Blood Pact

didn't quite stretch far enough. Not only could she not see a lock, she only had Celluci's word for it that there was a door.

    "In my experience," he continued, "you lock rooms you don't want people to go into.”

    "Or get out of," Vicki added. "Come on.”

    Unlike the entrance to the room they'd just left, this door retained its sign. Danger. High Voltage. Keep out.

    "Odds are good this is the electrical room." Handing Celluci the flashlight, "Here. Hold this. I'm going to need both hands."
    Vicki rummaged her lockpicks out of her purse. "Keep it steady." Dropping to one knee, she flicked open the case and drew out the two largest picks.

    Her hands were shaking so violently, she couldn't get either of them into the lock.

    Her second attempt was no more successful.

    On the third attempt, she dropped one of the probes. It bounced off her knee, chimed against the tile, and came to rest with the hooked end over the toe of Celluci's shoe. Vicki stared down at it. Then she scowled at the remaining pick, so tightly gripped that her fingertips had gone white behind the nails, spun suddenly, and flung it down the hall.

    "God damn it!”

    She couldn't stop her hands from shaking. There was no way she was going to be able to pick that lock. So much for finding the fucking electrical room. They were going to turn off the power. Prevent Henry from being moved from floor to floor. They were going to tear the building apart one floor at a time. They were going to find Henry. She had to hold onto that. It was all she had. Except that it's all falling apart! She wanted to beat her head against the door and scream with fear and frustration.

    As if he'd read her mind, Celluci reached out and cupped her chin, gently drawing her around to face him.

    "Let me try.”

    Not trusting herself to speak, she nodded and stood, holding out the remaining picks.

    "No. Not quite my style." Passing her back the flashlight, he added, "Wait here.”

    He disappeared before she could object and for one terrifying moment it seemed that the darkness had devoured him. By the time she'd swung the light around, he'd gone beyond its range. All at once, with a familiar squeal of metal, the far end of the hall leapt, if not into focus, at least into sight.

    What the hell is he doing in the sprinkler room?

    A moment later, not bothering to close the door behind him, he came back around the corner, both hands holding . . .

    . . . a length of pipe?

    She moved out of his way as he returned, jammed one end of the pipe down through the loop of the padlock and braced it against the metal covering the door. Taking a deep breath, he threw his weight against the other end.

    The pipe bit into the door, metal buckling.

    Face darkening, Celluci growled an inarticulate challenge, grateful for a place to finally throw all the terror-produced adrenaline of the night.

    The security bar slowly bowed.

    "Mike? . . .”

    "Not. Now.”

    Bit by bit the screws dragged free.

    "Just. A little. Fur . . .”

    The sudden surrender flung him backward as the entire assembly crashed to the floor. He staggered, nearly fell, and leaned panting on the pipe.

    Vicki stepped forward and retrieved her fallen lock-pick from under the mess. "Obviously, your break-and-enter specialist was a little more direct than mine," she muttered dryly.

    Celluci gulped for air. "Obviously.”

    Caught by the sheer normalcy of the exchange, they stared at one another for a moment, then Vicki's mouth curved into almost a smile as she reached up and pushed the curl of hair back off his forehead. "Well, then," she stretched the words out, feeling some of the desperation go with them, "let's hear it for testosterone.”

    Celluci snorted, straightened, and let the pipe drop. "Personally, I'm amazed you didn't pull a package of plastique out of that suitcase you carry.” Shoving the junked security bar out of the way, he pulled open the door and fumbled around the corner for the light.

    They'd definitely found the electrical room.

    And something else.

    "Vicki . . .”

    She struggled for command of her voice. ”I see it.”

    The bloodscent drew him out of the pit where exhaustion had flung him and threw the Hunger loose again.

    Someone, something, was banging on the inside of the box.

    "Henry?" Vicki called, one foot moving in front of the other through no conscious decision she could remember.

    There was no answer, only the continued banging.

    She couldn't call for the other. In case