Blood Debt

whole donor issue. Swanson paid for this hospice."
    "That's it?"
    Impossible not to tell more even if there was nothing more to tell.

    "I don't actually know him. Dr. Mui…"
    "What about Dr. Mui?"
    Wallace had a sudden vision of companions thrown to the wolves to lighten the sleigh in a wild race to safety. "Swanson handpicked her to run this place. Before that she was a transplant surgeon, a good one, too, but there was an allegation of carelessness. It turned out to be completely unfounded. Hardly anyone even heard about it outside the hospital."
    "Would Swanson have heard?"
    "I don't know, but it happened around the same time his wife died."
    Had his heartbeat always been that loud? That fast? It shouldn't be that fast. A dribble of sweat rolled into one eye and burned. "It might have been why he offered her this job."
    "An unjust accusation turned her against the medical establishment."
    "I wouldn't go so far as to say that." He was babbling now; he knew it, but he couldn't stop. "Dr. Mui told me, that is, we spoke after one of my patients came here—that's why I'm here tonight, to check on a patient—that she wanted to work more with people and less with hospital administrators and their legal bully boys. Hello?"
    The eyes were gone, the darkness lifted, and he was sitting alone in an empty office, talking to himself. It was over. Best not think too long or too hard on what it had been. He was alive. He wiped damp palms on his thighs, stood, and walked quickly to the light switch by the door.
    The room was full of shadows. The shadows, in turn, were full. He suspected they'd never be empty again.

    "You handled that very well."
    "Don't patronize me, Henry."
    "I wasn't." He shifted the BMW into reverse and backed carefully out of the parking spot. The last thing he wanted was to attract attention, license plates could be traced. "You gave him nothing to remember but fear. I was impressed."
    "Impressed?"
    "Try to remember that you're still very young to this life. You show a remarkable aptitude."
    Vicki snorted. "Now you're patronizing me."
    "I was trying to compliment you."
    "Do vampires do that? Compliment other vampires? It's not against the rules?"
    Henry turned the car onto Mt. Seymour and sped up, swinging almost immediately into the passing lane and around two trucks in a maneuver a mortal would not have been able to complete. "I know you fight with Michael Celluci to relieve tension," he growled through clenched teeth. "I understand that. But I'm not him, and if you pick a fight with me, you'll find the results are regrettably different—surely it's become apparent that neither of us will be able to stop a disagreement from escalating beyond mere words."
    " I can control myself."
    "Vicki!"
    "Sorry." She strained against the limit of the seat belt, one hand on the dash, the other clenching and unclenching in her lap, her eyes locked on the road between the twin blurs of streetlights. "Jesus H.
    Christ, Henry, can't you go any faster?"
    He had a sudden memory of the guilty relief he'd felt when she'd finally returned to Toronto after her year of learning to live a new and alien life. When she left this time, he strongly suspected there'd be no guilt mixed in with the relief.
    That is, if they found Michael Celluci alive.
    Thirteen
    "FUCKING Oakland."
    Through half-closed eyes, Celluci watched Sullivan walk toward the bed. This is it. Now or never. He'd lined up a few more cliches that seemed appropriate but had no time to voice them before the big man grabbed his shoulder and shook him, hard. He let his head whip back and forth on the pillow, hoping it looked like he didn't have strength enough to fight the motion. As far as acting went, it wasn't much of a stretch. His head felt as though it were connected to his body by a not very thick elastic band.
    "I'm gonna unbuckle you, so don't give me any shit 'cause I'm not in the mood. Damn Mariners finished three fucking runs behind and I had fifty fucking bucks ridin' on the game."
    Celluci grunted as a thumb ground between the muscles of his left forearm and into the bone.
    "Felt that, did you? Good."

    The leather strap fell away. He flung his arm up off the bed and tried to close his fingers around Sullivan's throat.
    A vicious backhand snapped his head back. His mouth filled with blood from lips caught between knuckles and teeth. Well, you wanted him angry, he reminded himself, trying to swallow without choking.
    All part of the pi … A sudden,