right there, or I'll shoot."
"I don't think so." She took another step.
The holy water hit her full in the face. He was a good shot, she had to give him that—although under the circumstances, there wasn't much chance of him missing the target that mattered. Wiping the water from her eyes, she growled, "If this is how you plan to kill me, there's a flaw in the plan."
Appalled that the water hadn't had its intended effect, he recovered quickly. Throwing the plastic pistol onto the sofa, he reached down beside him and brought up a rough-hewn wooden stake. "The water was only intended to slow you down. This is what I'll kill you with."
Celluci cursed and began to struggle again.
The man with the gun ignored him, merely keeping the muzzle pressed tight into his face.
Vicki had no idea of how much damage she could take and survive but a stake through the heart had to count as a mortal wound, especially since he seemed to be the type to finish the job with a beheading and a mouthful of garlic. "What happens after I'm dead?"
"After?" He looked confused. "Then you'll be dead. And it'll be over." He checked his watch. "Less than five hours."
Desperately trying to remember everything she'd ever learned about defusing a hostage situation, Vicki took a deep breath and spread her arms, trying to appear as nonthreatening as possible. "Since we're going to be together for those five hours," she said quietly, forcing her lips down over her teeth, "why don't you explain why you've decided to kill me? I've never hurt you."
"You don't remember me, do you?"
"Not remember as such, no." She could tell that she'd fed from him and how long ago, but that was all.
"Do you spread your evil over so many?"
"What evil?" Vicki asked, trying to keep her tone level. It wasn't easy when all she could think of was rushing forward and ripping the hand holding the gun right off the end of his arm.
"You are evil by existing!" Tears glimmered against his lower lids and spilled over to vanish in his beard. "You mock their deaths by not dying."
"The Three of Swords sets an atmosphere of loss."
"Whose deaths?"
"My Angela, my Sandi."
Vicki exchanged a puzzled look with Celluci. "Whoever they are, I'm sorry for your loss, but I didn't kill them."
"Of course you didn't kill them." He had to swallow sobs before he could go on. In spite of his anguish, the hand holding the gun never wavered. "It was a car accident. They died and were buried, and now the worms devour their flesh. But you!" His voice rose to a shriek. "You live on, mocking their death with infinity. You will never die." Drawing in a long shuddering breath, he checked his watch again. "God sent you to me and gave me the power to resist you, so I could kill you and set things right."
"God doesn't work that way," Celluci objected.
His smile was almost beatific. "Mine does."
Uncertain of where to go next, Vicki was astonished to hear footsteps stop outside her door. A soft touch eased it open just enough for a breath to pass through.
"Nightwalker, his name is James Wause."
Then the footsteps went away again.
There was power in a name. Power enough to reach through the madness? Vicki didn't know, but it was their only chance. She let the Hunger rise again, this time let it push away the masks of civilization, and when she spoke, her voice had all the primal cadences of a storm.
"James Wause."
He jerked and shook his head. "No."
She caught his gaze with hers, saw the silver reflected in the dilated pupils as his madness kept her out, then saw it abruptly vanish as she called his name again, and it gave her the key to the locked places inside. The cards had said she couldn't reason with him, so she stopped trying. She called his name a third and final time. When he crumpled forward, she caught him. When he lifted his chin, she brought her teeth down to his throat.
"Vicki."
There was power in a name.
But his blood throbbed warm and red beneath his skin, and sobbing in a combination of
"I don't think so." She took another step.
The holy water hit her full in the face. He was a good shot, she had to give him that—although under the circumstances, there wasn't much chance of him missing the target that mattered. Wiping the water from her eyes, she growled, "If this is how you plan to kill me, there's a flaw in the plan."
Appalled that the water hadn't had its intended effect, he recovered quickly. Throwing the plastic pistol onto the sofa, he reached down beside him and brought up a rough-hewn wooden stake. "The water was only intended to slow you down. This is what I'll kill you with."
Celluci cursed and began to struggle again.
The man with the gun ignored him, merely keeping the muzzle pressed tight into his face.
Vicki had no idea of how much damage she could take and survive but a stake through the heart had to count as a mortal wound, especially since he seemed to be the type to finish the job with a beheading and a mouthful of garlic. "What happens after I'm dead?"
"After?" He looked confused. "Then you'll be dead. And it'll be over." He checked his watch. "Less than five hours."
Desperately trying to remember everything she'd ever learned about defusing a hostage situation, Vicki took a deep breath and spread her arms, trying to appear as nonthreatening as possible. "Since we're going to be together for those five hours," she said quietly, forcing her lips down over her teeth, "why don't you explain why you've decided to kill me? I've never hurt you."
"You don't remember me, do you?"
"Not remember as such, no." She could tell that she'd fed from him and how long ago, but that was all.
"Do you spread your evil over so many?"
"What evil?" Vicki asked, trying to keep her tone level. It wasn't easy when all she could think of was rushing forward and ripping the hand holding the gun right off the end of his arm.
"You are evil by existing!" Tears glimmered against his lower lids and spilled over to vanish in his beard. "You mock their deaths by not dying."
"The Three of Swords sets an atmosphere of loss."
"Whose deaths?"
"My Angela, my Sandi."
Vicki exchanged a puzzled look with Celluci. "Whoever they are, I'm sorry for your loss, but I didn't kill them."
"Of course you didn't kill them." He had to swallow sobs before he could go on. In spite of his anguish, the hand holding the gun never wavered. "It was a car accident. They died and were buried, and now the worms devour their flesh. But you!" His voice rose to a shriek. "You live on, mocking their death with infinity. You will never die." Drawing in a long shuddering breath, he checked his watch again. "God sent you to me and gave me the power to resist you, so I could kill you and set things right."
"God doesn't work that way," Celluci objected.
His smile was almost beatific. "Mine does."
Uncertain of where to go next, Vicki was astonished to hear footsteps stop outside her door. A soft touch eased it open just enough for a breath to pass through.
"Nightwalker, his name is James Wause."
Then the footsteps went away again.
There was power in a name. Power enough to reach through the madness? Vicki didn't know, but it was their only chance. She let the Hunger rise again, this time let it push away the masks of civilization, and when she spoke, her voice had all the primal cadences of a storm.
"James Wause."
He jerked and shook his head. "No."
She caught his gaze with hers, saw the silver reflected in the dilated pupils as his madness kept her out, then saw it abruptly vanish as she called his name again, and it gave her the key to the locked places inside. The cards had said she couldn't reason with him, so she stopped trying. She called his name a third and final time. When he crumpled forward, she caught him. When he lifted his chin, she brought her teeth down to his throat.
"Vicki."
There was power in a name.
But his blood throbbed warm and red beneath his skin, and sobbing in a combination of
Similar Books
