Blood Price

a pile of dirt, her bag sliding off her shoulder and slamming hard edges against her knees. Her flashlight beam played over a tiny construction site where a skinny house was rising to fill what had once no doubt been a no larger than average side yard. The creature had killed under circumstances like these once before, but somehow she knew it wouldn't again. She moved on.

    The sudden scream of a siren sent her heart up into her throat and she spun around, flashlight raised like a weapon. Back at the corner, a fire engine roared from the station and, tires squealing, turned north up Woodbine.

    "Nerves a bit shot, are they, Vicki?" she muttered to herself taking a long, calming breath.
    Blood pounded in her ears almost loud enough to echo and sweat glued her gloves to her palms.
    Still a bit shaky with reaction, she made her way to the next streetlight and leaned back against the pole.

    The spill of light reached almost to the house, not quite far enough for Vicki to see the building. The bit of lawn she could see looked well cared for-in spite of the spring mud-and along one edge roses, clipped short to survive the cold, waited for spring. It was a working class neighborhood, she knew, and, given the lawn, Vicki was willing to bet that most of the families were Italian or Portuguese as both cultures cared about-and for-the land. If that was the case, many of the houses would be decorated with painted icons of saints, or of the Madonna, or of Christ himself.

    She wondered how much protection those icons would offer when the killer came.

    Up the street, two golden circles marked a slow moving car. To Vicki, they looked like the eyes of some great beast for the darkness hid the form that followed and the headlights were all she could see. But then, she didn't need to see more to identify it as a police car. Only police on surveillance ever drove at that precise, unchanging speed. She'd done it herself too many times to mistake it now. Fighting the urge to dive out of sight, she turned and strode confidently up the walk toward the house, digging in her bag for an imaginary set of keys.

    The car purred by behind her.

    Making her way back to the sidewalk, Vicki doubted that her luck could last. Celluci had to have saturated this area with his men. Sooner or later, she had to run into someone she knew-probably Celluci himself-and she wasn't looking forward to explaining just what she was doing roaming about in the middle of a police manhunt.

    She continued west along Holborne, marshaling her arguments. I thought you could use an extra pair of eyes. But then, so could she. I doubted you'd be prepared to deal with a vampire.
    True, but it'd go over like rats in the drunk tank. You have no right to keep me away. Except that they/he did. Every right. It was why there were laws against suicide.

    So what am I doing out here anyway? And is this more or less stupid than charging down into a subway station to single-handedly challenge God knows what. The darkness pressed close around her, waiting for an answer. What am I trying to prove?

    That in spite of everything I can still be a fully functioning member of society. She snorted.
    On the other hand, there're a number of fully functioning members of society I'm not likely to run into out here tonight.

    Which brought the silent interrogation back around to "just what was she trying to prove,"
    and Vicki decided to leave it there. Things were tough enough without bogging them down further in introspection.

    At the corner of Woodmount, she paused. The triple line of streetlights disappeared into the distance to either side and straight ahead. The suspended golden globes were all she could see.
    Casting about like a hound for a scent, she drew in a deep lungful of the cold night air. All she could smell was earth, damp and musty, freshly exposed by the end of winter. Normally, she liked the smell. Tonight, it reminded her of the grave and she pulled her jacket tighter around her to ward off a sudden chill. In the distance, there was the sound of traffic and farther off still, a dog barked.

    There seemed little to choose between the directions, so she turned to her left and headed carefully back south.

    A car door slammed.

    Vicki's heart slammed up against her ribs in response. This was it. She was as sure of it as she'd ever been of anything in her life.

    She started to run. Slowly at first, well aware that a misstep would result in a fall or worse.
    Her flashlight