Blood Lines

civilized mask to slip a little.
    Tony wet his lips, but he didn't back down. "Yeah," he said huskily, "your life, too."

    Henry played with the Hunger a little, allowing it to rise as he traced the line of jaw, then forcing it back down again as he admitted he had no real desire to feed. "You should get some sleep," he suggested over the wild pounding of Tony's heart. "I think you've already had enough excitement for one night."
    'Wha…?"
    'I can smell him all over you." Henry heard the blood rush up into Tony's face, saw the smooth curve of cheek flush darkly. "It's all right." He smiled. "No one else can."
    'He wasn't like you…"
    'I should certainly hope not."
    'I mean, he wasn't… it wasn't… well, it was but… I mean…"
    'I know what you mean." He made the smile a promise and held it until he saw that Tony understood. "I'd walk you home, but I have an assignment to complete."
    'Yeah." Tony sighed, tugged at his jeans, and began to walk away. A few paces down the road, he turned. "Hey, Henry. Those crazy ideas that Victory gets? Well, most times they turn out not to be so crazy after all."
    It was Henry's turn to sigh as he spread his arms. "I'm still out here."
    '… leave a message after the tone."
    'Vicki? Celluci. It's four o'clock, Wednesday afternoon. One of the uniforms just told me they saw you poking around the drains behind the museum this morning. What the fuck do you think you're doing? You're looking for a mummy, not a goddamned Ninja Turtle.
    'By the way, if you find anything-and I mean anything-and you don't immediately let me know, I'm going to kick your ass from here to Christmas."
    The house and garden looked vaguely familiar, like a childhood memory too far in the past to put a name or a place to.
    Remaining a cautious distance away, she walked around to the back, knowing before she saw them that there'd be hollyhocks by the kitchen door, that the patio would be made of irregular gray flagstones, that the roses would be in bloom. It was sunny and warm and the lawn smelled like it had just been mowed-in fact, there against the garage was the old push lawn mower that she'd used every Monday evening on their handkerchief-sized lawn in Kingston.
    The baseball glove she'd inherited from an older cousin lay by the back step, the lacing she'd repaired standing out against the battered leather in a way she didn't think it really had. Her fringed denim jacket, the last thing her father bought her before he left, swayed from the clothesline.
    The garden seemed to go on forever. She began to explore, moving slowly at first, then faster and faster, suddenly aware that something followed close behind. She circled the house, raced up the front path, leapt up onto the porch, and came to a full stop with her hand on the doorknob.
    "No. "
    It wanted her to go in.
    The knob began to turn and her hand turned with it. She could see her reflection in the door's window. It had to be her reflection, although for a moment she thought she saw herself inside the house looking out.
    Whatever had been following her in the garden came up onto the porch. She could feel the worn boards move under its tread and in the window she saw the reflected gleam of glowing red eyes.

    "No!"
    She dragged her fingers off the doorknob and, almost incapacitated by fear, forced herself to turn around .
    Vicki shoved her glasses at her face and peered at the clock. Two forty-six.
    'I don't have time for this," she muttered, settling back against the pillows, heart still slamming against her ribs. In barely two hours she'd be heading over to Henry's which made sleep the priority of the moment. Although that incident at the museum had obviously spooked her more than she'd thought, dream analysis would just have to wait. She dropped her glasses back where they belonged, stretched up a long arm, and switched off the light. "I'm going to blacken the next set of glowing red eyes that wakes me up," she promised her subconscious.
    A few moments later, lying awake in the dark, she frowned. She hadn't thought of that jacket in years.
    Thursday night, the house stood alone on a gray plain and the dream began by the front door. The compulsion to open it was too strong to resist and she walked in, closely followed. She caught just a glimpse of the contents of the first room when the light dimmed and she fought to hold it down.
    It wanted to see what was in the house. Well, it could just take a flying fuck.
    Although her head felt as if it had been