Blood Price

game in town."

    They locked eyes for a moment and Vicki suddenly realized that was a stupid thing to do-all the stories, all the movies about vampires warned against it. For a moment, she felt herself teetering on the edge of an abyss and she fought against the urge to throw herself into the depths.
    Then the moment passed, the abyss replaced with a pair of tired hazel eyes and she realized, her heart beating a little more quickly, that it had been the man, not the vampire she'd been reacting to. Or perhaps the man as vampire. Or the vampire as man. Or something. Wonderful. The city-the world even-is about to go up in flames and I'm thinking with my crotch.

    "I'm going to need an early start. I'd better get going."

    "Perhaps you had."

    There were several dozen things left unsaid.

    He watched her shrug into her jacket, the sound of her heartbeat nearly overpowering. Had he taken even a little more blood from her, he wouldn't have been able to stop himself from taking her life as well. That feeding was the sweetest of all to his kind and acquiring a taste for it had brought down many a vampire. Bringing him the boy had saved them both. She truly was a remarkable woman, few other mortals would have had the strength to resist the pull of his need.

    He wanted more. More of her. If they survived the next twenty-four hours. . . .

    She paused on her way to the door, one hand clutching a chair back for support. "I just remembered, where were you earlier? I kept calling and getting your machine."

    "That was why you came so late?"

    "Well, no point in coming over if you weren't here."

    "I was here. I turned on the machine to screen calls." His brows went up as hers went down.
    "You don't do that?"

    "If I'm home, I answer the phone."

    "If I had, and you'd been here when the demon arrived. . . ."

    "We'd both be dead," she finished.

    He nodded. "Vicki?"

    Her hand on the knob, she turned back to face him.

    "You do realize that there's a very good chance we'll fail? That you may come up blank or nothing we can do will stop the Demon Lord?" .

    She smiled at him and Henry discovered with a slight shock that he wasn't the only predator in the room.

    "No," she said, "I don't realize any such thing. Get some rest." Then she was gone.

    * * *
    The city streets ran with blood and all of the wailing people who dragged themselves through it looked to her for their salvation. She raised her hands to help them and saw that the blood poured out through great ragged gashes in her wrists.

    "He's coming, Vicki. " Henry Fitzroy dropped to his knees before her and let the blood pour over him, his mouth open to catch the flow.

    She tried to step back and found she couldn't move, that hardened concrete covered her feet to the ankles.

    "He's coming, Vicki," Henry said again. He leaned forward and began to lap at the blood dribbling down her arms.

    A cold wind blew suddenly on her back and she could hear the sound of claws on stone as something huge dragged itself toward her. She couldn't turn to face it; Henry's hands and the concrete held her in place. She could only fight against her bonds and listen to it coming closer, closer. The smell of rot grew more intense and when she looked down, it wasn't Henry but the old woman's decomposing corpse whose mouth had clamped onto her wrist. Behind her stood what was left of Mike Celluci.

    "Why didn't you tell me?" he asked through the ruin of his mouth, "Why didn't you tell me ?"

    * * *
    Vicki groped for the light switch and sat panting in the sudden glare, her heart drumming painfully. The dream that wakened her had been only the latest in a series. Fortunately, she remembered none of the others in detail.

    Hands trembling, she pushed the arms of her glasses over her ears and peered at the clock.
    5:47. Almost three hours sleep.

    She turned off the useless alarm-she'd set it for 6:30- and swung her legs out of bed. If the demon-caller followed the established pattern, the Demon Lord would show up at midnight. That gave her eighteen hours to find him or her and stuff the grimoire down his or her throat one page at a time. The dreams had terrified her and nothing made her more angry than fear she could do nothing about.

    Slowly, carefully, she stood. The liter of orange juice and the two iron supplements she'd taken after arriving home might have helped to offset the blood loss, but she knew she wasn't going to be in top condition. Not today. Not for some time. The cut on her wrist