Dark Changeling Part 19

"Watch your step," Sandor said, his clawed fingers stroking Britt's chin. "Surely you don't think you could get to me before I could rip open her jugular?"

Roger read fear in Britt's aura, but she gave no outward sign of it. "You don't need her. I'll vouch for her silence, and we don't want the distraction."

"Oh, yes, we do," Sandor grinned. "She's just what I needed to complete this little party-a hostage for your good behavior. She means something to you, doesn't she?"

Roger cursed himself for so obviously revealing his concern for Britt. "What do you have in mind?"

Sandor glanced up at the sky and back toward the silent office buildings. "Getting out of this exposed spot, to start with." He turned and hustled Britt ahead of him into the pine grove. Roger followed. Sandor shoved Britt down on a bench and sat beside her, giving her arms a gratuitous wrench at the same time. She set her jaw and didn't accommodate him with so much as a whimper.

His right hand still lingering on her neck, Sandor said, "Now that we're more comfortable, we can have a little refreshment and talk over our differences."

Britt's face lit up with amazement that momentarily can-celed her fear. If they ever got out of this, Roger didn't know how he could possibly deal with her. "Look, Sandor, I don't want-"

"Don't give me that, Darvell. I can sense your thirst the same way you sense mine."

What Roger felt emanating from the murderer, though, was not simple appet.i.te like his own, but a violent l.u.s.t that revolted him. He said wearily to Britt, "Now are you convinced? You won't get immortality from this sociopath; you'll get yourself killed."

"I'm convinced of that," she said, her voice steady, "but not that he's typical of the breed."

"Quiet!" Sandor tightened his grip on her wrists, not forget-ting to watch Roger. He favored Britt with a caricature of a smile. "So you want the vampire's kiss? I haven't had one like you in a long time. It'll be my pleasure to grant your desire-and you'll sure as h.e.l.l get more from me than from the fangless freak, here." In fact, Sandor didn't have fangs, either, except in his trans-formed shape, but the insult registered loud and clear.

Beyond caring what the renegade said to or about him, Roger interrupted, "Will you stop wasting time? I came here to negotiate, not-" He couldn't say it, not about Britt.

"Right. What kind of deal are you offering?"

"The only deal I'll make with you is that you get out of my territory-right now. If you leave this county-no, better make that the state of Maryland and the D.C. suburbs-I won't pursue."

Sanders barked a laugh. "Don't you think I can see when you're lying? The only way I can be safe from you is to make sure you're in as deep as I am. Now, you listen to my terms. We're going to become partners. And you'll start by sharing this one with me."

The image of Britt writhing in the outlaw's clutches, blood spurting from her torn throat, hit Roger like a blow to the pit of the stomach. He struggled to mask his reaction from the enemy.

"You want it, Darvell-why don't you admit that?" Sandor's fiery eyes flicked repeatedly from Roger to Britt and back again.

"You've been wanting this one for a long time. Well, you can just wait your turn." He drew a curved fingernail down the side of her neck. She winced as a thread of blood, luminous with life-energy, bloomed on her fair skin.

A pang of yearning pierced through Roger's outrage. Britt's eyes met his for an instant, and he thanked G.o.d that he saw no fear of himself there.

"You can work up an appet.i.te watching," Sandor continued. "I could make her want it, too-make her beg me for it. But I'm not going to cloud her mind. She'll feel everything when I bite into her. If you've never taken one fighting and screaming, you haven't lived. Believe me, after you've watched that, you'll be ready."

Roger's long-denied desire to possess Britt, not in terror but in mutual pa.s.sion, surged up, to be swamped by the fear and an-ger that washed over him in frigid waves. Britt, thoroughly frightened now, leaped to her feet. Sandor shoved her down with casual roughness.

Roger was amazed at the intensity of his own rage. The worst, he thought, was the subtext of that emotion-not a chivalrous, "Unhand that damsel, you cad," but a predator's roar of, "Hands off-she's mine!" Forgetting diplomacy, he lunged at Sandor.

The vampire jerked Britt to his chest, facing him, and placed his bared teeth against the side of her neck. Roger saw her cringe, her face twisting with disgust. "Not another inch, Darvell."

Roger stepped back. Britt tamed her revulsion and said quietly, "You don't have to go through all that-what's your name?"

"Call me Neil." His hand still encircled her throat, but not so tightly.

"You were right, Neil, I do want intercourse with a vampire. A real one." Sandor shot Roger a triumphant glance. Did his egoism blind him so thoroughly he couldn't penetrate Britt's insincerity? Good-but Roger doubted her fake submission could disarm Sandor enough to tip the balance their way. "Give me a chance to experience it to the fullest," she purred. "I'm ready to cooperate here and now."

With another gloating look at Roger, Sandor said, "Don't even think of interfering. How long I let her live is entirely up to you."

Roger could scarcely keep himself from rus.h.i.+ng the killer, against all reason.

"One thing I'd really like, if you don't mind," Britt said, leaning pliantly against Sandor. "Change back into that-what-ever it was.

Giving you my blood would be so much more thril-ling that way."

The breathy appeal was so foreign to the real Britt that Roger wondered how Sandor could be deceived by it. Volnar must have been right about the renegade's defective empathic power. What was she up to? Under her fascinated gaze, the vampire did begin to flow out of human shape. Roger suddenly thought of the ogre in "Puss in Boots," devoured when he let himself be flattered into becoming a mouse. But Sandor's alter-nate form had no such weakness.

Wait-didn't it? Seeing the silver-gray wings overshadow Britt, Roger recalled what Sylvia had told him the first time he'd seen her transform. When the molecules were in flux, a vampire was abnormally vulnerable. The wings, in particular, were hyper-sensitive.

How could he use the knowledge, though? Sandor was still watching Roger out of the corner of his eye, while mouthing Britt's throat. Apparently intent on prolonging the suspense, he hadn't yet bitten her. He did, however, relax enough to let go of her arms, instead grasping her around the waist.

"Beautiful," Britt murmured. "I never dreamed of anything like you." Her slender hands crept up over his shoulders, cares-singly skimmed over his temples and cheeks. A low growl rumbled in Sandor's chest. Nauseated, Roger ordered himself not to look away. Britt was fighting to give him an opening.

Her body molded itself to Sandor's. Then her thumbs dug into his eye sockets. At the same instant, she rammed a knee into his groin.

Roger could have told her that wouldn't disable Sandor. With undescended t.e.s.t.i.c.l.es, a vampire wasn't sensitive in that spot like a human male. However, the shock of the double attack broke the outlaw's hold on Britt. Roger charged at Sandor, at the same time as Britt fell to her knees and rolled out of the way.

Sandor's claws slashed at Roger's right arm. Springing backward, Roger suddenly thought of the rosary in his s.h.i.+rt pocket. He pulled it out and thrust it toward the other vampire.

To his surprise, the enemy actually retreated. "Halfbreed sc.u.m-using human weapons!"

"Your crimes give all of us a bad name." Roger heard the rasp of his own breathing as well as Sandor's. A crimson haze blurred his vision.

"'Crime' to you and the rest of Volnar's tame dogs! You think he holds himself to those rules?" Reaching behind him, Sandor ripped a branch off the nearest tree. He swiped at Roger, knocking the rosary to the ground.

Roger attacked Sandor empty-handed. Slipping on the pine needles underfoot, they grappled, Roger struggling to keep his antagonist's claws and teeth away from his neck. Though Sandor's wings quivered with the strain, Roger saw at once that the other vampire was stronger than he. A purely defensive strategy stood no chance.

His peripheral vision glimpsed Britt on her knees, groping on the ground. d.a.m.n-if only her eyes could handle the dark like his.

Roger focused on Sandor, well aware of the danger of getting distracted a second time. The s.h.i.+mmering wings seemed to mock him.

The wings. Roger relaxed the pressure of his hands, throwing Sandor off balance for a second. As the killer, with a growl of triumph, closed the gap between them, Roger grabbed both wings near the shoulder blades and crumpled the delicate membrane in his fists.

Sandor let out an agonized howl. Roger was vaguely aware of Britt jumping up, the rosary clutched in her hand. She jabbed it at Sandor's chest. The vampire collapsed, stunned, on the ground.

Staring down at him, Roger noticed a second-degree burn where the crucifix had branded the flesh.

Britt gulped a few breaths and said in a shaky voice, "Interesting psychosomatic effect."

Roger's chest ached from the exertion. He, too, had to catch his breath before he could ask whether she was all right. At the moment he didn't trust his perceptions."Sure," Britt said. "I knew that book on how to survive rape would come in handy someday. What do we do now?"

Roger eyed the prostrate vampire, who had resumed human form as soon as the cross had touched him. Sandor's legs jerked.

"Get back!" Roger ordered Britt, plucking the rosary from her hand.

Sandor struggled to his feet. Roger thrust the crucifix at him. Sandor's lips curled in a snarl. Lurching backward, he s.h.i.+fted from human to winged form and back again like a time-lapse special effect. He seemed weak, disoriented. One good blow should knock him out, and then- Roger lunged for the wounded vampire. Sandor spread his wings once more and rose straight into the air. A lupine howl keened from his throat as he vanished above the trees.

Roger staggered to the bench, dropping the rosary, and sat down. "d.a.m.n! I botched it-if I'd followed through right away, instead of a.s.suming he was disabled-" Roger recognized the source of his vacillation. If he'd captured Sandor, he would have had to decide what to do with him. Both turning him over to the police and killing him in cold blood presented difficulties Roger wasn't ready to deal with. "I thought I could handle him on my own. I was wrong."

"Your eyes," Britt whispered. "You both have the same eyes."

"Does that frighten you?"

Britt sat beside him. "Of course not. Don't you give me credit for being able to tell the difference between you andthat ?"

The tightness in his chest eased. "You understand why I didn't want to satisfy your curiosity?" He dared to meet her eyes.

They remained steady. "You can count on my silence."

"I trust your discretion implicitly."

Britt flashed him a grateful smile. "I wanted to meet a vampire, and now I've met two-one of whom I've been working with for over a month. I won't do anything to spoil that." She radiated no fear now; her eyes gleamed with excitement, and her cheeks were flushed.She glows from the inside out, Roger thought.

"That b.a.s.t.a.r.d hurt you." His fingertips hovered near the mark on her neck without quite touching.

"Oh, that? Just a scratch. Doesn't even sting."

"Still, you'd better get it cleaned as soon as possible."

He realized her smile had died as she gazed intently at him. "Roger, are you all right?"

"What do you mean, me?" When her fingers brushed his right arm, he looked down and noticed for the first time that Sandor's initial claw-swipe had connected. On Roger's forearm a long gash still dripped blood. He swayed under a surge of dizziness.

Britt's voice, sounding a long distance away, said, "Lie down before you pa.s.s out."

He obeyed. Instead of moving to make room for him, Britt took his head into her lap. He felt her hand fumbling in his hip pocket to extract his handkerchief, which she pressed to the wound.

Recalling one of the techniques Volnar had conveyed to him during their telepathic link, Roger turned his attention inward, focusing on the laceration. He visualized the blood flow receding, platelets teeming to fill the gash, the skin drawing together. The pain faded.

His head clearing, Roger hastily sat up and removed Britt's hand from his arm. She stared in fascination at the wound, which now looked half-healed. "Thank G.o.d that's over," he muttered, rubbing his eyes.

Britt didn't even look tired. "Speaking of G.o.d, I notice you're immune to that cruciphobia." She handed him the rosary, which he automatically pocketed. "A new symptom for the textbooks-except it won't get into a textbook. Roger, I want to learn everything possible about your species-and you as a unique specimen. Did he mean that 'halfbreed' literally?"

Roger saw no point in evasion. Britt held his life in her hands. "Yes, my father was human."

"Fascinating! Look, Roger, I won't do anything to endanger you, ever. You have my word that nothing you tell me will go any further."

He went lightheaded with grat.i.tude. "Yes, I believe that."

"Sure hate to give up my best-selling book." A half-smile played on her lips. "But a friend is in a different category from a murder case."

He glanced at his watch without really seeing it. "We mustn't stay here. Sandor might not be as badly hurt as he looked. We can't take the risk of his coming back and catching us off guard. Let's get together for a long talk tomorrow." He had to separate from Britt soon, or he'd take advantage of her despite his good intentions. The energy drain of the instant healing exercise, on top of the blood loss, had left him famished. The racing of Britt's pulse made his own quicken. He caught himself staring at the V of her blouse, where a b.u.t.ton had come unfastened in the scuffle.

"In layman's terms, Roger, you look badly strung out. You're in no shape to navigate. I'm driving you home."

"Can't leave my car here," he protested. Good Lord, didn't she have any inkling of how hazardous staying near him would be?

"Fine, I'll drive yours, if you'll trust me at the wheel. The car I borrowed will be safe in the stadium lot until tomorrow. We can swing around to pick it up on the way to the office."

"What?" A gray mist thickened before his eyes. He shook his head to dispel it.

She leaned closer to him as she spoke. "I'm spending the night at your place. You aren't fit to be left alone." Why, she was being deliberately provocative! Hadn't the past few minutes taught her any caution?

An almost uncontrollable spasm of hunger racked him. He closed his eyes until it waned, then said, "If you do, I can't answer for the consequences."

"Pretty slow on the uptake tonight, aren't you?" she said. "I'm counting on those consequences. Even without immortality, I haven't changed my mind about wanting that experience-the right way."

"No! The risk to you-"

"What risk?" She clasped his hand, sending a renewed shudder of desire through him. "Come on, I know you aren't like Sandor. I saw how you reacted when he- Well, never mind," she said briskly. "You obviously have similar needs, though, and I owe you something for turning your interview into a disaster." The teasing smile returned. "Besides, I can't stand by and watch a colleague suffer."

He relaxed into the inviting warmth of her aura. "In that case, my dear colleague, I'm honored to accept."

Chapter 14

IN THE CAR he blanked out for a while. When awareness returned, they were driving across the Severn. Britt said, "Good, you're with me. Feel like talking?"

"I have to," he said. "There are some things you need to know before we go through with this."

"I'll second that. My list of questions is a mile long. Some of the things Sandor said, for instance." She glanced at him before going on hesitantly, "Do your kind sense emotions?"

Amazing, how carefully she must have listened, even with her life in danger. "Yes. That seems to account for the need for human blood. Otherwise animals would do. As it is, they're only good for bulk nourishment."

"It also explains your success as a therapist," Britt said. "That and the hypnotic power. You can't imagine how I envy you, colleague. Can you teach me some of those skills?"

"I'm not sure they're transferable, but I'll do my best." His lips quirked in amus.e.m.e.nt. "Parapsychology research, colleague?"

"Darn right! And you've held out on me all this time!" she said in mock severity. She turned onto St. Margaret's Road and accelerated to forty. "Hypocrite!-you said you didn't believe in the supernatural."

"But we're as much a part of nature as you are. Anyway, I suppose even dragons and unicorns, if they existed, wouldn't seem supernatural to themselves."

She lapsed into thoughtful silence until they turned onto the winding lane where Roger's townhouse was located. "That night Alice Kovak was attacked, you had a date with her."

His chest tightened. "Yes," he admitted.