Blood Debt (Vicki Nelson #5)

Blood Debt (Vicki Nelson #5) Page 3

EYES narrowed, Henry glared at the handless ghost at the foot of his bed. His movements rigidly precise, he folded back the sheet and sat up. If he released even a fraction of the tight grip he maintained on his rage, it would surge out in a stream of angry accusa?tion and another innocent would die.

He watched and waited, hoping the spirit would tire of meaningless questions. When it became obvious it hadn't, when it began preparing to scream, Henry snarled, "Was your mother a woman?"

Translucent features twisted into an annoyed frown, but it obeyed the rules and quietly vanished.

"Man, that is one pissed-off spook."

Henry paused, one hand on the bathroom door, and turned toward the hall corner where Tony lounged against the wall. "You could feel it?"

"Feel it?" Tony snorted, covering his fear with bra?vado. "I could almost see the waves of pissed-offedness radiating out from your room. I just, you know, wondered if you were okay."

"I'm fine. It can't actually affect me."

"Uh-huh. And that's why you just crushed the doorknob?"

Opening his fingers, Henry dropped his gaze to the unrecognizable piece of brass protruding from the bathroom door. "Perhaps I am a little...  irritated. I'm sure I'll feel better after a shower." He took a half a step forward-one bare foot on tile, the other on carpet-and paused. "Don't you usually work Sat?urday evenings?"

Tony took a deep breath, lifted his chin, and met Henry's gaze square on. "I traded shifts," he an?nounced defiantly. "So I could be here when Vicki arrived."

Red-gold brows rose. "To protect her from me?"

"Maybe." Expecting anger, and knowing how dan?gerous that anger could be, Tony would have pre?ferred it to the undercurrent of amusement he could hear in Henry's voice. "Or to protect you from her."

Realizing that he'd hurt the younger man's feelings, Henry sighed. "I appreciate the intent, Tony, I really do, but for your own safety, if anything happens, any?thing at all, don't get between us. While I would never intentionally harm you, I'm not sure how much intent is going to count."

"Then why did you stay? You're ready to go to the cabin, you could've been gone when she got here."

"If I was gone when she arrived, Vicki'd never be?lieve that two vampires are incapable of being to?gether. She'd continue to think that I'm overreacting, that a response innate to our natures can be over?come." His eyes darkened and an aura of ancient power seemed to gather about him-in spite of the green velour bathrobe. "By remaining home for the first part of the night, by actually meeting with her, I'll prove my point in the only way she'll accept."

Tony nodded slowly. Having known Vicki since he was a fifteen-year-old street kid, the explanation made perfect sense. "I bet she was the kind of kid who stuck beans up her nose."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You know." His voice lifted into a shrill falsetto. "Now, Vicki, don't stick beans up your nose."

Henry grinned. "No bet."

"So you stayed to prove a point?"

"That's right."

"Not because you wanted to see her again?"

"Vampires do not maintain attachments after the parent-child bond is broken." Henry's tone ended the discussion. For added emphasis, he stepped into the bathroom and emphatically closed the door.

The knob fell off and bounced down the hall.

Bending to pick it up, Tony fitted his fingers into the creases Henry's fingers had made. Don't get be?tween us, he repeated silently. Yeah, like I'm in the habit of getting between The Terminator and the mother alien....

Michael Celluci watched Vicki pacing back and forth in the elevator-three steps back, three steps forth-and kept his mouth firmly shut. More than any?thing, he wanted to know if she'd even considered the possibility that Henry might be right. Unfortunately, although the words were pressing up against his teeth, he couldn't ask because, from her expression, she ob?viously had.

"His scent is all over this building," she muttered, nostrils flaring.

"Don't tell me he's been pissing in the corners."

Her teeth seemed longer than usual as she snarled, "That's not what I meant."

"It was a joke." When she whirled to glare at him, he spread his hands. "Just trying to lighten the mood."

"Oh." The bell chimed for the fourteenth floor. She spun back around to face the door.

Following her out into the hall, Celluci shook his head. "No need to thank me." As their names had been on a security list at the door, they'd been waved right through without needing to buzz up and so had no idea of what they were about to face. Given Vicki's reaction so far, if Henry had been stupid enough to stay home, it was going to be an explosive evening.

He found himself wishing he'd brought his gun- although who he intended to shoot, he had no idea.

"She's coming." Henry turned to face the door and Tony thought he looked like a cat, watching the shad?ows for movement no one else could see. A moment later, three evenly spaced raps that unmistakably said, This is the police, shattered the expectant silence into sharp-edged little pieces.

"You'd better answer it." Hands locked behind his back, Henry made his way to the far side of the living room. "I think it might be best if I kept my distance."

Almost afraid of cutting himself on the shards of anticipation, Tony walked to the door, took a deep breath, and threw it open.

Celluci, about to knock again, lowered his hand.

Vicki, who'd been staring down the hall, spun around.

Had Tony not spent the last two years sharing living space with a vampire, he'd have fled, screaming. As it was, he swallowed hard, tried to keep his legs from buckling, and forced his mouth into what he hoped was an approximation of a smile. "Yo, Victory. You're lookin' good."

The fear in his voice penetrated. There were a great many people whose fear Vicki rather enjoyed, but Tony wasn't one of them. Let's just prove Henry's point for him, shall we? she snarled to herself as she struggled for control. I will not be dominated by blind instinct!

Tony, watching the silver mute out of her eyes, ex?changed a wary glance with Celluci, who added an infinitesimal shrug. Before either man could speak, however, Vicki found her voice.

"I just spent four days on the road, I need a shower, and I look like shit, but thanks for lying." She cocked her head and looked him up and down-to Tony's surprise the inspection didn't make him feel like a rare steak. "You, on the other hand, are looking good. You've filled out, got some color... " Her brows dipped down. "... but your hair's too short."

"It's the style," he protested indignantly, rubbing a palm over his close-cropped skull.

Vicki sighed. "Tony, it didn't look that good on Keanu Reeves either. Now then, you going to invite us in, or are you going to leave us standing in the hall?"

Ears pink, Tony stepped out of the doorway. "Sorry."

"As much my fault as yours," Vicki admitted. Look?ing appreciatively around the entry-Henry'd bought the Pacific Place condo after she'd returned to Toronto-she nodded toward the colonnaded arch. "Living room through there?"

"Yeah, but. . ." As she disappeared, he let his voice trail off and glanced up at Detective Sergeant Michael Celluci. During his years on the street, they hadn't exactly gotten along, but judging from the detective's expression, tonight the past had been buried under their common present.

"Is he in there?"

Tony sighed. "Yeah."

"Why, if he believes in this territorial imperative thing?"

"He wants to prove a point."

Like Tony before him, Celluci understood. "I can't say as I blame him. Let's hope we all survive it."

They walked together into the living room, each hoping that the silence had to be a good sign.

Henry stood with his back to the window, the lights of Granville Island beginning to pierce the dusk be?hind him. Head up, arms crossed over his chest, he wore a blue silk shirt, faded jeans, and white running shoes. His lips were pressed into a thin line. His eyes were dark.

Vicki stood by the ultramodern dining room table, the fingers of her right hand pressed hard against the green glass top. Head up, her left hand opening and closing by her side, she wore a blue silk shirt, faded jeans, and white running shoes. Her lips were drawn up enough to show the points of her teeth. Her eyes were silver.

Standing at the edge of the room, Tony could feel the tension building. In a moment, without a word being said, it would build past the breaking point. When that happened, he didn't have the faintest idea of what he could do to prevent the inevitable violence or if he'd have the courage to do it even if he knew. How would they fight? Would there be bloodshed? Wouldn't vampires instinctively refuse to waste so pre?cious a resource?

Beside him, Celluci swept a cynical gaze over the room, snorted, and said, "I see you guys've got a uni?form. What's next? Team jackets and baseball caps?"

Tony shot him a startled glance and faded back just far enough to use the detective's bulk as a shield.

The tableau broke. As Henry snarled and stepped forward, Vicki's sense of the ridiculous pushed past her instinctive responses. She stared at Henry's clothes, then down at her own, and snickered. "Christ, we look like a set of undead Bobsey Twins."

Nostrils flared, Henry stopped and turned to face her again.

His aborted charge had brought him away from the window. Smile twisting into a snarl, Vicki backed around the table. "Don't stand so close!" She didn't want to attack, but she didn't think she'd be able to stop herself if he came any closer. She fought to see past instinct, to the lover, to the friend, to the teacher who'd taught her to survive within the parameters of her new existence, but the knowledge of what they'd once been to each other kept getting lost behind what they were.

"This is my territory, Vicki." Henry took a step closer; graceful, deadly. "Not yours. You do not tell me what to do in my territory."

"At least they're talking," Celluci muttered to no one in particular. "That's an improvement."

The vampires ignored him, and Tony fervently wished he'd shut up.

A muscle jumped in Vicki's jaw. "You asked me here!"

"You insisted we could work together," he re?minded her mockingly.

"We could if you'd stop this Prince of Darkness bullshit and back off!"

"I'm not doing anything, Vicki. I am older than you. I am more powerful than you. You can only see me as a threat. You can't help but respond."

"And what do you see me as?" she growled, anger provoked by the implication that he didn't see her as a threat.

"Something to be removed." His brows drew in and his voice grew scathing. "I do not wish my hunting ruined by a child."

Vicki dove up and over the table, almost before she'd decided to attack. Her hands reached for Hen?ry's throat and grabbed only air. She spun around as she landed, but, off balance, she had no chance to block Henry's blow. He threw her against the far wall and was on her, fingers dimpling her throat before she hit the ground.

When Tony moved forward, a large hand closed on his shoulder and pulled him back.

"No," Celluci said softly. "Let them work it out."

Startled, Tony stared up at the detective. He couldn't believe that Michael Celluci was allowing this to happen, but although he was frowning, neither the larger man's gaze nor his grip wavered.

Her shoulders under Henry's knees, her throat in his hands, Vicki froze, caught in his eyes and recogniz?ing defeat.

"We cannot work together," Henry told her, all the posturing gone from his voice, leaving it flat and tired. "And as you must remain here to do your job, I am leaving. I've borrowed a cabin on Grouse Mountain from a friend. I'll leave immediately and return when you've solved the case." His eyes never leaving hers, he released her throat and stood.

"So you're proved right." Vicki got slowly to her feet, one hand supporting her weight against the wall. "Happy?"

He sighed and one corner of his mouth twisted into an almost smile. "Actually, no."

"Stay here," Celluci murmured, finally releasing Tony's shoulder. "Keep an eye on her, but don't go near her until she's calmed down."

"Do I look stupid?" the younger man demanded, wide-eyed and twitchy from the adrenaline buzz. "Where are you going?"

"I need to talk to Fitzroy."

"About what?" Then he followed the line of Celluci's gaze to where Vicki stood, eyes closed, breathing heavily, the fingers of her left hand sunk knuckle-deep through the leather upholstery of the couch. "Oh. Never mind."

When Henry attempted to leave the condo, black canvas case slung over one shoulder, Celluci was wait?ing at the door. He stopped with most of the entry between them. Any closer and he'd have to look up at the much taller man. "You have something to say, Detective?"

"You did that on purpose."

"What?"

"Provoked a fight. You knew that she had to attack you, or she'd never be convinced you were right."

"That's very perceptive of you, Detective." Henry studied the other man's face, not entirely certain of what he saw. "Are you going to tell her?"

"I haven't decided. But I'd like to ask you some?thing; what if you were wrong?"

Henry frowned. "Wrong?"

"From what I understand, this is something new in the history of ... uh ..."

"Vampires?"

Celluci flushed. "Yeah. Vampires. For the first time, two of you are face-to-face and not fighting over terri?tory because Vicki doesn't want your territory. What if you could've worked something out?" He spread his hands and stepped away from the door. "Now, you'll never know."

"Now, you'll never know."

The detective's words rang in his ears as Henry made his way down to his car. Vicki's scent remained a distraction, in the elevator, in the underground park?ing. It was the scent of another predator in his terri?tory. It was also the scent of a women he'd loved.

Unfortunately, instinct kept insisting they were two different people.

He slid into the BMW and rested his head for a moment on the steering wheel. The difference in the scent that surrounded him and in the scent he remem?bered only served to remind him of how much he'd lost.

It took all of his strength, gathered and refined for over four hundred and fifty years, to drive away.

Leaving another vampire in control of his territory.

Leaving Vicki.

Tony showed them quickly around the apartment, then pulled his roller blades and helmet out of the hall closet. "It's getting late and I, uh, gotta go." When Celluci's brows went up, he looked uncomfort?able and said, "I'm staying with friends. Henry thought it would be safer, since Vicki's not used to waking up to a blood scent."

"I'll still be here."

"Oh, yeah. I, uh, guess he figures you can take care of yourself."

"He's got it all figured out, doesn't he?" Celluci snorted. He watched Tony watch Vicki as she walked over to stand by the window and stare out at the city. It was the position Henry used to favor back in To?ronto, and Celluci could tell by the recognition on Tony's face that it was still a position Henry favored. Maybe it was just a vampire thing-surveying terri?tory, the hunter taking the high ground-but he hated it when Vicki reminded him of Henry.

"Henry's used to getting his own way."

It took a moment for Celluci to realize that Tony's quiet statement was a reply to his rhetorical question. Before he could think of a response, Vicki turned from the window.

"You will be here tomorrow sunset, won't you?" she asked, her preference clear.

Startled but pleased, Tony nodded. "If you're sure you want me."

"The last, and only time I was in Vancouver, I wasn't paying much attention to the city." Wasn't pay?ing much attention to anything except controlling the Hunger-she could remember the blood but little else. "If we're going to lay this spook, we're going to need someone who knows his way around."

"There's a whole bunch of street maps and stuff on the dining room table," he began, but Vicki cut him off.

"All a map'll tell us is where the streets are, not what they're about." She folded her arms and leaned back against the glass. "Unless that high school di?ploma came with a blindfold and earplugs, I can't be?lieve you don't know what's going on out there. You were my best eyes and ears on the street, Tony."

Although he still looked pleased, he shrugged apol?ogetically. "I'm not on the streets anymore."

"You still see things. You still hear things. And you have a gift for connecting the dots."

"For what?"

"For finding a pattern in apparent chaos."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Really."

Ears pink, he shoved aside the compliment, at?tempting, unsuccessfully, to hide how much it meant. "You want order out of chaos? Try being around Sat?urday afternoon when the Friday night videos come in. Look, I really gotta go, but I'll be back tomorrow sunset. A list of all the stupid questions Henry asked the spook's on the table with the maps. The number where I'll be staying and my work number's on the bulletin board by the phone. It's great to see you again, Victory." He grinned, and some of his old, street kid cockiness showed in the expression. "You, too, Detective."

He paused at the door, roller blades in one hand, helmet in the other, backpack hanging from one shoul?der. "Henry doesn't like me keeping much food around, but there's frozen stuff in the freezer and a little store downstairs on the parking level if you're hungry. He's open until midnight."

"Frozen stuff?" Vicki asked incredulously.

"Not for you, for Celluci." He snickered and closed the door.

Attempting to banish a vision of Red Cross blood bags, tagged and stacked and frozen solid, Vicki went back to the window and its view of the city. Of Hen?ry's territory.

"So." Celluci propped one thigh on the back of the sofa. "Care to tell me why all the buttering up?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Vicki, this is me. Cut the crap."

She shrugged without turning. "We need him. Tony knows the city. Knows more than we do, anyway."

"And?"

"And maybe I didn't want to lose him, too. Henry is ..."

"Different?"

"No. He hasn't changed, I have. I know how I used to feel about him-it's all there, but I can't reach it. Friend, lover; they're just words. When I look at him, they don't mean anything. Henry was right, Mike. He was right and I was wrong, and on top of everything else... " Her words took on a familiar emphasis. "On top of everything else, I hate being wrong."

Celluci touched the holes Vicki had made earlier in the green leather and decided not to mention his conversation with Henry.

Although his sunglasses blocked most of the light from oncoming traffic, Henry gladly turned off onto the unpaved access road and away from the constant irritation. Dropping his shades on the passenger seat, he leaned back and shook the tension out of his shoul?ders. He slowed slightly when, after a particularly vig?orous dip in the road, his oil pan gently scraped against a protruding piece of the mountain.

He'd bought the 1976 BMW new, had coddled it through the salted winters in Toronto, and had no interest in replacing it. Most Vancouverites seemed to share his attitude. Since moving to B.C. he'd been constantly astonished by the number of twenty-year-old cars on the road-many with the original paint job still factory fresh. These were cars that back East had hit the junkyards long ago or were maintained by lov?ing collectors but here, on the West Coast, were still being driven daily. Once or twice, while looking out at the city, Henry'd almost forgotten what decade it was.

He slowed still further as a raccoon, apparently in?different to tons of speeding steel, crossed his head?light beam in a stately waddle. Familiar with raccoons as urban animals, it surprised him to see this one so far out in the country. They were all over Vancouver, were tame enough in Stanley Park to beg for hand?outs, and Vicki'd even had a family of them living in the attic of her three-story apartment building in downtown Toronto.

Vicki.

He should've known his thoughts would eventually circle around to her.

What if you were wrong?

Now, you'll never know.

It's better this way. The steering wheel creaked under his grip. If I'd stayed and I'd lost control, I could have killed her.

Or she could've killed you, murmured a little voice in his head, reminding him that Vicki had already killed for territory during the short time she'd walked the night.

It had been a fight she shouldn't have won, not against an opponent so much older and more experi?enced. But then, Vicki excelled at turning conventions upside down.

Henry had been told, had believed, and had lived by the belief that, when the parent/child bond faded, vampires had no further contact with those they had changed. Vicki had used the conveniences of the twen?tieth century-the telephone, faxes, E-mail-to wipe out something he'd taken as a given for over four hundred and fifty years. She phoned him, she faxed him, she sent sarcastic monologues by E-mail, she re?mained in contact and didn't give a damn about what vampires did or did not do.

In spite of everything, because Vicki had refused to have it any other way, they'd remained friends.

"At a distance," he added, carefully easing the car down a rutted lane. "Physical proximity is something else again."

You maintained control, the little voice pointed out. You were angry, but that was all. It you hadn't pro?voked her, maybe, in spite of her youth, she could've maintained control as well. She believed that she could, and you know that with Vicki that's usually enough.

Now you'll never know.

"Shut up!" With a savage twist, Henry shut off the engine and sat staring out at the small cabin illumi?nated by his headlights. A pair of windows tucked up under the eaves seemed to stare mockingly back at him.

"What's done is done," he muttered, turning off the lights and stepping out into the night. He would stay at the cabin until Vicki had solved the case and, by removing himself to a new territory, would, at the very least, not disrupt her concentration. With innocent lives relying on her abilities, this was not the time to test traditional boundaries.

By appearing to him, the ghost had made him re?sponsible for the deaths it caused. Created Duke of Richmond and Somerset at six, Henry had been raised to take his responsibilities very seriously.

Celluci stepped out of the shower, into the towel Vicki held up for him, and sighed contentedly. "I needed that."

"I know." She flicked a drop of water up into his face. "You were beginning to get a little ripe."

"I thought you liked the way I smelled."

"You like the smell of leather, but you don't walk around with a cowhide up your nose." A fingertip traced damp circles in the hair around his navel as, eyes half closed, Vicki drew in a deep breath. "Trust me. You smell a lot more appetizing now."

He tried to catch her hand, but she easily avoided his grab. "Vicki, I really need a good night's sleep in a bed that isn't moving."

"So you want me to stop?"

He gasped as she widened the circle. "I didn't say that." A moment later, out in the hall, he dug in his heels and murmured, "Not in Fitzroy's bed." A moment after that, as Tony's bed rocked under their com?bined weight, he wrapped a hand around her jaw and moved her head away from his body. "If you bite it off," he growled, "you won't get to play with it any more."

Tony had the master bedroom and in the lights spill?ing in through the wall of glass that separated them from the city, Vicki could see as clearly as if the lights in the room were on. She slid out from under Celluci's arm and sat up, moving the pillows so that she could lean comfortably against the wall. "It's strange being here."

Celluci's "Why?" was a nearly inarticulate murmur as he rolled onto his side.

"Because I fought for the territory and lost, but Henry's the one who left." Drawing up her knees, she wrapped her arms around her lower legs and frowned out at the night. "I don't want this territory, but I feel like I've won it. Except that I didn't. Henry won. But I'm here. Is this making any sense?" She didn't bother waiting for a reply. "It feels like there's something missing, but I don't know what. It feels wrong, but I don't know what it needs to make it feel right. Oh, God." She let her head drop onto her knees. "I'm writing country music again. I hate it when that happens."

His breath warm against the skin of her hip, Celluci muttered something that might have been sarcastic.

"Mike?" She reached out to shake him, paused, hand in the air, and changed her mind. He needs to sleep. I'll just get dressed and take a quick look at what Vancouver has to offer.

But she didn't.

Fingers lightly stroking his hair, she wrapped up in the familiar comfort of his life and let the night go by without her in it.

"We have another match."

"So soon?" He frowned at the papers spread out over his desk, at the manicured symmetry of his fin?gernails, at the phone. He enjoyed working late, hav?ing the office to himself; usually, it meant he remained undisturbed. "Isn't that dangerous?"

"Dangerous? In what way?"

"In that it might lead to discovery."

"I've told you before, the timing is totally random. I have no control over when the matches occur. Either it happens, or it does not." The voice emerging from the tiny speaker managed to sound totally neutral about either option. "But if that new list you sent me is accurate ..."

"It should be. I paid enough for it."

"... then I have a young man on file who fits one of your prospects."

Drumming his fingers against the polished mahog?any, he weighed the options. "And you think he'll accept?"

"When approached the right way, they always accept."

"Yes, of course." He cut her off before she could say any more. He didn't want to know about the do?nors; they weren't his concern. "Very well, make him the offer. When he accepts, let me know immediately so I can begin negotiations with the buyer."

By the time dawn made its presence felt, Henry's car had been carefully locked away in the shed and all signs of his habitation had been erased from the exterior of the cabin. It was unlikely the day would bring company, but surviving for over four hundred and fifty years had taught caution first of all. Should anyone happen to wander down the narrow dirt track, the cabin would appear deserted. In Henry's opinion, he had less to fear from vandals than from neighbors; vandals seldom wandered so far from the beaten path.

With decks cantilevered out over the edge of a cliff, the cabin managed to be both isolated and directly above a food supply. While the friend who owned the property complained bitterly about how the Valley Breeze Family Resort had lowered property values in the area, Henry personally appreciated the view. Every pastel cabin nestled at the foot of the cliff held at least one meal.

"And why shouldn't I have a couple of weeks in the country?" he asked himself grimly as he locked the porch.

Because you're a vampire. Because this is not your territory. Because another vampire hunts in your terri?tory. Because Michael Celluci might be right....

"And that... " Teeth snapped shut around the words. ". . . is exactly why I'm staying where I am."

It was a petty resolution-he'd long grown past the need to lie to himself-but it effectively derailed the circling arguments.

The walk-in closet off the master bedroom had, un?fortunately, been lined with cedar. Breathing shallowly through his mouth, wishing he'd brought some of Tony's laundry to cut the scent, Henry secured the door with a piece of two-by-one and lay down on the camp cot he'd set up earlier. As an added precaution, he'd draped a theatrical blackout curtain over the gar?ment rack to fall around the cot like an opaque mos?quito net.

The last time he'd spent the day in a closet had been right after the death and disappearance of Vicki's mother. Then, as now, he'd made it as risk free as possible.

All at once he frowned, trying to remember the last risk he'd taken.

He was vampire.

Nightwalker.

Prince of Darkness.

So why did life suddenly seem so middle class? So safe and bland?

Every risk he'd taken in the last few years could be directly linked to Vicki Nelson.

The bedding had been changed, but Henry's scent still coated the room. Instinct battled the need for sanctuary, and need won although her hands were shaking as she bolted the door. This wasn't the first time Vicki'd spent the day in another's sanctuary, but as her last experience had occurred right after she'd used a bank of tanning lights to turn the previous occupant into charred bone and ash, she didn't feel she had much basis for comparison.

The memories Henry's scent evoked warred with the reactions instinctive to her, to their, nature. She attempted to calm the latter by thoroughly searching the room.

"See?" It took an effort, but she kept her voice low-there was no point, after all, in yelling at her own subconscious. "There's no one here. No one in the closet. No little tiny competitor in the drawers. No one under the bed."

With sunrise reaching out for her, she put the bed down and slid between the sheets. Listening for the comforting sound of Celluci's heartbeat, she...

Celluci slept soundly until just after eleven and stayed in bed for another hour after that because he could. In spite of Henry Fitzroy, this was his vacation. When he finally got up, his head throbbed and he ached in places he couldn't remember using. A com?fortable bed seemed to have given the four nights of abuse on the road a chance to catch up.

Another long hot shower helped.

The coffeemaker and coffee he found on top of the fridge helped more.

"You want to bring North America to a stop?" he snorted as the aroma began to fill the kitchen. "Kid?nap Juan Valdez."

He filled a mug from a Seattle PBS station, lifted the stack of newspapers out of the recycling box, and carried everything into the living room where he made himself comfortable in one of the two huge leather armchairs.

The sooner they got rid of the ghost, the sooner he and Vicki could spend some time actually vacationing. At the very least-the sooner they could go home.

"And where there's a ghost," he muttered, snapping open the oldest of the papers, "somewhere, there's got to be a body.

Cedar?

It took a moment for Henry to realize where he was. When he did, he grimaced. Up until this moment, cedar had been a scent he'd enjoyed. "No wonder moths stay away from this stuff."

Awakening hadn't brought new insight. The mortal mind might find solutions during sleep but, with eter?nity before them, vampires were forced to deal with their problems night after night. During the day, their subconscious minds shut off with everything else.

Even before he extracted himself from the folds of the blackout curtain, Henry knew his problem hadn't changed. Anger propelling him up and off the cot, he pulled the chain that turned on the closet light.

With so little space, they were nose-to-nose.

Eyes watering in the sudden glare, Henry snarled, "Are you following me?"

The ghost silently disappeared.