The gun's hammer hitting empty chambers, one after another, was the
only sound he could hear. Finally relaxing, no longer repeatedly
squeezing the trigger, he let the weight of the gun pull his arm down
to hang loosely at his side. The room was still and quiet; it was all
at an end. Knowing that there was only one last thing to do, he
walked to the small table by the door, picked up the phone and began
to dial.

"Yes officer, " he answered to the voice on the other end of the
line, "I do have a emergency to report. I've just murdered someone.
No, I'll be here when they come. The address is..."

--*--

In the downtown precinct's interrogation room number seven, two
Toronto Metro PD detectives: Nick Knight and Don Schanke sat and
listened as Raymond Latham, an American and a software engineer from
San Diego, California told his story.

"Almost two years of searching but I finally found him," he stated.
Latham sat at the table, his hands were clinched, the knuckles white
with the pressure. An overweight, balding man in his early forties
with pale, gray eyes that held a deep, haunted expression. "I heard
he had been living for years here in Canada," he continued, "living
off the inheritance left by his parents. I just wanted to talk to
him. That's all; I just wanted to tell him what he had done. But he
laughed! He laughed!"

"Mr. Latham, just tell us what happened? Why did you kill Mr. Francis
Poulenc?" Detective Don Schanke questioned.

"I knew him as Father Francis. He was the parish priest at Holy
Family Catholic Church back in the mid 60's when I was just a boy. I
was nine and my brother Martin was seven when the molestation by
Father Francis began. We were altar boys and our parents were so
proud that the good father was giving us his special attention. They
didn't know; it wouldn't have occurred to them what that special
attention really meant. He would call it rehearsal. The night before
morning mass when we were supposed to be getting the church ready
instead my brother and I were with him in his bed, naked as he
touched, kissed and....oh god, I can't ever forget what he did to us!
What he made us do!"

"Didn't you try to tell your parents, anyone what was going on?" Don
asked.

"I was too afraid. We both were. He told us if we told anyone about
it, they wouldn't believe us. After all he was a priest; they would
think we were making it all up, then punish us. We would be separated
and sent to schools for bad boys. Our parents would never have
anything to do with us again. We were children and what else could we
do, we believed him.

"The molestation finally stopped when our father's job transferred
the whole family to San Jose up in Northern California. By that time
I was twelve and Martin was ten and although the abuse had stopped,
the fear and hopelessness was still with us. Still eating away at our
lives."

"When did you did finally report the abuse?"

"In 1987, after years of therapy, encouraged by my psychologist, I
contacted a lawyer to start proceedings against the priest. That is
when I found out that I was not the first to bring charges against
him but he had long ago left the priesthood and the country. Oh, the
church was willing to make a settlement just to hush-up the whole
affair but that wasn't enough. Not for me.

"Then in 1992, after my brother Martin commented suicide-he overdosed
on heroin, I really started searching for the ex-priest. I had tried,
tried to get him to go into counseling but he wouldn't go. Drugs and
alcohol were what he used to blot out the memories. I just wanted to
talk to that man! To tell him what he had done to us!"

"If you just wanted to talk why did you bring a gun?" It was
Detective Nick Knight this time that asked the question.

"I wanted an apology from that bastard! An apology for all the pain
and fear, for our childhood lost. I was going to get him to admit his
guilt even if I had to tear out of him! I guess that's the reason I
bought the gun with me."

"Mr. Latham, did you get your apology?"

"No! He laughed, said it was all in the past. It had all been taken
care of and none of it mattered any more. I couldn't believe what I
was hearing. This man had once been a minister of God and he was
saying none of it mattered! I asked him what about his own eternal
soul. He said his soul was in fine shape; I was the one who had to
worry! He sat there and laughed. He's not laughing now, is he?"

--*--

As the first touches of dawn were beginning to brighten the night
sky, the two detectives, Schanke and Knight, walked together through
the back parking lot to their cars.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm glad this case was a quickie but damn, why
couldn't it have been a nice drug deal gone sour. I hate pedophiles,
and a priest too. Latham deserves a medal in my book, not to end up
spending the rest of his life in prison. I just can't get the idea
out of my head. What those poor boys went through. I was an altar boy
too, when I was young. But old Father Pat, bless his soul, would've
never..." Don Schanke, a tall man with dark but receding hairline
paused in his commentary when he looked over at his partner walking
next to him.

"Hey Knight, you don't look to good. God, you're paler then usual!"
He said this to a younger appearing man with a full mane of curly,
blonde hair. "I`ve noticed this case has really gotten to you. If you
wanted to talk about it there's an all night cafe around the corner."

"That's okay, Schanke. You need to go home to your family. Anyway the
sun will be up soon, I've got to get home."

"I know, you and your skin condition, but listen partner, if you need
to talk about this, call me. Okay."

"Thanks but--I'll be fine."

Don Schanke stood by his car and watched his partner drive away. He
then pulled out his cell phone and quickly dialed a number. "Medical
Examiner's Office, I need to speak to Dr. Lambert. Oh hi Natalie.
It's about Nick..."

--*--

Nicholas Knight, an eight hundred year old vampire, and detective on
the night shift at the ninety-sixth precinct, found it hard enough to
keep his secret from the mortals he worked with but there were times,
and tonight was one of them, when the battle was just too great. An
empty bottle laid in shattered ruin in the cold and unlit fireplace
while another, half filled with cold cow's blood, was held tightly
against his chest. The buried past was refusing to remain in it's
neat little coffin and Nick knew that there would be no sleep today
for this wary vampire.

The two-story loft around him was deep in darkness, the heavy
shudders completely blocking out the sunlight that would mean pain
and death to its undead occupant. Only the slightest rumblings of the
outside world of mortals could be heard through their insulation.

It was the rattling of the building's old freight elevator that
distracted Nick from his dark thoughts. Just moments before its door
opened, he could smell the delicate and expensive perfume that told
him who was arriving.

Natalie Lambert pushed opened the heavy metal door and entered the
dark enshrouded apartment. Without hesitation she headed for the
kitchen area, turned on the lights and began to busy herself starting
a pot of coffee.

"Nat, you shouldn't be here." Nick's voice came at her from the
darkness.

"Yeah I know. You're in one of your vampire moods. Nick, if you
really want to became mortal again, you are going to have to learn
how to act more..."

"Human?"

"No, more like `sociable'. Now where did you put the coffee? It's not
under the sink."

Before she could look up, Nick was standing behind her having crossed
the distance in a brink of an eye. "Damn it, Nick! You know that
still freaks me out when you do that!"

Without saying a word, Nick turned and opened the door to the
refrigerator. From the freezer compartment he brought out a bag that
was labeled `fresh ground coffee'.

--*--

The smell of brewed coffee filled the air of the loft while the soft
light from several candles and the cheery singing of the flames in
the fireplace made the room seem warm and homey. Natalie sat on the
big comfy sofa near the fireplace. Nick was seated nearby on the edge
of the large coffee table.

After several sips from the mug of hot coffee in her hands, Natalie
finally broke the silence. "You know Nick, talking about a problem is
the best way to the start of solving it. Well at least that's the way
it seems to me."

Nick sat in silence, staring into the depths of the wine glass filled
with cow's blood in his hands.

"Schanke already gave me a rundown on the case you two were working
on. If you don't want to talk to me about it then what about some of
your vampire friends?"

"They know some of the story but not all." Nick finally spoke.

"You know we've been friends for a long time, well at least by mortal
standards, and you have told me many things about what you are and
your life. I won't say that on a few occasions it didn't disturb even
shock, but you are my friend and I do worry about you."

"Nat, I can take care of myself. I've been doing so for the last
seven hundred and sixty-seven years. What can a mortal do for me?"

"Well this mortal can listen. I'm not leaving until I know you are
okay. Remember, I'm not only a friend but your doctor too."

"Oh yes, Dr. Natalie Lambert, Chief Coroner for the city of Toronto
and doctor to the vampire community!"

"Damn it Nick, when you're like this, I want to drive a stake through
your heart!"

"Sorry Nat. I know you're trying to help and I'm thankful. It's that
the memory of feeling helpless can be so disturbing that you'll do
anything to escape it."

Minutes ticked by as the flames in the fireplace crackled and snapped
as the two people in the room sat in silence, locked in their own
thoughts.

"I hope people now realize what freedom they have." Nick started
speaking breaking the long silence "The ability to be whatever you
what to be is something new and only of this century. In the days of
my youth, the 13th Century, you were whatever your family did. You
didn't question it. It was expected and you did it. Schanke would
have been a sewer worker just like his father and you, well a woman
had few choices: raise sons and keep the home or enter a nunnery.

"I was born the youngest son of the Duke of Brabrant, and according
to tradition I was to be trained for the Church. But because I was
such a poor student, now a day I would've been diagnosed as having
ADHD (attention deficient hyperactive disease), it was decided that I
would be trained for the knighthood instead. So at the age of eight I
was sent to my Uncle Louis, a brother of my Mother, for training. He
was a hard man and he expected you to do what you were told, without
question. There were three of us at the time. Jacques, Guillaume and
myself, and he worked us hard. We had to learn not only how to use
weapons, to fight and to ride but also how to care for your equipment
and horses and to keep them all in good condition. I remember the
punishment for having a bit of rust on your sword was twenty lashes
with a whip. I do remember the feel of the lash on by bare back when
I didn't properly saddle my horse.

"It was during the third year of our training the old priest
confessor of my Uncle's manor house died. His replacement was a
priest by the name of Father Bernard, who turned out to be a cousin
and the middle son of my Uncle Louis.

"Father Bernard took a special liking to one of us, the youngest,
Guillaume. Not only was he responsible for our spiritual needs but
also taught us reading, writing, and arithmetic. It became common
that in the evening, Father Bernard would come and get Guillaume
saying that he needed more help with his lessons.

"We knew that they slept together. Back in the old days, it wasn't
unusual for two, three, even four people to share a bed. You slept in
your clothes and in the cold of winter the more bodies, the warmer.
The only ones who had a bed completely to themselves were the lord
and lady of the manor. We three young squires shared the same room
and the same bed. We thought nothing about it at first but as time
went on we couldn't help but notice Guillaume's behavior began to
change. He never wanted to be alone with Father Bernard and any job
that would take him away from the manor house he would jump to it.

"One time, I fought Guillaume washing out his own underwear. When I
saw the bloodstains I asked him what had happened. He answered that
Father Bernard had been too rough with him that night."

"My god Nick wasn't there something you could do. Tell his father,
your Uncle!" Natalie asked.

"No. As I said, my Uncle Louis was a hard man. To complain was to
court disaster. None of us were primary sons and because of that you
could say we were expendable. My Uncle was not above doing anything
to protect his own family's name and honor. Even if it meant that
some bothersome squire, even one of blood kin, would have a nasty and
fatal accident. He held our lives in his hands and we knew it. And so
did Father Bernard."

"The years passed, Father Bernard eventually lost interest in
Guillaume. He found another more willing victim for his desires, the
young son of one of the housemaids.

The three of us, Jacques, Guillaume and myself finally won our right
to knighthood. Free to leave my Uncle's domination, we three rode off
together to seek our fortunes. The rest of my story you know; how I
ended up in Wales, then the Holy Lands and finally Paris where I met
LaCroix and Janette and became a vampire."

"Nick, I can see why the case bothered you so much. You were helpless
to do anything to help your friend. I don't know what to say. Do you
know what happened to Guillaume or that Father Bernard?"

"Decades later I did run across the then Cardinal Bernard. You could
say he was on the fast track to becoming Pope. But unfortunately, he
died under mysterious circumstances. It's amazing how well the Church
can cover up scandals even back then."

Natalie could hear the smirk in Nick's voice. She was well aware of
what he meant by `died under mysterious circumstances'. On the other
hand, she couldn't help but think there was far more to the story
then what Nick was telling her. She also knew from long experience,
if she pushed to hard for the truth, Nick would clam-up and nothing
in this world would ever get him talking on the subject again. He
might be an eight hundred vampire but he's still a man, a gentle
nudge was needed to keep him on the right track.

"What happened to Guillaume?" she asked.

"He became well known for his generosity and his kindness. He married
well and lived a long and happy life. Nat, don't you have to work
tonight? Shouldn't you be in bed trying to get some sleep before
putting in the next ten hours?"

"So you're trying to get rid of me? Well, I'm off tonight. And so are
you!"

"I wonder what donut eating little bird told you that!"

"A concerned little bird. Now tell me, don't you feel a little
better. Come on admit it!"

"Okay! Okay! I'll say anything to keep you two from trying to nurse
me back to health. Do you know that Schanke got into his head that I
didn't look like I was getting enough roughage in my diet! Thinking
that I might be suffering from constipation, he spent almost the
entire shift explaining the virtues of a good bowel movement. If that
happens again, I'll drive a wooden stake though my own heart!"

"Good, you sound better. None of that `I'm a evil vampire doom and
gloom."

"Nothing like an verbal enema to break up an emotional blockage."

"Yeah, but in your case it would it take a high colonic with all the
water in Lake Ontario to get all the emotional crap out of you."
Natalie said, laughing.

"Well my Lady, under your hands I'm sure it would be the most
delightful of experiences for me." Nick purred as he sat down next to
her on the sofa.

"Okay, that's it! No more enema jokes! But you're right Nick, I
better get on home, I am very tired."

"You can sleep on the couch, you've done it before." Nick said this
as he leaned back suggestively against the soft cushions of the sofa
while giving Natalie one of his most alluring smiles.

"Oh yeah, you are feeling much better. You can't whammy me but you
can sure `vamp' the hell out of me. And you know it! Someday mister,
when you become mortal, I'm going to make you pay big time."

"Promise." Nick called out.

Natalie had by that time already gathered up her things and was
headed for the door. She turned and walked back to couch to Nick's
side. She leaned down and planted a kiss on his forehead. "Promise."
she whispered.

"Oh, I've been meaning to ask," Natalie said as she stood waiting for
the elevator to arrive, "that was damn good coffee. Where did you get
it?"

"That was Schanke doing. Because Thanksgiving Day was coming he had
to stop and pick up a turkey for the big party Myra had planned. For
the entire shift, I had to listen to him complaining about how he had
never pick out a turkey before. I made the mistake of telling him
just to pick out the freshest. Guess who had to go with him into the
grocery store and use their keen sense of smell to pick out the
perfect turkey. While he was debating with himself over which of the
canned cranberries to buy, I went over to the coffee aisle. I
remembered the smell of the coffee you buy from that place near the
Coroner's Office so I tried to match the blend. Did I do a good job?"

"Fantastic! And you did it all by smell! Amazing!"

"So it looks like I'm not only the official turkey picker for the
Schanke family but I'm also your coffee buyer."

"Nick."

"Yes."

"Just remember that it's all in the past and the past can't hurt
anymore."

Nick smiled and nodded his acknowledgment. As the door of the
elevator closed and he listened as it made its noisy way down to
ground level, the smile that had been on his face faded. "I sorry
Nat, I couldn't tell you the truth. The past can still hurt, even
after centuries," he said. Only the dancing flames in the fireplace
heard him as the images from the past began to fill his mind.

--*--

It was a night in 1258, a full moon hung in the dark velvet sky. It
was early summer and the first taste of the dry weather to come was
in the air. In a small room lit only by the light of the moon that
poured through a heavily barred window, an old man knelt on the bare
stone floor and prayed. He was dressed in the dark brown robes of the
monks of the monastery where he was housed. The only other items in
the room with him were a straw filled mattress and a few blankets.

"Dear God, I know I've hurt many people in my life." he said. "I'm
repenting now for my sins, please, please release me from this
torment. I beg, I beseech you release me from the hold of this demon.
Keep it away from me! I beg of you Oh blessed Father and Protector!"
He continued to pray as the shadows in the room deepened around him.

Just as the light of the moon faded from his window, a voice from the
shadows called to him. "Well Bernard, what shall it be tonight? Shall
I make you sing and dance nude in the moonlight? Or will I make you
strip during mass and pleasure yourself right in front of the whole
congregation again? Or perhaps I'll..."

"Please, please leave me alone!"

"Leave you alone! What pity did you show others when they begged you
to leave them alone?"

"I'm repenting for my sins! I've given up everything! All my wealth
has gone to the poor! I have nothing!"

"Yes, so you have. What a change from your palace and rich
apartments, Oh great prince of the Church! Where are all your troops
of servants that waited on you hand and foot? Where are all the young
boys that bowed to the pleasure of your will?"

"Please leave me alone! Oh dear God, spare me this torment!"

"Pray on Cardinal Bernard. Just remember it was you who breached his
promise, not God. If you were truly a man of God, I wouldn't be able
to come to you. But as you see, I can."

Bernard saw a young man richly dressed with curly blonde hair that
flowed over his shoulders stepped from the shadows. In the blink of
an eye, he was standing directly in front of him. The old man reacted
by falling backwards onto the hard floor.

"Demon, why do you torture me? What have I done to deserve this? What
have I done to you?" he whined as he lay on the cold stone of the
floor.

The young man squatted so he could get closer to the old man's face.

"What a shame, after all this time you still don't recognize me. You
once told me I had the sweetest buttocks in all of Christendom. My
skin as soft as China silk and my body as firm as a young colt's; but
I'm sure, you said that to all the others too. All the other young
boys that you force yourself on."

Even in his fear, the old man moved closer to examine the face before
him. "You do look familiar, like my cousin Nicholas but that's not
possible. That was over forty years ago and..."

"Oh I am your dear cousin Nicholas but we demons don't age. I
remember you well, Father Bernard. As a young squire in your father's
house, I could say, do nothing against you. I begged you to leave me
alone and did you listen to me. No! You just laughed!"

"Oh dear God! Forgive me! Forgive me!"

"Sorry, forgiveness is not in me. Just think of it, last year you
were ready to step into the lofty shoes of the papacy. You would've
been hearing the cheers of `All Hail to Pope Bernard' instead you
cringe here in this madman's cell. What a difference one year can
make. Well, as you eventually tired of me and sought another, I've
tired of you. It's time to end this."

The old man screamed as the vampire fangs sank into his flesh.

--*--

Back in the present, Nick Knight stared into the flames that danced
before him in the fireplace. "I didn't forgive mine either, Mr.
Latham." He spoke to the flickering forms of heat and light, "To
learn to forgive you have to first learn to forgive yourself."

THE END