Blood Debt by Tanya Huff Read Free Book Online Page B

the most beautiful scenery in the world were going to make an impression until he had a piss and a coffee.
    â€œHe’ll be there.”
    â€œWhat makes you so sure?”
    â€œI told him not to leave.”
    Should’ve seen that coming
, he muttered silently, following Vicki to the van. He caught her wrist as she lifted her hand to rub the back of her neck. “Did it ever occur to you that Henry Fitzroy knows better than you do what it means to be a vampire?”
    She turned within his grip although they both knew she could have easily broken it. “Maybe he does, but Henry Fitzroy doesn’t know what it means to be me, and I’m not buying into his territorial imperative crap.”
    Because he could see the doubt in her eyes, he let it go. They’d find out soon enough.
    When he heard the bolts shoot back and the front barrier move, Celluci threw the last of his burger to a gull patrolling the strip mall parking lot and rolled up the window. He couldn’t see anyone in earshot, but the last thing they needed was an eavesdropper.
    The silver of her eyes flecked with lingering gold from the setting sun, Vicki’s gaze swept past him. “Where are we?
    â€œCariboo Street, east end of the city. I thought you’d like to be awake when we arrived.”
    Vicki stared out the front window, across Vancouver, toward the ocean, toward Henry Fitzroy. Then she looked at Mike Celluci,
really
looked at him.
    He had the strangest sensation that no one had ever seen him so clearly, and he could feel himself beginning to sweat. Just when he thought he couldn’t stand another minute of it, she smiled, reached out, and brushed the long curl of hair off his face.
    â€œThanks. That’s pretty perceptive for a guy who tapes
Baywatch
.”

Three
    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 accusation 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.
    â€œMan, 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?”
    â€œFeel it?” Tony snorted, covering his fear with bravado. “I could almost see the waves of pissed-offedness radiating out from your room. I just, you know, wondered if you were okay.”
    â€œI’m fine. It can’t actually affect me.”
    â€œUh-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 Saturday evenings?”
    Tony took a deep breath, lifted his chin, and met Henry’s gaze square on. “I traded shifts,” he announced defiantly. “So I could be here when Vicki arrived.”
    Red-gold brows rose. “To protect her from me?”
    â€œMaybe.” Expecting anger, and knowing how dangerous that anger could be, Tony would have preferred 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, anything at all, don’t