the thought:
What, and betray a cause she'd worked for for two hundred years? And defy her master, Radu? And throw away her own chance of immortality? And prove once and for all and beyond any reasonable doubt that she could never be a Lady, Wamphy'ri, but must always be a snivelling... woman!? Ridiculous!
It was her immature leech fighting back; fighting for its life against a power as strong as anything it ever met before, which it didn't, couldn't possibly, understand. Bonnie Jean's emotions boiled over; she glanced at Harry; he had tucned his face away to look out of his window. Damn, he was simply ignoring her outburst! As if she were a child! Probably because he subconsciously understood only too wel what was going on.
And there and then - in broad daylight, even at the wheel of the car -B.J. felt the change coming and couldn't stop it. It was as though she stood outside herself, watching in horror, frozen by her own hypnotic talent! She could even feel the eye-teeth - her dogteeth - curving up through pink-sheathing gums, cuting the flesh!
She could taste the blood on her gums. Her blood, as yet...
Harry glanced ahead, jerked upright, cried: 'Christ - the road ...!'
And the Lady in her was banished, and B.J. back in charge. For now at least.
She slammed on the brakes, hauled on the wheel, almost physicaly dragged the car round a sharp left-hand bend. Harry was thrown against her, and as they colided B.J. came close to losing her sunglasses. She knew her eyes would be crimson, but had to put every effort into bringing the car to a halt. The right-hand wheels bumped up onto the grass verge; the hedgerow made a sharp scraping against her window; her driving mirror was bent back. And the car stopped ...
The Necroscope colapsed his Mobius door where he had instinctively conjured it across the dashboard. It had been a close thing. If they had crashed, been thrown forward ... by now they would be in the Mobius Continuum! Nothing he could have said or done would have fooled Bonnie Jean this time. No
'drug-induced halucination' would have covered it.
He wiped the sweat from his brow and said, 'Did I say something?'
B.J. thumped the steering wheel with both hands, glared at him - and burst out laughing! Then, in the mirror, she saw the blood on her lower lip and sucked it inside her mouth.
'Hurt?' he said, at once solicitous.
'I bit my lip,' she lied. 'You?'
He shook his head. 'What happened?'
'I wasn't paying attention to my driving,' she answered. 'I suppose I'm just a bad driver, that's all.' A bad-tempered driver, anyway.
'Let's get on to the Forest of Atholl, then,' he said. 'I could use a cup of tea now - not to mention a leak!' Which set her off laughing again.
A few minutes later, cresting the next wave of foothills, B.J. saw the rim of a ful moon, so pale it was almost transparent, rising over a hazy, blue-pasteled horizon. Perhaps it explained something. She hoped so, anyway ...
They found a tea shop, sat outside under the trees, relaxed a little. And as they sat there, Bonnie Jean sighed and surrendered her problems to fate. What would be, would be. And anyway, who could second-guess the future? But this man, this Harry - oh, his attraction, his power over her was strong. She knew it could be argued that hers over him was stronger, but hers was artificial. Some of it. How much was real, she wondered?
She lay back in her chair, eyes closed behind the lenses of her sunglasses, and said, 'Harry, you know you haven't mentioned her in a long time.'
When he failed to answer, she opened her eyes a crack to squint at him. He was frowning, staring at a long low station-wagon where it had just pulled into the car park opposite the tea shop. She followed his gaze. 'Something?'
Harry didn't answer, just sat there staring. But as the occupants of the vehicle got out and headed up the path under the trees to the tea house, he averted his eyes, turning them on Bonnie Jean instead. And when the shuffling single-file of red-robed Asiatics had passed, he said: 'I saw this bunch, or one like it, in London once. Other places, too.'
'Hari Krishna types,' she said, shrugging. 'Pretty harmless, really. Do they bother you?'
The tinkling of tiny golden bells faded and died away as the group went into the cafe. Harry came back to