Blood Debt

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."