Her smile held a hint of sadness. "I know you would have. But that's not what I wanted."
What she wanted she could never have had. Not from Stephan, and not from himself. "And has Kazdan kept his end of the deal?"
The sadness increased. "Oh yes. Afterlife is more than I ever imagined."
By the mocking note in her voice, he guessed her discoveries had been more bad than good. So many people discovered too late that vampirism was more than just eternal life and fast reflexes. It was never walking in the sun without head to toe total protection, never tasting the tang of wine, or enjoying the richness of food for no more than the few minutes it took for it all to come back up. It was watching those you love die of old age and ending up eternally alone. At least Stephan had gone into the ritual with his eyes wide open.
He studied her for a minute longer, seeing the tiredness, the edge of fear, behind her haunted blue gaze. Then he leaned back in the chair and carefully shifted his hands off the desk.
"What now?" he asked softly.
"Now, I'd better get you to Kazdan."
He painstakingly eased the cuff of the jacket over the knife sheath. The laser shifted, and he stopped, waiting until Mary appeared to relax again.
"You don't have to give me to Kazdan. You can just turn around, walk away, and let me take care of him for you."
"Then I'd be left with the problem of making a comfortable living. I've thrown my lot in with Kazdan. Now I must live with it."
The cuff came free of the sheath. He pulled the knife out with his fingertips. "Stephan and I would look after you."
She laughed, a short, angry sound. "Do I look like a fool? After all I've done, do you really think I'd believe Stephan would let me live?"
He shrugged and gripped the knife, getting ready to throw it. He'd only have one chance. He'd better be accurate the first time.
"I'm sorry, Mary," he repeated, voice soft. Sorry he couldn't love her. Sorry he had to kill her.
He studied her for a moment, fixing her image in his mind, seeing beyond the layers of anger and warped jealousy to the gentle soul that must still be somewhere within her. She'd cared for him and Stephan as youngsters, guided them as wild teenagers. He'd never thought he'd be repaying all those years with death.
She nudged the laser toward the door. "Rise carefully and go through there."
Good-bye, my friend, he thought, then rose and threw the knife in one smooth movement. He didn't wait to see the result, but launched himself straight at her.
She was fast — but not as fast as he. The blade punched through her wrist rather than her heart, but the shock of the blow made her drop the laser. He hit her a heartbeat later, knocking her sideways, away from the weapon. He threw out an arm as he rolled to his feet, snagging the laser and firing quickly.
There was no sound, just a bright flash of white. Mary's brains, and the wall immediately behind her, became nothing more than black dust.
He turned and walked to the door, refusing to look back. He didn't want his last image, his last memory, of her to be that of a headless corpse.
The corridor beyond was quiet. Darkness shadowed the corridor to his left. He headed right, figuring that whatever Kazdan intended with Sam, he wouldn't be doing it in the dark. Or at least, he hoped he wasn't. He'd barely walked ten feet when the man in question suddenly appeared.
"Laser down, Stern."
He was tempted, very tempted, to simply blow the bastard's brains out. Even though Kazdan had his gun aimed and ready, it would be a close race. But with Sam still hostage, he simply couldn't take the risk. For the second time that day, he eased a laser to the floor.
"Suzy," Kazdan murmured, his gaze never wavering.
Kazdan's slender, dark-haired wife appeared around the corner. She carefully picked up the cannon.
"I'd love to kill you right here and now," Kazdan said conversationally. "But unfortunately, you have something I want."
Gabriel hadn't a clue what that could be, but he wasn't about to argue about anything that saved his life. "Then maybe we could make a trade."
Kazdan smiled, revealing bloodied canines. Gabriel hoped the neck he'd been feeding on wasn't Sam's.
"She's mine, Stern. Always was."
Maybe. And maybe Kazdan was misjudging the depth of Sam's strength, the depth of her will and honesty. She couldn't join with Kazdan — not willingly. If there was one thing he'd learned over the last few days, it was that evil simply wasn't a part of her makeup.