Read Blood Pact for Free Online Page B

dust four hundred years ago. I am not letting you have her.”

    "I think that should be her choice, not yours.”

    "Well, she's not going to choose you!" Celluci slammed his fist down onto the table. A precariously balanced stack of books trembled at the impact and a small brown address book fell onto the answering machine.

    The tape jerked into motion.

    "Ms. Nelson? It's Mrs. Shaw again. I'm so sorry to bother you, but your mother's body has been moved over to the General Hospital. We thought you should know in case . . . well, in case . . . I expect you're on your way. Oh, dear . . . It's ten o'clock, April ninth, Monday morning. Please let us know if there's anything we can do to help.”

    Celluci stared down at the rewinding tape and then up at Henry. "Her mother's body," he repeated. Henry nodded.

    "So now we know where she is.”

    "If this call came in at ten, we can assume she got the original call about nine. She didn't tell you . . .”

    Celluci broke off and pushed the curl of hair back out of his eyes. "No, of course, she couldn't, you'd be . . . asleep. She didn't leave a message?”

    "No. Tony saw her boarding the 10:40 train for Kingston so she must have left the apartment just before that call. She didn't leave a message for you either?”

    "No." Celluci sighed and sat back on the edge of the table. "I'm getting just a little tired of this 'I can handle everything myself'
    attitude of hers.’”

    Henry nodded again. I thought we'd gone beyond this, she and I. "You and me both.”

    "Don't get me wrong, her strength is one of the things I . . .”

    The pause was barely perceptible. A mortal might have missed it. Henry didn't. Well, he's hardly going to tell me he loves her.

    ". . . admire about her, but," his expression seemed more weary than admiring, "there's a difference between strength and . . .”

    "Fear of intimacy," Henry offered.

    Celluci snorted. "Yeah." He reached behind him for the address book. "Well, she's just going to have to put up with a little fucking intimacy because I'm not going to let her stand alone in this." The binding barely managed to survive the force of his search.
    "Here it is, under M for Mother. Christ, her filing system . . ." Then, suddenly, he remembered who he was talking to. He wasn't, however, prepared for how fast Henry could move, didn't, in fact, see Henry move.

    Henry looked down at the address and handed the book back to the detective. "I assume I'll see you in Kingston," he said and headed for the door.

    "Hey!”

    He turned.

    "I thought you couldn't leave your coffin?”

    "You watch too many bad movies, Detective.”

    Celluci bristled. "You've still got to be under cover by dawn. I can see to it that you aren't. One phone call to the OPP and you'll be in a holding cell at sunrise.”

    "You won't do that, Detective." Henry's voice was mild as he caught Celluci's gaze with his own and let the patina of civilization drop. He played with the mortal's reaction for a moment and then, almost reluctantly, released him. "You won't do it," he continued in the same tone, "for the same reason I don't use the power I have on you. She wouldn't like it." Smiling urbanely, he inclined his head in a parody of a polite bow. "Good night, Detective.”

    Celluci stared at the closed door and fought to keep from trembling. Patches of sweat spread out under each arm and his palms, pressed hard against the table, were damp. It wasn't the fear that unnerved him. He'd dealt with fear before, knew he could conquer it.
    It was the urge to bare his throat that had him so shaken, the knowledge that in another instant he would have placed his life in Henry Fitzroy's hands.

    "Goddamnit, Vicki." The hoarse whisper barely shredded the silence. "You are playing with fucking fire. . . .”

    "Geez, Cathy, why'd you bring them? ”

    “I thought they could carry the body.”

    "Oh." Donald stepped back as Catherine helped two shambling figures out of the back of the van. "The