Murder has consequences.  Nick knew that, of course; but, at the time, both he and LaCroix had other things on their mind.  In any case, he was quite well aware that there was no point in informing his master of mortal legalities.  The other man would never consider them to apply to himself.

So, when LaCroix was released from interrogation, he naturally returned to the Raven and his apartments above.  The headless corpse had long since been removed to the morgue, along with its caput, still in the box in which it had arrived.  By that time, too, Ident had completed much of their survey and collection and left for the lab.  They had not, though, released the building for reoccupation.  There was tape criss-crossing each door, besides the tape strung across the sidewalk and alley.  The vampire cared for none of it, flew to the roof, and entered from above.  So, shortly afterward, did his clientele.  When Nick came in search of answers, he found music booming on the other side of the sealed entrance.  Prudently, he too used his own kind’s entrance.  Nor did he point out to its owner that the club was supposed to be shut.  At the time, asking LaCroix about his mysterious antagonist seemed of more significance than a mere warning.

Later, of course, both men were otherwise occupied.  It was only after Divia had burned to ash on her funeral pyre that Nick left his master’s side—and then he went home, dawn being near.

LaCroix, naturally, went home as well.  To his own home, that is, where (perversely for himself) he took a broom and began, unhurriedly but grimly, to sweep up the broken glass.  If, in his own way, this also swept up Divia and put her out with the trash, the symbolism satisfied.  In the morning, his presence rather less pleased the dayshift Ident personnel who turned up to collect further evidence.  Nor did LaCroix’s hypnotic suggestion have any effect against their orders:  one was a resistor, and highly suspicious.  Fortunately, her words implied that she thought he was offering a bribe to look the other way.

Outraged, he found that he was required to leave his own premises.

Outside was daylight; and he had to have secret recourse to the sewers.  Such a route was not unknown to him, of course, for he had a long, long history and this was not his first escape.  It was not, however, a pleasant journey (least of all for someone with a preternaturally sensitive nose); and he sorely resented the necessity.

When he turned up at Nick’s skylight just after sunset, he was not a happy vampire.  Shortly thereafter, neither was Nick.  Which was only just.