Blood Price - By Tanya Huff Page 0,82

greasy red leather, was the same one he'd held the night before during the ceremony. At such close quarters, the evil that radiated from it struck Henry with almost a physical blow and he rocked back against the unseen chains that held him.

"This," said Dr. O'Mara, caressing it lovingly, "is one of the last true grimoires left. I have heard there are only two others in the world. All the rest are but pale copies of these three. The man who wrote it sold his soul for the information it contains, but the Prince of Lies collected before he could use the knowledge so dearly bought. If we had the time, dear vampire, I would tell you what I had to do to make it mine, but we do not- you must be mine as well before dawn."

The naked desire in his eyes was so consuming that Henry felt sick. He began to struggle, fighting harder when he heard the doctor laugh again and move away.

"From months of ceremonies, I have drawn what I need to control the demon," the doctor remarked conversationally, rolling up the carpet before the fire. "The demon can give me anything save life eternal. You can give me that so the demon will give me you." He looked up from the pentagram cut into the floor. "Can you stand against a Lord of Hell, vampire? I think not."

His mouth dry and his breath coming in labored gasps, Henry threw all his strength against the binding. Muscles straining and joints popping, he fought for his life. Just as it seemed he could no longer contain a wail of despair, his right arm moved.

The candles lit and a foul powder burning on the fire, Dr. O'Mara opened the book and began to read.

His right arm moved again. And then his left.

A shimmering began in the center of the pentagram.

Power fed into the calling bled power away from the bindings, Henry realized. They were weakening. Weakening...

The shimmer began to coalesce, falling into itself and forming...

With a howl of rage, Henry tore free and flung himself across the room. Before the doctor could react, Henry grabbed him, lifted him, and threw him with all his remaining strength against the far wall.

The doctor's head struck the wooden wainscoting and the wood proved stronger. The thing in the pentagram faded until only a foul smell and a memory of terror remained.

Weak and trembling, Henry stood over the body. The light in the pale eyes had gone out, leaving them only a muddy gray. Blood pooled at the base of the wall, hot and red and Henry, who desperately needed to feed, thanked God that dead blood held no call. He'd have starved before he'd have fed from that man.

His skin crawling at the touch, he picked the grimoire up from the floor and staggered into the night.

"I should have destroyed it." Palms flat against the glass doors of the bookcase, Henry stared at the grimoire. He never asked himself why he hadn't. He doubted he wanted to hear the answer.

"Yo, Victory!"

Vicki turned slowly in the open phone booth, her heart doing a pretty fair impersonation of a jackhammer.

Tony grinned. "My, but we're jumpy. I thought I heard you didn't work nights no more."

"Any more," Vicki corrected absently, while her heart slowed to a more normal rhythm. "And do I look like I'm working?"

"You always look like you're working."

Vicki sighed and checked him out. Physically, he'd didn't look good. The patina of dirt he wore told her he'd been sleeping rough, and his face had the pinched look that said meals had been infrequent of late. "You don't look so great."

"Things have been better," he admitted. "Could use a burger and some fries."

"Why not." Henry's answering machine insisted he still wasn't available. "You can tell me what you've been doing lately."

He rolled his eyes. "Do I look like I'm crazy?"

The three coals burned in the bottom of a cast iron frying pan his mother had bought him. It was the first time he'd ever used it. The gold, the frankincense, the myrrh, had all been added. The three drops of blood sizzled in the heat and Norman backed quickly away, just in case.

Something had stopped the demon from materializing last night but, as that was the first and only time it had occurred, statistically, tonight, the demon should be able to get through. Norman believed strongly in statistics.

The air in the center of the pentagram shivered. Norman's bandaged fingers began to burn