Blood Debt by Tanya Huff Page A

appeared to have been upholstered in raw silk. The overlapping carpets were Persian. Artwork, two dimensional and three, had been arranged for effect. Number 1409 looked like it had been decorated for the benefit of photographers from
Vancouver Life Magazine
.
    â€œI didn’t think people actually lived like this.” Turning her back on the splendors of the living room, Vicki started down the hall. “Do you think the rest of the place is the same?”
    A pair of concrete Chinese temple dogs guarded a huge basket of dried roses in one corner of the master bedroom. One end of the king-sized bed had been stacked with about fifty pillows in various shapes and shades. The silk moire duvet cover matched the wallpaper. The drapes, although the same fabric, were several shades darker.
    â€œThis room probably cost as much as my whole house,” Celluci muttered.
    â€œCertainly classier than the Holiday Inn,” Vicki agreed, stepping back into the hall and opening the door to the smallest of the three bedrooms. “Oh, my God.” She froze in the doorway. “I can’t stay in this.”
    Celluci peered over her shoulder and started to laugh.
    A huge doll, with a pink-and-white crocheted skirt, sat in the middle of the pink satin bedspread. The pink frilly bedskirt matched the pink frilly curtains which complemented the pink frills on the pale pink armchair tucked into a corner. The dresser and the trunk at the foot of the bed were antique white. The bed itself was the most ornate brass monstrosity either of them had ever seen, covered in curlicues and enameled flowers, with a giant heart in the center of both the head and footboard.
    Laughing too hard to stand, Celluci collapsed against the wall clutching his stomach. “The thought,” he began, looked from Vicki to the bed, and couldn’t finish.
    â€œThe thought . . .” A second attempt got no further than the first.
    â€œWhat’s the matter, chuckles? Can’t handle the thought of a vampire in such feminine surroundings?”
    â€œVicki . . .” Wiping his streaming eyes with one hand, he waved the other into the room. “. . . I can’t handle the thought of
you
in these surroundings. I hadn’t even started thinking about the other.”
    Her lips twitched. “It does look like it’s been decorated by Polly Pocket, doesn’t it?”
    A few moments later, Tony found them sitting shoulder-to-shoulder on the hall floor, wearing the expressions of people who’ve nearly laughed themselves sick. “No one answered when I knocked,” he explained. “What’s so funny?”
    Vicki nodded toward the room and gasped, “A pink plastic crypt that fits in the palm of your hand.”
    â€œYeah. Okay.” He glanced inside, shrugged, and looked back down at the two of them. “I have no idea of what you’re talking about, but the stuff to block the window’s outside. Henry thought it would be best if he didn’t come in. You know, keeping his scent out.”
    Braced against the wall, Vicki got to her feet, extended a hand down to Celluci, and stopped herself just before she lifted him effortlessly upright—displays of strength bothered him more than anything else. When she noticed Tony watching her and realized he understood what she’d done, she clenched her teeth in irritation. “This is not a case of a woman being less than she can to save the machismo of some man,” she growled. “This is a person making a compromise for someone she cares about.”
    Tony backed up, both hands raised. “I didn’t say anything.”
    â€œI could hear you thinking.”
    As she stomped by him, Tony glanced over at Celluci. “Has she always been that moody?”
    Celluci ignored him. “What machismo?” he demanded following her down the hall. “What the hell are you talking about?”
    Tony sighed, “Never