Living Dead in Dallas

clearly exasperated. “You came to us, remember? You told us about your life of sin, and the shame you felt when you killed children and . . . did other things. Has any of this changed?”
    “No,” Godfrey said, sounding more thoughtful than anything else. “None of this has changed. But I see no need to include any humans in this sacrifice of mine. Infact, I believe that Farrell should be left to make his own peace with God. We shouldn’t force him into immolation.”
    “We need to get Steve back here,” Polly said to Sarah in an undertone.
    After that, I just heard Polly, so I assumed Sarah had gone back into the office to call Steve.
    One of the lights on the phone lit up. Yep, that was what she was doing. She’d know if I tried to use one of the other lines. Maybe in a minute.
    Polly was trying sweet reason with Godfrey. Godfrey was not talking much, himself, and I had no idea what was going through his head. I stood helplessly, pressed against the wall, hoping no one would come into the office, hoping no one would go downstairs and raise the alarm, hoping Godfrey wouldn’t have yet another change of heart.
    Help, I said in my mind. If only I could call for help that way, through my other sense!
    A flicker of an idea crossed my mind. I made myself stand calmly, though my legs were still trembling with shock, and my knee and face hurt like the six shades of hell. Maybe I could call someone: Barry, the bellboy. He was a telepath, like me. He could be able to hear me. Not that I’d ever made such an attempt before—well, I’d never met another telepath, had I? I tried desperately to locate myself in relation to Barry, assuming he was at work. This was about the same time we’d arrived from Shreveport, so he might be. I pictured my location on the map, which luckily I’d looked up with Hugo—though I knew now that he had been pretending not to know where the Fellowship Center was—and I figured we were southwest of the Silent Shore Hotel.
    I was in new mental territory. I gathered up what energy I had and tried to roll it into a ball, in my mind. For a second, I felt absolutely ridiculous, but when Ithought of getting free of this place and these people, there was very little to gain in not being ridiculous. I thought to Barry. It’s hard to peg down exactly how I did it, but I projected. Knowing his name helped, and knowing his location helped.
    I decided to start easy. Barry Barry Barry Barry . . .
    What do you want? He was absolutely panicked. This had never happened to him before.
    I’ve never done this either. I hoped I sounded reassuring. I need help. I’m in big trouble.
    Who are you?
    Well, that would help. Stupid me. I’m Sookie, the blond who came in last night with the brown-haired vampire. Third-floor suite.
    The one with the boobs? Oh, sorry.
    At least he’d apologized. Yes. The one with the boobs. And the boyfriend.
    So, what’s the matter?
    Now, all this sounds very clear and organized, but it wasn’t words. It was like we were sending each other emotional telegrams and pictures.
    I tried to think how to explain my predicament. Get my vampire as soon as he wakes.
    And then?
    Tell him I’m in danger. Dangerdangerdanger . . .
    Okay, I get the idea. Where?
    Church. I figured that would be shorthand for the Fellowship Center. I couldn’t think how to convey that to Barry.
    He knows where?
    He knows where. Tell him, Go down the stairs.
    Are you for real? I didn’t know there was anyone else . . .
    I’m for real. Please, help me.
    I could feel a complicated bundle of emotions racing through Barry’s mind. He was scared of talking to avampire, he was frightened that his employers would discover he had a “weird brain thing,” he was just excited that there was someone like him. But mostly he was scared of this part of him that had puzzled and frightened him for so long.
    I knew all those feelings. It’s okay, I understand, I told him. I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t going to be killed.
    Fear struck him again, fear of his own responsibility in this. I should never have added that.
    And then, somehow, he erected a flimsy barrier between us, and I wasn’t sure what Barry was going to do.
     
    W HILE I ’ D BEEN concentrating on Barry, things had been moving right along in the hall. When I began listening again, Steve had returned. He, too, was trying to be reasonable and positive with Godfrey.
    “Now, Godfrey,” he was saying, “if you didn’t want to do this, all