Blood Trail - By Tanya Huff Page 0,15

what I am."

Letting his gaze drift down the length of Henry's body, Tony yawned. "Not hiding much now," he murmured. "You gonna be around on the weekend?"

"No," Henry told him. "Vicki and I are going to London. Some friends of mine are in trouble."

"More vampires?"

"Werewolves."

"Awesome." The word blurred, his voice barely audible. Then his eyes slid closed as he surrendered to sleep.

It was very pleasant not having to hide what he was, Henry reflected, watching the pulse slow in Tony's throat. It had been a long time since he'd had the luxury of removing all masks, and now he had not one but two mortals who knew him for what he was.

He smiled and stroked the soft skin on the inside of Tony's wrist with his thumb. As he couldn't feed from the wer, this trip would finally see him and Vicki... better acquainted.
Chapter Three
'JAYS LOSE IN NINTH'

"Damn!" Vicki squinted at the headline and decided it wasn't worth thirty cents to discover how the Jays had blown it this time. With no streetcar in sight, she leaned against the newspaper box, immediately regretting it as the box had spent the day basking under an August sun and its metal surface was hot enough to grill steak.

"Well, that was just what I needed," she growled, rubbing her reddened forearm. Her eyes itched and ached from a combination of the drops and the contortions her ophthalmologist had just put them through, and now she'd fried six square inches of skin. And the streetcar still wasn't coming.

"Fuck it. Might as well walk while I can still see the sidewalk." She kicked the newspaper box as she went by and stepped out onto the street, challenging a Camaro crossing Broadview on the yellow light. The driver hit the horn as she dodged the front fender, but the expression she turned toward him closed his teeth on the profane comment he'd been about to add. Obviously not all young men driving Camaros had a death wish.

She crossed the Gerrard Street Bridge in a fog, fighting to keep her emotions under control.

Until this morning she'd thought she'd come to grips with the eye disease that had forced her off the Metro Police. She hadn't accepted it graciously, not by any means, but anger and self-pity had stopped being the motivating factors in her life. Many, many people with retinitis pigmentosa were in worse shape than she was but it was hard to keep sight of that when another two degrees of her peripheral vision had degenerated in the last month and what little night sight she had remaining had all but disappeared.

The world was rapidly taking on the enclosed dimensions of a slide show. Snap on the scene in front of her. Turn her head. Snap on the scene in front of her. Turn her head. Snap on the scene in front of her. And could someone please get the lights.

What bloody good am I going to be to a pack of werewolves anyway? How am I supposed to stop a killer I can't see ? The more rational part of her mind tried to interject that the wer were hiring her for her detective abilities and her experience, not her eyes, but she was having none of it. Maybe I'll get lucky and one of them's been trained as a guide dog.

"Yo! Victory!"

Frowning, she looked around. Her anger had carried her almost to Parliament and Gerrard, farther than she'd expected. "What are you doing in this part of town?"

Tony grinned as he sauntered up. "What happened to, 'Hi, how are ya?' "

Vicki sighed and attempted not to take the day out on Tony. When she'd gone to him for help and together they'd saved Henry, their relationship had changed, moved up a level from cop and kid - not that he'd actually been a kid for some time. Four years ago, when she first busted him, he'd been a scrawny troublemaker of fifteen. Over the years, he'd become her best set of eyes and ears on the street. Now, they seemed to be moving toward something a little more equal, but old habits die hard and she still felt responsible for him.

"All right." She flicked a drop of sweat off her chin. "Hi. How are you?"

"How come," he asked conversationally, falling into step beside her, "when you ask, 'How are you?' it comes out sounding like, 'How much shit are you in?' "

"How much?"

"None."

Vicki turned her head to look at him but he only smiled

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