Blood Price

up his power tonight and when the demon returned, well-fed on Coreen's blood, he'd send it out after a symbol of that power. Something the world would be forced to respect.

    The throbbing beat grew more powerful and Norman rubbed against the windowsill, hips jerking to its rhythm.

    * * *
    Still seething, Coreen pulled into the MacDonald's parking lot. Norman Birdwell. She couldn't believe she'd even spoken to Norman Birdwell let alone gone back to his apartment with him. He'd sounded so damned believable back in the pub. She shook her head at her own credulity. Of course, she hadn't realized who he was back at the pub, but still. . . .

    "I hope you appreciate this, Ian," she said to the night, slamming the car door and locking it.
    "When I vowed to find your killer, I never counted on having to deal with geek lust." It had gotten colder and she'd reached in her pocket for her gloves before she remembered that she now possessed only glove, singular. Grinding her teeth, she headed inside. Some moods only a large order of fries could deal with.

    On her way to the counter, she spotted a familiar face and detoured.

    "Hey, Janet. I thought you were all going over to Alison's?"

    Janet looked up and shook her head. "Long story," she muttered around a mouthful of burger.

    Coreen snorted and tossed her remaining glove down on top of the junk piled on a neighboring seat. Under the fluorescents it looked almost obscenely bright. "Yeah? Well, I've got a longer one. Don't go away."

    Sometime later, Janet was staring at Coreen in astonishment, an apple pie poised forgotten halfway to her open mouth.

    ". . . so I kneed him in the balls and split." She took a long swallow of diet cola. "And I bet I'm never going to see my other glove again either," she added sadly.

    Janet closed her mouth with an audible snap. "Norman Birdwell?" she sputtered.

    "Yeah, I know." Coreen sighed. She should never have told Janet. Thank God they were heading into a long weekend; it might slow the spread of the story. "Like majorly stupid. It must've been the beer."

    "There isn't enough beer in the world-no, in the universe-to make me go anywhere with that creep," Janet declared, rolling her eyes.

    Coreen mashed the onions she'd scraped off her burger into a pureed mess "He said he knew something about the creature that killed Ian," she muttered sheepishly. She really shouldn't have told Janet. What could she have been thinking of?

    "Right," Janet snorted, "another fearless vampire hunter and you fell for it."

    Coreen's eyes narrowed. "Don't make fun of it."

    "Fun of it? You're just as likely to find Norman's demon killed Ian as some stupid vampire."
    She knew the words were a mistake the moment they left her mouth, but by then it was too late.

    "Vampires have been documented historically and all the facts fit. . . ."

    Twenty-three minutes later-Janet had been timing the lecture with barely concealed glances at her watch- Coreen stopped suddenly and stood. "I have to go to the bathroom," she said; wait for me. I'll be right back."

    "Not bloody likely," Janet muttered the second Coreen disappeared down the stairs to the basement. Digging her gear free of the pile, she headed for the door, shrugging into her jacket as she went. She liked Coreen, but if she heard one more word about vampires she was going to bite somebody herself. Any vampire Coreen ran into was going to be able to claim self-defense.

    At the door, she discovered she'd picked up Coreen's remaining red glove. Damn! I take it back and it's more of the Count Dracula power hour. She stood there for a moment, slapping the leather fingers into her palm, torn between doing the right thing and running to save her sanity.

    Sanity won.

    As the bright lighting turned the top of Coreen's ascending head to flame, Janet shoved the glove into her pocket, spun on her heel, and escaped into the night. If I run, she thought and matched the action to it, I could be clear of the parking lot lights before Coreen looks out the window. In the darkness beyond, she'd be safe.

    * * *
    It came up through the ground. It Deferred to travel that way, for then it need waste no energy on remaining unseen. And until it fed, it had little energy to waste. It sensed the prey above it, but it waited, following, until no other lives could be felt.

    Then it emerged.

    The urge to kill was strong, nearly overpowering. It had been so commanded by its "master"
    and its nature called it to feed. Only fear of