Blood Pact

”We'll have to do something about his car . . . no, we don't. He'll just disappear. Become another tragic statistic. He's already living a lie; who's going to look for him?”

    She patted the back of one pale hand, fingers lightly stroking the scattering of red-gold hair. "Of all the laboratories in all the world, you had to stumble into mine.”

    "But, Dr. Burke, what are we going to do with him?”

    "Study him, Catherine. Study him.”

    Head cocked to one side, Catherine examined the doctor. The last time she'd seen the older woman this excited had been the day number four had made the initial breakthrough with the neural net. Her eyes had held the same brilliant mix of greed and self-satisfaction then that they did now and, now that she thought about it, Catherine hadn't liked the expression that day either. "Dr.
    Burke, vampires are outside my experimental parameters.”

Eleven
    Vicki lifted her face into the wind blowing in off Lake Ontario and remembered how this slab of stone jutting into the water had once been both refuge and inspiration. All through her teens, whenever life got too complicated and she couldn't see her way clear, she'd come to the park, clamber out on the rock, and the world would simplify down to the lake and the wind. The city at her back would disappear and life would be back in perspective. Winter or summer, good weather or bad, it hadn't mattered.

    The lake still crashed rhythmically against the rock below her feet, and the wind still picked up the spray and threw it at her but, even together, they were no longer strong enough to uncomplicate the world. Tightening her arm on the bulk of her shoulder bag, she blocked out the pounding of the waves and listened for the crackle of paper; heard her mother's words read from the letter in her mother's voice.

    I don't want to just disappear out of your life like your father did. I want us to have a chance to say goodbye.

    She swiped at the water on her cheeks before turning and climbing back up the bank to where Celluci waited, more or less patiently, by the car.

    The detour had given her nothing but damp sneakers and the certain knowledge that the only way out of the situation she found herself in was going to be the hard way.

    So we concentrate on finding my mother.

    We find her, we find Henry.

    And then we'll. . .

    . . . we'll . . .

    She shoved viciously at her glasses, jamming the plastic bridge up into her forehead, ignoring the drops of water that spotted the lenses, refusing to acknowledge drops that were salt water not fresh and were on the inside of the lenses. Let's just concentrate on finding them. Then we'll worry about what we do next.

    "Good morning, Mrs. Shaw. Is Dr. Burke in?”

    "No, dear, I'm sorry, but you just missed her.”

    Vicki, who had been watching and waiting until she saw Dr. Burke hurry from the office, manufactured a frown.

    "Is there anything I can do to help?”

    She shifted the expression to hopeful. "I need to talk to Donald Li about my mother and I'm finding it impossible to track him down around the campus. I was wondering if Dr. Burke could give me his home address.”

    Mrs. Shaw smiled up at her and pulled an overflowing rolodex forward. "You don't need to bother Dr. Burke about that, I've got Donald's address right here.”

    "Uh, Mrs. Shaw . . ." The young woman temporarily assigned to the office shot an uneasy glance from Vicki to her coworker.
    "Should you be giving that out? I mean that's private information and . . .”

    "Don't worry about it, Ms. Grenier," Mrs. Shaw instructed firmly, flipping through the cards with practiced fingers, "this is Marjory Nelson's daughter.”

    "Yes, but . . .”

    Vicki leaned forward and caught the temporary's eye. "I'm sure Donald won't mind," she said quietly.

    Ms. Grenier opened her mouth, closed it, and decided she wasn't being paid enough to interfere with someone who'd just made it quietly clear that any opposition would be removed from the field on a stretcher if necessary.

    Mrs. Shaw copied the address onto the back of a message form and handed it to Vicki. "Here you go, dear. Has there been any news from the police about your mother's body?”

    "No." Vicki's fingers crushed the small square of pink paper. "Not yet.”

    "You'll let me know?”

    "Yes." She didn't bother attempting a smile. "Thank you for this." It was probably fortunate that the outer office door had been designed in such a way that it couldn't be slammed.

    "First