Blood Price - By Tanya Huff Page 0,73

pages had been raggedly torn out and on the first remaining page, under the word Coreen, he wrote, the Student Medical Center.

From here on, Norman Birdwell was going to get even.

He didn't understand what had gone wrong the night before. He'd performed the ritual flawlessly. Something had interfered, had stopped the demon, had stopped his demon. Norman frowned. Obviously, there were things around stronger than the creature he called to do his bidding. He didn't like that. He didn't like that at all. How dare something be able to interfere with him.

He could see only one solution. He'd have to get a stronger demon.

After the lecture, he made his way to the front of the class and planted himself between the professor and the door. Over the years he'd learned that the best way to get answers was to block the possibility of escape.

"Professor Leigh? I need to talk to you."

Resignedly, the professor set his heavy briefcase back by the lectern. He tried to be available when his students needed him, recognizing that a few moments of answering questions could occasionally clarify an entire semester's work, but Norman Birdwell would corner him for no better reason than to prove how clever he was. "What is it, Norman?"

What was it? The throbbing had grown so loud again it had become difficult to think. With an effort, he managed to blurt out, "It's about my seminar topic. You said earlier that as well as a host of lesser demons there were also Demon Lords. Can I assume that the Demon Lords are the more powerful?"

"Yes, Norman, you can." He wondered briefly what the younger man had done to his fingers. Probably got them caught in a metaphorical cookie jar...

"Well, how can you tell what you're going to get? I mean if you call up a demon, how can you ensure that you're going to get a Demon Lord?"

Professor Leigh's brows rose. This sounded like it was going to be one hell of a seminar. So to speak. "The rituals for calling up one of the demon kind are very complicated, Norman... "

Norman hid a sneer. The rituals were nonspecific but hardly complicated. Of course, he'd never be able to convince the professor that. Professor Leigh thought he knew everything. "How do they differ for a Demon Lord?"

"Well, just for starters, you need a name."

"Where do I find one?"

"I am not going to do your research for you, Norman." The professor picked up his briefcase and headed for the door, expecting Norman to move out of his way. Norman stayed right where he was. Faced with a shoving match or surrender, Professor Leigh sighed and surrendered. "I suggest you have a word with Dr. Sagara at the University of Toronto's Rare Book Room. She might have something that can help."

Norman weighed the worth of that information for a moment then nodded, stepping back against the blackboard. It was less than he wanted, but it was a beginning and he still had ten hours until midnight.

"Fine. I'll call Dr. Sagara and tell her you'll be coming down." Once safely out in the corridor, the professor grinned. He almost wished he could be there to see the irresistible force come up against the immovable object. Almost.

A few flakes of snow slapped wetly against his face as Norman stood waiting for the bus. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, glad he'd worn his sneakers-cowboy boots, he'd discovered, had next to no insulation against the cold. The black leather jacket kept him reasonably warm, although the fringe kept flapping up and whipping him in the back of the neck.

When he saw the bus approaching, he moved to the curb, only to be engulfed by the waiting pack of students and pushed back almost to the end of the line. All his efforts to regain his place met with failure and finally he gave in, shuffling forward with the line and fuming.

Just wait.... Norman shifted his grip on his briefcase, ignoring the way it cracked against the shins of the person next to him. When I have my Demon Lord, there'll be no more lines, no more buses, no more sharp elbows. He glared at the back of the tall skinny young man attached to the elbow in question. As soon as he got a chance, that guy was going on the list.

Vicki allowed herself to be caught up in the rush of students and carried with them out through the back doors of the bus.