Blood Debt

disappeared.
    Four
    SENSES extended, Vicki sifted the darkness for some indication of a ghostly presence. According to Henry, she should be feeling a chill and a distinct sense of unease. It was supposed to be impossible to miss.
    "So why am I missing it," she muttered, propping herself up on an elbow and reaching for the light.
    The room was empty of everything but Henry's scent.
    Out in the apartment, the phone rang.
    "Who was that?"
    Celluci very carefully set the flat, almost featureless, high-tech receiver back into its cradle. "Fitzroy," he said without turning.
    "Well if he wants to know what I asked the ghost, he's's.o.l." Vicki dropped a shoulder against the living room wall and crossed her arms over her breasts. "Our spectral friend didn't show."
    "It showed." Celluci drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly.
    Things had just gotten a lot more complicated. "It followed Fitzroy.
    Appeared to him this evening just like always."
    "Shit. Now what?"
    "He's coming back."
    "Here?"
    "Here."

    Vicki straightened and her voice rose. "And what does he expect me to do?"
    "He didn't say." Hands spread, Celluci finally turned to face her.
    She'd thrown on an oversized shirt but hadn't bothered doing up the buttons. Momentarily sidetracked, he forced himself past his immediate reaction and added gruffly, "The way I see it, we've got two choices. We go home, or we stay and you get another chance to prove your point."
    Her eyes narrowed. "If you'll remember, it was Henry's point we proved. We can't be together without fighting."
    Celluci sighed and propped his right thigh on the dining room table. "Vicki, we can't be together without fighting, but that doesn't seem to stop us. If you can't leave Fitzroy to take care of his own problem— a course of action which gets my vote, by the way— then the two of you are going to have to work something out."
    "How do we work out a biological imperative?"
    "You're the one who said you wouldn't be ruled by your nature."
    After a moment, she stared down at the floor and growled, "I was wrong."
    It had never been difficult for Michael Celluci to figure out what Vicki was thinking, and her recent metamorphosis hadn't changed that. For her to actually admit she was wrong without a three-hour argument and half-a-dozen pieces of irrefutable evidence could only mean that losing the fight to Fitzroy had upset her world view more than he'd realized. Time to put it right. "Fitzroy provoked that fight, Vicki. He had no intention of giving the two of you a chance to work it out."
    Vicki's gaze snapped up off the pattern of pieced hardwood and locked onto his face, her eyes silvering. "You know this for a fact?"
    "He admitted it before he left."
    "And you're just telling me now.'"
    "Hey!" Celluci lifted both hands to chest height, a symbolic defense at best. "I'm not the bad guy here."
    "No…" Teeth clenched, Vicki fought to free the memory of the actual fight from the cloud of mixed emotions obscuring it.
    "You insisted we could work together," he reminded her mockingly.
    "We could if you'd stop this Prince of Darkness bullshit and back off!"
    "Why that lousy son of a…" Profanity somehow seemed inadequate.
    Fingers curled into fists, she spun around on one bare heel and headed back toward the bedroom.
    "Where are you going?"

    "To get dressed!"
    An innocuous statement on its own, but the way Vicki spat it out, it sounded very much like a threat. With the strong feeling he was going to need the caffeine, Celluci headed into the kitchen for another cup of coffee.

    "Sorry I'm late. I almost got clipped by a Caddie on the way over, and…" Tony's voice trailed off as Celluci came into the entryway and he got a look at his face. "What's wrong?"
    "Fitzroy's coming back. It seems the ghost is appearing only to him."
    Tony stared down at his helmet. A hundred tiny reflections in beads of rain stared back at him. "Coming back here?" When the detective didn't answer right away, Tony looked up to meet a speculative gaze. "What?"
    "You don't want him coming back here?"
    "That's not what I said." He tossed the helmet down beside his roller blades and shrugged out of his damp jacket. "I mean, jeez, it's his condo, isn't it? What's Victory gonna do?"
    "Victory's going hunting."
    The two men turned toward the voice, their motion almost involuntary.
    Tony, who'd been expecting a variation on Henry's Prince of Darkness attire, was surprised to see her in jeans, sneakers, and bright, not-even-remotely