P N Elrod-The Vampire Files 07 by A Chill in the Blood

Author:A Chill in the Blood [Blood, A Chill in the]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-10-09T17:57:19+00:00

"That I can believe," muttered Calloway.

I spared him a glance. "Have Calloway and his men take me back. You know he'd never let me out of his sight."

"Damn right I wouldn't. But we cuff and blindfold him first."

Sullivan gave a half snort. "He's really got you spooked, hasn't he?"

"I'm not shitting you on this, Mr. Sullivan. There's something really weird about this bird. He can get people to do things, all he has to do is look at 'em."

"If that's true, then maybe he can get Angela to play ball with us. Do whatever you want, then. Max, give the kid our number."

Okay, so my idea of putting them all to sleep and calling in the marines didn't happen. I knew my limits. If it had just been me alone, I'd have taken the chance, but there were too many of them, and she was too vulnerable. Doc as well.

Maxwell drew out an oversized fountain pen and wrote something on a slip of paper, blew on the ink, then walked over to hand it to me. "When you've got things arranged, call. You'll have until midnight to make an initial report. To us. After that and we won't answer to Opal's safety."

I automatically checked my watch, but found my wrist was clean. There didn't seem much use to wearing a broken timepiece, so I'd left it on my bureau at home.

"How long till then?"

"A couple hours."

"It may take more than that to fix things."

"Nonetheless, you will call in."

Focused on him. Light. Casual. Didn't want to give any clue of it to Calloway.

"Take care of Opal, would you? Like she's your own kid sister."

Maxwell blinked behind the glasses. Wasn't sure if I got to him or not, but I didn't dare do more. He stepped out of Calloway's path; he and his cops closed on me, and I was hustled downstairs.

Out through the kitchen again. The bloodsmell was mixed with the sting of rubbing alcohol and the sour smell of cheap booze. Opal lay small and forlorn on the table, covered to the chin with white tablecloths, her skin nearly the same color. I tried not to think about how much the sight reminded me of a corpse in a morgue.

Doc sat on a steel stool next to her, drink in hand and a mournful look on his face.

"How is she?" I demanded. If she was dead, then all bets were off, and Sullivan and his crew were just so much cold meat.

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