Blood Debt

inevitable.
    "Okay, so the rest of the country hates Toronto— they still wouldn't have just left him there, would they?"
    He put the sound back on for the baseball scores, set the VCR to record the news at noon and at six, and turned off the TV, unable to shake the feeling that something had gone terribly wrong.
    "You're overreacting," he told himself as he stuffed a clean shirt in his backpack. "So it didn't make the early news; so what? It was probably too early." He picked up his roller blades, then he sighed and put them down again. Scribbling, I'll be at Gerry's and the phone number on a piece of paper, he stuck it to the fridge with a Gandydancer magnet.
    Henry'd thought it would all be over by sunset, that there'd be no uneasy spirits waiting at the foot of his bed. Tony didn't plan on being around when Doug and his handless friend arrived to prove him wrong.

    "Is he awake?"
    "Yeah. He had a piss and a glass of water. We going to feed him?"
    "Of course we're going to feed him. Go and see if there's any food in the kitchenette."
    "I'm not cooking for him," Sullivan grumbled.

Dr. Mui paused on her way to the bedroom and half turned, the black bag she carried bumping against her legs. "I beg your pardon?"
    The big man shuffled in place for a moment, defiantly meeting her gaze, then his eyes dropped, he mumbled inaudibly, and headed toward the fridge.
    "Make enough for yourself as well, you'll be staying here as long as he is."
    He leaned back over the counter, looking worried. "What about the clinic?"
    "Harry and Tom can manage without you for a few days." She waited pointedly for him to continue doing as he'd been told, then went into the bedroom. "I know you're awake, Detective. Open your eyes."
    Celluci'd heard that voice before, back in the clinic. This was the woman the orderly had been talking to in the hall, the woman who'd sedated him. Although he hadn't mentioned it to Vicki—it'd been hard enough to convince her to leave him as it was—he thought that the lack of emotion in the quiet voice, the cold, clinical discussion of his fate, had made her sound the way he'd always assumed vampires should sound—as though people were cattle. She sounded a lot more like a member of the bloodsucking undead than Vicki ever had.
    Except that the sun was up and this woman was still walking around and he had to admit, she certainly didn't look as dangerous as she sounded. Watching her cross to the bed, he suddenly remembered a line from the first Addams Family movie, "I'm a homicidal maniac, we look just like everyone else." All thing considered, it wasn't very comforting.
    "So." He was pleased to hear he sounded a lot less shaky than he felt. "What are you planning?"
    "So," Dr. Mui mimicked his tone, mocking him. "How much do you know?" When trying to decide whether or not Richard had panicked unnecessarily when he'd brought the detective in, she'd had him try beating the answer to that question out of his captive—without success. In the end, she'd concluded it was better to be safe than sorry.
    After all, he had been following Richard's vehicle, so he had to know something.
    "Obviously, what I do or don't know doesn't matter any more, or you wouldn't be in here."
    "Very astute, Detective." Because the guest cottages were used by recovering buyers, the ruffles, and comforters, and pillows covered a hospital bed. Sullivan had installed the standard restraints. "I had a lab run a blood sample last night, and although your cholesterol level is slightly elevated, you're a very healthy man."
    "Under other circumstances, that might be good news." Twisting his neck at a painful angle, he managed to keep her in sight while she lifted equipment out of her case. The clear plastic bags with the hose attached looked very familiar. When she set them on the edge of the table, one end swung free. Blood bags. "Jesus H. Christ…"
    Dr. Mui glanced down at him and shook her head. "You needn't look at me like I'm some kind of vampire, Detective. Your blood will be put to very good use."
    To very good use? All at once, it became clear that hiding just how much he knew would give him no advantage at all. "Pretransplant transfusions to help the new body accept the kidney?"
    "Precisely." But she volunteered nothing further, merely continued making her preparations.
    Celluci'd given blood before, on numerous occasions, but this time he couldn't take his eyes off the needle. It looked about six inches long and as big around as a