Eternal Rest
By April French

Part Four

November 1st, 1992

Furlong waived his rights and confessed as soon as he was in the squad car--helped along, no doubt, by a gentle nudge from Nick.

The next night found the detective sitting alone at his desk, chin on his hands, staring at a chess piece placed in front of him. Natalie had to call his name three times before he looked up. "A little preoccupied?"

He blinked, badly disoriented. "Sorry, what?" Nick passed a hand over his face.

"You were spacing."

"Was not. Drifting, maybe."

Natalie caught sight of the trinket. "A chess piece?" Nick nodded, but offered no further explain. "Are you okay?"

"Sure. I was just thinking about Joseph. About Furlong."

"Ah." Natalie perched on the corner of the desk.

"I wanted to kill him, Nat. I wanted so badly to feed... I almost did."

"But you didn't." She laid a hand on his shoulder, but the tension in his muscles remained. "Did he ever give you or Schanke any explanation of why he arranged the bodies the way he did? With the salt and the candy?"

A strange cast came over Nick's face. "Schanke was right. The candy and the pantyhose were meant to be grave goods. The circle of salt was to act as a protection for the victim. As for why... He said he wanted to make sure that they would live forever."

@}-----

A sharp rush of air behind him stopped Joseph dead in his tracks. Gripping his walking stick tightly, he turned, and beheld through the fog the all-too solid silhouette of the vampire.

"I have nothing to say to you, Mr. Pirie."

"Joseph..." Nicholas trailed off, feeling queerly helpless. "You must know that I intended only to help you--"

"By impersonating my wife's ghost? By destroying my last hope of seeing her again?"

"She is dead! If there is a God, then her soul is with Him in Heaven and you will not see her again until you are there yourself! I wanted you to realize that."

The surgeon's strangled voice rang out in the cobblestoned street. "You had no right to--!" The nostrils of his thin nose were white and flared in rage, as he took of his top hat and ran a gloved hand through his neat silver hair. "My heart despises you for this. But my brain is saying that... you have been correct in your assessment of mediums. Miss Beecher would not have agreed to your deception if she had been truly gifted."

Nicholas allowed himself a small smile. "I'm gratified that you..."

"That does not mean I agree with your methods. I'll probably thank you for this one day, Nicholas. But not tonight." Joseph brushed some nonexistent dust from his top hat. "I shall retain my confidences with you, sir, but I think it would be best if you looked for someone else to accommodate you." He set his hat back on his head, cocked it smartly, and with squared shoulders, walked resolutely away.

The vampire's mouth parted, and his hands shook slightly in sheer disbelief. "No... No! Joseph!" But the surgeon would not hear him, and pride would not allow Nicholas to follow.

A hard kiss of air against his cheek told him he was not alone.

"For once, Nicholas," said LaCroix with quiet triumph, "you were right. I needn't have wasted my time depriving you of this mortal. You did it for me." Nicholas bowed his head, defeated. "You do seem to have a knack for getting in the way of your own goals." Overcome, Nicholas took to the air.

Through the fog, LaCroix followed his son with his eyes until he was long out of sight of mortal vision. When he could see Nicholas no more, he touched his fingers to the brim of his hat in mock salute. "Requiescat in pace," he murmured, smiling slightly.

@}-----

"He truly believed that he could save them from death. Keep them with him. Give them..." Nick trailed off, then emitted a tiny, humorless chuckle. "Give them eternal life."

"A human's ability to believe is a powerful thing," Natalie agreed, as her friend picked up the black knight.

Nick's eyes locked on a corner of the nearest filing cabinet and went out of focus. "They say 'seeing is believing.' But just believing in something doesn't necessarily make it true."

Natalie rubbed his shoulder consolingly with the backs of her knuckles. "Happy Halloween, Nick," she whispered. He didn't answer; his hands were too busy fingering the chess piece in his hand. Suddenly aghast at his own stupidity, he rushed out of the precinct, and flew back to his loft.

Flinging himself on the floor in front of the fireplace, Nick carefully placed the black knight in its correct spot on the chess board, exactly where it had been the week before when he had played himself into a stalemate. He put his eyes level with the floor and examined the board carefully; despite Nick's best efforts and most complex stratagems, the white king was still effectively blocked. But when he stopped thinking so intently about battle tactics and just considered the lay of the pieces...

He took the ivory king between his long fingers, toppled the black knight, and checkmated his opponent. The hollow completion that filled him was fleeting. Nick touched the prone ebony horse lightly with his fingertips. "Requiescat in pace," he murmured, his mind elsewhere.

~Finis--October 21st, 2003~