Blood Debt

center of the hall, Tony slammed his forehead over and over into his knees and whimpered, the shrill noise pulsing to the rhythm of the action. Dropping down beside him, Henry wrapped both hands around the younger man's head and forced him to be still. "Tony, it's over. Listen to me, it's over." Gently, but inarguably, he turned Tony's head until he could look down into the wildly staring eyes. He didn't realize how frightened he'd been of what he might see until relief turned his muscles to jelly and he sagged back on bare heels. Insanity would have been no surprise, had, in fact, been almost expected. "You're all right. I have you."
    "H… Henry?"
    "Yes. It's me." Sliding an arm under shaking shoulders, Henry pulled him up against his chest.
    "It was darker…"
    He laid a cheek against sweat-damp hair. "I know."
    Tony sighed and pushed against Henry's body—as though to test its strength as a shield—then he wet his lips and leaned back just far enough to meet the worried gaze. "Henry?"
    "Yes?"
    "What the hell did you ask it?"
    "I was wondering that myself."
    Henry managed to stop the snarl but only because he felt Tony's reaction when he tensed. "Not it," he said, lifting his head, his expression warning Vicki to come no closer. "Them."
    "Your Greek chorus of backup screamers?" When he shook his head and the implications sank in, she smashed her fist through the drywall. "Fucking, goddamned shit!"
    Tony winced at the impact.
    Henry tightened his grip. "That's not helping," he growled.
    "I know. I'm sorry." She drew in a deep breath and visibly fought for calm. "You okay, Tony?"
    He swallowed and shrugged, still within the circle of Henry's arms.
    "I've been better."
    The wail of distant sirens drawing closer cut off Vicki's reply. Tony closed his eyes and added, "Could be worse."
    When the sirens stopped and the sounds of the emergency teams were lost in the building's sound-proofing, Henry cradled Tony against one shoulder and met Vicki's gaze. "Was Celluci affected?"
    "No. Fortunately, he's not back yet."
    "Back from where?"
    "How the hell should I know? You can ask him yourself when he shows."
    "With him or without him, we have to talk."
    She nodded and turned away.
    "Vicki!"
    A step forward became a pivot.
    "Where are you going?"

    "To get dressed." One hand held closed a ruffled pink robe, at least two sizes too small and obviously borrowed from the wardrobe Mrs.
    Munro had left behind. The other, knuckles white with plaster dust, she waved in his general direction. "An idea you might also consider."
    Which was when he remembered he was naked. "We'll join you in about half an hour."
    "I thought it was safer if we only used your place."
    "We're not the only people involved." He watched her expression soften as she worked through his reasoning. Glancing down at Tony, who'd need to put some distance between himself and the terror, she nodded, and left.
    Tony waited until he heard the door close before he began to free himself from Henry's embrace. "Henry, I can't…"
    It took a moment for understanding. "I didn't expect you to," he said gently, wondering if he'd ever given Tony cause to assume his needs could be so inconsiderate.
    "But you said… you told Victory half an hour."
    "I know." He stood and all but lifted the other man to his feet. "I thought you might want to shower."
    Tony glanced down at the darker stain on the front of his bicycle shorts, suddenly aware of what it meant. His cheeks flushed. "Oh, man… You think Victory noticed?"
    It would serve no purpose to remind him that Vicki had a predator's sense of smell, so Henry lied.

    "He's still not back?"
    Vicki snorted as she led the way into the apartment. "You know he isn't. And the sun's well and truly down; he has to know I'm awake."
    "He's probably following a lead."
    "I know that, Henry."
    Henry stopped at one end of the couch, allowing her to put the length of the living room between them. The events of the previous night aside, distance was still their best defense. "Are you concerned?"
    "No. I'm annoyed. The bastard didn't even leave a fucking note."
    Behind her back, Henry and Tony exchanged a speaking glance. Vicki turned in time to catch the end of it. "What?"
    "Your use of profanity always increases when you're worried,"
    Henry reminded her.
    Vicki flipped him the finger. "Increase this."
    "Vicki…"
    "I'm sorry." She turned and rested her forehead against the window, her right hand crushing a fistful of antique satin drapes.

    "Your