Blood Debt

the police, the long arm of the law being festooned as it was in red tape.
    Fourteen hours of red tape? she asked it scornfully, rummaging around in the bottom of her duffel bag for a pair of clean socks. Not even in Canada.
    And if he's just stayed late talking shop ? the little voice inquired.
    Then I know who's going to pay, don't I? She had a sudden vision of pinning Celluci to the bed by his ears and grinned ferally.
    But she didn't for a moment believe there was such a simple explanation for Celluci's truancy. Something had gone wrong.

    "I'm not saying that something hasn't gone wrong," Henry snarled.
    "I'm saying that charging blindly out to the rescue isn't the answer."
    "Then what do you suggest?" She stormed past him, into the condo, aware of his response to the anger she'd thrown at him when he opened the door but ignoring it. His reaction to her, hers to him, territorial imperatives—they were all unimportant under the circumstances. "Shall we wait around until his body shows up floating in the fucking harbor?"
    Henry managed not to slam the door behind her, but only just and his success probably had more to do with the mechanism of the door than self-control. "I'm saying two things, Vicki. One, I'm not giving you my car keys and two, before we go anywhere, shouldn't we get a little more information?"
    "We?" Vicki repeated leaning over the back of the couch, her fingers imprinting the green leather right next to where her fingers had gone through the green leather on that first night in Vancouver.
    "You had your chance to get more information at sunset, and you blew it. I am the investigator. You are the romance writer. You called me for help. And I won't hurt your stupid car."
    "You're not getting my stupid car, and you were willing enough to use my services in the past."
    "That was before I had services of my own."
    "With me, Vicki. Or not at all."
    She jerked erect, eyes silvering. "Are you threatening me?"
    "I want to help you!" he spat through gritted teeth. Vicki stared at him in some surprise, her eyes slowly losing their silver. "Why?"
    "Because we're friends." His teeth remained locked together, making the pronouncement sound less than friendly, but his hands weren't around her throat and he figured that had to count for something. "Isn't that what you kept saying? That we're friends, and there's no reason for that to change just because you've acquired a new lifestyle? Aren't those your exact words? This may come as a surprise to you, but I consider Michael Celluci a friend as well—at the very least, a comrade in arms." His lip curled. "And I do not desert my people."
    As territorial imperatives went, there were things Vicki was willing to share and things she was not. By the time Henry realized his mistake and remembered that Celluci was firmly entrenched on the side of not-willing-to-share, Vicki's fingers had closed around his shoulders. Over four-and-a-half centuries of experience had no chance against the intensity of her rage. A fraction of a heartbeat later, he hit the floor, her thumbs hooked to rip the arteries on both sides of his neck, her teeth bared, and her eyes blazing silver shards of pain into his.
    "Michael Celluci is mine."
    There was no possibility of compromise in the words and only one possible answer, for he could not let her get away with intimidation.
    He was older. This was his territory.

    "Trust me, Vicki, he's not my type."
    If a soft answer had the potential to turn away wrath, a smart-ass response saved the situation from melodrama.
    Vicki blinked, loosened her grip on Henry's throat, and sat back. "I could have killed you," she growled, her tone shading from anger to embarrassment.
    "No." With her hands resting on either side of his neck, he decided not to shake his head. The emphasis might end up entirely misplaced.
    "I think we're past that, you and I."
    "Ha! So I was right. I was right, and you were wrong."
    He couldn't stop the smile. She was, after all, barely three years old in the night and this was one of those times it showed. "Yes, you were right." When she stood, creating a careful distance between them, Henry rose as well. "Celluci has always been yours, Vicki," he told her softly when they were eye-to-eye again. "If you doubt that, you do him a disservice."
    Had she still been mortal, she would have reddened. As it was, she backed away until her calves hit the couch. "Yeah, well, that you consider him to be one of yours will no doubt thrill him