Blood Debt (5 page)

Kneeling next to the plywood barrier, she filtered out the sounds of internal combustion and heard a stranger's heartbeat.

She growled low in her throat. Resisting the urge to crash through the barrier and rip the stranger's heart out, Vicki silently pulled back the bolts. Anger wouldn't get her the answers she needed. Anger wouldn't discover what happened to Mike Celluci.
First, I get some answers
 . . .

To the young man behind the wheel, it seemed as though one moment the passenger seat was empty and the next there was a woman sitting in it, smiling at him. Her smile was terrifying.

“Pull over,” she said softly.

More frightened than he'd ever been in his life, he braked and swerved onto the shoulder. By the time he fought the van to a standstill, his heart was pounding so violently, he could barely breathe.

“Shut off the engine.”

He whimpered as he turned the key. He didn't know why, but he couldn't prevent the sound from escaping. When cool fingers grasped his chin and forced his head around, he whimpered again.

“Where is the man who was driving this vehicle?”

Her eyes were impossibly silver in the twilight. He didn't know what the rest of her looked like because all he could see were her eyes. “He's, he's at Ruby's Steak House. Maybe five miles b-b-back.”

“Has he been hurt?”

Although not an imaginative young man, he had a sudden flash of what was likely to happen should he answer in the affirmative. His stomach spasmed, and his throat worked.

“If you puke,” she told him, “you'll eat it. Now answer my question.”

“He was f-f-fine. Really.” When she seemed to be waiting for more, he added, “I looked b-b-back and he was laughing.”

“Laughing?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

Frowning, Vicki released the young man's jaw. Why would Celluci be laughing? She'd never suspected that he considered grand theft auto to be amusing.
Okay, he stopped for supper and someone stole the van. Why would he think that was funny?
Then she looked up at the streaks of gold and rose lingering on the horizon. All of a sudden, she got the joke.

If Ruby's Steak House was only five miles back, this poor sucker had driven off with a sleeping vampire moments before sunset.

When she noticed him fumbling with the door latch, she grabbed his arm. “Not so fast,” she murmured, the threat softened but still there. “What's your name?”

“K-Kyle.”

He was really quite attractive in an unshaven, outlaw sort of way. Slender but with nice muscles. Pretty blue eyes. Her gaze locked on the pulse in his throat. “How old are you, Kyle?”

“T-twenty-two.”

Old enough. She let the Hunger rise.

Kyle saw her smile change. Almost understood it. Her face was very pale. Her teeth, very white.

“Actually, I think young Kyle's decided to give up stealing cars.”

“Oh?” Celluci grinned at her profile, just barely visible in the pale green glow from the dashboard lights. “What makes you say that?”

“Well, I think he came to the decision when I pointed out how lucky he'd been.”

“Lucky?”

“Sure. When he took this van, all he got was me.” Vicki turned to face her companion, allowing the van to speed down the highway momentarily unguided. Her eyes gleamed, and her voice made promises for later. “I merely reminded him that another time, he might drive off with something . . . dangerous.”

Sunrise the next morning was at 4:56, Pacific Time. At 4:30, Vicki pulled over onto a deserted scenic view and stopped the van. Driving west through the Rockies, she'd gained an hour of night. Since they'd left home, she'd gained three, but this would be the last. They'd crossed into British Columbia during the night and would reach Vancouver before evening. From now on, sunrise and sunset would occur in the same time zone.

Twisting around in the driver's seat, she stared into the shadows of her sanctuary. Celluci refused to sleep with the front partition up and she supposed she couldn't blame him although the song of his blood behind her was a constant distraction. Considering the demands of the road as it passed through two national parks and crossed most of a mountain range, it was fortunate that, having fed deeply from young Kyle, she'd been able to keep most of her attention on her driving.

Sleep smoothed out the lines and shadows layered onto his face by fifteen years of police work and he looked much younger than his thirty-eight years.

Thirty-eight.

He had a scattering of gray hair at his right temple.

How many years were they going to have? Fifty? Forty? And what was she going to do for the rest of eternity without him? Facing immortality, she found herself mourning his inevitable death while he continued to live. Henry had warned her about falling into that kind of fatalistic despair, but it was a hard warning to remember while listening to a mortal heartbeat pounding out its few remaining years.

Oh, for God's sake, Vicki, get a grip
! Leaning forward, she grabbed Celluci's shoulder and shook him hard.

“Wha . . .!”

“Sunrise in twenty minutes, Mike. I'll leave you alone to put your face on.” Getting out of the van, she walked over to the railing and stared up at the Rockies. Rising in majestic silhouettes against the gray, predawn sky, they looked so definitively like mountains they almost looked fake.

Now this is immortality
, Vicki acknowledged.
Next to these hunks of rock, I'm just going to live a little longer than average.
She heard Mike walk around from the other side of the van and said, “I left a message on Henry's machine when I stopped for gas. He knows we'll get to his place today.”

“Yeah? Will he still be there?”

Eyes narrowed, she pivoted on one heel. “Why wouldn't he be?”

“Oh, I don't know. Perhaps
he's
willing to recognize his limitations.” Three nights on the road, had left Celluci tired and stiff and not all the glories of a spring dawn in the midst of some of the most beautiful scenery in the world were going to make an impression until he had a piss and a coffee.

“He'll be there.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“I told him not to leave.”

Should've seen that coming
, he muttered silently, following Vicki to the van. He caught her wrist as she lifted her hand to rub the back of her neck. “Did it ever occur to you that Henry Fitzroy knows better than you do what it means to be a vampire?”

She turned within his grip although they both knew she could have easily broken it. “Maybe he does, but Henry Fitzroy doesn't know what it means to be me, and I'm not buying into his territorial imperative crap.”

Because he could see the doubt in her eyes, he let it go. They'd find out soon enough.

When he heard the bolts shoot back and the front barrier move, Celluci threw the last of his burger to a gull patrolling the strip mall parking lot and rolled up the window. He couldn't see anyone in earshot, but the last thing they needed was an eavesdropper.

The silver of her eyes flecked with lingering gold from the setting sun, Vicki's gaze swept past him. “Where are we?

“Cariboo Street, east end of the city. I thought you'd like to be awake when we arrived.”

Vicki stared out the front window, across Vancouver, toward the ocean, toward Henry Fitzroy. Then she looked at Mike Celluci,
really
looked at him.

He had the strangest sensation that no one had ever seen him so clearly, and he could feel himself beginning to sweat. Just when he thought he couldn't stand another minute of it, she smiled, reached out, and brushed the long curl of hair off his face.

“Thanks. That's pretty perceptive for a guy who tapes
Baywatch
.”

Three

EYES narrowed, Henry glared at the handless ghost at the foot of his bed. His movements rigidly precise, he folded back the sheet and sat up. If he released even a fraction of the tight grip he maintained on his rage, it would surge out in a stream of angry accusation and another innocent would die.

He watched and waited, hoping the spirit would tire of meaningless questions. When it became obvious it hadn't, when it began preparing to scream, Henry snarled, “Was your mother a woman?”

Translucent features twisted into an annoyed frown, but it obeyed the rules and quietly vanished.

“Man, that is one pissed-off spook.”

Henry paused, one hand on the bathroom door, and turned toward the hall corner where Tony lounged against the wall. “You could feel it?”

“Feel it?” Tony snorted, covering his fear with bravado. “I could almost see the waves of pissed-offedness radiating out from your room. I just, you know, wondered if you were okay.”

“I'm fine. It can't actually affect me.”

“Uh-huh. And that's why you just crushed the doorknob?”

Opening his fingers, Henry dropped his gaze to the unrecognizable piece of brass protruding from the bathroom door. “Perhaps I am a little . . . irritated. I'm sure I'll feel better after a shower.” He took a half a step forward—one bare foot on tile, the other on carpet—and paused. “Don't you usually work Saturday evenings?”

Tony took a deep breath, lifted his chin, and met Henry's gaze square on. “I traded shifts,” he announced defiantly. “So I could be here when Vicki arrived.”

Red-gold brows rose. “To protect her from me?”

“Maybe.” Expecting anger, and knowing how dangerous that anger could be, Tony would have preferred it to the undercurrent of amusement he could hear in Henry's voice. “Or to protect you from her.”

Realizing that he'd hurt the younger man's feelings, Henry sighed. “I appreciate the intent, Tony, I really do, but for your own safety, if anything happens, anything at all, don't get between us. While I would never intentionally harm you, I'm not sure how much intent is going to count.”

“Then why did you stay? You're ready to go to the cabin, you could've been gone when she got here.”

“If I was gone when she arrived, Vicki'd never believe that two vampires are incapable of being together. She'd continue to think that I'm overreacting, that a response innate to our natures can be overcome.” His eyes darkened and an aura of ancient power seemed to gather about him—in spite of the green velour bathrobe. “By remaining home for the first part of the night, by actually meeting with her, I'll prove my point in the only way she'll accept.”

Tony nodded slowly. Having known Vicki since he was a fifteen-year-old street kid, the explanation made perfect sense. “I bet she was the kind of kid who stuck beans up her nose.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You know.” His voice lifted into a shrill falsetto. “Now, Vicki, don't stick beans up your nose.”

Henry grinned. “No bet.”

“So you stayed to prove a point?”

“That's right.”

“Not because you wanted to see her again?”

“Vampires do not maintain attachments after the parent-child bond is broken.” Henry's tone ended the discussion. For added emphasis, he stepped into the bathroom and emphatically closed the door.

The knob fell off and bounced down the hall.

Bending to pick it up, Tony fitted his fingers into the creases Henry's fingers had made.
Don't get between us
, he repeated silently.
Yeah, like I'm in the habit of getting between The Terminator and the mother alien.
 . . .

Michael Celluci watched Vicki pacing back and forth in the elevator—three steps back, three steps forth—and kept his mouth firmly shut. More than anything, he wanted to know if she'd even considered the possibility that Henry might be right. Unfortunately, although the words were pressing up against his teeth, he couldn't ask because, from her expression, she obviously had.

“His scent is all over this building,” she muttered, nostrils flaring.

“Don't tell me he's been pissing in the corners.”

Her teeth seemed longer than usual as she snarled, “That's not what I meant.”

“It was a joke.” When she whirled to glare at him, he spread his hands. “Just trying to lighten the mood.”

“Oh.” The bell chimed for the fourteenth floor. She spun back around to face the door.

Following her out into the hall, Celluci shook his head. “No need to thank me.” As their names had been on a security list at the door, they'd been waved right through without needing to buzz up and so had no idea of what they were about to face. Given Vicki's reaction so far, if Henry had been stupid enough to stay home, it was going to be an explosive evening. He found himself wishing he'd brought his gun—although who he intended to shoot, he had no idea.

“She's coming.” Henry turned to face the door and Tony thought he looked like a cat, watching the shadows for movement no one else could see. A moment later, three evenly spaced raps that unmistakably said,
This is the police
, shattered the expectant silence into sharp-edged little pieces.

“You'd better answer it.” Hands locked behind his back, Henry made his way to the far side of the living room. “I think it might be best if I kept my distance.”

Almost afraid of cutting himself on the shards of anticipation, Tony walked to the door, took a deep breath, and threw it open.

Celluci, about to knock again, lowered his hand.

Vicki, who'd been staring down the hall, spun around.

Had Tony not spent the last two years sharing living space with a vampire, he'd have fled, screaming. As it was, he swallowed hard, tried to keep his legs from buckling, and forced his mouth into what he hoped was an approximation of a smile. “Yo, Victory. You're lookin' good.”

The fear in his voice penetrated. There were a great many people whose fear Vicki rather enjoyed, but Tony wasn't one of them.
Let's just prove Henry's point for him, shall we?
she snarled to herself as she struggled for control.
I will
not
be dominated by blind instinct
!

Tony, watching the silver mute out of her eyes, exchanged a wary glance with Celluci, who added an infinitesimal shrug. Before either man could speak, however, Vicki found her voice.

“I just spent four days on the road, I need a shower, and I look like shit, but thanks for lying.” She cocked her head and looked him up and down—to Tony's surprise the inspection didn't make him feel like a rare steak. “You, on the other hand, are looking good. You've filled out, got some color . . .” Her brows dipped down. “. . . but your hair's too short.”

“It's the style,” he protested indignantly, rubbing a palm over his close-cropped skull.

Vicki sighed. “Tony, it didn't look that good on Keanu Reeves either. Now then, you going to invite us in, or are you going to leave us standing in the hall?”

Ears pink, Tony stepped out of the doorway. “Sorry.”

“As much my fault as yours,” Vicki admitted. Looking appreciatively around the entry—Henry'd bought the Pacific Place condo after she'd returned to Toronto—she nodded toward the colonnaded arch. “Living room through there?”

“Yeah, but . . .” As she disappeared, he let his voice trail off and glanced up at Detective Sergeant Michael Celluci. During his years on the street, they hadn't exactly gotten along, but judging from the detective's expression, tonight the past had been buried under their common present.

“Is he in there?”

Tony sighed. “Yeah.”

“Why, if he believes in this territorial imperative thing?”

“He wants to prove a point.”

Like Tony before him, Celluci understood. “I can't say as I blame him. Let's hope we all survive it.”

They walked together into the living room, each hoping that the silence had to be a good sign.

Henry stood with his back to the window, the lights of Granville Island beginning to pierce the dusk behind him. Head up, arms crossed over his chest, he wore a blue silk shirt, faded jeans, and white running shoes. His lips were pressed into a thin line. His eyes were dark.

Vicki stood by the ultramodern dining room table, the fingers of her right hand pressed hard against the green glass top. Head up, her left hand opening and closing by her side, she wore a blue silk shirt, faded jeans, and white running shoes. Her lips were drawn up enough to show the points of her teeth. Her eyes were silver.

Standing at the edge of the room, Tony could feel the tension building. In a moment, without a word being said, it would build past the breaking point. When that happened, he didn't have the faintest idea of what he could do to prevent the inevitable violence or if he'd have the courage to do it even if he knew. How would they fight? Would there be bloodshed? Wouldn't vampires instinctively refuse to waste so precious a resource?

Beside him, Celiuci swept a cynical gaze over the room, snorted, and said, “I see you guys've got a uniform. What's next? Team jackets and baseball caps?”

Tony shot him a startled glance and faded back just far enough to use the detective's bulk as a shield.

The tableau broke. As Henry snarled and stepped forward, Vicki's sense of the ridiculous pushed past her instinctive responses. She stared at Henry's clothes, then down at her own, and snickered. “Christ, we look like a set of undead Bobsey Twins.”

Nostrils flared, Henry stopped and turned to face her again.

His aborted charge had brought him away from the window. Smile twisting into a snarl, Vicki backed around the table. “Don't stand so close!” She didn't want to attack, but she didn't think she'd be able to stop herself if he came any closer. She fought to see past instinct, to the lover, to the friend, to the teacher who'd taught her to survive within the parameters of her new existence, but the knowledge of what they'd once been to each other kept getting lost behind what they were.

“This is my territory, Vicki.” Henry took a step closer; graceful, deadly. “Not yours. You do not tell me what to do in
my
territory.”

“At least they're talking,” Celluci muttered to no one in particular. “That's an improvement.”

The vampires ignored him, and Tony fervently wished he'd shut up.

A muscle jumped in Vicki's jaw. “You asked me here!”

“You insisted we could work together,” he reminded her mockingly.

“We could if you'd stop this Prince of Darkness bullshit and back off!”

“I'm not doing anything, Vicki. I am older than you. I am more powerful than you. You can only see me as a threat. You can't help but respond.”

“And what do you see me as?” she growled, anger provoked by the implication that he didn't see
her
as a threat.

“Something to be removed.” His brows drew in and his voice grew scathing. “I do not wish my hunting ruined by a child.”

Vicki dove up and over the table, almost before she'd decided to attack. Her hands reached for Henry's throat and grabbed only air. She spun around as she landed, but, off balance, she had no chance to block Henry's blow. He threw her against the far wall and was on her, fingers dimpling her throat before she hit the ground.

When Tony moved forward, a large hand closed on his shoulder and pulled him back.

“No,” Celluci said softly. “Let them work it out.”

Startled, Tony stared up at the detective. He couldn't believe that Michael Celluci was allowing this to happen, but although he was frowning, neither the larger man's gaze nor his grip wavered.

Her shoulders under Henry's knees, her throat in his hands, Vicki froze, caught in his eyes and recognizing defeat.

“We cannot work together,” Henry told her, all the posturing gone from his voice, leaving it flat and tired. “And as you must remain here to do your job,
I
am leaving. I've borrowed a cabin on Grouse Mountain from a friend. I'll leave immediately and return when you've solved the case.” His eyes never leaving hers, he released her throat and stood.

“So you're proved right.” Vicki got slowly to her feet, one hand supporting her weight against the wall. “Happy?”

He sighed and one corner of his mouth twisted into an almost smile. “Actually, no.”

“Stay here,” Celluci murmured, finally releasing Tony's shoulder. “Keep an eye on her, but don't go near her until she's calmed down.”

“Do I look stupid?” the younger man demanded, wide-eyed and twitchy from the adrenaline buzz. “Where are you going?”

“I need to talk to Fitzroy.”

“About what?” Then he followed the line of Celluci's gaze to where Vicki stood, eyes closed, breathing heavily, the fingers of her left hand sunk knuckle-deep through the leather upholstery of the couch. “Oh. Never mind.”

When Henry attempted to leave the condo, black canvas case slung over one shoulder, Celluci was waiting at the door. He stopped with most of the entry between them. Any closer and he'd have to look up at the much taller man. “You have something to say, Detective?”

“You did that on purpose.”

“What?”

“Provoked a fight. You knew that she had to attack you, or she'd never be convinced you were right.”

“That's very perceptive of you, Detective.” Henry studied the other man's face, not entirely certain of what he saw. “Are you going to tell her?”

“I haven't decided. But I'd like to ask you something; what if you were wrong?”

Henry frowned. “Wrong?”

“From what I understand, this is something new in the history of . . . uh . . .”

“Vampires?”

Celluci flushed. “Yeah. Vampires. For the first time, two of you are face-to-face and not fighting over territory because Vicki doesn't
want
your territory. What if you could've worked something out?” He spread his hands and stepped away from the door. “Now, you'll never know.”