Blood Price

beside the phone. He hated waiting. He'd always hated waiting. He dug the pink slip back out of the pile.

    Norman Birdwell.

    "I don't know what hat you pulled this name out of, Nelson," he growled. "But if I ride to the rescue and you're not in deep shit, bad eyes and insecurity are going to be the least of your problems."

    * * *
    Norman was talking to the grimoire and had been for some time. His low mumble had become a constant background noise as Vicki drifted in and out of consciousness. Occasionally she heard words, mostly having to do with how the world would now treat Norman the way he deserved. Vicki was all for that.

    "Hey, Norman!"

    The mumbling stopped. Vicki tried to focus on Coreen. The younger woman looked . . .
    embarrassed?

    Grimoire clutched to his chest, Norman came into her line of sight. She shuddered at the thought of holding that book that closely. The one time she'd touched it back in Henry's apartment had made her skin crawl and the memory still left an unpleasant feeling in her mind.

    "Look, Norman, I have really got to go to the bathroom." Coreen's voice was low and intense and left no doubt as to her sincerity and Vicki suddenly found herself wishing she hadn't said that.

    "Uh. . . ." Norman obviously had no idea of how to deal with the problem.

    Coreen sighed audibly. "Look, if you untie me, I'll walk quietly to the bathroom and then come right back to my chair so you can tie me up again. You can keep me covered with your silly gun the entire time. I really have to go."

    "Uh. . . ."

    "Your Demon Lord isn't going to be too impressed if he shows up and I've peed on his pentagram."

    Norman stared at Coreen for a long moment, his hands stroking up and down the dark leather cover of the grimoire. "You wouldn't," he said at last.

    "Try me."

    It might have been the smile, it might have been the tone of voice, but Norman decided not to risk it.

    Vicki drifted off during the untying and came to again as Coreen, once more secured in her chair, said, "What about her?"

    Norman shifted his grip slightly on the gun. "She doesn't matter, she'll be dead soon anyway."

    Vicki was beginning to be very afraid that he was right. She simply had no reserves left to call on and every time she fought her way up out of the blackness, the world seemed a little further away. Okay, if I'm dead anyway and I scream and he shoots me, the neighbors will call the police-that thing doesn't have a silencer on it. Of course, he may just whack me on the head again. That was the last thing she needed. If I have Careen scream as well, that may push him over the edge enough that he shoots one of us.

    Coreen, for all the girl believed in vampires and demons and who knew what else, didn't really understand what was about to happen. Mind you, that's not her fault. I didn't tell her.

    She balanced Coreen's life against the life of the city. It wasn't a decision she had any right to make. She made it anyway. I'm sorry, Coreen.

    She wet her lips and drew in as deep a breath as she was capable of. "Cor ..." The butt of the rifle hit the floor inches from her nose, the metal plate slamming against the tiles. The noise and the vibration drove the remainder of her carefully hoarded breath out in an almost silent cry of pain. Thank God, he had the safety on. . . .

    "Shut up," Norman told her genially.

    She didn't really have much choice but to obey as darkness rolled over her once again.

    Norman looked around his apartment, exceedingly pleased with himself. Soon all those people who thought him a nobody, a nothing, would pay. He reached out one hand to stroke the book. The book said so.

    10:43. Time to start painting the pentagram. It was much more complicated than the form he usually used and he wanted to be sure he got it right.

    This was going to be the greatest night of his life.

Fifteen
    She knew better than to go near strange men in cars. She'd been raised on horror stories of abduction and rape and young women found weeks later decomposing in irrigation ditches. She answered the summons anyway, her mother's warnings having lost their power from the moment she met the stranger's eyes.

    "The administration offices, where are they?"

    She knew where the admin offices were, at least, she thought she knew-actually, she wasn't sure what she thought anymore. She wet her lips and offered, "The Ross Building?" She'd seen an office in Ross, maybe more than one.

    "Which is where?"

    She half turned and pointed. A