"Vachon, what happened?" When he did not respond, she touched his shoulder. "Vachon?"

He turned suddenly to face her, his eyes a septic yellow, but only for a moment. "What are you doing here? You have to leave - now."  His voice was small but his meaning was firm.

"Who did this to you? Vachon, talk to me!" The fear, worry, and concern were plain on Tracy's face and in her voice. He looked like that body found at the Raven - like he had been mauled by a wild animal. "You said you know who the murderer is."

Suddenly he was upon her, like a banshee, throwing her hard down onto the couch. His face was contorted with rage - fangs bared and eyes the predatory yellow of a jungle cat.

His voice was low - "Her thoughts becoming my thoughts" - almost inhuman.

Then suddenly, it was gone. His features, placid again, held only confusion; he looked like a lost, little boy.

"It's all right." She hugged him close, the attack completely forgotten. "Shhh. It's okay. Your wounds will heal." She stroked his hair and rubbed his back. "Shhh."

"I'm not healing. I'm dying." There was no hope in his voice, and he sunk into Tracy's embrace as though it would be their last.

"Of course you'll heal. It's what vampires do best." She tried to sound hopeful, but she was just too terrified by what was happening to pull it off.

I fall for a guy who is supposed to live forever,  she thought to herself, and he gets deathly ill twice in one year? What kind of bad luck is that? 

"I can feel it, Trace. The pain is getting worse and the visions—" He screamed in pain and pushed away from her, clutching his stomach and falling in a heap on the floor.

"Vachon!" She was instantly at his side, even though she had no idea what she could do to help him.

Again, he was upon her in less than a heartbeat. This time, they both flew, tumbling as Tracy struggled, into the wall. Vachon took most of the impact, but Tracy knew she would be sporting some major bruises by morning.

"Go, Tracy. Before I really hurt you." He was lucid again.

Thank God.  "No. I won't leave you."

"Tracy. Please. I can't control it. I will kill you if you stay."

"I don't care. I can't leave you like this."

He reached over and stroked her pale blonde hair. She had called him evil earlier that evening, and she had been more right than she knew. Vachon could hear her heart racing and could smell the fear in her. He knew she was more frightened than she had ever been in her life - yet she stayed.

"Why, Tracy?"

"Why, what?"

"Why won't you go, save your own life?"

"How can I leave you? You're hurt; you're sick. There has to be something I can do." She hugged him to her again.

"There isn't anything you can do." They lay there at the base of the wall just as they had fallen, limbs entangled. His head lay upon her shoulder and his arms were limp about her waist. "There isn't anything anyone can do."

She stroked his hair, and hugged him closer. "God! I wish I could just take you to the hospital!"

Memories of the night Screed had been so ill flooded Vachon's mind:

I can't take this one to the hospital, Knight. What am I going to tell them? He's allergic to penicillin, garlic, sunlight, crosses, and food. He's about four hundred and fifty, and he can fly? 

"There might be... someone," he said hesitantly.

"Who? Tell me." There was more desperation in Tracy's voice than she had intended.

"Doctor... um, Lamb... Lambear. No, no. ...Lambert, I think"

"Natalie Lambert? But she's a coroner."

"Who better to treat... the undead? I never... told you. She's the one who... found the cure for that... fever Screed died of." His breath was getting raspy again, and he was beginning to shake.

"Come on, then. Let's get you over there right now, before this gets any worse." Before you try to kill me again,  Tracy thought to herself. She helped him up. He was so weak, he could barely stand. She put his arm around her shoulder, and was able to support most of his weight by putting her arms around his waist. They slowly made their way up the stairs and out to her car.

She helped Vachon into the back seat, on the passenger side, so he could lay down and so that she could keep an eye on him in her rearview mirror. She buckled the seat-belt around him, just in case.

"Trace. Do you have any rope? Anything to tie me down with once we get there - just in case?"

"Um...?" Her mind raced and she could barely catch the thoughts. "Ah, yeah, I've got something in the trunk."

"Get it."

Tracy was starting to shake herself. There was a reason she had become a cop and not an EMT. She pulled the tie-downs out of the trunk on her way around the car. She got behind the wheel, started the car, threw on the police lights and siren, and then gunned the engine. Straight down College, left on Bay, right on Grenville. Just a couple of miles.  "Hang on back there."

Vachon gasped and clutched at his stomach again. "Hurry... Trace."

"I am. We're almost there. Just hang on." She reached back to try to comfort him and he grabbed her hand. Then he sunk his fangs deep into her forearm, right through the sleeve of her sweater and into the muscle. She tried to yank her hand away, but she only succeeded in causing his fangs to gouge across the skin on her arm.

"Vachon!" she yelled, in surprise and pain. She struggled to keep the car on the road with her one free hand.

He suddenly let go and then slumped back against his seat, his face placid again, his breath coming in fast gasps.

Despite the blood soaking through her sweater and the pain shooting up her arm, Tracy managed to regain control of the car.

"Damn," she swore under her breath. She had missed Bay Street. Okay,  she mentally regrouped. Left on Yonge will get us there almost as quick.  Just as the traffic light was turning red, they reached Younge Street and she hung a sloppy, quick left. She cut the police siren and lights just after she made the final turn, onto Grenville.

Suddenly, she slammed on the brakes of her car, throwing both herself and Vachon forward against their seat-belts.

"What's wrong?"

"Nick's car. He must be in visiting Nat. What are we going to do?"

Dammit - why couldn't they have just told Tracy the truth?  Vachon imagined the anger on Knight's face when he and Trace waltzed into the morgue. Well, Tracy was bound to find out about her partner sooner or later.... 

"I guess we'll just have to wait until he leaves." She sighed while applying pressure to the wound on her arm.

"I'm feeling worse...." Vachon grabbed his stomach again and clenched his teeth. "Maybe we... should just go in."

Just then, Tracy noticed Nick leaving the Coroner's building - she doused her car's headlights. She watched as Nick got into the Caddy and drove off down Grenville. As soon as he turned onto Bay Street, Tracy pulled her car into his vacated parking place at the curb. She killed the engine, jammed on the parking brake, grabbed the tie-downs, and then raced around the car to help Vachon.

They managed, somehow, to make it into Natalie's office without anyone stopping them.

"Nat, we need your help."

"Tracy? What's the matter?"

"He's hurt."

Natalie rushed over and helped Tracy with her charge.

"Sit here." She settled Vachon into a chair and immediately began examining his wounds. They were just like Urs's, except not as deep and not as plentiful. "How did this happen?"

"I was attacked... by another," he dropped his voice to barely a whisper, "vampire."

Tracy was watching Nat's face closely, but she did not even flinch when he said the word. She did  know.

"Tracy, help me move this body." Nat indicated the sheet-covered body on the slab. Natalie took the awkward legs; Tracy put her hands under the body's shoulders. "On three. One, two, three. Ummmph."

Natalie tossed Tracy a towel and pointed at the smears of blood on the stainless steel table as she wheeled the body into the cold storage locker.

Vachon watched as Nat carted the body away. The sheet was no longer completely covering the head, and Vachon saw blonde curls. He suddenly knew what that aching emptiness welling up inside him was: Urs was dead. He was too weak to fly to her; to rip the sheet away, sink his teeth into her neck again and bring her back. She was so young, so innocent still; she was just beginning to realize the wonders this new life really held for her.

"Vachon?" Tracy put her hand on his shoulder, her voice so tender it was almost as if she knew what he was thinking. "Come on over here." Tracy led him over to the table and helped him up. She took his leather jacket from him.

"Lie down, please." Now there's a phrase you don't usually hear a coroner say.  Nat examined the claw marks on Vachon's face and neck. They were still fresh, as if they had only just been inflicted. "How long ago did you get these?"

"I... I don't know." He looked at Tracy, hoping for assistance. She took his hand in both of hers and looked deep into his sad, fathomless eyes, as if waiting for him to continue. "It was right after I left you tonight."

Tracy suddenly realized that Vachon was speaking to her. "Oh. Ummm, that had to have been around, ah, 22:30."

Natalie glanced over at the clock. "Four hours ago? The blood hasn't clotted and the wounds haven't even begun to heal." Nat's mind raced. She had not learned anything from examining Urs yet. She had no idea what was causing this reaction, let alone how to treat it.

Suddenly, Vachon convulsed. "AAARRRGGGHHH."

He doubled over in pain, but in the next instant, he flew off the table. His eyes wild again.

"No! Make it stop." He clutched at his head, trying to contain the images. He whirled and spun as each new vision flashed through his mind. He made for the door, but Nat blocked his way. He grabbed her roughly by the shoulders and bared his fangs at her - there was no recognition in his eyes.

"Vachon!" Tracy grabbed him from behind, spun him to the floor, and pinned him there. She immediately felt all of his muscles go slack.

"Thanks." Nat gulped for air. "That was a bit too close for my comfort."

Natalie wasn't sure he was still conscious. "Vachon?"

She leaned down next to the now-listless vampire. His eyes were brown again, but the pupils were still constricted, as if his mind was still troubled.

"Come on, Tracy. Help me get him back up on the table." Natalie looked around, trying to find something to strap him down with.

Tracy clued in immediately.

"Here." She held up the tie-downs she had brought up from her car. "These ought to hold him."

Nat nodded. They did not look very strong - electric-blue, nylon webbing - but they were better than nothing.

"These will hold him. I've towed a car with them before!" Tracy attached the steel "S" hook under the lip of the table, brought the strap over Vachon's arms and chest, held the other "S" hook under the lip on the opposite side of the table, and then pulled the strap as taut as she could. She re-adjusted her grip, and then pulled again. Tracy placed another strap across his hips, and the final one across his legs, just above his knees.

While Tracy strapped Vachon down, Nat tried to talk to him again. "Can you tell me what just happened?"

"I keep having... these visions. She's... she's in my blood. I'm getting... weaker and... the images are getting... stronger. I can't... control... what she's doing to me." He started to thrash a bit, and gold crept back into his eyes.

Natalie remembered what Nick had told her: that one's whole life was contained in each drop of blood. She extrapolated from Vachon's description that the exchange must go both ways. But Nick had also said that the images only remained for a few hours. Vachon had been attacked over four hours ago - how could the images be getting stronger?

She's in his blood. In his blood. Blood poisoning. Vampire septicemia! 

"Just try to lie still, Vachon. Tracy, I'm going to need your help."

Tracy nodded.

"In that fridge over there... bring me every bag of blood. We're going to give your friend here a transfusion." Natalie hoped to God this would work.

Natalie dug through the supplies she kept for the precinct's bi-monthly blood drive, and pulled out what she needed.

Tracy brought the bags of blood back to the slab on a small, rolling table. There were only five bags - more than enough for a human, but for a vampire...? Nat had no idea.

I knew I should have ordered more bags from the Blood Bank yesterday, instead of just donating one of my own! 

"Okay, Vachon. I'm going to insert this needle into the vein here in your arm. We're going to give this a try, okay?" Natalie's voice echoed in Vachon's ears and he managed to nod back at her.

The morgue was not really set up for this sort of thing, so Tracy hung the first bag of blood off the hook on the hanging scale normally used to weigh organs.

"Let's get started." Out of habit, Nat first swabbed Vachon's arm with iodine. Then drew the sheath off the needle and slide it into his arm.

When the needle pierced his skin, Vachon quickly sucked in air through his teeth.

Natalie was flying blind. She had to purge his system of the infected blood without killing him, but she had no idea how much blood loss a vampire could safely endure. The average human would pass out after the loss of about one-fifth of the body's blood volume - about sixteen hundred mililitres. She watched for a moment as Vachon's blood dribbled into the collection bag.

"Tracy?" She indicated for Tracy to trade places with her. "Here. Hold his hand. Vachon? I want you to squeeze Tracy's hand once every couple of seconds, okay?"

Natalie's voice was so calm, but Vachon could hear her heart pounding.

Nat moved to the other side of the table, swabbed his other arm and inserted another needle.

"Ahh!" This time it was Tracy who let out the gasp of pain.

"Sorry." A small apologetic smile played upon Vachon's lips; he hadn't meant to squeeze her hand quite so hard.

"It's okay." She stroked his cheek with the back of her free hand, and smiled down at him. Please, God. Don't let him die. 

Natalie hooked up the bag of blood, but kept the line clamped off - she was going to wait until the last possible moment before beginning the transfusion. "Tracy? How full is the collection bag getting?"

"About half."

"Already? That's faster than I'd hoped. Keep an eye on it. At three-quarters full I'll have to change it." Nat got another couple of collection bags out of the cabinet in anticipation. She hoped this worked; she had no idea how to treat a vampire who went into shock. Heck, she did not even know if she would recognize the symptoms of a vampire in shock.

"Natalie? I think it's time to change the bag."

"Okay. Trace, clamp off that line. Good." Nat removed the connector from the full bag and inserted it into an empty one, and then unclamped the line. She was going to have plenty of vampire blood to experiment on after this! She placed the full blood bag into an orange bio-hazard bag on the counter. Can't risk anyone using this stuff by mistake. 

Between bag changes, Nat was able to tend the bite marks on Tracy's arm. "You're probably going to have a nasty scar from this, but there's not much I can do." Natalie gently patted Tracy's bandaged arm. "At least you don't have to worry about Rabies!"

"Vachon? Vachon! Nat! He's passed out!" There was definite panic in Tracy's voice.

"Finally," Natalie breathed. The seventh bag was just a little over half full. Almost three and a half litres total - fascinating.  "It's okay, Trace. We'll be able to start the transfusion now." They stared at each other, both hoping what Nat was doing was going to work.

"Clamp off that last bag, Trace," Natalie directed as she started the donated blood flowing into Vachon's other arm. "We have only one small problem, Tracy."

"What?" This was not something Tracy really wanted to hear right now. She squeezed Vachon's cold hand for her own comfort.

"I've taken almost thirty-five hundred millilitre out, but there are only twenty-five hundred mils to replace it with. We're going to be almost a thousand mils short! When's the last time you gave blood?"

"Um, during the last blood drive."

Nat glanced at the calendar on her wall - not quite eight weeks ago. "It's a bit soon. And, I'm going to have to take almost twice the normal amount. It's not without risk, Trace. I want you to really think about this. Are you willing to donote the extra blood he'll need?"

"There's nothing to think about, Natalie. Take as much as necessary."

"Tracy..."

"Nat, it's his life."

Natalie nodded her head; she would have made the same decision if it had been Nick lying there. "Okay, Trace. But I want you to go eat and drink something. There's change in my top desk drawer - go get some juice and some crackers out of the vending machine down the hall."

Tracy grabbed some change, and started for the door.

Natalie stopped her for a moment. "Tracy? You know I'd give, too, if I could, but he's already had the bag I donated yesterday."

"I know, Nat. And the last thing we need right now is for the doctor to pass out on the floor." She smiled, and then headed down the hall.

Natalie was alone with Vachon for the first time. She stared down at his placid, ashen face.

"You, mister, are one lucky vampire," she whispered, almost to herself. She brushed a tendril of hair off his cheek, and then ran her fingers through the dark cloud of bangs. "I hope you realize it. You had better pull through... for her sake."

Nat was replacing the second empty bag with a full one when Tracy returned, two bottles of juice, two packs of crackers and cheese, and a cup of coffee in her hands. "Hey, no coffee for you, missy."

"It's for you. I thought you could use one about now." Tracy set the coffee down on Nat's desk and then plopped herself down in the chair.

"Thanks, Trace." Nat picked up the coffee and sat down on the edge of her desk.

Tracy smiled. "I don't know how I'll ever be able to thank you for everything you've done."

Nat smiled and shook her head at Tracy. All in a day's work for Dr. Lambert, Vampire-Medicine Woman,  she thought.

"I mean it, Natalie. What you've done tonight.... He would have died if you hadn't been here. He told me you were responsible for finding the cure for that epidemic, too. How do you know about—"

"Tracy, we really can't talk about this. Not here - not now, anyway. It's not safe for either of us."

Tracy nodded and sipped at her orange juice. "Thank you, Natalie."

Nat smiled at Tracy. "It's not over yet. But, here's hoping for the best." She toasted Tracy with her coffee cup before taking a long, slow swallow.

A half-hour later, Tracy found herself lying on a gurney next to a still-unconscious Vachon. After a quick jab of lidocaine into Tracy's arm, Natalie found the biggest vein she could and inserted the large-gauge needle. She connected the tubing from Tracy's arm to the in-line filter at the upstream end of Vachon's line. "So, how do you feel?"

"Okay. It's a bit weird, though. I wonder if he'll wake up craving apricots." Tracy smiled to herself.

"Apricots?" Nat had no idea what she was talking about.

"He says that's what my blood smells like. I don't know if it's true or not."

"Either way, it's one hell of a pick-up line." Natalie made a mental note to ask Nick about this.

They replied in unison, "Yes, Doctor."

"Good. Now, I'll stop by Tracy's later, on my way home from work, and drop off some blood for you, Vachon. And to make sure you're both doing okay."

Tracy and Vachon stared at each other from their respective beds. They were both grinning weakly. He was alive, and she had risked her life to save him.

Vachon picked up the TV remote off the coffee table and waggled it temptingly at Tracy. She countered by picking up the book on her nightstand and waggled it temptingly at Vachon.

She won.

He got up off the couch and made his way, painfully slow, over to her bed. She scooted over and made room for him under the covers. He fluffed up the pillow and propped it up against the head-board, and then straightened the heavy comforter over the both of them.

He reached over, picked up her right arm, and caressed the bandage that covered the bite marks. He didn't remember inflicting them, but he still felt badly that he had hurt her.

She gingerly touched the slowly healing scars on his cheek and neck. He took the opportunity to snatch the book off her lap. He smiled wryly at her, but she took the theft in stride and merely leaned back against her own pillow and waited for him to start reading aloud.

It was a Dashiell Hammett book. Vachon loved The Maltese Falcon  - he had read it so many times in the last sixty years that he knew it by heart. But this one, The Thin Man , he had somehow never gotten around to reading.

He cleared his throat and began to read in that low, buttery-smooth voice he used only when he felt like making an effort:

"Chapter 1 - I was leaning against the bar in a speakeasy on Fifty-second Street, waiting for Nora to finish her Christmas shopping, when a girl got up from the table where she had been sitting with three other people and came over to me. She was small and blonde, and whether you looked at her face or at her body in powder-blue sports clothes, the result was satisfactory.'Aren't you Nick Charles?' she asked.

"I said: 'Yes.' "