Blood Lines

hands trembled, he couldn't prevent them from pouring it. His heart ached at the destruction of the artifacts and the anger gave him strength.

    Slowly he jerked his body around and met eyes so dark there was no telling where the pupil ended and the iris began.
    "That wasn't necessary," he managed to gasp.
    The eyes narrowed, then widened. "A good thing for me… your god has not recognized… its power."
    'What the hell…" He had to stop to breathe. We sound like a couple of badly tuned transistor radios . "… are you talking about. My god?"
    'Science." The ancient voice grew stronger. "Still only an aspect. Not strong enough… to save your ass."
    Dr. Rax frowned, his thoughts tumbling over themselves in an attempt to pull order out of the impossible-that was not a phrase a dynastic Egyptian would use. "You speak English. But English didn't exist when you were…"
    'Alive?"
    'If you like." The son of a bitch is enjoying this. He's allowing me to talk to him .
    'I learn from the ka I take."
    'From the ka…?"
    'So many questions, Dr. Rax."
    'Yes…"A hundred, a thousand questions, each fighting to be first. Perhaps the loss of the artifacts could be made up.
    He began to shake with barely suppressed excitement. Perhaps the holes in history could be filled. "There's so much you can tell me."
    'Yes." Just for an instant, something very like regret passed over the ancient face. "I'd enjoy… shooting shit with you.
    But, unfortun… ately, I need what you can tell… me."
    Dr. Rax started as an ancient hand wrapped around his wrist, the grip almost painfully tight. I learn from the ka I take .
    And the ka was the soul and a young man had died this morning and English hadn't existed… "No!" He began to slide into the black depths of ebony eyes. "But I freed you!" There's still so much I don't know ! And that gave him the strength to fight.
    The grip tightened.
    His free arm flailed, slamming his elbow into the cupboards, knocking the empty bottle off the counter, accomplishing nothing.
    But he fought all the way down.
    He lost the fight question by question.
    How and why and where and what? And finally, who?
    'I don't think you're crazy."
    'But how can you know?"
    Vicki shrugged. "Because I know crazy and I know you."
    Henry threw himself down beside her on the couch and caught up both her hands in his. "Then why do I keep dreaming of the sun?"

    'I don't know, Henry." He desperately wanted reassurance, but she didn't know how much she had to give; this was going to take more than a "poor sweet baby" and a kiss on the nose. He looked, not frightened exactly, but vulnerable and his expression sat in a knot at the base of her throat, making it hard to swallow, hard to breathe. The only comfort she had to offer was the knowledge that he wouldn't face whatever this turned out to be, alone. "But I do know this, we aren't going down without a fight."
    'We?"
    'You asked me for help, remember?"
    He nodded.
    'So." She traced a pattern on the back of his hand with her thumb. "You said this has happened to others of your kind…?"
    'There've been stories."
    'Stories?"
    'We hunt alone, Vicki. Except for during the time of changing we almost never associate with other vampires. But you hear stories…"
    'Vampiric gossip?"
    He shrugged, a little self-consciously. "If you like."
    'And these stories say that…?"
    'That sometimes when we get too old, when the weight of all those centuries becomes too much to bear, we get so we can no longer stand the night and finally give ourselves to the sun."
    'And before that happens, the dreams come?"
    'I don't know."
    She closed her hand around his. "All right. Let's take this one step at a time. Have you gotten tired of living?"
    'No." That, at least, he was sure of and the reason for it stared at him intently from less than an arm's length away.
    "But, Vicki, as much as I have changed, the body, the mind is still basically human. Perhaps…"
    'Perhaps the equipment is wearing out?" she interrupted, tightening her grip. "Planned obsolescence? You start heading toward your fifth century and the system starts breaking down?" Her brows drew in and her glasses slid down her nose. "I don't believe that."
    Henry reached over and pushed her glasses back into place. "You can't disbelieve the dreams," he said softly.
    'No," she admitted, "I can't." She sighed deeply and one side of her mouth quirked up. "It'd be useful if you lot did a little more communicating, so we weren't approaching this