TPTB own the FK chars, but Morgaine (pronounced like "morgan") is mine. Her first released-from-my-stash-o'-fic appearance was in "Celtic Nights," now archived on the JADFE website. This is a long one, but my wonderful, wonderful, wonderful beta, Ren, says it's worth it! Permission granted to JADFE to archive this, all others ask first.

Part 12 will be a translation section.. I got a little carried away on the French. :)

Comments to DPangel79@aol.com I've given up on the cold showers... <eg>.  explicit N/f, LC/f sex, vampire and the normal stuff. also, some language. 

Duende 1; "Duende"

by Shana Nolan

*************

"I expected more out of you."

Morgaine, ancient vampire living up to the wild Celtic reputation, stared at her accuser. "And I expect a degree of civility." 

Lucien LaCroix, clad in black clothes and a distasteful stare, growled quietly and acquiesced. He wasn't one to back down; except to her... she had over 90 more years than he did to her unlife. He sat back down in his chair. "You've been in town for quite a while."

"Yes, I have. And you just got back."

"Is it my fault that my son and I don't always get along?"

The coldness in her gray eyes softened. She knew better than to be confrontational when it came to this particular topic. She didn't like to cause a rift between two people who just happened to be her former and present lovers. Especially when they were master and childe.

Lucien looked up at her. "It's because of Nicholas, right?"

She finally sat on the edge of the table. "Yes."

"You came to him."

"Yes."

"You've fucked him?"

A wry smile crossed her face. "You expect me to bake him cookies? Of course I have. I left you for him, after all."

The answer didn't please him. "I remember."

She stood back up and released her hair from the silver clip.  Long, auburn waves spilled past her shoulders. Walking behind his chair, she leaned against the back, resting her weight on it. "I think I've made a mistake coming here. I thought after all these years... "

"You want to start again? Need I stop another Roman army for you, or do you expect more now?"

Morgaine sighed. "I won't delude you, Lucius. I'm not giving up mon jeune amour." she paused, bending down to whisper in his ear. "And I still owe you for Nero."

"He wanted me to give you to him. Emperor or not, I don't like to share."

"He wanted a pretty Gaulish slave to ravage and parade about.  I don't like to be told what to do. But I do know what I like."

Spinning the chair around, LaCroix turned to face her. She licked her lips sensuously. He put a hand on her waist, pulling her closer to him. "So what do you want?"

"Despite the fact that I'm quite happy with Nichol, I still need you."

Yanking her onto his lap, LaCroix stared up at her. "And you don't care that he might object?"

She made no move but to balance her weight. "Why should he?

He carries on with Janette and I think you realize as much as I do that he desires that medical examiner."

He blinked and glanced at the clock. Ten minutes until he switched on the mike. *To hell with the radio show, its been a while,* he thought quickly.

Spinning the both of them around and placing her on the edge of the table, LaCroix shoved the mike out of the way. Standing up and unzipping his fly, he pushed a hand up her knee length skirt and ripped off the small panties.

Possessively wrapping a hand behind the back of her neck, it took mere seconds for him to penetrate and roughly thrust himself inside of her. Grinding the hardened member against her tender internal flesh, he watched her throw her head back and gasp as the forceful intercourse washed waves of violent ardor over her. Morgaine latched a hand around his hips and dug her nails in, driving him in deeper.

Reveling in the eternally tight cavity, he felt the muscles tighten around his cock as he grew rapidly close to orgasm. Pushing faster and harder, she was nearly off the table, letting him take her in trained submission.

Ravaging her clit and vaginal walls with aggressive friction, he closed his eyes and growled deeply as he came. She tightened her clawed grip on his ass, nearly tearing the fabric of his pants. 

LaCroix pulled out as abruptly as he has pushed in. Slick with her wetness, he sat back in the chair, his penis still engorged with arousal.

Sliding off the table and dropping to her knees, she flashed a fanged smile up to him just before taking him into her mouth. He gasped as she slid her tongue deftly across highly sensitive nerves.

Smiling as he brought the mike back over to the edge of the table, he turned up the volume and went on the air two minutes before the program's scheduled time. Feeling a second coming building up in him, he began to speak, his velvet tones unwavering and deceptively calm.

It was unlikely that his listeners even had a clue on the attentions he was receiving.

* * *

A playful smile on her face, Morgaine stood in the elevator leading to Nicholas' loft, looking foreword to the rest of the night and the day he had promised to spend with her.

The elevator shifting to a stop, Morgaine pulled open the door and waltzed inside, noting the condition of the loft. It was dimly lit, candles barely illuminating the outlines of furniture. On the table was a single red rose; the chair next to it, however, had a soft flowing dress of red with blackwork draped over the back. Touching the fabric and recognizing its purpose, she smiled into the shadows where she knew he was standing.

"You still remember?"

"Of course. They still have those kind of clubs in this overly modern age?"

Nick Knight stepped out of the shadows and let candlelight bathe across him. In tight black pants, a red silk shirt with wide cuffs and a black embroidered toreador jacket, he smiled deeply, catching her pleased expression. "There's a club on the other end of town. It's a Spanish restaurant that every Friday has Flamenco. The owner is a premier guitarist in Barcelona and most of his staff can dance passably and play well."

Remembering the early days of Flamenco and her time with the gypsies, Morgaine picked the clothes off the chair. Setting them out on the table, she pulled loose the zipper at the back of her dress and slipped it off. Catching Nick staring at her, she reached for her travel bag and pulled a matching pair of bra and panties. Slipping on a black and crimson lace thong over her bare skin and unhooking the bustier, she held her precious crusader silent and in appreciative awe.

The skimpy lace bra now showing off more soft flesh than the previous support, she walked back over to the table and picked up the dress.   Sliding on the flowing fabric, she turned around so Nick could zip up the back.

He ran a hand down her back. Her cool, pale flesh was wonderful and sensual, but he took hold of the zipper and pulled it up the metal teeth, pulling the front of the elaborate dress taut against her torso. Her hands came behind her back as she tied the waist, brushing against his ribcage. His hands now free and the dress securely on, he gripped her waist and spun her around, the skirt whirling gracefully.

Leaning backwards from her waist, she braced against his strong form and reached delicately back for the large black floral scarf, pulling it around her shoulders as she arighted herself, coming face to face with him.

"Mon Nicolas." She was now leaning fully on him, her eyes filled with passion.

He smiled and reached for the red rose, placing the stem in his mouth. Stamping his feet in true Flamenco flare, he pushed her away, taking a dramatic stance.

Spotting her 3" wide heels nearby, Morgaine quickly slipped them on, falling the rest of the way into the gypsy passion her old dress was washing over her. Between the earlier ardor and the anticipation of the inevitable duende, the night was proving deliciously fun for her. Arching her back and setting her head in a proud jut, she stomped a heel and brought her hand slowly upright in a wide arc. She turned 90 degrees, picking up a corner of the full skirt and whirled, the echoes of her foot tapping as she kept her right hand aloft and defiant.

Nick stepped slowly over to her, joining the mood of her dance.

He repeated the pattern of foot raps that she had done moments ago and held a hand out to take her aloft hand.

She stared fiercely at him, Spanish fire burning in her gray eyes. Snapping her hand down, she stepped out left then right. Dropping the grip on her skirt, she joined her hands together and raised them slowly above her head.

He stomped his feet three times in response, still holding his hand out.

Picking up a graceful foot, she stepped into another twirl, stepping effortlessly towards the blonde man before her. Stopping mere seconds before coming close enough to knock him down, she froze, the skirt wrapping around his legs, her back to his front, her auburn hair thrust in his face.

Bringing his hand down and finally taking a hold of her hand, he wrapped it around her waist. Bracing his elbow, he pulled across her front and spun her around so that she was facing him, literally on top of him.

His lips parted in a wild smile. "So, are you ready now, señora?"

"Oui, monsieur. J'aime danser. Tu vas danser avec moi tout le soir."

"Claro que sí, mi amor. Vamos."

* * *

"In all my life, I have never seen someone so destined to be a dancer." The Castilian accent of the speaker twisted the vowels gently as he spoke. "How may I convince you to return with me to Barcelona and dance for the royalty of Flamenco?"

Antonio glanced at the blonde man standing next to her.

"Surely, sir, you can convince her otherwise. I am willing to bring the both of you back to Spain. Make an old man happy and do what I ask."

Nicholas Knight suppressed the urge to laugh. "I'm sorry, Don Castillo, but when my preciuse wishes something her way, she makes it happen."

Antonio kissed the small hand he was holding and bowed, backing away, leaving the two vampires in the now emptied club.

"We have hours before sunrise. What do you want to do until then?"

Nick caught the wicked grin written all over her face. "Your 'heart' cannot take the passion?'"

"Well, okay, it can. But I'm staying here. My gypsy days are over; and one cannot have the duende if they are not happy."

"Even if I went with you?"

Morgaine laughed and pulled her hair out of the silver clip, auburn waves falling on her shoulders. "You can't leave here either. You are tied up into the community now. And I seem to recall you have other interests holding you here."

"Too true." Nick tugged at the toreador jacket, straightening the wrinkles. "I would say we could stop by the precinct so I can get the paperwork I promised to finish, but... "

"They would tease you for weeks for being dressed like this?"

She walked over to him, pushing his hands away and smoothing the fine fabric for him.

"You try to explain to donut and coffee fiends who bowl religiously why you're wearing a get-up like this."

"Flamenco not their style?" Her stare was playful.

Nick laughed. "If it predates the 8-track, they probably wouldn't get it."

Her hair sitting on her shoulders like a mane, Morgaine wrapped the black shawl around her shoulders again and started slowly walking towards the club's main doors. "If we dilly-dally here, we'll miss the chance to get the finest dinner one can find."

Collecting the remaining belongings, Nick looked up, "We're seeing a connoisseur?"

"My love, I am a connoisseur."

****************

end part 1

Duende 2; "Connections"

***************

Some hours later, having returned to Nick's loft, lit only by the fireplace, did the rest of the night unfold itself.  

Laid out like a trail from the elevator to the soft wool rug in front of the fireplace, the red and black clothes lay forgotten.  The pair that had awed the old flamenco royalty at the restaurant were lost in their own world, pale flesh entwined in flickering light.

Dawn came, the brilliant sun peeking up over the horizon, piercing rays of light streaming through the windows of the loft.  Startled awake by his screaming instincts, Nick Knight bolted upright, grabbing for the remote to the metal shutters.  Aiming the remote and hitting the button, he sighed, relieved, watching the flat go dim again with the sealing of the steel blinds. Pulling the pants off the floor and slipping them on, he cast a glance at the sleeping form curled up on the sheepskin rug.

Soundly asleep, Morgaine lay on her side, the line of her small back leading to her equally small waist and gently molded hips.

Averting his gaze to glance at a clock, Nick cringed. Six in the morning. Someone was supposed to drop off paperwork for him at any time.

Briefly cursing practicality, he made his way to the stairs and to the bedroom. Once beyond the doorway, he looked for the small bag that Morgaine had brought with her.

Spotting the black leather bag, he unzipped the side, trying to find her black silk shift. It was by no means a conservative garment, but it would be far better for his career to have his companion somewhat clothed.

Ten minutes later, after rousing Morgaine and convincing her to seem less obvious, the elevator was going down to pick up the eminent visitor.

Nick froze. The heartbeat was an easy guess. It wasn't just an officer; it was the one, the only, Natalie Lambert.

Yawning, Morgaine strolled over to the refrigerator. "So, who's visiting?"

He blinked. He wasn't used to having his thoughts so easily detected. "Nat. This is so not good. Could you, oh, how do I say this... hide?"

She laughed slightly, pulling one of her own bottles from the fridge. "So this is the coroner I've heard about... "

"Yes." Dashing up the stairs again with the stack of clothes, then returning moments later, he was buttoning a shirt as he came back down. "Please, ma biche?"

Her gray eyes caught the pleading stare. With her free hand, she touched his cheek. "Alright. I'll be upstairs, being quiet as a church mouse."

He kissed her open palm. "Thank you."  Just as the elevator door opened and Nat walked in.

"Hey, Nick. I didn't know if you had gone to bed for the day.  I guess I worried for nothing; did you just get home?"

Nick looked around nervously.

"What's wrong?"

He faked a smile. "Nothing."

"You look uncomfortable."

He cast a quick glance around the loft. There was no sign of his resplendent visitor anywhere. "I just thought that they'd send a sergeant or someone."

Nat smiled and sat down at the table, sorting the files. "I stopped by the precinct to drop off some toxicology results on my way out.  The day guys mentioned these," she gestured at the files, "so I offered."

Coming up to stand behind the chair, Nick relaxed slightly and leaned down to glance over her shoulder. "Thanks. At least this way, the office gossip will be more about the two of us rather than the rest of my personal life."

Nat leaned back and gave him an amused stare. "'The rest of my personal life'?"

"Uh." He backed up. "Just that non-bowling, omnipotent immortal side."

She smiled and shrugged. "Yeah, they might not get the not bowling part."

Nick sighed in relief.

"Okay, well, I'm going home, taking a shower and getting some  sleep. I'll see you tonight."

Taking the files and escorting Nat to the elevator, he grinned boyishly. "Yes. Good night," and he kissed her on the cheek.

Closing the elevator door, Nick quietly thanked luck.

"Not too bad, precieux."

He started. "How long have you been there?"

Her legs hanging over the edge, Morgaine smiled playfully.

"Long enough. Far be from me to pry... "

His expression softened. "But you will anyway... "

"True. So how long are you going to drag this sophomoric flirting out?"

He blinked at her.

"You're free to pursue whatever or whomever you want, Nichol."  Standing up and walking down the stairs, she let the silk flutter against her lithe body. "We went through this because of Alyssa; I guess we do it again. I love you, precieux, that won't change. But fidelity is not for vampires."

Nick huffed as she put her hands on his shoulders. Leaning in, she kissed him tenderly and continued.

"Mortals die. By God's hands or our hands. When we take them as lovers we accept that or make them like us."

His face fell. Morgaine, sensitive and well accustomed to his emotions, picked up his hands and guided him to the couch. Taking the files and setting them back on the coffee table, she sat down next to him.

"If you want her, take her. You can have sex without killing her. Feed well enough for once. Take those darker tendencies out on me; you won't hurt me."

"That is why I want mortality; I don't want to worry about anything like that anymore."

Morgaine sighed. "I know. I don't understand, but I know."

Wrapping a hand around him, she gingerly pulled him onto her. Settling into the couch, cradling his head against her breast like she would a child, she said softly, "If it's meant to happen, it will happen. Stop torturing yourself over this cure. You will find it eventually, if it is there to find. But at least try to enjoy what you have while you still have it."

Nick sighed, resigned. Glancing up at Morgaine's ageless face, he surrendered. She was a devoted lover, mother, sister and friend. He understood and appreciated that; and she could even be right.

"Je t'aime avec ma vie totale."

"Et moi aussi de ta vie." Morgaine closed her eyes. Nick was holding her hands tightly, possessively. Laying together, she felt fulfilled and happy. But at the same time, her conscious was tugging at her. She knew what was happening in his life, he confided in her and trusted her. But she held the secret of her "meeting" with LaCroix from him. She couldn't bring herself to tell him; the fear of creating a greater rift between master and childe drove her recent sexual experience into the far dregs of her mind. Fighting back a singular tear, she buried her face in his soft golden hair.

His only response was to pull closer to her and snuggle in like a lion cub against his litter mates.  And so they passed the day, drawn into sleep by daylight and emotional exhaustion.

* * *

Just as dawn found the two of them together, so did the dusk.

The 2,000 year old vampire instincts ingrained in Morgaine heralded the setting sun, gently rousing her from a deep, dreamless sleep. Stirring lightly, she opened her eyes and looked around. Releasing her hands, she ran her fingers through Nick's soft hair and kissed his forehead.

"Time to wake, my love. You need to ready for work and I do believe I want to explore your city. Perhaps I can find a chamber orchestra playing."

Half-awake, Nick stretched and turned so that they were front to front. He blinked with heavy eyes at her. "What time is it?"

"Nearly five. Come on, luv, I'm hungry, and unless you intend to slake me yourself, I want up."

"Mmmmmmm. Later. I've got a couple hours before my shift.   Let's just stay here a few minutes longer."

She chuckled. She knew perfectly well that a few minutes really meant a few hours. And despite the fact that her hunger was beginning to gnaw at her, she was tempted to stay put. But not without a little fun.

Planting kisses down what she could of his face, she let her hands trail down his back to his buttocks, savoring the musculature with her fingers.

This, unsurprisingly, garnered a reaction. Raising his head to give her a wry stare, he shifted up so that his face was level with hers. 

"Yeess?"

She smiled deviously. "Problem?"

But rather than responding vocally, he kissed her, tentatively, and then deeply. Bringing his hands up and around her shoulders, he cradled her head and neck. "If this is your version of the waking alarm, can I arrange for it every evening?"

She laughed slightly. "I think so. But are you ready to get up yet?"

"Hmmm. Up, yes, but not ready to leave you here all by your lonesome." His hands drifted down her front slowly.

Shifting her own hands off his back, she ran her nails along his thighs and eventually wedged them in between their two bodies, finding the button and undoing it, pushing the fabric past his hips.

Kissing her again, forcing her lips open with his tongue, he shuddered slightly as her nails grazed against unprotected, highly sensitive flesh.

Moving slightly underneath him, tasting the trickle of blood coming from her tongue from a grazed fang, she dropped her own fang into his tongue as he rubbed and pushed into her.

She gasped and released her hold, resting her head back against the arm of the couch, letting his rhythm and the taste of his blood make her be completely in the moment. Shifting a leg out and up so it rested on his thigh and knee, she gasped once more as the readjustment put him in deeper, rousing her to buck underneath in tandem.

Running his hands up her arms and finally reaching her fingertips, he clasped her hands, pushing against them as she cemented the grip.

Drawing close, he kissed her fiercely, taking captive her mouth and lips, muffling the silent scream building in her throat. She pushed back roughly, her superior strength lifting them somewhat off the arm of the couch. Moving their hands so they wrapped around his back, she dug the free part of her fingers into the tense muscles of his ass, causing a ferocious thrust and immediate release which sent her flying.

Gasping, he dropped his head onto her chest, still riding the waves as they washed over. Releasing her nails and hands, she drew his body onto hers and held on tightly.

Passing some moments to regain speech, he finally whispered hoarsely, "So now must I get ready for work?"

Her eyes now gray again, she let out a ragged breath and shook her head. "No. I'm not convinced that you're quite awake."

And she kissed him, pulling him into a second round.

* * *

"Whoa, partner. Would you mind explaining that goofy smile on your face?"

"I think I would, Schank."

Don Schanke crossed his arms across his chest and leaned back in the chair. "Uh-huh. That's what I thought. So who is she?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Nick opened a drawer and futzed around for a pen.

"Sure you do. That's the kind of look you get after a weekend with a swe-- "

Jerking upright, Nick Knight now glared at his partner across the way. "Don't even finish that sentence!"

"Oh, well, that explains it all. Nat doesn't have a clue, does she?"

"I, uh... no, she doesn't." Nick sighed, surrendering to the office gossip circle. "Say anything about this and I'll tell Myra about you bowling during 'overtime.'"

"So when do I meet her?"

"Excuse me?"

Schanke grinned. "You're this protective. I want to meet her; and then I'll keep your little secret quiet. She might like a little Polish-Itali-- "

"Schanke... "

"What?"

Glancing around the precinct and throwing up his arms in defeat, Nick sighed. "Tonight. After work. But if you say anything to anybody, I'll deny it completely and have you shipped off to the Yukon."

"You got a deal, partner."

***********************

end part 2.

Duende 3; "Secrets"

**************

Lounging in the chair, an old Scottish shawl draped around her shoulders, Morgaine was happily lost in the leather bound book of Percy Shelley's writings. Sipping her own vintage from the wine glass, the candles and firelight was warm and comforting.

Until the sound of nearby conversation broke the reverie as the elevator went downstairs.

Detecting a mortal heartbeat, she gently closed the book and set it down. Standing up and letting the arabian silk dewrinkle slightly, she raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

A few moments later, the door opened, letting Nick Knight and Don Schanke into the dim flat. Morgaine walked over to the kitchen area and turned on a light, smiling slightly.

"Bonsoir, Nichol. And how was your evening?"

"Not too bad. Morgaine, this is Detective Don Schanke,

my partner. Schank, this is Morgaine... "

"Clarice," she added.

" ...Clarice, an old friend of mine."

Schanke grinned. "A pleasure, I'm sure. So how long have you known Nick?"

Morgaine shook Schanke's outstretched hand and began to cross the room as she spoke. "Quite a while. We have quite a history."

Schanke nudged Nick, who seemed to be far too quiet for his own good. "Oh, really? Most of us don't know much about his history."

She laughed and gestured for him to sit down. "What would you like to know?"

"Well, okay." He leaned over so he was closer to Morgaine's ear. "So how long have you known him? College? High school?"

"Catholic school. I tutored him in Latin."

"Really? That long... "

Nick cleared his throat.

"Yes. 'Course, if you really want to get down to it... "

Nick coughed.

But Morgaine continued, non-plussed, "there was more than just that."

Schanke flashed a huge grin. "I knew it! So how much longer are you going to be in town?"

"I don't know. I guess I'll leave when I get" at which point she winked at Schanke, " bored."

Schanke laughed. "Not bored yet, eh?"

"Oh, definitely not. Not quite done with him yet... right, luv?"

Over by the counter, Nick fidgeted. Morgaine stood up and sauntered Nick's way.

"But I think I've embarrassed Nick, here, enough. What are you two boys up too?"

"The usual. Tracking down killers, saving the world from lunatics, making the streets safe."

"Oh." Nick suddenly came back into reality. "Speaking of, the files are done now."

"Good. I think Cohen was considering barbecuing us if we didn't get them done."

"Barbecuing?"

Nick let a small smile slip past. "In the metaphorical sense, of course."

Morgaine stared at him, amused.

"Metaphorical? Oh, man, you must have missed her rant. I wouldn't be surprised if there was a spit just outside her door with our names on it."

"I have a hard time imagining the two of you roasted over a fire for not completing paperwork."

Schanke looked at her incredulously. "You don't tell her much about work, do you, partner? Ah, but I guess you're too busy to think of anything else. Cap' Cohen brings new meaning to the term 'spitting cobra.'"

"Well, then perhaps you should drive Don and those files back to the precinct so he can go home to his wife and you two can prevent your potential roasting."

Schanke nodded. "Sounds good to me."

"Um, alright." Nick hesitated. "I guess I'll be back in a while, okay, Morgaine?"

She touched his hand gently. "That's fine, luv. It was nice to meet you, Detective."

Stepping into the elevator with Nick, Schanke grinned again. "You too."

But when the door closed, he ribbed Nick and whistled.

"She's a keeper, partner, but want some advice?"

Nick shrugged, relieved that it was over. "Sure."

"With a sweet thing like her around, you better watch it.

She may be great in every sense, and I'm never one to advise against a good roll in the hay, but you're not thoroughly unattached. Yeah... I know there's something going on between you and Lambert. Not too hard to figure out. Have your fun, but if you hurt Nat in the process, I'll kick your keister up and down the bullpen. But inevitably, you'll have to choose one of them. Whether its Natalie or Morgaine, you have my support. But you can't have both... this I know. Got it?"

Nick nodded. "Loud and clear, Schank."

"And there's no way I'll let this out. I like juicy rumours as much as everybody else, but this is about friends. The deal stands; it's your duty to level with Nat."

"Point taken."

The elevator came to a stop. Opening the door for his mortal partner, Nick wondered if vampires were able to handle two relationships at once. The enhanced nature and inherent double life that a vampire was given to often balanced on the fact that if one partner was mortal, they were either a mere blood doll being led by false affection into eventual death or they were unaware to the vampiric nature, thus necessitating an outlet for irrepressible instincts.

But Nat was different. She knew about the vampire side; she was, in fact, trying to destroy it. She also knew that his eye wandered. 

Whether or not she actually minded was unknown to him; although he suspected it did bother her. But just as she had not told him to be "faithful" to her and her work, Nick wondered if the lack of information she received was better for her well-being.

But, unfortunately for all, secrets have a nasty habit of slipping out into the open.

* * *

When Nick finally got back to the loft, Morgaine was once again buried in the Shelley book. Glancing up to give him a warm smile, she caught his expression.

"I hope there wasn't a problem."

Sitting down at the couch, he sighed and slipped off his shoes.  "I hope not."

"Why do you say that?"

"Schank thinks I might hurt Nat."

"She's important to you, isn't she?"

"Yeah... "

Putting the book down again, she shook her head. "Then why would you hurt her?"

"Because of you."

"Luv, I've been here for months. Has that changed your feelings?"

"No. She's my doctor and my friend."

Morgaine chuckled slightly. "The two of you are more than just 'friends.'"

"We are no--" Nick paused, catching his own defensive response.

"Maybe. But its nothing like us."

"Five years versus eight hundred, Nick. Every relationship is different. What do you expect? She likes different things than I do. Than Janette. Than Erika. Than Alyssa. Need I continue?"

"But we-- you and I-- are different."

"Of course. I'm living here with you. I share your bed. I know you better than I sometimes know myself." Standing up and then sitting at his feet, she smiled gently and took his hand. "You haven't given her the chance. Now I'm not advocating you running out and taking her like the lion you are. Mortals don't take well to our superior strength; we tend to hurt them far faster than we would each other. Even the ones who say they can take it."

"Then what are you telling me to do?"

"I'm not telling you to do anything. You can carry on with her with me still around. It won't be easy, but it is possible."

Nick leaned foreword and took a hold of her arm. Guiding her onto the couch, he linked their hands together and leaned her into his chest. Happily complying, she nestled into the crook of his shoulder. He sighed.

"You're sure it is?"

"If I can do it, so can you."

But in her own ears, the response was a hollow one. She wasn't sure she could handle the two relationships she was dealing with.

Something had changed in the dynamics of one or both of them. Although she had been with Lucius just once, the bitter taste of dark memory was luring her back..

"What holds you to me, Nichol?"

Surprised by her sudden question, he tried to find a quick, satisfying answer. "You're a dear friend and even dearer love. You know my mind, my heart, my soul. You can make me laugh, you can make me cry."

"Do you think you could ever feel this way about anybody else?"

"I don't know. Why?"

"Because I want to tell you something. I have to tell you."

"What is it, ma biche?"

Sitting up, Morgaine drew a breath. "You know I have a history with Lucius... "

"Yes."

"I saw him a few nights ago."

"You... did."

"I don't know what drew me there. I guess I occasionally miss the old days. The rough treatment I had to learn to accept in order to survive as Caesar's harlot. When I first got dragged into Caesar's court, I thought about killing myself rather than taking the abuse. But then I got used to it. Tolerated it. Expected it. Because of it, I spent years with the skewed notion of the abuse being an acceptable form of sex. Lucius was around for some of that.

"But it eventually began to dawn on me that it wasn't a 'healthy' affection. So I made it stop. Then enter you, my precious crusader, with your chivalric ideals and far gentler touch. You changed me the rest of the way. You showed me that it... it didn't have to hurt to be pleasurable. For that I owe you so much.

"But that abuse is part of me. Its my history, part of my life. As much as I hate it and those who gave it to me, a small part of me misses it.

"I had heard that Lucius was here. Back apparently, after some time. That small part of me somehow dragged the rest of me to his stoop and led me into what I had come to hate."

"You wanted him to hurt you... "

"Consensual dominance, consensual sex, consensual violence.

As Caesar's mortal slave it took weeks to heal the bruises and tears. Now it's just the emotional damage. I won't let it happen, I shouldn't let it happen, but part of me wants it again."

Nick's voice was a dark-tinged whisper. "I never knew."

"I know; I fight it as much as I can. But I apologies for not telling you before."

"Don't apologize."

"I have to."

"No, you don't."

She shook her head. "I shouldn't deceive you. I care too much to... "

Reaching back out to her, he cupped her head in his one hand, pulling her closer and then put a finger to her lips. "Don't do this to yourself. It's not your fault."

"But I-- "

"No." He paused, hearing the harshness in his own voice. "It was *never* your fault. I'm here, now, with you. I'm not going anywhere.  You're not a slave anymore. And now that I know, I won't let you be one again."

Her gray eyes betrayed her sorrow and carefully hidden emotional scars.

"Are... are you angry?"

"Not with you."

"Disappointed?"

"Not with you."

She watched him carefully. "I don't..."

"Let's... let's not think about this anymore. The sun is rising, come up to bed with me and sleep away some of this pain. We can talk about it tomorrow, if you like."

"But you're not angry?"

"At you, no. I'm angry with myself and with LaCroix. I should have picked up on this and he should have known better. You're a hard one to hurt, Morgaine."

Walking lightly up the stairs at Nick's insistence, Morgaine nodded, letting the caring nature of her beloved soothe her troubled thoughts.

*********************

end part 3.

Duende 4; "Rhythms"

**************

If there was one thing that Nick Knight never quite understood about Morgaine, it was this; how could she live so long and not sicken of her existence? In eight hundred years, the world had lost its eternal appeal to him. He knew thirty something mortals that were ready to rip their hair out over the whole affair.

But Morgaine, two thousand years old and not looking a day past twenty-four, found the desire to continue. Despite the abuse.  Despite the burden of time that weighed on every immortal's shoulders.

Sitting up, leaning against the pillows in the dark bedroom, Nick could only try to understand. It was impossible to believe such a strong willed individual could allow herself to be abused, to be hurt, to be made a slave. The harsh reality of the pain, preserved by perfect vampiric memory, had to be a huge source of misery. And the fact that she was strong enough to move past it and strive to change the pattern of violence was a trait Nick envied.

In the same way she broke her own cycle of mistreatment, he wished to break his cycle of endless, unforgiving nights. And if she could do it, he suspected, so could he.  Or at least he hoped so.

His dream of mortality was a vague one occasionally, but at this particular moment, when trying to find a similarity of it to Morgaine's experiences, it didn't seem so far away. She believed in him, she was willing to support him and to help him, so from that strength he should draw on. 

But if that strength did, in fact, bring him back to his long lost mortality, he would have to give up the source of said strength.

Despite all her experience and control, it would be simply too dangerous for

Nick the mortal to be around or with Morgaine the vampire. He could finally give Nat everything he had been dreaming of, but was it fair to lose one to gain another? Was it possible that once he lost the power and the risk of the Beast would whatever that kept he and Nat pining for each other fade?  It was a depressing thought. Sacrifice one lover for a dream and risk losing the other before she actually became the lover. Or to remain what he was, keeping the lover he had, losing the dream and continue to wish for the other.

There was no easy answer. Nick shook his head and silently laughed at fate.

Morgaine stirred lightly, catching his attention enough to gently brush a hand across her face and hair. She was so delicate in her features, most strangers took her for a fragile maiden swathed in finery.

How many times had she played the innocent young noble at court when she was truly the powerful landowner dragging him into the garden mazes of kings to play games of dangerous pleasure? How often did the white wool of virginal dress hide the black silk of a vibrant mistress?

But it didn't matter. She was who she was; and despite the fact that Nick was now coming upon a part of her life he had never known about, he accepted her unconditionally.

Relaxing back, he wrapped his arms around her small body, snuggling back under the covers. Closing his eyes and burying his face in her soft hair, he sighed, deciding that such heavy issues were best reserved for the waking hours.

And these rare moments of unadulterated peace were too rare to waste with thinking.

* * *

As the sun settled into the horizon, Nick ignored the thought that he had a full night of work ahead of him. The mortal world of actions and reactions held no appeal for him. It wasn't that he had decided to give up his long sought goal; it was simply that at that moment he didn't want to move from where he was.

Nat once called it "warm comfy bed syndrome."

A gurgle of hunger played with the edges of his consciousness.

He ignored it. And when Morgaine stretched in her sleep and tucked her head further under his chin, her cheek rubbing against his neck, he merely smiled.

Why ruin a perfectly good evening?

But it couldn't last forever, despite his sincere hopes that it would. Huffing in surrender, he wrested himself away from her body, resolving to stay focused on his responsibilities.

Sensing that her pillow had left, Morgaine rolled and slit open her eyes. "And where do you think you're going?"

"I have to work tonight. You'll have my full attention and devotion when I get off shift."

She let out a long mock sigh. "Do I have to?"

Padding back over to her, he leaned down and kissed her forehead. "As much as I would love to spend the evening with you tangled in the sheets, I still have my responsibilities. "

Morgaine extended a hand, wrapping it around his neck, drawing him closer, "True... "

Nearly losing his balance, Nick braced himself with a hand and brought the other softly over her face, pausing to place a finger over her lips. "Shhh. Anymore and you'll have me in a world of troubles."

She smiled and whispered through his finger, "I'm quite good at fixing such things... "

He shook his head. "And you're even better at getting me into them."

Stepping away before she convinced him totally to hide away with her, Nick walked to the closet, reaching for a fresh shirt. 

Morgaine crossed her arms, regarding him with a playful gaze.  "Ah, precieux, if I have to wait, I have to wait, but what shall I do tonight since I can't convince you to entertain me?"

"I'd send you to the Raven, but every time you and Janette get talking I swear my ear is burning."

"Aaaww." Sitting up, her hair draping across her shoulders, she smiled innocently. "Will you come back during your dinner break?"

"And if I do?"

She stretched out her arm, her hand brushing lightly across his chest. Nick took a hold of her hand, stroking the palm. "I'll treat you to a gourmet meal... "

Bringing her hand up his mouth, he bit her wrist lightly.

"I'll take that as a yes, mon amour..."

The thought of sneaking away from Schanke for a "meal" with her made him grin. "Alright, you've got me. But if you make me late, I want you to try to explain it to Captain Cohen."

Morgaine stood up and reclaimed her hand. Drawing close to him, she straightened the shirt collar, fastening the small buttons through the corner holes.

"Thank you. See you later." Nick hooked a finger under her chin, stealing a short but passionate kiss from her soft lips.

And stepped out of the bedroom before he made himself late.

Morgaine crossed her arms, listening to his footsteps as he crossed the loft to the elevator.

If she had known back in the thirteenth century that he'd be such an irresistible, devoted and beneficial lover, she would have shackled him to a four poster bed in a windowless room long ago.

* * *

"Welcome, my children of the night. Tonight your Nightcrawler is ruminating on the concept of secrets. Do you have secrets? Is there something buried deep inside the furthest recesses of your mind that you won't tell anyone? Something so dark and horrible that tortures your conscience and makes your life a living hell?

"Tell it to me. Tell it all to me. What good does it do lingering inside when you could ease your burden by telling me? By hiding the darkest side of yourself? By denying the world the pain you exist on? Tell it to me. Uncover your hidden truth. I can be your confidant, your confessor, your only listener.

"Or perhaps you feed off that secret. Perhaps the cloak and dagger of hiding yourself makes you feel better. Perhaps the painful truth that you won't tell anyone keeps you going, and without it, you think you will become nothing? Or do you delude yourself into believing that it doesn't matter? That you can ignore it? That you can hide your inconsequential triviality in the humdrum of normal life?

" ...all secrets must eventually face the light. Inevitably.

Undeniably. So consider your precious secret's merit. So is it a greater burden to hold onto inside yourself or will it destroy you with its blinding light when it is brought to the surface, whether you want it to or not?"

* * *

The stereo speakers thumping to the strong beat of the music,  Morgaine was moving instinctively, the rhythm flooding every bit of her being. Suppressing thought, she had her eyes closed as she swayed and gyrated. Like she had been taught to centuries ago, her every movement, no matter how subtle, was telling and enhancing the story that the music was weaving.

Dancing was the purest form of expression for her. She felt the passion of the musician flowing from their instrument, the fervour in the voice of the singer.  It was that strength that helped heal her wounds without having to deal with them directly.

So when Nick Knight, on his dinner break, walked into the loft, he was stopped by the spontaneous movements casting candlelight shadows across the walls. Approaching carefully, the raw dancing more than a little arousing, he waited until she seemed to slow down a little, coming up behind her.

Without missing a beat, Morgaine backed up enough to brush up against him. Swaying her hips in deliberate motion, she extended her arms behind her, hooking her hands together behind Nick's neck. The rhythm still guiding her every move, she changed her focus, her lips parted in the slightest of smiles.

Bending her knees, she leaned against his lean body, sliding down 'til her hands were against his neck, expertly gyrating her hips between his legs, inches away from his crotch. Sliding up just enough to balance herself, she twisted around and released her hands. Gripping the sides of his shirt, she pushed her body upward, pulling the shirt tails out of his pants.

Nick, understanding and having no intention of stopping her, stood where he was. However, realizing that if he didn't unbutton and remove his good work shirt himself, Morgaine would remove it in her own fashion, thereby condemning the buttons to resewing.

The music changed slightly, the rhythmic pounding settling into a slower, more sensual beat. Falling into the new rhythm easily, Morgaine watched through entranced, hungry eyes as Nick removed his shirt. Loosening the laces in her favourite bodice, she strolled slowly back over to him, pushing the now undone shirt off his shoulders and sliding sleeves off his strong arms. Tracing back up him arms with her nails, she pressed herself up against him, caressing the front of his neck with kisses. Continuing to drag her nails along, she ran them down his sides, enjoying the definition of his now bare chest. Sliding down his front again, she ground her pelvis into his, her face level with his soft, blonde chest hair. Purring, she parted her lips and ran her tongue slowly up his sternum to his collarbone, feeling him shudder as she went.

Closing his eyes, Nick placed his hands on her shoulders. Being drawn into her movements like a man into quicksand, any thought about what he had done an hour previously slipped away.

Placing her own hands around his waist, she leveled her face with his, her gray eyes meeting his blue. "I promised a meal, didn't I?"

"I'm content so far with the appetizers... "

Pulling one of his hands off her shoulders, she guided it down her waist to her hips. Rocking her hips back and forth, she leaned in and whispered, "Move with me."

He stepped back, putting a little distance between them.

Nowhere near as proficient in the wild gypsy sway that was second nature to her, he dropped to his knees and extended a hand.

Taking a sultry step forward, she licked her lips. Setting her foot on his right shoulder and taking his right hand in her left, she stood in front of him for a moment. Sliding her heel off his shoulder, she ran it down his back as she dropped down slowly in front of him until the back of her knee was against his shoulder.

Nick sighed deeply, anticipating. They had played this game before.

Her pelvis nearly up against his face, she started to slide down again, her thigh now falling parallel to her torso. Feeling her abdomen, stomach and ribcage drop down his chest, she folded her other leg underneath him between his legs. She smiled as she felt her thigh settle under his genitals, the thin layer of fabric hiding nothing of his obvious arousal.

Face to face once more, Morgaine wrapped her arms around him and kissed him deeply, parting his lips. Leaning forward, pushing the pair of them parallel to the floor, he pressed back, pushing his tongue past her lips. Her leg pinned to the floor, the foot dangling in the air, she hooked her nails into his back, tightening her grip. Feeling her writhe underneath him, he broke away from their kiss and braced himself with his elbows above her.

Running her hands back onto his chest, she reached down and took a hold of his belt, unhooking it in moments, pulling it free and tossing it aside. Pulling his head back down to hers with her left hand, she pulled him into another kiss as she freed the pants button and zipper with her right hand. She laughed slightly as she felt Nick freeze and then push harder into her mouth as her right hand trailed past his waist line and settled just beyond the nest of hair.

His hands ran down her body, coming across her breasts and nipples. Feeling her buck suddenly, he pulled away from her mouth and slid back, touching his lips down her body. Catching a grip on her gauzy skirt, he pushed it up past her hips, revealing nothing but smooth pale skin.

Running hands across her thighs, he glanced up briefly to see her head leaned back, her neck arched just slightly. Smiling once, he went down on her.

She gasped. Running his tongue up through her tender folds, he suckled at her mound, the juices sweet and intoxifying. Grazing his teeth feather light down her clit, he tickled her vaginal opening briefly before penetrating her with his tongue.

A moan escaped her throat as she moved into him, pushing his mouth further onto her. Pulling back, he felt her shift and writhe under him for a moment; and then he bit down.

She cried out as the exquisite pain washed over her. Pulling himself back on top of her, he met her lips, kissing her as she started to relax once more. Hauling his body onto her hers, she moved under him, greeting his lips fiercely. She could feel his hardness pressing roughly up against her; at that moment all she knew is that she wanted that hardness deep inside of her.

Shifting, she hooked her leg at his waist, curling her foot against his inner thigh. Feeling her move underneath, he lifted himself briefly off her small body and easily slid home.

Arching back, he let a small moan slip past his lips as his full length was buried inside of her. It felt just like the first time he had been with her, so vibrant and excitingly dangerous as when they had slipped away to ravage each other just one room away from everybody else.

Unaware that he was falling into the rhythm of the music that had faded into the background for the both of them, he pushed in and out of her. 

Morgaine, her eyes closed, bucked slightly, throwing her head back, exposing her neck. She couldn't think, which was wonderful rare bliss in itself, and felt herself falling into him completely, her spirit soaring into a place of ardor and passion.

Atop her, wrapping his arms around her small body, he drew her close to him. Burying his face in her hair, he felt himself drawing closer his own release.

She shuddered, beginning to gasp and move against him, shoving him harder and deeper inside. Her right heel was digging into his thigh, her arms locked in an impregnable grip.

With the strength of a vice clamp Nick felt her internal muscles tighten and then release with a shuddering spasm, causing her to cry out once more, the sound muffled by his neck. Feeling her bucking in rhythm to the throes, he closed his eyes, her orgasm causing his own.

Riding the waves as they slowly diminished, he felt his body weaken with release. Relaxing achingly tensed muscles, he kissed her, holding her in an embrace, rolling slightly to the side as to not crush her.

Finally coming down enough to think once more, Morgaine sighed and nestled up against him.

"Ma biche?"

"I'm here."

He stroked her long auburn hair, trying to tame it down again. "I didn't... hurt you?"

She turned her face up to look at him, fighting back a small tear. 

"No. You could never hurt me, beloved."

"But you... "

"No, I'm- I'm... " she took his hand and kissed it, clutching it close to her cheek. "You can't hurt me, no matter what my past may be."

Nick gave in and resolved to hold onto her as long as he could until the real world called him back.

********************

end part 4.

Duende 5; "Falling Angel"

********************

Closing her eyes, she tried to think of something else other than the report staring up at her. Cradling her head and rubbing her temples absently, she wondered how many more hours were left before she could go home and do anything but work.

Glancing up briefly at the clock, she sighed loudly. Not that anyone could hear her. The dead tended not to be aware of the living's misery and computers were even worse. They could crash on you if you pressed the wrong button or you looked at them wrong.

For a moment, she considered calling the precinct. She didn't have a real reason. She did have the tox screen back on the Yong Street homicide, but that wasn't imperative. What she really wanted was to hear a familiar voice. To hear Nick going on about whatever, or even Schanke ranting in his usual, amusing way. Hell, even the teasing that Grace occasionally doled out on her would have been better than the silence greeting her now.

"Doctor Lambert?"

Jerking her head up, suddenly realizing she had fallen into a reverie, Nat Lambert tried to smile. "Yes?"

The assistant fidgeted. "Captain Cohen from the 96th just called down here. Wanted to let you know that Schanke and Knight wouldn't be over. Knight got back late from his dinner break and Schanke is, uh... 'fighting a losing battle with his computer.'"

"Great, thanks. I guess that means I'm done here."

"I guess so. Good night, doctor."

"Good night."

* * *

Some hours later, the sun warming the Toronto skyline, Nick was once more settled into his bed in his loft with his beloved.

He had returned late to work after last night; Schanke had crossed his arms in half-assed annoyance and Cohen had demanded an explanation. And with luck and that ice-melting charm of his, he snuck out of the lateness that was well worth the trouble.

When he finally got off of his shift, returning back to the loft, he found Morgaine sleeping peacefully in his bed, the covers draping over her like new fallen snow on the ground.

But now, with Nick's arms wrapped around her, Morgaine stirred and struggled against an invisible opponent. Trapped in nightmares of dreams, her sleep was now anything but beneficial.

Actually, for the both of them.

But it was her sudden crying out that finally woke Nick. Initially startled, he glanced around the dark room. Coming to realize that it was Morgaine trapped in a nightmare, he shifted so he was sitting up and pulled her body to him.

Fighting slightly, she murmured something that sounded like what could have been Gaulish. Trying to soothe her, whispering and stroking her soft hair, he wished he could do more.

Attempting to twist around, her hand extended outwards suddenly, coming in direct contact with his arm.

Morgaine jerked upright and out of his hold. Gasping, she was more than a little disoriented.

"Morgaine... amour... " He reached out to her.

Blinking, she slowly turned to face him. 

"Ma biche... ?"

"Nichol?" she whispered.

"Morgaine... you were dreaming... "

She edged away slightly.

"Where... where are... ?"

"It's alright, you're here with me."

Seeing her shift, he extended a hand out slowly. She lifted her eyes and cautiously put out her own hand, finally looking at him.

Her fingers brushed his palm. Resisting the urge to clasp onto her hand, Nick remained motionless. She touched his wrist, settling her long, delicate hand down gently on his. Morgaine blinked, clarity finally settling in.

No longer able to resist, he grasped her small hand, leaned forward and pulled her body once more towards him. Flinching initially, she felt his other hand come around to behind her back. Nearly falling into his lap, he held her against his chest and leaned back into the pillows.

"M'love?"

She made a small, muffled sound.

Brushing her hair away from his face, he cradled her against the length of his body, resting her head against his left shoulder. "My love, are you alright?"

She could only respond to him by beginning to quietly sob.

* * *

With a coffee in one hand and the other resting on the steering wheel, Nat Lambert was arguing with herself. Sitting in the driver's seat of her car, which was parked in front of Nick's place, she was wondering whether or not it was fair to potentially sneak into the loft while he was still sleeping.

If nothing else, she smiled, the smell of her coffee would get him out of bed. Shrugging, she figured it wouldn't hurt to pop in and say "hi."

Morgaine, having fallen back into an uneasy sleep, was still cradled in his arms. But despite the fact that he had closed his eyes, Nick was anything but asleep.

Her nightmare in itself was unusual. He had never known her to be tortured by her dreams; but not knowing what the nightmare was was the most disturbing, considering. The nightmare had woken her up and disoriented her so much that she didn't recognize him. She had flinched from him; he who she trusted completely. What could have possibly frightened her like that? That was the first time he had ever had to calm her down and, beyond question, the first time he had *ever* seen her cry like that.

Shifting his weight as little as possible, Nick straightened out his legs. He was going to slide down and actually try to lay down with her until the sound of movement caught his distracted senses.

Pausing, he listened, trying to figure out what was going on.

The lift motor had grumbled to a stop and inevitably, the door slid open a few moments later.

"Nick?"

Panic tore through him. What was Nat doing here? And why at this time of day? He knew he needed to talk to Nat about Morgaine, but this was nowhere near the time and place he had wanted.

"Nick?"

Setting Morgaine against the pillows, he slid out from underneath the covers and stood up. Brushing a hand across her cheek and kissing her forehead, he stepped out into the main part of the loft, accepting whatever curve ball fate had just thrown him.

"Hi, Nat."

"Hey, Nick. I didn't wake you, did I?"

"I, uh, no. I was already awake."

"Oh. How co-- oh my god Nick... what happened?"

Nick froze, confused. "What?"

Nat stepped over to him and touched crimson smears on his shirt.

"That... " he looked down at the bloodtears on the fabric.

~Well, if there's a way to explain... ~ "Sit down, Nat, please."

"You're scaring me, you know."

"No, I'm fine. But... but I don't know where to start."

She indicated his shirt. "Start there."

He sighed. "This isn't my blood. It's not even 'blood.' It's bloodtears."

"Whose then?"

"A very old and very dear friend of mine's. Her name is Morgaine."

"Another vampire."

"Yes. She's-- I'm so sorry. I should have told you from the start."

"Friend?"

"Yes."

"Lover?"

"Y--yes."

"Oh god, Nick... "

He could feel Nat's disappointment. Shaking his head, wanting to keep everything peaceful, he took a shot. "It's not like that. Morgaine, she wants to help me... us. She's been there for me, I can't tell you how many times. She knows what we're trying to do, you and I, and won't prevent it. She's... "

"How long?" Her voice was small and quiet.

"Seven, eight hundred years?"

"She knew you when you were mortal?"

"No. LaCroix " His master's name was bitter in his mouth. "introduced us."

"Let me guess... she's still asleep up there, right?"

"Yes, but its not what you think. I've never seen her like this.

She's... not herself."

"And this is supposed to help your case... "

"No, Natalie, its not. I screwed up. But don't be mad, please.

I'm sorry I didn't tell you before. I just got wrapped up in everything and... and forgot... "

Nat Lambert sipped at her coffee and leveled a gaze at the blonde vampire in front of her. "Let's see... you have three hours before you shift starts. If you can't pull yourself out of this quaint little hole you've dug, I'll be on my way and carrying a stake from here on out."

Nick nodded quickly.

"So start talking, fang boy."

* * *

When the sun dropped below the Canadian skyline, Nick was still talking. If there was one relationship that had to be explained to Nat in such an extensive way, it would, of course, have to be Morgaine. Especially since Nick had been caught with her living at his loft.

Snacking lightly on a piece of the pizza she had ordered earlier, Natalie Lambert sighed. "Well, I guess I understand, Nick, but to tell you the truth, I don't think I want to hear the rest. I'm not happy, but I'm relieved you haven't abandoned these last five years."

"You know I can't do that."

"I don't know, sometimes. You're not exactly predictable. And if I said I didn't mind you..." Nat was clearly digging for a gentler word, " carrying on with her, I'd be lying."

"Don't take it any more personally than you already have, please. Morgaine is the only one who has never tried to stop me from my dream. She makes no effort to help it along, but she won't stop or criticize me. It may seem apathetic, but she doesn't chide me like LaCroix does. That means a lot as is. And I... I... "

"Love her."

"Yes."

"Would you break with her if you were cured?"

Nick could hear the unspoken part of that question. "I'd have to. She'd still be a vampire and I a mortal. It... would hurt leaving that part of my life behind, but yes. Without doubt."

But the unspoken part of his answer was that it would actually hurt to leave *her.* His eternal life he was sick of. But her companionship, her affection, her rapier wit, the feel of her body, her smell, her heart's devotion would be painful to lose. In the very back of his mind, Nick pondered for a moment if that was worth giving up, but shoved it away for the sake of Nat.

It was difficult to think that way. There was no question in his mind he wanted, desired, *loved* Natalie Lambert, but there was risk. The damned Beast wanted her blood, her very essence. His heart wanted her mind, her love, her devotion and her heart. But he and Nat didn't have an 800 year past together. There was so much wonderful potential, but, Nick admitted to himself, potential was scarier than the here and now.

Which really made it unfair to both women in the long run.

"Nick?"

"Yes?"

"Is something wrong?"

"No.. yes... Nat... I'm afraid I'm screwing this up. I don't want to lose you, but I don't want to lose her either. You both mean so much to me, each in your own way. What do you think I should do?"

Nat raised an eyebrow. He was asking her advise over this?

Figuring that truth was healthier, even if it put her in the position of getting screwed over in the deal, it'd probably work out eventually. "What your heart tells you to."

"I don't want to give her up... "

"Then don't."

"But I don't want to lose you... "

"Then don't 'lose' me."

"How do I do both? It isn't fair to either of you."

"The same way you've done it before?"

Nick paused. Morgaine had supported his marriage to Alyssa in the 16th century. She had helped with arrangements. But Alyssa had turned into a terrible accident. After that, he had tried to avoid contact; the fear of seeming desperate even to the only person who understood his greatest funks felt like a betrayal. To each woman, in fact. Alyssa never had the chance to meet the red-haired Celt; that was supposed to happen after she had crossed over.

She had never stood in the way of he and Janette either. Both of LaCroix's children were dear friends to her, and even when the rare rivalry between the two vampires sparked over him, they could still talk and revel like natural born sisters. He had never understood that. He just accepted it and hoped his ear wasn't burning for what he figured it was burning for. It was generally assumed that she taught Francesca deMontaigne the art of Connoisseurship, but did not linger long enough to stop Francesca from getting out of control like she had.

And in the perspective of the modern man, Morgaine was the ideal lover. She permitted him to "stray" from her side. She expected attention when she asked and was pleased when given it freely. A sympathetic ear to bend and a passionate mistress. She was independent. She did not need him there every moment of the day, but rather welcomed him when he came to her.

She kept his secrets and helped with the life she was not part of as often as was acceptable for either of them.

"Nat, I don't regret these last few years with you. But I also don't regret the times I've had with her. I don't want to give either up.  Can you accept that? I'll choose if you want me to, but I'd rather not."

Nat stared at his eyes for a second. There was a pleading she recognized, but it was still both comforting and disturbing all at once.

She shrugged, "I can't make you choose, Nick. It's not really my right, if you think about it. If you think you can handle both, fine. But if you can't, I expect, for both her sake and mine, that you choose. It wouldn't be fair, otherwise."

He sighed audibly. "Okay. So now what?"

"Can I meet who I have to share you with now, or do I get to keep guessing?"

"Uh... " Nick started. "She actually should be up by now... this is really not like her..."

"Hey, one needs variety in 800 years, right?"

"Actually, Morgaine is older than LaCroix."

Nat paused. This was surprising in itself. And, of course, scientifically interesting.

"Mind if I go up and... "

"Check? Yeah, I guess."

Nick nodded and briefly touched the top of Nat's hand. Walking up the stairs, he couldn't help but wonder what was wrong.

The sun had set, there was a mortal in the loft and he had not heard a peep, even with his senses.

She wasn't dreaming again. It was more like she was trapped in the world between alert and asleep, fighting off the memories. The nightmare had brought emotions to the surface that she had tried to lose 2000 years ago. The phantom pain of shattered ribs from the lash of a whip played with her mind. The sting of the Mediterranean salt licked at her heart like it had as she was trying to wash Caesar out of her tender wounds.

Fortunately though, when Nick finally came to the side of the bed and extended a tentative hand, she was not so lost in the long ago pain to not know his touch. The same touch she had violently, fearfully, rejected hours before.

"Ma chere?"

She stirred, opening her eyes just barely enough to see his worried face. "Oui, precieux?"

"Are you alright?"

"Well enough to still hate Romans. Do you need me?"

Nick bit his lip. "Yes, but you don't have to."

"What?"

"Nat is downstairs, and wants to meet you."

"Mmmmmm... "

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"No, m'love, I'm not. But I want to meet her... I'll be down in a few minutes. I'd ask you to help, but it would be improper and uncomfortable for Natalie."

He stared at her as she slowly rose form the bed.

"Go, beloved. I'll be fine."

"Alright. But... "

"Go."

He bowed and exited, keeping his last protestation to himself.  When she finally made her way down the stairs, she seemed composed to the mortal eye. Of course, the mortal eye was trained to the mortal visage of pallor, and not to the visage of a 2000 year old temptress.

But to Nick, well acquainted with her every nuance, Morgaine was far from "healthy."

Stepping lightly, her bare feet padding down on each step, the bottom of the silk shift and heavier silk robe rustling behind her, Morgaine shoved down the internal misery that was dragging her entire being down. Her long, soft, auburn hair was pulled back into an uncustomary braid.

Coming over to the side of the table where Natalie was sitting, Morgaine extended a hand out to the mortal woman. "You are Natalie Lambert?"

"Yes... Morgaine." Taking the cool, pale hand in her own, she shook it gently.

Casting a small glance towards Nick, who immediately brought over a chair to the ailing vampiress, Morgaine smiled. "It is an honour to meet the woman and scientist who has come the closest to fulfilling his elusive dream."

Having expected a blatant accusation of stealing Nick away from "his kind," Nat paused. Much of her suspicion dared to fade, the gentle complement setting her off of her self-defense. And now having seen the attitude she could apparently inspire in Nick, Nat began to wonder if indeed this elder immortal could prove beneficial.

"May I ask you a question?"

"Of course." A Gaulish curl touched her voice.

"You don't want to be cured. Why would you want to risk rejection by your kind? Why bother helping him if you don't have an invested interest?"

"I have no need of cure, myself. I am too old and too wise to be swayed by the opinion of a kind that have, for the most part, not seen a millennium yet. And I have found my individual way to survive and enjoy my eternity. But Nick wants the cure; for me that is enough. I would not do him disservice by preventing him happiness."

"Would you be willing to help?"

"If I must." Morgaine paused, her eyes losing focus for a moment. The world reeled for a moment, her vision blurring. Setting a hand on the table, she realized how poorly she had become when she felt a familiar, comforting hand grasp her own.

"I... I, oh... this is a peculiar feeling... " her voice trailed off.

Nick, his attention averted completely, knelt down in front of her. Touching her cheek, he fought down a wave of despair, as she did not react to him as she always had. Her sensual manner was drowning in something... dreadfully wrong.

"Nick?"

But Nat went unheeded.

"Nick?!"

His head turned immediately to face Nat questioningly.

"Can I help?"

He nodded. "The cobalt blue bottle."

"Okay." Standing up, Nat headed for the fridge. Opening the door and reaching for the unique blue bottle filled with what she could only guess was *not* cow's blood, she pulled it out and paused. ~Great, Lambert.

Despite the scientific curiosity of it all, you're still helping a creature you're trying to destroy.~

At the same time, easily cradling her into his arms, Nick was carrying Morgaine over to the couch. She felt lighter than she usually did; and she was far too quiet in motion and speech. Setting her down on the leather cushions, he spoke in a quiet, soothing voice. "Do you know what is wrong, precieuse? Has this ever happened before?"

Feeling his presence as he leaned over her, she tried to laugh.

"I have not eaten, my love, in days."

"But that hasn't-- "

"It has not been a problem before," she nearly whispered, "because I was not inflicting the pain upon myself. I repeated my own history and now the first memories flood my mind without kindness. Those are the nightmares."

Coming up carefully behind Nick, Nat leaned down and touched his shoulder.

Meeting Nat's eyes for just a moment, he nodded and took the proffered bottle. "Thank you, Natalie."

Nat tried to nod, but was struck by the briefest of looks she had just caught.

It was rare to see fear from Nick Knight, and at that moment Nat knew that that was exactly what was flashing in his eyes.

Stepping away to sit back at the table, Nat decided to step away.

Despite her intense curiosity and undeniable involvement with Nick and his vampirism, she didn't want to interfere. It wasn't like she could do anything, anyway. There were circumstances she knew she would never be meant to understand; and in a strange way, she accepted that. But she would not leave, either. As a friend she was wise to sit back and observe, only to step in when asked.

She could hear the two of them speaking, quietly, the words mostly inaudible. She watched as Nick, in a rare devotion, lifted up the head of his immortal love to help guide the contents of the blue bottle to her lips so that she might drink and end the physical weakness. But even Nat, in her view and significant lack of information, could tell that whatever weakness that was taking over the ancient vampire was far from purely physical.

**************************

end part 5.

Duende 6; "Nightmares of Memories"

*******************

mid-1st century B.C.E.

"I will not have Rome ruined by the likes of you!"

His hand swept across the table, knocking the wine into the face of the cowering general.

"I'm sorry, Caesar, but we did not expect the Gauls to fight back after last month."

His face was twisted in anger, his gaze utterly unforgiving.

"Did you honestly expect them to fall at your knees when we captured Vercingetorix? They are barbarians! They must be crushed. Now go!"

The general bowed fearfully and escaped from the room, leaving Gaius Julius Caesar alone with the figure tucked in the shadows of one of the corners of the room. Glancing into the corner with a half curious eye, he retrieved the leaden goblet and hissed through his teeth.

Caesar was not a lovely man, particularly in her estimation. He was far too dark and far too cleanly trimmed for her personal tastes. Not to mention that she generally preferred someone taller than her. He reeked of the baths and vomitoriums, of the sweat of soldiers and the blood of his victims. And the Roman wine on his breath was enough to make her nauseous every time he came that close.

But none of that mattered. She didn't have a choice; she didn't make the choice in the first place. She was a slave, a harlot and a victim of the Empire.

Stepping into the corner, Caesar crouched down and stared at her for a moment. "Are you going to sit there all day?"

She looked down, avoiding his cold eyes, but he grabbed her chin and pulled her head up sharply.

"Did you not hear the question?"

"Yes."

"Well?" His tone was dangerously impatient.

"I will not sit here all day if my master does not wish it."

He smiled and released her chin. "Morgaine, Morgaine, Morgaine.  You are so much like your people. Stubborn and blind. And here I had hoped to civilise you."

"You don't want me civilized. You want me obedient like your dogs."

"And like a wild bitch you force me to act. Do you think I like beating you?"

Lowering her eyes, Morgaine knew her response, but would not speak. It was perfectly clear that Caesar had no hesitation when using his hand or whip on her or any other slave; and if she vocalized this, she would feel the sting of that hand or whip again. The vicious wounds across her shoulder blades were still healing and she had no want of opening them up.

But, still feeling his stare upon her, she knew she had to respond with something. "I do not know what my Emperor likes."

For a brief second, he paused. Standing up, he turned from her and walked back to the table, gathering up a document. Heading for the door that led from the private chambers to the rest of the villa, he said,  "Tomorrow I will be out in the field, you may stay here or leave for the duration of the light. But I expect you to be presentable tonight for the feast."

And with that, he left.

Sitting in the corner of the now empty room, the sun streaming in past the marble pillars near the edge of the table, Morgaine watched the linen curtaining sway gently in the mild breeze. Listening for a moment to make sure he was truly gone, she ventured carefully out into the center of the room, kneeling down by a particularly bright patch of sunlight and stared. The floor was immaculately clean. If it wasn't, the poor slave that was responsible for that was punished.

Wrapping the Thracian shawl tighter around her shoulders, she extended a hand into the sunlight, the rays illuminating the smooth skin texture that Caesar demanded of her. He did not care for her mind, heart or spirit, but liaisons with a whore who did not keep her body beautiful was repulsive to him. He even made the female servants bathe and tend her wounds (inflicted by him) as to promote faster healing and lesser scars.

Yanking back her hand and tucking it in the folds of fabric, she closed her eyes and shook her head in disgust. Three years ago her family was alive. Three years ago her village was intact and thriving. Three years ago she was a healer, a druid with a respected gift.

Three years ago, Rome was a far away land and Caesar's legions were a rumour.

But that was over. The trees in the circle clearing were ash, burned by Roman fire. Her father killed in battle. Her mother and sisters raped. Her older brother crucified. Her younger brother enslaved like her, sold to a heartless merchant who beat him to death a year later after "letting" the merchant's prize horse fall sick.

She glanced for a moment out into the private garden.  Squinting in the harsh light, she glanced at the sun's position in the sky.

* * *

"You want to hit me."

She kept her eyes lowered and shook her head.

"You don't think I saw that look at the feast? Go ahead, strike back."

"No," she whispered.

Caesar snarled, and raising a hand, struck her cheek, hard. 

Staying silent, she fought back tears of stinging pain.

Reaching out once more, he grabbed for her throat.

And then, instinct snapped into motion. Bringing up her hand, she grabbed his wrist and spun him around, trying to bring him close enough to attack. When finally within her reach, she lashed out her other hand, swinging sharp fingernails at his prone cheek, tearing flesh in anger and fear.

He stepped back, feeling blood trickle down his cheek.

Anger burned in his dark eyes. "That, little bitch, was a mistake."

Shoving a hand out, he reached for her hair. Taking a large handful, he hauled Morgaine back and up against him, taking a moment to hiss in her ear, "A mistake." Pushing her out again, he raised a leg and kicked, sending her down, hard, onto the cold stone floor.

Gasping, she barely had time enough to get reoriented. Her back stung fiercely where his boot had been and she was about to turn and scramble for cover when Caesar kicked her savagely in the ribs.

The world spun. Coughing hard, feeling bone shards poking inwards, Morgaine couldn't move. Couldn't move away from him.

"No, no, gods, no, no, please, no," she gasped, every syllable a shooting pain in her side. She could feel him coming up behind her. His hands on her, touching her, pushing the blue silk up to her waist.

She cringed. She could feel his disgusting slimy skin against her. His hands roamed over her buttocks and lingered briefly, cruelly, at her crotch. A wave of nausea washed over her as he shoved a finger inside and chuckled.

"Sacred Epona, blessed mother, help me in my time of need.

Sacred mother, blessed Epona, bless me and save me. Guide me and protect me, come to me in my time of need. Sacred Epona, blessed mother, help me in my time of need. Sacred mother, blessed Epona bless me and save me. Guide me and protect me, come to-- "

"Words wasted on barbarian gods. No wonder you were so easy to conquer."

The snide remark made her growl through the pain. She wanted nothing more than to rip his tongue out and watch him as he drowned in his own repulsive blood. Closing her eyes, she tried to stay focused as vertigo took over her vision.

But the vertigo was ripped away from her view with a new piercing pain.

Burning, ripping shock tearing a scream from her throat, she wished swift death upon herself...

For death would have proved kinder than the agonizing rape she was enduring under the torturous hold of Julius Caesar.

* * *

The sun was beating down on the floor, causing a blinding white reflection throughout the room. A slight, warm breeze drifted across, barely moving the linens as it blew through.

But it could have been a frigid winter day in the heart of Nordic lands, for all she was aware.

Everything hurt. Her head, her face, her ribs, her back, her hips, her legs. Her throat and lungs burned with every breath. Her stomach was a sea of bubbling acid. And every tender muscle in her pelvis stung acrid fire from the deep bruises and seeping tears.

Curled into a fetal position in the center of the room, the silk draped carelessly over her, all she wanted was for the pain to end.   But when the hand touched her on the shoulder, every instinct exploded in desperate moves for survival. Reeling back, she backed towards a corner blindly.  Halfway there, though, she collapsed and had to cover her eyes.

The light was blinding her with sharp daggers, and the sudden motion combined with pain made her heart nearly leap out of her throat. Coughing violently, she felt a trickle of blood laden saliva touch her lower lip.

Her visitor tried once more to approach her, speaking in quiet soothing tones as she approached.

Not hearing *his* voice, Morgaine surrendered, ceasing to care what the visitor's intentions were.

"Morgaine?"

Moving a finger hurt; there was no room for welcoming gestures at this point.

"Morgaine?"

A hand touched her shoulder once more, but when she did not flinch, the hand pulled her upright gently, letting the torn silk drop away from her reddened and bruised skin. A soft woolen blanket fell over her bare shoulders.

"Come and bring the litter. I have much to do." Her apparent caretaker leaned forward and whispered in her ear, "Do not try to move, young one. We will take care of you."

It seemed like a blurry eternity later when she was picked up by strong gentle hands and placed in a nest of pillows. She barely felt the motion of being moved from the bright room to wherever they were taking her, and then blacked out, coming to in a hot pool of water thick with the smell of herbs.

Morgaine tried to open her eyes again. The light in this room was dim, diffused light touching candlelit shadows. The water, where she could actually feel it, was soothing; it seemed to lighten the weight on her injured insides.

"Bring me the wine." Her caretaker again. Squinting, she caught a glimpse of her and recognized her. Livida, a former senator's wife, her sons dead to the wars. Her salt and pepper hair and dark eyes were familiar to Morgaine; she was the only one who always seemed to be there, caring for the celtic slave, and not just because Caesar demanded it.

"Liv... vi... "

"No, young one. Don't speak. Take this wine and drink it down no matter how it hurts. There are herbs in there to scrub you clean inside; they will stop conception."

Feeling Livida tip the goblet up, she closed her eyes and opened her throat, the wine pouring down with the wrath of Ares. Tears welled in the corners of her eyes and she fought back the urge to choke and throw it all back up.

"Shhh, little one, if you can survive him, you can survive this."

Morgaine felt the elder woman's arm wrap around her shoulders, rocking her gently.

"I... I... ev... every... where... "

"Shhhh. I know you're hurt all over, baby. We'll take care of you. You'll get past this."

She shook her head feebly. "No... " She coughed harshly and fought down bile. Unable to protest anymore, she choked back painful sobs.

But, blessedly, from exhaustion and doctored wine, she felt her body release and her mind try to drift off; unwilling to fight against healing sleep, she felt herself slip into a comforting blackness, to a place where the pain could not follow her but rest could. 

* * *

When she became aware of the living world again, she found herself laying in a nest of pillows. Under a thin blanket of wool, her hair braided and pulled out of entanglement, she felt a little better. Linen bandages were wrapped around her ribcage directly below her breasts, and she felt some kind of poultice on the swollen bruise on her cheek. Extra layers padded her hips and tailbone underneath her, a warm bundle of fabric under her lower back.

Morgaine stirred a little, and then stopped. She still hurt all over, but the world no longer spun with every rivulet of agony. A quiet moan slipped past her lips.

Instantly, Livida was by her side. Touching her forehead, she smiled slightly. "It only gets better from here." Bringing up her other hand, a leaden goblet in hand, she braced Morgaine upright a little and put the cup to her lips.

"Wine. Drink as much as you can. It will numb you inside and perhaps we can feed you then."

Swallowing hurt less, and her stomach didn't leap into her throat. It was progress... but to what or where, Morgaine didn't know.

"Good, young one. Stay awake a little longer, you should have more."

Stepping away, Livida went to fetch the jug that was sitting at the perimeter of the room. Unfortunately, poor luck interfered.

"Where the hell is she?!"

Morgaine shuddered under the cover. It was *him.*

"I am your emperor, whore! Where is she?!"

Livida looked down. "She is not well yet."

"I don't care. She is my slave, I will see her when I wish!"

The wish for death returned to her like an eagle swooping down on a mouse.

Caesar leveled a stare at the older woman and snarled. "Now."

Livida backed away, watching from a safe distance as Caesar stalked up to the bed. Taking hold of the covers and yanking it off, he stared at her nearly uncovered body and hissed through his teeth.

Shoving fear down, Morgaine froze. Maybe if she didn't act like she was conscious, he'd leave and take his temper out on the battlefield.

Moments passed. Her heart pounded in her breast. A vicious twinge ran up her spine as her back tried to spasm, but she held her breath, praying for mercy.

But it seemed to work, for he stalked away and came up to Morgaine's caretaker, hissing a command and threat at her. "You will tend her wounds and heal her. If she dies I will have your head. When she is recovered you will deliver her to my chambers and leave. Is that perfectly clear?"

Livida nodded as he exited angrily.

Able to move again, Morgaine shuddered again and began to cry.

*****************

end, part 6

Duende 7; "Ladies of the Night"

***************

Stirring lightly on the couch, Morgaine slowly came to. Feeling the blanket laying on her, the taste of her personal vintage on her lips and the sound of second millennium music touching her ear drums, she began to realize that she was not trapped in the Roman Empire.

Slitting open her eyes, the dim light of the fireplace and candles softly illuminating the loft, she tried to orient herself. "Uuuugghhh... mon Nicolas?"

But rather than being greeted by his gentle voice, a different, but equally familiar, voice broke the silence. "Ah, ma chere, you're awake... "

Walking around to the other side of the couch, leaning down, Janette duCharme smiled.

"Janette... you're here... I... "

Pushing a stray lock of auburn hair off Morgaine's forehead, she shook her head. "Cherie, you've been 'out' for days. Nicolas is at work; he asked me to watch over you."

Trying to sit up, Morgaine groaned quietly. Her back was stiff, the muscles stubborn and atrophied. The hunger howled in the pit of her stomach, the remnants of the blue bottle only teasing the Beast. "I don't suppose there's something besides Nick's bottles, are there?"

Janette laughed shortly. "Absolutely are. You're not the only one who can't handle that vinegar. Would you like something?"

"S'il vous plaît."

"Alright. Just a moment."

Staring at the fire, her gray eyes finally adjusting to the light,

Morgaine shook her head. It was bad enough she had to live with these memories, they being condemned eternally to her mind. But then, they just *had* to take over her life once more. As if the first time wasn't bad enough.

Returning back around, two glasses in hand, Janette extended one out to the gaulish vampire, who accepted gratefully.

"What caused this? I couldn't get Nicolas to explain everything.

At the end I heard him growl 'LaCroix will pay' and then he went off to work."

Morgaine sighed. "The last thing I need is him to get involved.."

"We both know Nicolas."

Morgaine sighed again. "Yeah, we do. So, where should I start?"

"Wherever you want to."

Taking a large swallow from the wine glass, she shrugged. "Let's see... after 700 years, I, in one fell swoop, fell back into that miserable pattern."

"You didn't."

"Oh, yes. It was never bad with Lucius, mind you, I ju--just thought I was smarter than that."

"Smarter than what?"

"Smart enough to pimp myself again, apparently."

"That's a little strong, coming from you... "

"I wouldn't say it if it hadn't come back to haunt me. One bloody act and it sends me spiraling back into misery. Quelle merdier!"

"Is that why you were passed out? You're not thinking of... "

"No! No... I'm too old to just walk into the sun. It'd hurt Nichol too much, anyway. Gave me nightmares of memories, though. I really don't need to screw this up."

"So what are you going to do?"

"Not let myself go back. I won't go back again, no, never again.  But I won't cause a rift between Lucius and Nichol."

"There already is one." Janette paused, seeing confusion in the gray eyes. "You didn't know?"

"LaCroix is not a topic often brought up betwixt Nichol and myself." Morgaine shrugged.

"I know you were here last year... you must not have stayed long... of course, it took some prying for me to find out. They got into a bit of a fight."

"Really?"

"That's why LaCroix is finally back. And it does explain a lot.  If I didn't know better, I would guess that Nicolas is looking for an excuse."

"Bloody wonderful." Morgaine ran a hand through her hair.

"Remind me to talk to Nichol. Maybe now that my mind has traversed into the muck of Rome, it's ready to come back."

"It's not easy to leave behind our pasts. You know that as well as I do. Especially for women like us; you taught me that."

At which point, the door from the stairwell opened. Stepping into the loft, Nick Knight glanced over to the couch. "Ladies?"

"Bonsoir Nicolas."

"Bonsoir, precieux."

Stripping off his trench coat and jacket, he smiled, noticing the now empty bottle that Janette had brought from the Raven. "And how are the two of you?"

Janette, standing up, smiled. "Well, I think, although I do believe you have some explaining to do."

"Merci, Janette. I'll see you soon?" Morgaine extended a hand, catching her hand and squeezed it affectionately.

"Absolutely. Good evening, Nicolas." The dark haired vampire came up to Nick, kissed him and waved to Morgaine. "You call me if you need me, cherie."

Morgaine nodded and grinned playfully. "Oui, maman."

Nick breathed a sigh of relief. To say that Morgaine's episode had frightened him was the truth. He had never expected to see weakness in her; and he was now grateful it was over. She was playful again.

Coming over to Morgaine, he put a hand out, placing it ge