Blood Price

to much beyond that, so he replayed the scene over and over as he stared across the room.

    A beer or two later and voices at the corner table began to rise.

    "But I'm telling you there's evidence," the redhead exclaimed, "for the killer being a creature of the night."

    "Get real, Coreen!"

    Her name was Coreen! Norman's heart picked up an irregular rhythm and he leaned forward, straining to hear more clearly.

    "What about the missing blood?" Coreen demanded. "Every victim sucked dry."

    "A psycho," snorted one of her companions.

    "A giant leech," suggested another. "A giant leech that slimes along the streets of the city until it finds a victim and then . . . SLURP!" He sucked back a beer, suiting the action to the word. The group at the table groaned and buried him in thrown napkins and then Coreen's voice rose over the babble.

    "I'm telling you there was nothing natural about these deaths!"

    "Nothing natural about giant leeches either," muttered a tall, blonde woman in a bright pink flannel shirt.

    Coreen turned on her. "You know what I mean, Janet. And I'm not the only person who thinks so either!"

    "You're talking about the stories in the newspapers? Vampire stalks city and all that?" Janet sighed expansively and shook her head. "Coreen, they don't believe that bullshit, they're just trying to sell papers."

    "It isn't bullshit!" Coreen insisted, slamming her empty mug down on the table. "Ian was killed by a vampire!" Her mouth thinned into an obstinate line and the others at the table exchanged speaking glances. One by one, they made excuses and drifted away.

    Coreen didn't even look up as Norman sat down in Janet's recently vacated chair. She was thinking of how foolish all her so-called friends would look when her private investigator found the vampire and destroyed him. They'd soon stop laughing at her then.

    Norman, after taking a few moments to work out the best things to say, tried a tentative,
    "Hi." The icy stare he received in response discouraged him a little, but he swallowed and went on. He might never get another chance like this. "I just, uh, wanted you to know that, uh, I believe you."

    "Believe what?" The question was only slightly less icy than the stare.

    "Believe, well, you. About the vampires." Norman lowered his voice. "And stuff."

    The way he said "and stuff" sent chills down Coreen's back. She took a closer look and thought she might vaguely remember him from one of her classes, although she couldn't place which one. Nor could she be sure if her lack of clear memory had more to do with him or with the pitcher of beer she'd just finished.

    "I know," he continued, glancing around to be sure that no one would overhear, "that there's more to the world than most people think. And I know what it's like to be laughed at." He ground out the last words with such feeling that she had to believe them and believing them, to believe the rest.

    "It doesn't matter what we know." She poked him in the chest with a fingernail only a slightly less brilliant red than her hair. "We can't prove anything."

    "I can. I've got completely incontestable proof in my apartment." He grinned at her look of surprise and nodded, adding emphasis. And the best part of it is, he thought, almost rubbing his hands in anticipation, it isn't a line. I do have the proof and when I show her, she'll fall into my arms and. . . . Once again, his imagination balked but he didn't care that fantasy failed him; soon he'd have the reality.

    "You can help me prove that a vampire murdered Ian?" The brilliant green eyes blazed and Norman, transfixed, found himself stammering.

    "V-vampire. . . ." Caught up in the proof he could offer her, he'd forgotten she expected vampires.

    Coreen took the repetition as an affirmation. "Good." She practically dragged him to his feet and then out of the Cock and Bull. She wasn't very big, Norman discovered, but she was pretty strong. "We'll take my car. It's out in the lot."

    Her headlong charge slowed a little as they reached the doors and stopped completely by the row of pay phones. She frowned and came to a sudden decision.

    "You got a quarter?"

    Norman dug one out of his pocket and handed it over. He wanted to give her the world; what was twenty-five cents? As Coreen dialed, he inched toward her until by the time she started to speak he stood close enough to hear perfectly.

    "Hi, it's Coreen Fergus. Oh, I'm sorry, were you asleep?" She twisted to look at her watch.
    "Yeah, I