quietly crying into her pillow.

She remembered now how Nick had pushed her out of the vampire's way as the intruder had lunged for her. The force had sent her head-first into the mantle where she fell unconscious. It had been the last moment she had seen her husband alive.

"Oh, Nick..."

It was five days before Lacroix re-entered their home. Natalie heard him move slowly to his bedroom and gently shut the door.

He had succeeded in his quest, for he would not have returned until he had done so. Rising from her own bed, she left her room, and without knocking, she opened his door.

He sat motionless on the edge of his bed, still fully clothed, injured, burns and gouges slowly healing. He could not meet her gaze; he seemed almost in a daze.

"It is done," she asked him softly, more of a statement than question. He nodded.

Natalie could clearly see his resolve failing, slipping from his tenacious grasp.

She disappeared into his bathroom and returned with a bowl of warm water and a cloth. Slowly, tenderly, she stepped forward and began to undo his shirt buttons. He watched her hands, then gazed up into her face, his brow furrowing, his pain barely restrained. Why would she do this for him? He had killed her husband.

She kept her eyes on her hands as she silently removed his clothes and began to wash the grime and soot away from his skin. He remained still and silent throughout. Finally, she pulled down the bedclothes and gently pushed him into bed. He went willingly, exhausted beyond all reason and pride. She tucked him in, then rounded the bed and lay down next to him, wrapping her arms around him, pressing herself against his back.

He let his silent tears run as she held him, unable to hold them in any longer.

It was his fault. Three hundred and fifty years ago he had made the greatest mistake of his life... and he hadn't even realized. He may as well have killed his son with his bare hands.

He felt his son's lover hold him tighter, sharing his grief, in an attempt to comfort him...and she was, for as much as she was able. She was perhaps the last person on this earth who could.

With Janette gone these past decades, and now Nicholas, Natalie was all he had left.

Eventually he must have fallen into a restless sleep, for he woke suddenly. He rolled almost desperately into her open arms. He encompassed her, clutching her to his chest, keeping her safe in his embrace, until finally they slept again.

When he woke next, it was to the pleasurable touch of her fingertips across his skin. He sighed. Her fingers were replaced with her lips and tongue, and she began to kiss her way down his chest to his abdomen. He raised his hand to stroke her soft shoulders and luscious hair.

He stared down at her as she raised her eyes. They both wanted this. To comfort each other, feel each other, to not be alone. They kissed. They were gentle and tender as they made love, moving together with slow movements, until finally, they sank into the throat of the other, tears streaming from them both as they felt and lived the other's grief and love for a man they had both loved and lost.

The next evening, Lacroix woke to an empty bed. He had always known his son and Natalie had been nothing but completely faithful to one another since she had been brought across, and he wouldn't be surprised if she was feeling guilty and ashamed of what they had done the day before. But regret was far from his mind. She had given him something he had so badly needed, and could have found in no one else. He took solace in the fact she knew this.

He rose from his bed to shower and dress. It was time to move on, and his stomach quivered with the suspicion that Natalie would chose not to leave with him.

He was sitting in the parlour, reading before the blazing fireplace, as it crackled loudly in the silence of the darkened room. Natalie sat down next to him on the couch, and he lowered his book.

"Where will you go?" she asked him. She had seen his bags, packed and waiting in the storage room. He sighed as he looked stoically into the flames.

"Paris, perhaps, or Venice." They were silent for a moment until Natalie braved the subject.

"Lacroix, yesterday..." He held off her words with a raised hand.

"I have no expectations for you to join me because of what happened between us...though the invitation is there, should you so desire it," he told her softly, glancing toward her. She gave him a wan smile.

"Thank you...but I don't think I'm ready to leave Toronto just yet. We only just arrived here. Nick and I had plans, some of which I can continue with."

He nodded, not trusting his voice to speak, though desperately wishing he could say what he was feeling. To force her to come with him. But she was as head-strong as his son had been, and he would have only driven her away. He had learned that particular lesson well enough.

"You'll write to tell me where you've settled?" she said quietly as the silence between them grew.

"Of course."

He gracefully rose to his feet, and went to pour them both a drink from the wetbar. He paused in his task when he felt her envelop him from behind. He turned in her arms and hugged her to him.

"I must leave," he whispered, his chin resting against her hair.

"I know." She did know. It was his way. He had nothing but bad memories here now, and he needed to leave them behind.

She would miss this man. She had come to respect him and recognize the love, fierce loyalty and protective nature he had for his family. Especially for Nick.

What happened yesterday had been wonderful, healing. It had given her the strength to stay and finish what she and Nick had begun together. She supposed she even loved the man she held. He had become a source of protection, stability and comfort for them both, only yesterday, for perhaps the first time in his life...he had needed her.

The next night she held him again for a final farewell. Then abruptly, he released her, lifted his travelbag from the floor and strode out into the night. Natalie wiped away the tears as he disappeared. She was on her own.

Returning inside and closing the door behind her, Natalie de Brabant began to plan the next stage of her life.

Five years later...

The clinic had been such a success, Natalie had been forced to open three others scattered throughout the region, including one in Montreal. Naturally, the de Brabant Foundation provided for all of their needs.

This was the first incarnation in which she had gone back to her doctoring. The control of her bloodlust had strengthened to the point that she and Nick had felt happy about her being in the presence of mortals and blood, without the vampire surfacing. She found she had missed it over the years, and even now, as she patted the bottom of a three-year-old boy to send him grinning back to his mother, she felt she had done the right thing in staying here after Nick had been killed. Her smile saddened at the thought of her lover.

There had been no one else since, of course, but today she was feeling his loss as heavily as she always did at this time of year. Nick had always tried to wean her off clinging to days of memorial, but he had never succeeded, and tomorrow would be no different. The anniversary of Nick's death would come, she would spend the night at his graveside, cry, then return to her empty home. Their home. He had promised her happiness, and he had given it to her every day of his life. But his loss had been almost unbearable.

The first two years had been the worst. Almost everyday she had been only a single step away from opening the shutters keeping the sun at bay. On some of those days, the only thought which had prevented her from pushing that button was the thought of leaving 'him' completely alone.

She had heard from Lacroix only a handful of times over the years, and not at all in the past ten months. He had gone to Venice after leaving Toronto, but had remained only a few months before moving on again. Paris, Rome, even Norway for a time. She lost track of him after Berlin, and she hadn't heard from him since.

Sighing, she called in her next patient, and soon she was swept away with the endless stream of the unfortunate sick and injured of Toronto.

The next evening found her walking through the darkened cemetery. She cast her enhanced vision and hearing around briefly to see if anyone was about. But as usual, there was no one. She was glad. She hated crying with an audience.

Cresting the small rise beyond which she had laid Nick to rest, the great lake appeared in all it's splendor. From here, Nick could watch the sun rise in all its glory every morning as it rose up over the lake.

Halting mid-stride as it came into view, she could hardly believe her eyes as she recognized the black figure crouching beside Nick's grave, tenderly brushing the leaves and dirt from his headstone. She could faintly hear him speaking and moved to wait beside a clasp of oak trees giving him the privacy he needed.

He hadn't sensed her yet. But then he was a little distracted. She realized she wasn't really surprised to find him here, perhaps, always knowing his journey would one day bring him back to the beginning...to Nick.

He had never been here before tonight. He wasn't sure what force had pulled him back to Toronto. Perhaps he just needed to be here this night. He stared down at his son's headstone, pleased with what he saw--a polished brass plate attached to a obsidian slab. The brief epitaph simple, though he was surprised no one had noticed the date of birth and done nothing about it.

'Beloved Husband and Son.'

He stooped down to brush the gathering of leaves and grime from the placard and the surrounding stonework.

"I suppose I came back to tell you something I neglected to do while I able. Forgive my procrastination, Nicholas...I thought I had forever..." He brushed a tear away before it fell as he struggled to continue. He took a deep breath and let it slowly out.

"Nicholas." He sighed his name. Then after a moment he sat down beside his son.

"Since the first moment I saw you, tasted the light and ardour of life in your blood, watched your grace as you hunted and played...I have been proud you were mine. Even when I hated you for betraying me, for trying to kill me, for running from every move I made. I was even proud of the effort you made to be so noble, so...good." He huffed a small laugh. "I was even proud of the strength you had to relentlessly drink that damnedable swill!" He paused and breathed deeply. "I miss you, my son...I only hope...you loved me, half as much as I loved you." He sniffed back the next tear, feeling vulnerable enough without crying like a grieving woman.

Lifting his face to look out across the lake, he closed his eyes to the soft wind caressing his face...he felt her.

Tipping his head toward her in acknowledgement of her presence, Natalie took it as her cue to join him. Slowly she made her way toward Nick's grave until she was standing behind him. She smiled sadly.

"I was wondering where you'd got to," she said lightly, quietly. He huffed a sad laugh.

"And here I am."

She gazed down at Nick's grave, still smiling sadly. She crouched down and said a silent hello to her husband and laid the red roses she had clasped in her hand lovingly beneath his headstone.

"Five years...has it been so long?" he whispered, still staring out over the moonlit lake.

"I still miss him so much," Natalie breathed, sitting down next to the ancient vampire, their shoulders lightly touching. They sat silently, letting each other's presence caress their minds, once again letting their familial bond ease their loneliness.

"I was lazy," Lacroix whispered suddenly, dropping his gaze to the ground between his knees. "I should have found out who she was, but I did not. I had broken my own rule and was caught up in the moment, the grandeur. How could I have been so arrogant?" He dropped his head onto his fists.

Natalie wasn't going to answer that one, especially since she had no idea what he was talking about.

"One mistake, one small error in judgement...the result of which killed my son," he told her from his hands.

"Lacroix? What are you talking about?" she asked, exasperated.

"Nicholas! The reason he was killed was because of something I did!"

"What do you mean, something you did?! What did you do?" Natalie was becoming confused, and he was becoming quite upset. She watched as he rose to his feet and paced several steps away, before spinning back to her.

"The one who killed Nicholas did it out of revenge for something I did three hundred and fifty years ago."

"What!?!" Natalie pushed herself to her own feet. Her brow furrowed in shock and confusion. Was he saying it was his fault?

"I killed my son!" He snarled and glared at her, anger taking the place of his tears. She just stared at him for several long moments. Then she straightened, her features relaxed as she absorbed the raw pain in his eyes.

"No. No, you didn't. You loved Nick. You didn't kill him. He did."

"It was my fault."

"A factor, maybe, but to blame? I refuse to take that on, Lacroix."

"I haven't even told you what I did!" he exclaimed, unwilling to believe her forgiveness.

"And I don't want to know." She turned from him abruptly. "If you have the sudden desire to confess your sins, go and see a priest, because I don't want to hear them." She turned her back on him and began walking away. She couldn't deal with this, not tonight. The one person she thought she could rely on was trying to tell her he responsible for Nick's death...No, she didn't need to hear that.

When she finally turned back to see if he was following as she expected him to be, she was shocked by the sight before her.

He had fallen to his knees with his head in his arms, his body shaking, racked by silent sobs. She ran back to him and fell beside him, drawing him back into her arms. She brushed his face as he released a silent scream to the heavens above. She held him close as he continued to cry, tears streaming down his face, splashing to her hands. His torrent of grief was so strong and overwhelming, she had to concentrate fully on damping their bond.

As he calmed, she still held him to her bosom. She kissed the top of his head.

"Is this the first time?" She would bet he had never really grieved since he had left; it just wasn't what proud Romans did. Her suspicions were confirmed as he silently nodded.

They sat and held each other closely, until the false dawn appeared and heralded another day approaching.

"Come on. You can stay with me." She helped him to his feet, and with an arm wrapped tightly around his waist, they both gave Nick one last look before she guided him back toward her car.

He was silent on the ride home, and it wasn't until they were on their second glass of bloodwine that they spoke.

"Natalie, would you mind if I stayed here for a time?" he asked her quietly, staring into his wine as he swirled it around his glass.

"Not at all. You're always welcome here. Stay as long as you like." She patted his arm to reaffirm her words. He smiled faintly.

"Thank you." He sighed, then quietly added, "I'm so tired of being alone."

Natalie reached up and pulled his head down to hers, and he closed his eyes as he finally relaxed. Quietly, unmoving from her touch, he began to tell her of his travels.

"I must have been to every country in Europe. But eventually, I found myself following old routes Nicholas had taken as he had run from me. It wasn't until I found myself scanning a crowd trying to find him that I realized it was time to return." His lips pursed and he took a shaky breath.

"He's always been right here," she whispered, placing a hand over his heart. A stray tear escaped as Lacroix nodded.

Dawn broke, and she pulled him to his feet, leading the weary vampire to his bed, and joining him in a sleep neither had thought possible ever again.

Finis.

I know the ending's a bit sappy, but what can I do...?<g>

End part 2/2