Malcolm coughed, recovering. "And don't run down for her. She's tied like a mummy and weighted. The second you walk away from this window Norma lets the rope go, and down she sinks. You'd never get to her in time, not with your problem about crossing water."

I could cross water if I had to, but it was slow going. I'd never get to her in time.

Never. I swung back on him, but he read my purpose and didn't look directly at me.

"No fish-eye, Jackie, I gotta stay in sight from now on. Norma has her orders, and if she thinks something's wrong with me, the girl is dead. You understand that? I gotta stay in her sight."Numbly, I looked down, straight into Bobbi's eyes. They locked helplessly on mine, pleading. I called to her, not sure she could hear me. Her expression didn't change.

"Good," he murmured. "Real good." He took the dress from me, folding and rolling it into a ball. "I don't blame you. She's a cla.s.sy twist. Nice, like I always wanted to get for myself. She needed a lot of help getting out of this. I had to hold her down while Norma did the honors. I like 'em to fight, y'know? That always gets me going. A body like that must feel good under you, huh?"

"Shut up!''

He abruptly stepped away from the window. Norma pushed Bobbi under. I grabbed for him, but he dodged.

"Say you're sorry."

"I'm sorry! d.a.m.n it, come back! I'm sorry!"

He eased back. Norma brought her up again. Bobbi's eyes flickered groggily, and her head lolled.

"Again, like you mean it."

"I'm sorry," I whispered sincerely, but it was to Bobbi.

"You promise to behave?"

I nodded. Tried to swallow. Couldn't.

His smile returned. "That's real good."

"What do you want?"

"Like I said, nothing you can't handle." In a louder voice aimed at the next room over he called, "It's all right, you can come now."

A door sc.r.a.ped open, a rubbing, grating sound crawled over the floor, and she rolled into sight. The harsh yellow light did funny things to colors and Gaylen's blue eyes had faded to a pale, cold gray. She was in her wheelchair with the rubber-tipped cane across her knees. She looked up.

frowning. Malcolm turned to face the window, giving us a kind of privacy.

Neither of us spoke, each holding still like actors at the end of a play before the lights go out and the curtain falls.

At last she drew in a breath and spoke. "I didn't want to do it this way. I really didn't, but you wouldn't understand, you- "You asked this of Maureen?"Her answer was plain. There'd been fire in Marza's eyes, but Gaylen's held acid.

Sometime long ago they had argued it all out, and Maureen had realized the truth and run. Her note said, Some people are after me because of what I am... Turned another way, the meaning changed. It was not Braxton she had feared with his cross and silver bullets, it was her sister. Five years ago she'd left to protect me. Had she stayed it would have been me down there with Norma, and Maureen standing where I was now.

"I begged her. It was just one little thing, and I would have left her alone forever had she wished. I asked you, and is it so much? All you can tell me are the shortcomings. They're nothing to what I'm going through now. This body is old and crippled and I hate it! I want to live!"

"You have to die for that-if it works."

"What's death compared to the pain I feel whenever I move? And as for it working, it must! Maureen changed and I'm her sister, I know it would change me."

"What about Braxton?"

"I tried to explain to him and he was too pigheaded with his talk of contamination and souls to listen."

"He was never a danger to either of us."

"Never?"

"I was taking care of the problem when this... Braxton was a nuisance, but he didn't deserve to die."

"He did if I wanted to make you understand how serious I am. It could have been anyone else-someone walking next to you on the street, your detective friend- anyone. Time and circ.u.mstances made him a convenient target." She let that sink in.

My hands clenched and I longed for the luxury of closing them around her neck.

"But that's past and finished. I want you to think about the girl. You've seen her and you know there are no safe alternatives but one, and what I'm asking for is not so terrible."

I turned away as though thinking. I had no choice but to agree, but she expected reluctance and was getting it. "You don't know what you're asking."

But she'd heard that one before and had the same answer ready. "I do know, and I'm not asking now. Do what I want and the girl goes free. You already know what happens otherwise."

"You'd let them do that?"

"Yes."My eyes were on Bobbi's face. "Will you free her unharmed?"

"Yes."

"All right."

She gave a sigh, very much like the one that came over the lines when I'd first called. "Good, then come here."

"Let her go first."

"No."

I glanced over my shoulder at Malcolm.

She shook her head. "No. He is to watch. If he thinks anything is wrong, he will take steps."

"Steps?"

"Whatever he thinks is necessary." She gave him her cane.

I looked at him. He was watching me, but not smiling as before, and I liked it a lot less.

"Come over here," she repeated. She extended her left arm, wrist up, blue veins bulging slightly beneath the thin crinkled skin. "Now. Do it now."

At least I'd be spared the intimate contact with her throat. To save Bobbi I would have done even that, but the thought of touching her in this way was sickening, and it showed on my face. She waited, though, until I moved a few reluctant steps closer.

Her eyes took in every movement, as did Malcolm's. It was worse than being naked.

"Now, Jack," she whispered.

But the body was not cooperating. True, I had not yet fed; the hunger was there, but not the will. It would be many more days of fasting before I could overcome the physical revulsion with physical need.

My mouth came within an inch of the crepe-textured flesh, smelling faintly of some kind of soap and with a smear of paint on the upturned wrist. She painted pictures.

"Now."

Pictures of flowers. What had Pruitt said about flowers? Roses for Bobbi, fading now, and I had to do this or Bobbi- "Wow. "

d.a.m.n her. With cattle in the Stockyards it was simple feeding, a necessary ch.o.r.e.

With Bobbi it was the only means left to express physical love. With Gaylen it was obscene and humiliating, and blinding white fury was the result. Most of my concentration was on holding in the rage or the old woman would find herself and her chair crashing through one of the walls.

She refused to meet my eyes, staring at her bared arm instead.

"Look at me," I said.

"No. "

"Look at me."

"Malcolm..."

His step behind me.

Bobbi. My eyes dropped.

"Wait, Malcolm."

He paused, then moved back.

d.a.m.n her. G.o.d d.a.m.n her to h.e.l.l.

Then anger tipped things and my canines emerged the necessary length and cut hard through her skin, tearing silently. It hurt and her arm jerked, but her free hand came down and she forced it to be still again. I swallowed her thin, bitter blood and tried not to choke. I thought of cattle and tried to pretend it was no more than a routine feeding, something my mind could handle to keep from retching, because if I stopped now I could not do this again and Bobbi...

The worst of it was that blood was blood, and my body began to accept it. Never mind the source, that didn't matter. This was food, all food and usable. Hot strength flowed down and through and I held on more firmly. She wanted me to take her blood, then so be it. Tonight I could and would take it all, and then I'd deal with Malcolm. I'd open his mind up like a tin can and not care what mess I made of it as long as he freed Bobbi.

"That's enough." Her teeth were set from the pain because I was not being careful with her.

No, now I make my own choice.

"Stop."

I'll drain you dry until there's not enough blood in you to keep your brain conscious and your head droops- "I said enough."

-and your heart stops because there's nothing left to pump and everything winds down to a final stillness and all that's left is a hundred pounds of carca.s.s and a bad memory- "Malcolm..." Her voice was weaker, frightened.

-and I lift my head in time to see it coming as a blur, but he's already into the swing and it's too late to react. The thing hits me square and hard and sends my skull spinning into the light, and I fall-fall-and hit something hard-and lie still- The yellow bulb burned my eyes; I was faceup on the boards, with the two of them staring down at me to see if I were alive. That's hard to do, since there's no pumping of lungs or beating heart.

Malcolm set aside the cane he used to crack my skull, waved out the window with his hat, and knelt closer.

"Jesus, look at his eyes."

"Yes, they get that color during feeding. It fades."

And when we make love, so Bobbi and I leave the lights out... Light-the d.a.m.ned thing was boring right through me.

"If he's dead-"

"He can't be. You said they were tough, that there's only one way for them." He pa.s.sed a hand over my eyes. His pink fingertips brushed the lashes and I blinked. He looked relieved. "It's all right, he's just stunned. What went wrong?"

"Never mind. Are they coming?"

"Yeah, but I think Norma needs some help."

"She can handle it." She was wrapping a handkerchief around her arm to stop the flow. Her face was white and her hands shook. I'd been very close but could do nothing more. The room spun sickeningly with the light bulb in the center and I couldn't move. It was different from being hit with a stone, I wasn't vanishing to heal. Something about my nature and the nature of wood prevented it, but I knew I'd recover soon and the feeding would help. A few more minutes...

Malcolm grabbed my ankles and dragged me from the room. My arms fanned out uselessly over my head; I was unable to control them or anything else. He had struck with killing strength, leaving me helpless.

Grunting and straining, he got me through the door and around a corner into the stairwell. We were on the top floor, but there was still one last flight leading up to the roof. He struggled hard with my weight until the length of my body was stretched halfway up. My head hung off the angle of the step, turning the room upside down for me. My knuckles brushed the landing.

I tried to move and got only the smallest quivering along the muscles for all the effort. Not yet, perhaps in a few more minutes, but not yet.

"Hurry," she said. She had wheeled her chair into the landing, set the brake, and Malcolm helped her out. He was as solicitous as any boy scout helping an old lady across the street. She shuffled close to me and stiffly sat on one of the steps below my head. With icy misery, I realized what was coming.

Her breathing was hoa.r.s.e and labored. I'd taken a lot of blood from her, after all.

Now she was going to take it back. This was the exchange she had to have. It had been very necessary for Malcolm to hit me and keep me quiet or I would not have been able to stand it.

She hovered close with something in her hand, but kept it just out of view. She turned my head away and I was staring at Malcolm. His eyes were peeled back with excited interest and he struggled to control his nervous laughter.

A tugging at my throat, a sharp sting, and then a strangled gag escaped me as she cut into the artery. I'd been placed head down so that gravity would speed the flow. Warm and wet, it trickled past my chin onto my face, filled a crevice in the corner of my mouth, overflowed, and skirted my eye and into my hair, tickling my ear and finally dripping onto the stairstep.

She drew a steadying breath and lowered her mouth to the open wound.

I didn't know how much it might take to secure the change she wanted, perhaps only a single mouthful was sufficient. She kept her lips hard on my neck, swallow after swallow, drinking quickly to keep up with the flow until it was too much for her and she had to stop. She was still alive and a living human unused to it cannot handle large quant.i.ties of blood, physically or mentally. She leaned back against the wall, eyes shut as she caught her breath.

Malcolm stepped forward and helped her back to her chair. "Can I-"

"No, later. I'll do for you later. I promise. Take me to the truck, I must rest."

"I thought- "Yes, you're right. Finish it."

The flow from my neck slowed and stopped. She must have used some wooden instrument to cut me-a sharp piece of ebony, perhaps. The pain in my head was subsiding, but not as fast as I wanted. Controlled movement was still a moment or two away. My arms were working a little, enough for the muscles to contract. It was a start...

Malcolm's upside-down image was smiling at me; it grinned, it giggled. A long pole was in his hands, one chiseled end protected by a sharp metal tip to keep the point on the wood from splintering.

Panic roared up and took over. I tried to vanish and felt only a flicker of response brush over the nerves. The shock of the wooden cane had been too much. I needed more time and had none. My hands came up in a feeble effort to push away the tip of the pole. There was no strength in them. I was absolutely, utterly-oh, G.o.d... wo...