Blood Price - By Tanya Huff Page 0,88

she had no more time to waste on picking locks. He needs more blood. I have to find Tony.

The sudden rise to her feet turned out to be a bad idea, the world slipped sideways and her run for the door became more of a stumble. How could he have taken so much in such a short time? Breathing heavily, she moved out into the hall and jogged for the elevator.

"Good lord, that's Owen!"

Owen? Greg pushed his way through to the front of the crowd. If Owen had been hurt, Mrs. Hughes might need his help.

Owen had been more than hurt. Owen's jaws had been forced so far apart his head had split.

And Mrs. Hughes was beyond any help he could give.

She had to get to Yonge and Bloor but her body was not cooperating. The dizziness grew worse instead of better and she careened from one solid object to another, stubbornly refusing to surrender to it. By Church Street, surrender became a moot point.

"Yo, Victory."

Strong hands grabbed her as she fell and she clutched at Tony's jean jacket until the sidewalk stopped threatening to rise up and smack her in the face.

"You okay, Victory? You look like shit."

She pushed away from him, changing her grip from his jacket to his arm. How the hell am I supposed to put this? "Tony, I need your help."

Tony studied her face for a moment, pale eyes narrowed. "Someone been beating on you?"

Vicki shook her head and wished she hadn't. "No, that's not it. I... "

"You been doing drugs?"

"Of course not!" The involuntary indignation drew her up straighten

"Then what the fuck happened to you? Twenty minutes ago you were fine."

She squinted down at him, the glare from the street light adding to her difficulty in focusing. He looked more angry than concerned. "I'll explain on the way."

"Who says I'm going anywhere?"

"Tony, please... "

The moment he took to make up his mind was the longest she'd known for a long time.

"Well, I guess I don't got anything better to do." He let her drag him forward. "But the explanation better be good."

Wide-eyed, Greg stared over the shoulder of the burly police constable. All he could see of Mrs. Hughes was running shoe, the upturned sole stained red, and a bit of sweatpant-covered leg-the coroner blocked his view of the actual body. Poor Mrs. Hughes. Poor Owen.

"No doubt about it." The coroner stood and motioned for the ambulance attendants to take care of the body. "The same as the others."

An awed murmur rippled through the crowd. The same as the others. Vampire!

At the sound, one of the police investigators turned and glared up the hill. "What the hell are these people doing down here? Get them back behind the cars! Now!"

Greg moved with the others, but he paid no attention to the speculations that buzzed around him, caught up in his own thoughts. In spite of the hour, he recognized a number of tenants from his building in the crowd. Henry Fitzroy wasn't among them. Neither were a great many others, he acknowledged, but Mr. Fitzroy's absence had suddenly become important.

Owen, who had liked everyone, had never liked Henry Fitzroy.

Unable to forget the expression that had surfaced in the young man's eyes or the terror it had evoked, Greg had no doubt Mr. Fitzroy could kill. The question became, had he?

Weaving his way through to the edge of the crowd, Greg hurried back to Bloor Street. It was time for some answers.

Vampires. Demons. Tony flicked his thumbnail against his teeth and studied Vicki's face, his expression warily neutral. "Why tell me this kind of a secret?"

Vicki sagged against the elevator wall and rubbed at her temples. Why, indeed? "Because you were closest. Because you owe me. Because I trust you not to betray it."

He looked startled, then pleased. It had been a long time since someone had trusted him. Really trusted him. He smiled and suddenly appeared years younger. "This is for real, isn't it? No shit?"

"No shit," Vicki agreed wearily.

Picking his way carefully through the glass, Tony walked over to the couch and stared down at Henry, his eyes wide. "He doesn't look much like a vampire."

"What were you expecting? A tuxedo and a coffin?" There'd been no change while she'd been gone and if he looked no better, at least he looked no worse.

"Hey, chill out, Victory. This is all kind of weird, you know."
She sighed and brushed a lock of red-gold hair back off Henry's forehead. "I know. I'm sorry. I'm worried."

"S'okay."