better than an hour to eat.
Soup of the day was beef barley. He stared down into the bowl and remembered all the meals he and Vicki had eaten together, all the gallons of coffee, all the stale sandwiches grabbed on the run. All at once, the thought that they'd never again go out for dim sum, or chicken paprikas, or even order in a pizza while they watched Hockey Night in Canada left him feeling incredibly depressed.
"Is there something wrong with the soup?" A middle-aged woman in a spotless white apron peered down at him with some concern from behind the counter.
"The, uh, the soup's fine."
"Glad to hear it. It don't come out of a can, you know. I make it myself." When he couldn't find an immediate response, she shook her head and sighed. "Come on, buddy, cheer up. You look like you've lost your best friend."
Celluci frowned. He hadn't exactly lost her. Vicki remained everything to him she ever had been, except a dinner companion and weighed against the rest that shouldn't mean much. But, right now, it did. I thought I'd dealt with this…
He barely noticed when the waitress took the empty bowl away and replaced it with a platter of steak and home fries.
Vampire, Nightwalker, Nosferatu—Vicki was no longer human.
Granted, she'd made a commitment to him in a way she'd never been able to before the change, but, given immortality, how important could the few years of his life be?
The rhubarb pie tasted like sawdust and he left half of it on the plate.
Shoulders hunched and hands shoved into his jacket pockets, he headed back across the parking lot toward the van. Vaguely aware he was wallowing in self-pity, he couldn't seem to stop.
When the van's engine roared into life, it took him completely by surprise. Standing three feet from the front bumper, Celluci stared through a fine film of bug bodies smeared over the windshield and into the smug face of a young man in his late teens or early twenties.
He didn't realize what was happening until the young man backed the van away from him, cranked the steering wheel around, and laid rubber all the way out to the highway.
The van was being stolen.
Instinct sent him racing after it, but halfway across the parking lot, the fact he didn't have a chance of catching up penetrated and he rocked to a halt. He checked his watch. 8:27.
Vicki would be awake in three minutes.
She'd know immediately that something was wrong, that he wasn't driving. She'd pull open the partition behind the seats .
… and their young car thief was about to be in for one hell of a surprise.
Watching the grimy back end of the stolen van disappear into the sunset down a secondary road, Celluci started to laugh. His only regret was that he wouldn't be there to see that punk's face when Vicki woke up. He was still laughing when the waitress met him at the door of the restaurant, a worried frown creasing the smooth curves of her face.
"Wasn't that your van?"
"It was." He grinned down at her, feeling better than he had in hours.
"Would you like to use our phone to call the police?"
"No, thank you. But I would like another piece of that delicious rhubarb pie."
Completely confused, she followed him across the restaurant and watched wide-eyed as he dropped onto a counter stool. She shook her head as he looked at his watch and snickered. He'd seemed like such a nice man and although she was glad to see that whatever had been bothering him obviously wasn't bothering him any longer, she couldn't understand his attitude. "But what about your van?"
The corners of Celluci's mouth curved up as he reached for a fork.
"It'll be back."
Something was wrong.
Vicki lay in the darkness and sifted through sounds and scents and sensation.
The van was still moving. Celluci had insisted, for safety's sake, they be parked at least half an hour before sunrise and sunset.
Somehow, considering the completely unnecessary fuss he'd made over it, Vicki doubted he'd changed his mind. Either he'd lost his little book,
Soup of the day was beef barley. He stared down into the bowl and remembered all the meals he and Vicki had eaten together, all the gallons of coffee, all the stale sandwiches grabbed on the run. All at once, the thought that they'd never again go out for dim sum, or chicken paprikas, or even order in a pizza while they watched Hockey Night in Canada left him feeling incredibly depressed.
"Is there something wrong with the soup?" A middle-aged woman in a spotless white apron peered down at him with some concern from behind the counter.
"The, uh, the soup's fine."
"Glad to hear it. It don't come out of a can, you know. I make it myself." When he couldn't find an immediate response, she shook her head and sighed. "Come on, buddy, cheer up. You look like you've lost your best friend."
Celluci frowned. He hadn't exactly lost her. Vicki remained everything to him she ever had been, except a dinner companion and weighed against the rest that shouldn't mean much. But, right now, it did. I thought I'd dealt with this…
He barely noticed when the waitress took the empty bowl away and replaced it with a platter of steak and home fries.
Vampire, Nightwalker, Nosferatu—Vicki was no longer human.
Granted, she'd made a commitment to him in a way she'd never been able to before the change, but, given immortality, how important could the few years of his life be?
The rhubarb pie tasted like sawdust and he left half of it on the plate.
Shoulders hunched and hands shoved into his jacket pockets, he headed back across the parking lot toward the van. Vaguely aware he was wallowing in self-pity, he couldn't seem to stop.
When the van's engine roared into life, it took him completely by surprise. Standing three feet from the front bumper, Celluci stared through a fine film of bug bodies smeared over the windshield and into the smug face of a young man in his late teens or early twenties.
He didn't realize what was happening until the young man backed the van away from him, cranked the steering wheel around, and laid rubber all the way out to the highway.
The van was being stolen.
Instinct sent him racing after it, but halfway across the parking lot, the fact he didn't have a chance of catching up penetrated and he rocked to a halt. He checked his watch. 8:27.
Vicki would be awake in three minutes.
She'd know immediately that something was wrong, that he wasn't driving. She'd pull open the partition behind the seats .
… and their young car thief was about to be in for one hell of a surprise.
Watching the grimy back end of the stolen van disappear into the sunset down a secondary road, Celluci started to laugh. His only regret was that he wouldn't be there to see that punk's face when Vicki woke up. He was still laughing when the waitress met him at the door of the restaurant, a worried frown creasing the smooth curves of her face.
"Wasn't that your van?"
"It was." He grinned down at her, feeling better than he had in hours.
"Would you like to use our phone to call the police?"
"No, thank you. But I would like another piece of that delicious rhubarb pie."
Completely confused, she followed him across the restaurant and watched wide-eyed as he dropped onto a counter stool. She shook her head as he looked at his watch and snickered. He'd seemed like such a nice man and although she was glad to see that whatever had been bothering him obviously wasn't bothering him any longer, she couldn't understand his attitude. "But what about your van?"
The corners of Celluci's mouth curved up as he reached for a fork.
"It'll be back."
Something was wrong.
Vicki lay in the darkness and sifted through sounds and scents and sensation.
The van was still moving. Celluci had insisted, for safety's sake, they be parked at least half an hour before sunrise and sunset.
Somehow, considering the completely unnecessary fuss he'd made over it, Vicki doubted he'd changed his mind. Either he'd lost his little book,
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