Blood Debt

"THERE'S nowhere to hide the car."



"Don't hide it. Pull into the parking lot, and park."



"It's after one," Henry pointed out as he passed the sign for Project Hope, turned between the gateposts, and started up the long drive. "While normally I wouldn't consider arguing with your expertise in skulking about, don't you think we'll be noticed? There'll be a night nurse on at the very least."



"So?"



"So, you're going to walk in and ask her if they've got Detective Celluci strapped to a bed in one of the rooms?"



"Why not?" Her voice had very little of the police officer, of the private investigator, or the mortal left in it. Henry fought to suppress his reaction as she continued. "It's not like I'm going to be lied to. Be?sides, if he's in there, I'll know."



"And if he isn't?"



The ivory gleam of teeth made her smile a threat. "I go looking for a big guy with cow eyes and ask him a few questions."



Beyond the edges of her control, edges sharply enough denned to draw blood, Henry could hear the purging violence surging back and forth. She sounded close to letting go. Hardly surprising given the proxim?ity they'd been in since leaving the clinic-the tension between them sat like a third presence in the car. He could feel his own barriers weakening and trying to convince himself that this was a continuation of the year they spent in a parent/child, teacher/student rela?tionship helped not at all. If the anticipated mayhem didn't materialize inside Project Hope, they'd be at each other's throats before he got the keys back into the ignition.



Vicki leaped from the car the instant it stopped moving and sucked in a lungful of air untainted by another's breathing. If it came to it, she decided, drag?ging her bag up onto her shoulder, she'd walk back to the condo before she let Henry drive her anywhere, ever again. He slowed for yellow lights. He didn't pass when he could. He took corners too slowly. It had been the most frustrating fifty minutes she'd ever spent. Only iron control had kept her from dragging him out from behind the wheel and taking over her-self. I have got to get my driver's license again. Lips pressed into a thin line, she strode toward the build?ing. "Remember, Vicki, not being noticed is infi?nitely better than having to correct a dangerous impression."



"Christ, Henry. You sound like an old Kung Fu episode."



He locked the car and hurried to catch up. "I'm speaking from experience. . ."



"I know, I know, over four hundred and fifty years. No wonder you drive like an old woman," she added under her breath as she yanked open the clinic's cedar slab door.



Half a dozen battling scents almost knocked her back outside-a bouquet of roses in a large glass vase, a chemical air freshener designed to mimic the ocean breezes kept out by hermetically sealed windows, and over, under, and through it all, the eau d' disinfectant worn by every medical establishment in the world.



She could sense perhaps a dozen lives, the delinea?tions between them removed by sleep-natural or drug-induced, Vicki hadn't the experience to tell the difference. Somewhere in the mix, she thought she felt the unmistakable flavor of Celluci's life. But why can't I tell for sure? She'd been so certain she'd know if he was in the clinic that this sudden ambivalence was unsettling. Do I just think he's here because I want him to be here so badly? Would I have known for certain before last night's horizontal dance down memory lane with Henry? A heartbeat later, she found an answer she could live with. Christ, Vicki, don't be such a god?damned idiot.



The lingering despair-despair with very little hope in it, she noted, in spite of the name of the clinic- made it difficult to get a clear fix on anyone's life. Since that also included Henry's life, she supposed she just had to take the bad with the good.



The only nonsleeper glared a question at them from behind the glass walls of the nurse's station.



"I was right," Henry murmured. "We've been noticed."



"Good," Vicki declared a little too emphatically. Unable to blush, she winced. Ever since she could remember, women in nurses' uniforms had made her feel inadequate. Maybe because they seemed so com?petent. Maybe it was all that white. She had no idea. Feeling less like an all-powerful creature of the night and more like she was somewhere she shouldn't be, she skirted the lounge and stepped into the dimly lit office.



"Yes? Can I help you?" While civil enough, the nurse's tone clearly indicated that the only help she intended to give them involved showing them the exit.



"I'm looking for a friend."



"This is a private treatment center, not the local emergency ward. You won't find your friend here."



"He would have been admitted this afternoon."



"There was no one admitted this afternoon."



"Would you like me to do this?" Henry asked qui?etly, not entirely able to keep the amusement from his voice. He'd seen Vicki face demons, werewolves, mummies, and a multitude of murderous mortals with more elan.



She growled a wordless reply, caught the night nurse's gaze, and held it, overcoming old programming for pride's sake. "Are you alone here?"



Dilated pupils reflecting a faint silver gleam below an annoyed frown, the other woman shook her head. "There's an orderly."



"Where is he?"



"Asleep on a cot in the staff room."



"Why is he here?"



"He stays sometimes, in case there's trouble."



"Trouble with what?" Vicki rested her hands on the desk and leaned forward. "Trouble with the donors of purchased body parts?"



The night nurse stood, still held in the silvered depths of Vicki's eyes, and mirrored her movement. She was almost as tall. "I don't know what the hell you're talking about."



This was not the usual response. Somewhat taken aback, Vicki allowed a little more of the Hunter off the leash, dropped a little more of her mortal camou?flage. "You've never noticed anything strange going on? Patients who don't quite match their records? Locked doors?"



Breathing heavily, the nurse shook her head. "Whatever you are, you don't scare me. You want to know what scares me? Having two teenage kids and a husband who's been out of work for six months and losing this job, that scares me. I'm not telling you anything."



"If you're dead," Vicki snarled, patience exhausted, "you won't be working."



"You might be death for some people, I can see ..." Fear finally showed, trapping her voice in her throat. She swallowed hard and continued.



". . . see that, but whatever you are, you aren't death for me."



"She's right," Henry said softly, impressed by a strength of will that refused to be blinded by terror. "She knows you won't kill her without reason. She's called your bluff."



Reaction split equally between irritation and embar?rassment, Vicki held her position at the desk. "This does not make me weak," she warned him, fingers curling into fists.



Amused, but careful not to let it show, he moved a little closer. "I meant it as a compliment to her, not an insult to you. Perhaps you'd best let me... "



"No!" This mortal was hers. Whether or not Henry could convince her to speak was irrelevant. Eyes nar?rowed, Vicki muttered, "Must be a damned good job."



"It is ... mostly."



Mostly. Vicki smiled. "If I had a job with good money in these times, I guess I'd be willing to ignore things that don't quite fit, too."



"Hey, I take care of the patients, and I do what I do very well." She straighted and folded her arms across the broad shelf of her breasts. "What goes on in the back is none of my business."



"Of course it isn't. Forget you ever saw us."



Lips pressed into a thin, disapproving line. "You got that right."



"Mike's in here."



A sign on the door said Electrical Room.



"Are you sure?"



Vicki ignored him, rummaging in the depths of her shoulderbag for her lock picks.



"I can feel a number of lives, Vicki; up, down, all around us. Most of them are drugged, all of them have been blended by their condition into one amorphous mass. How can you be sure one of those lives belongs to Michael Celluci?"



She dropped to her knees and inserted her two heaviest picks. "I'm a lot closer to his life than you are."



"And you want to find him very badly. I shouldn't be the one reminding you of this, but we don't know for certain he came out here. We don't know what the nurse thinks goes on in the back."



"And we won't find out unless we take a look." The door opened onto another short hall. One door led to the electrical room.



The other led to a room like most other hospital rooms except for the cinder block walls and the small, high window. Vicki stood in the doorway, staring at the body on the bed, feeling curiously light-headed as all the pieces of her world clicked back into place.



His face was bruised. Blood had dried in the corner of his mouth. The skin had split across the knuckles of his right hand. His heart beat to a rhythm not quite the rhythm she knew. He smelled of drugs and there were leather restraints holding him to the bed.



She wanted to rip him free, gather him into her arms, and carry him to safety, but they were in no immediate danger so, for his sake, she'd find out what they'd done to him first. Slowly, deliberately, she crossed to the bed and unbuckled the restrains. Later, she'd give in to the violence. Later, someone would pay.



"Mike?"



A quick inspection, hands stroking patterns on flesh as familiar as her own, determined nothing obvious had been removed.



"Mike, come on. Snap out of it."



His pulse was strong. She traced the line of his jaw, her finger rasping against dark stubble.



Henry watched from the doorway, knowing he'd been forgotten, marveling at how much it hurt. Terri?torial imperatives, attacks, counterattacks, edged civil?ity, barely maintained control, all disappeared under memories of loving her. At the moment he hated Mi?chael Celluci more than he'd ever hated anyone in his life.



But the moment passed.



Celluci would never have the ultimate intimacy that he and Vicki had shared-her life recreated in his arms, her blood to him, his blood to her. Everything after that ...



He smiled, unable to stop himself. Everything after was a breaking of traditions he'd held unbreakable, a slaughter-induced passion, a blood-soaked truce, and something that had a chance of becoming a reclaimed friendship in spite of the odds.



He couldn't hate Celluci when he'd gotten back more of Vicki than should have been possible.



"It smells like a sedative. Try and wake him."



Vicki jerked toward the door, moving to put herself between the threat and the body on the bed. It took her a moment to realize it was Henry who'd spoken and a moment after that to remember, in this instant at least, he was no threat. "A sedative? How can you tell?"



"Experience."



"I really don't want to know how you got that expe?rience, Henry." She turned back to Celluci, tugged off one running shoe, grabbed the softer flesh in the arch of his foot between thumb and forefinger, and pinched.



His leg twitched.



"What are you doing?"



"It's an acupressure technique. I'm working a pres?sure point in his foot that'll help him shake off the drugs."



"How...  ?"



"I don't know how!" she snapped. "An old staff sergeant showed it to me. We used to use it on barbituate ODs; if it didn't work, they were probably dead. Come on, Mike. Shake it off." She pinched him again.



This time he grunted and tried to yank his foot away. By the time his eyes fluttered open, Vicki had both hands clasped around his face. He blinked blearily up at her, then the lids began to sink and the irises to roll up.



"Michael Frances Celluci, don't you dare close your eyes while I'm talking to you."



"Christ, Vicki...  you sound like ... my grandmother."



"Do I?" His lips were dry, so she moistened them with her tongue, licking the blood from the corner of his mouth.



"That wasn't ... a challenge," he pointed out when she pulled away. His gaze flicked past her. "Where am...  oh, shit."



"I wanted to make sure there were no broken bones before we moved you."



"Considerate." Then he frowned. "We?" He turned his head until he could see Henry, still in the doorway. "What is this...  truce?"



The two men locked eyes for an instant, then Henry said softly, "The van disappeared with you. Someone had to drive."



"You could've let her borrow...  your car."



"I don't think so. The last time she borrowed my car, she got broadsided by a truck."



"Yeah...  but the werewolf was...  driving."



"Enough with the male bonding. It's a truce. Okay?" Vicki gently pulled Mike's jaw around until he faced her again. "And since the nice people who cut out kidneys are sure to come back, are you all right? Can we move you?"



"No."



"No? No, what?"



"No, you can't move me."



"What's wrong? What have they done?" Her voice promised an eye for an eye at the very least.



"So far, only kidnapping." His thoughts were clearing, but his body remained weak. He tried to sit up and didn't have the energy to protest when Vicki lifted him, tucked a'pillow between his shoulders and the wall, and lowered him gently back down again. "You've got to leave me here." He struggled to find the words that would convince Vicki to do as he said-never an easy proposition even at full mental strength. "You take me out of here and we're never going to find out what's going on."



"Hey, we know what's going on."



"We don't know squat except that some people overreact when they're followed by people who turn out to be the police." He kept his explanation of ex?actly what had happened short and to the point- things got out of control only momentarily when Vicki realized he had no idea of where her van was. "Look, can we worry about the van later, when we've got a little more time?"



Vicki's eyes narrowed. "We'd have plenty of time if you'd stop being such a pigheaded ..."



"Think of it as going undercover."



She smiled tightly. "Think of it as going under the knife."



"Vicki, these might not be the people selling body parts, it might be something as simple as selling drugs. All we've got is kidnapping and unlawful con?finement."



"And grand theft auto." Lightly touching her fin?gertips to the bruise on his cheek, she added, "And assault."



"I think he could claim self-defense."



"Mike, you came out here originally for the same reason we did; Ronald Swanson's name cropped up one too many times to be coincidence. First we find out he's behind a private clinic that specializes in kid?ney transplant patients and then we find you strapped to a bed. That's enough for me."



He closed his hand around her wrist as her eyes silvered. "Stop reacting and start thinking. Suppose you break into Swanson's house and force a full con?fession, what then? You've got nothing that'll stand up in court. If we want to find out what's actually going on, there has to be an investigation."



"What am I doing? Wandering aimlessly through the night?"



Eleven dead in a Richmond warehouse; but wander?ing aimlessly was a lot easier to deal with. "Yeah, mostly. Picking this mess apart is going to take re?sources we don't have."



"If I get a full confession, I have resources enough to deal with Ronald Swanson."



"No."



There was such finality in that single word that the silver fled from Vicki's eyes. "What do you mean, no?"



"If Swanson dies, if you kill him, it's more than I can ignore."



She pulled her hand free and rubbed the band of warmth where his fingers had been. More than he could ignore. Those were the sort of words that came right before good-bye. "But... "



"No buts, Vicki." He gripped her shoulder, shaking her, willing her to listen. "This is where I draw my line in the sand."



One heartbeat. Two.



"I'm not really happy about ultimatums, Mike."



"And I'm not really happy about premeditated murder."



Put like that, without either the masking rhetoric or the heat of the Hunt, neither was she. She supposed. One corner of her mouth twisted up in a wry smile as she reached out and pushed the overlong lock of hair up off his face. "I guess every relationship means com?promises." A little surprised by the relief that softened his expression-What had he expected?-she laid her hand flat against his chest, reassured in turn by the steady beat of his heart. "Now that's settled, what do you want me to do?"



"I want you to leave me here... "



"Forget it."



"Goddamn it, Vicki, would you just listen for a min?ute? The only way we'll find out what's happening is if we don't spook them. Leave me like you found me... " He paused. "Okay, there's no need to drug me again, but other than that ..." When she didn't smile, he sighed and continued. "Go home, and call the police. Tell them you'd parked to check out a road map when you saw a big guy in a red T-shirt carry a body in the back door. They'll come out and they'll find ..."



"Nothing. This is a hidden room. The night nurse doesn't even know for sure that it's here; how the hell are the police going to find you?"



"All right, fine. Tell them you were visiting a sick friend, were getting back into your car, saw the guy in the red T-shirt with the body, stuck your head in the back door and saw this room. You took off before he could spot you and after dithering for a couple of hours decided to call the cops."



"Can I ask you a question?"



His eyes narrowed at her tone. "What?"



"You're a cop, try thinking like one. Would you believe a cock-and-bull story like that?"



"It doesn't matter if they believe it, as long as they check it out."



"I think I can come up with a story they'll believe."



Celluci snorted as Vicki turned to glare at Henry. "That's right, you're a romance writer."



"Stay out of this, Henry."



"Let's start by remembering that you're working for me, and that I think the detective has made a very good point. If we let them know we're on to them, they'll vanish."



"So you're all in favor of leaving Mike in danger?"



Vicki pushed the words out through clenched teeth, shifting position slightly to better defend the man in the bed.



Celluci sighed. "Vicki, calm down. Whatever they're going to do to me, nothing's going to happen until morning."



"How do you know?"



"How do you think? I overheard the bad guys talk?ing in the hall right before they drugged me."



"The bad guys?"



"Big guy who brought me in... "



"Cow eyes?"



"I wouldn't know. The closest I've ever been to a cow is in a burger. He was talking to a woman, but I never saw her. I'm pretty sure she was the one using the needle, but he covered my face with a pillow be?fore she came into the room. They don't matter now." Trying to find a position where his head wasn't pound?ing, he shifted against the pillow. "All you have to do is make sure the police get here before morning and I'll take them to where I got jumped and let them leap to the same conclusion I did."



"Which is?"



"That you could bury an army out in those woods." His voice gentled. "I promise nothing will happen in the time it'll take the police to get here. All you have to do is spin them enough of a story that they have to find me. I'll do the rest."



"Why don't we take you to the police and you can spin them the story?"



"How did I get out of the restraints?"



She threw up her hands. "Do I have to think of everything?"



"But you're not thinking." He caught her gaze and held it, unafraid of what he'd find. "We have to set this up so that we, I, can answer the questions they're going to ask. You and Fitzroy can't become involved."



Statements, court dates-no chance at all that the system would only want them after sunset. Vicki turned to look at Henry and saw the two men were in complete agreement. Worst of all, she had to admit to herself it made sense. To herself. Not to them. "You've been drugged all evening. You're in no con?dition to make plans."



"My body is tapioca and my head is pounding, but my cognitive processes are unimpared."



"Sure. And you usually talk like that." Sighing, she began to flick the hair on Celluci's arm in the wrong direction. "I still don't like it."



"Stop that." His hand covered hers. "Vicki, it's going to take you what, an hour to get back to the condo? It's June. Sunrise is at 4:14. You haven't time to do anything tonight, so, please, let the police han?dle it."



"The ghosts want Henry to avenge their deaths."



"Then let Henry make the call. It's the only way everyone involved will get what's coming to them."



Her lips curled back off her teeth. "If they hurt you, Mike ..."



"You can hurt them back." He wouldn't have said it except that he was certain he wouldn't be hurt-her answering smile was everything he was afraid it would be. "This is the only way to cover all the bases, Vicki. I'm not asking you to be happy about it, I'm saying that it's the way it's got to be. Now redo the restraints and get out of here, and it'll all be over in a couple of hours."



"If Swanson dies, if you kill him, it's more than I can ignore...  This is where I'm drawing my line in the sand."



The words hung in the air between them.



If she carried Celluci out of the clinic, he'd never forgive her and that was a certainty. If she left him, and Henry sent the police in immediately, what could go wrong?



In spite of the lingering scent of another woman-and for Celluci's sake she hoped it was the woman with the needle-her smile took on a different flavor as she buckled down his wrists. "You know, this has possibilities." When a gentle caress up the inside of his bare arm raised goose bumps, she took the waist?band of his jeans in her teeth and tugged.



"Vicki!"



"Michael... "



"Fitzroy, would you please get her out of here."



She shot him a warning glance. Henry raised a spec?ulative brow. "As tasty as he looks, perhaps now is not the time."



Celluci grunted as Vicki vaulted the bed, hand still on his thigh. "Touch him and I'll rip you into pieces so small you'll be able to... " Then she stopped, straight?ened, and frowned. "You did that on purpose."



"Yes." In spite of their progress, it took remarkably little to evoke a territorial response. He looked past her to Celluci struggling against the restraints and al?lowed that that particular response could have been evoked almost as easily before she changed. "Don't worry, Detective. I have no desire to feed at this time. Say good-bye, Vicki, and let's go."



Muttering under her breath, Vicki turned back to the bed and Michael Celluci. She bent to kiss him and paused just above his lips where she could taste his breath. "I'm not sure I can just walk out and leave you here."



"Bullshit. You can do anything."



"Don't patronize me, Celluci."



"Then stop being such a tragedy queen. I'll be fine until the police arrive." His mouth moved under hers. "Now go."



"We should go out the front. The back door's prob?ably hooked to an alarm."



"I don't see anything." Vicki quickly ran a finger around the door edge. "And I don't feel a wire. Look, the car's right outside in the parking lot. Let's just do what Mike said and go." She pressed down on the bar and pushed. The ambient noise of the clinic remained unchanged. "See, no alarm. These are sick people in here, probably don't want to terrify them with loud noises. Come on, old man, I'll race you to the car."



As Henry had observed, it took very little to evoke a territorial response. Once she started running, he had to chase after her. Moving too fast for mortal eyes to follow, they reached the car before the door slammed.



He was awake instantly, on his feet the instant after, unsure of what he'd heard but sure he'd heard some?thing. If he'd learned anything in prison, he'd learned to sleep lightly. The muffled sound of car doors closing brought him to the window of the staff room where, tucked to one side, invisible from the parking lot, he watched a BMW reverse and pull away. The two peo?ple in it seemed to be fighting. He didn't recognize either silhouette.



Probably kids looking for a quiet spot to mess around in. He yawned, thought about going back to sleep, thought about what the doc would say if any?thing went wrong, and decided it wouldn't hurt to look in on their uninvited guest.



The access door to the electrical room was un?locked. He knew he'd locked it.



Crepe-soled shoes silent against the tile, he entered the hidden room, half expecting an empty bed. The big cop was still tied down and out cold. He flicked on the light, hand raised to shield his eyes from the sudden fluorescent glare. The body on the bed didn't so much as twitch. A closer inspection seemed to indi?cate that nothing had changed.



But something had.



Hadn't there been a hunk of hair in the cop's face? No way he could brush it back tied down like he was.



He tested the restraints with his finger. The left wrist was in the fourth hole, the right in the third. He usually did them up equally but, even half stunned, the cop had been fighting him and maybe...



The cop shifted slightly, muttering a little. That was good. The sedative should be wearing off and a more natural sleep taking over. They used sedatives a lot in the prison hospital as it was easier than actually treat?ing the patients and in his practiced opinion, the cop's chest now rose and fell in an unsedated rhythm.



He frowned. Just over the left hip, there was a dark half circle on the pale blue denim. It looked moist, like...



He touched it. It was almost dry but it looked like someone had been chewing on the cop's jeans. He closed his thumb and forefinger over the spot and tugged.



"I don't wanna know what was going on in here," he said. The skin on the back of his neck prickled as he felt the weight of the cop's stare. When he turned his head, narrowed eyes were glaring up at him. "You got kinky friends, cop. Wanna tell me why they left you?"



"I don't know what you're talking about."



"Sure you don't."



Unable to avoid it, Celluci rolled with the back?handed slap. "Fuck you," he growled.



"Maybe." The closest phone was in the staff room. "We'll see what the doc has to say."



"Where are we going?" Vicki spat the question through gritted teeth. Henry was driving again because he'd refused to give her the keys, had put on his Prince-of-Man face and said "No" in a tone that sug?gested arguing would be a waste of time. She'd gotten back in the car for Celluci's sake and had continually regretted it. In a minute, Henry was going to regret it, too. "The condo is that way."



"There's a coffee shop on the corner up here, and we need to talk to a police officer."



"Christ, Henry, this is Vancouver, there's a coffee shop on every corner." She reached for the wheel.



When Henry maintained his grip, the resulting tus?sle was short; Vicki having spent thirty-two years mor?tal had no illusions about surviving the results of a moving car gone out of control. Besides, the seat belts got in the way of her attack.



"Unlike most, this coffee shop has parking," Henry told her when she was back in the passenger seat, glaring out the window. "Somewhere for them to put the cruiser."



And there was, in fact, a cruiser in the parking lot.



"Go ahead, reinforce stereotypes," Vicki muttered as Henry parked the car and turned off the engine. "Now what?"



"Now I go and have a word with the two constables, interrupting their break with a story of a body glimpsed from the side of the highway."



She got out of the car when he did, grateful for the chance to untangle her personal space from his. "I can't believe you're actually going along with this. Hell, I can't believe I'm actually going along with this. We left him back there, Henry." With the car a barrier between them, she allowed a little'of the anger to slip from her grip-although who exactly she was angry with, she couldn't say. "We walked out on him. Left him helpless and alone."



"It's a minimal risk, Vicki, and a risk he's willing to take in order to finish this once and for all. The police will be there within the hour. What could possi?bly go wrong?"



"Famous last words." The night smelled of car ex?haust and heated metal, less strongly here on the Coast than in Toronto but still too many people crammed into too small a space. Vicki turned back toward the clinic and tried not to think how things that could go wrong usually did. "I left him there be?cause he asked me to," she said softly, silvered gaze locked on Henry once again. "I'm doing it for Mike, but you've never cared what he thinks of you."



Haven't I? Michael Celluci is an honorable man and the opinions of honorable men are sometimes all we have to define ourselves by. But there was little point in sparking another territorial dispute over Celluci's affections even though her previous reaction had more amused than infuriated him. "I'm no vigilante, Vicki, no matter how it may have seemed in the past. If I can be responsible for a solution within the parameters of the law, then everyone should be happy."



"A solution within the parameters of the law?" she repeated. Shaking her head, she folded her arms on the roof of the car and rested her chin on their pillow. "Go ahead. And make it good."



Henry had no doubt he could spin a story that the police would believe, add enough detail that they not only had to check it out but also found everything they needed to. There was, however, no need to tax his imagination. When it came right down to it, it wasn't what he said but how he said it that mattered.



"Excuse me, Officers, may I have a word?"



Resisting the completely inexplicable urge to come to attention, the police constable in the driver's seat put down his coffee and snapped out an efficient, "Yes, sir."



When the constable in the passenger seat, wonder?ing what the hell was going on with her partner, leaned past him for a better look, she found herself reacting much the same way.



The bastard son of Henry VIII, Duke of Richmond and Somerset, inclined his head in recognition of their deference. "I have some information you might find worthy of investigation." His father would have ap?proved of the tone.



Tony woke up as Henry came into the condo, sat up on the couch, and rubbed his eyes. "Did you find him?"



"Yes."



"That must've made Victory happy."



"Not exactly."



"Oh, man. Henry, you didn't kill her before you got to the clinic?"



"I don't know what you're talking about."



"And don't try that more-princely-than-thou crap on me either. I'm not in the mood. If you didn't kill Vicki before you got to the clinic and if you found Celluci, why isn't she happy?"



"Because we left him there."



"You what?"



"It was his idea. He thought if we rescued him, it would alert the people behind this whole organ-legging thing that we're on to them. He told us to inform the police and let them handle it while the evidence is still out in plain view."



"Yeah, but unless he's missing a kidney, how are they going to connect him with the body in the harbor?"



"Celluci seems to think he knows where the bodies are buried."



"And Victory just let him stay?"



"Not exactly. He had to appeal to her better nature."



Tony snorted. "I didn't know she had one where he was concerned. Did you tell the police?"



"I did, and with luck that'll be enough to satisfy my visitors." Henry glanced down at his watch. "Why aren't you in bed? Don't you have to work tomorrow?"



"I wanted to know if Celluci was safe before I went back to Gerry's and John's." He scrambled to his feet, folded the blanket haphazardly, and stood staring at the floor.



Henry sighed, wondering when exactly things had gotten so awkward between them. "Tony, it's late. The sun will be up in a few short moments. Why don't you stay here in your own room?"



"I don't... "



"I know."



Tony's head came up, drawn by the understanding in Henry's voice.



"When this is over, as it easily could be by tomor?row evening, we have to talk, but for right now there's no reason for you to leave."



"I guess not." He glanced over at the clock on the VCR, and his eyes widened. "Henry, sunrise is in less than five minutes."



"I'm aware of that." Starting down the hall, Henry motioned Tony into step beside him. "Can you keep an eye on the news tomorrow-maybe tape the morn?ing broadcast before you go. I'm sure Detective Celluci will keep Vicki and me out of range when it hits the fan, but I'd feel better if I knew for certain."



"No sweat. I'll set it up to tape the news at noon and the six o'clock report, too."



"That won't interfere with it taping Batman, will it?"



Tony grinned. It was the nonvampire, nonprince parts of Henry that had kept them together for so long. "Chill. You'll get your cartoon." They were at the door, Henry's hand was on the knob, in another moment he'd lock himself away until sunset. Tony suddenly wanted to prolong that moment. "You, uh, got a question for the ghosts? One that'll cover both of them?"



"Vicki suggests I ask if they were killed by the same person."



"You figure she knows what she's talking about?"



"It is why I asked her to come here, but, hopefully, it won't be a problem. Hopefully, they'll be resting in peace by sunset." He opened the door, reached out, and stroked Tony's cheek with two fingers. All he could think of to say was "good-bye," but he didn't want to say that yet, so he said nothing at all.



"I can't stand it. This bedroom exudes pink even in full dark." Vicki punched the pillow into another shape and threw herself back down, fully aware that the bedroom had nothing to do with her mood and equally aware that she had nothing else to take it out on.



The ride back to the condo had been easier than the ride to Project Hope. The more time she and Henry spent together, the more they forced the truce to endure, the easier it got. But she still wanted to kill something.



Not Henry.



Mike.



"It was a mistake leaving him there. I know it. I just know it. After all these years," she asked the night as it fled, "why have I suddenly decided to start lis?tening to ..."