Blood Price

he hadn't faltered in Korea, he wouldn't falter now.

    At Henry Fitzroy's door, he checked to be sure his pant leg covered the stake-he wouldn't use it if he didn't have to-and knocked.

    * * *
    "Damn!" Vicki glanced from Henry to the door. It didn't sound like the police-a police knock was unmistakable-but ignoring it might still be the worst thing to do. If someone on the street had seen the demon on Henry's balcony. . . .

    The fisheye showed her a distorted view of the old security guard from the front desk. As she watched, he raised his hand and knocked again. She didn't know what he wanted, she didn't really care. He couldn't talk to Henry and she had to get rid of him without allowing him to see the battlefield in the living room. If the guard had suspicions-and from his expression he certainly wasn't happy about something-she had to leave him no doubt as to what Henry'd spent the last couple of hours doing. And if the guard had no suspicions, it was important he not acquire any.

    * * *

    This is crazy, Greg realized suddenly. I should be here after sunrise, when he's sleeping. His fingers moved nervously up and down the ridges on the croquet mallet. I can get the passkey, and be sure, one way or another and. . . .

    The door opened and his mouth with it as he stared at the tousle-haired woman who gazed sleepily out at him, a man's bathrobe more or less clutched around her.

    Vicki had turned off all the lights except the one directly behind her in the front hall, hoping its dazzle would block anything her body didn't. She filled the space between the door and the molding, leaning on both, and just to be on the safe side, let the upper edge of the bathrobe slide a little lower. She wasn't intending to blind the guard with her beauty, but if she read the elderly man correctly this was exactly the kind of situation that would embarrass him most.

    So maybe it was a stupid idea. It was also the only thing she could come up with.

    "Can I help you?" she asked, covering a not entirely faked yawn.

    "Um, no, I, that is, Is Mr. Fitzroy home?"

    "He is." Vicki smiled and pushed her glasses up her nose. The robe shifted a little further of its own volition. "But he's sleeping. He's kind of . . ." She paused just long enough for the guard's ears to finish turning scarlet. ". . . exhausted."

    "Oh." Greg cleared his throat and wondered how he could gracefully get out of this. It was obvious that Henry Fitzroy hadn't been out of his apartment in the last few hours. It was equally obvious he hadn't been driving fangs into this young woman's neck, or most other parts of her anatomy. Which Greg wasn't looking at. "I just, uh, that is, there was an incident in the ravine and I just thought he might have seen something, or heard something as he's usually up at night. I mean, I know his windows don't face that way. . . ."

    "I don't think he noticed anything. He was ..." Again the pause. Again the blush rose on the guard's face. ". . . busy."

    "Look, I'm real sorry I bothered you. I'll talk to Mr. Fitzroy another time."

    He looked so depressed, Vicki impulsively put out a hand. "This incident, did it happen to someone you knew?"

    Greg nodded, responding to the sympathy in her voice. "Mrs. Hughes and Owen. Owen was her dog. They lived just down at the end of the hall." He pointed and Vicki's breath caught in her throat when she saw what was in his hand.

    He followed her gaze and grew even redder. The brightly painted stripes on the top of the croquet stake seemed to mock him. He'd forgotten he was carrying it. "Kids," he hurriedly explained. "They leave stuff lying around all over. I'm just taking this back where it goes."

    "Oh." With an effort she forced her gaze away from the stake. Showing too much interest in it would ruin everything and ripping it out of his hand and throwing it down the elevator shaft-which is what she wanted to do-could probably be considered showing too much interest.
    "I'm sorry about the woman and her dog," she managed.

    He nodded again. "So am I." Then he straightened and Vicki could practically see duty and responsibility settling back onto his shoulders. "I've got to get back to my post. I'm sorry I bothered you. Good night, ma'am."

    "Goodnight."

    He waited until he heard her turn the lock and then he headed back to the elevator. As the doors slid closed behind him, he looked down at the stake and shook his head. The last time he'd been so embarrassed he'd been nineteen, it was World War