Part 13 (1/2)

”There,” she said, as Tommy Dorsey's band came through. ”I think this station plays all night. Myrna might end up with farm and weather reports in a couple hours, but it'll be company until then. You don't mind?”

”Nope. Leave the light on, too.” I could sympathize all too well.

On the way out I checked the main room. The little table lamps were dark now. We left the one burning behind the lobby bar alone.

Bobbi s.h.i.+vered and went brrrrrr during the first ten minutes of our ride until the Buick's heater was warm enough to blow something other than arctic wind. I stopped briefly to drop the money into the bank's night deposit slot, then drove quickly through the near-empty streets to her hotel apartment. Drowsy, she leaned against me for the ride, and things felt normal again. I wanted to put my arm around her but had to have it free to change gears.

She woke up as I braked in the no-parking section in front of her building, got out, and came around to hold her door, leaving the motor running. ”Not coming up?” she asked.

”You're done in, honey, and I had a lot cras.h.i.+ng into me tonight.”

There must have been a dozen variations of protest hesitating on her lips, everything from ”I could get untired in a hurry” to ”That's all right, just let me know when you're ready, sweetheart,” and she didn't say any of them, including the heartbreaking ”Jack, I'm so sorry.” It would have been too painful for both of us, so we accepted this nice, safe, not-quite-as-painful illusion.

I walked her through the hotel lobby to the elevator, and like well-rehea.r.s.ed actors we said the familiar good-bye- until-tomorrow lines. They sounded hollow and sad compared to the cheerful call and response she'd traded with Escott earlier.

She broke, though, and stopped the automatic elevator doors from closing. ”You're sure? Just for company?”

”The company is a rare and breathtaking creature of light and music and beauty who would make angels jealous, and I don't know what I did to deserve to be on the same planet with you.”

She fairly gaped. I hardly ever talked like that to her.

”But-” I kissed her chastely on the forehead and left it at that.

Her hazel eyes were wide a moment, then she made a little dive at me, wrapping her arms tight around. We held close for a solid minute, and I felt my body responding to hers, felt the rush of warmth, the first build of pressure above my corner teeth, the desire to slowly remove all her clothes and settle in and come up with old and new ways of exhausting her and myself thoroughly before dawn swept my consciousness into its shallow grave.

Resisting while I still could, I gently pulled clear. ”Get some sleep,” I said softly, backing off. I turned away before seeing whatever look might have been on her face.

The doors knitted shut and took her up and away from me. I hurried to the car, hit the gears rough, and shot clear, taking corners too fast and abusing the gas pedal on the straights. Before I alarmed any cops, I found a s.p.a.ce in front of a block of closed shops and pulled in, decisively cutting the motor.

Then I waited.

I'd wanted to go up with her, and not just for company. Still wanted. Ached for it. Was sick for it. Wanted to go back even now and surprise her, make love to her. I would hold her close and warm and bring her to the edge of that wonderful, feverish peak and oh-so-gently bite into her throat, and it would just happen and she wouldn't fight me, wouldn't even think to, and then it would be too late, and like a mindless, greedy animal I would gorge on her blood as I'd done on that cow, unable to stop...

The tremors began their fast rise from within, an icy tide come to drown me. I hugged my ribs and groaned like a dying thing and keeled over across the seat.

Chapter 6

Fully clothed, still in my overcoat, I lay flat on the army cot in my pseudotomb in Escott's cellar, waiting for the dawn.

It's really better than it sounds.

I had heat and light-always leaving the lamp on since I hate waking up in the dark-and it was profoundly quiet.

My bricked-up alcove wasn't the overwhelming large s.p.a.ce of the club, nor so cramped that I'd get claustrophobic, and I could put my back to a wall.

For now my spine was stretched tense on this cot, and between it and the canvas, protected by a layer of oilcloth, was a sufficient supply of my home earth to keep the daymares away. Without that piece of the grave with me I would spend the sunny hours being consumed by an endless pageant of inner horrors.

As though the ones I experienced while awake weren't enough. In the car I managed to cut short my latest bout into h.e.l.l. I'd felt a scream beginning to rise, and before it went full force I denied it breath and a voice box by vanis.h.i.+ng.

The awful cold shuddering melted into soothing grayness, and I let myself float like that for a very long time. To vanish meant to physically heal, and I'd hoped it would work again, with a different kind of healing. One for my soul.

But no such luck. I returned to solidity weak and drained and s.h.i.+vering.

And helpless and terrified, don't forget about those. My body and mind had both turned on me, and there wasn't a d.a.m.ned thing I could do about their betrayal.

I'd been so tired afterward I could not recall driving home, only coming back to myself while parked out front in my usual spot. While other guys could drop into bed and shut off their minds after something like that, there would be no sleep for me. Until the rising sun finally knocked me out I was in for a bout of Undead insomnia.

What I missed about being a normal man was the kind of sleep where you know that you are sleeping. When you drift through it, maybe skimming close to the surface of waking, then contentedly turning over to dive back in again.

You have a sense of pa.s.sing time, that you're getting actual rest. My daylight drop into death left me very rested, but it's not always satisfying.

Like now. I was still terrified, which would be exhausting to anyone, and the fear would be there when I woke again.

I lay on the cot. Waiting. Sensing the approach of the sun that would take my life away. Some part of me wanted utter oblivion, the kind from which you never awoke.

That would solve a whole lot of problems for me. All of them, in fact.

Out.

And return.

I'd felt it come and shut my eyes in time. They were open now. Another day had rushed over my unheeding head.

The only way I could tell for sure was to glance at my watch. Yes, lots of hours were gone for good, with me not in any of them. Winding the watch, I made myself remember that the trembling fits were last night's old news. Hadn't Escott told me time would fix things? Time had pa.s.sed, so I shut down the internal whining, then vanished and floated, rising through the floor to go solid in the dim, quiet kitchen. My hat was where I'd left it on the table so Escott would know I'd come home.

d.a.m.n, but I still felt cold despite the overcoat. ”Charles?”

No reply, so he was probably already at the club. He was being a h.e.l.l of a friend to look after his work and mine. I'd have to find some way to thank him. Bobbi would know what to recommend, besides putting him on the payroll. He was going to have a surprise pay packet come Friday. His own business might be suffering for all the time he'd been putting in helping with mine. He would help for free, but compensation was only being fair.

I went to bring in the mail, but the stack on the hall table told me Escott had been and gone. There was nothing for me, which was fine. I wasn't up to writing chatty correspondence. Back in the kitchen, I phoned the Nightcrawler office and got Derner. ”How'd things go today?”

”Pretty much normal, no problems.”

”What about Kroun? He gone home yet?”

”Still in place.”

The phrasing gave me the idea Kroun or Mitch.e.l.l might be in the room with him, ”You treating him right?”

”Red carpet all the way.”

That was rea.s.suring. ”What about Hoyle? Any trouble?”

”Haven't heard from him. If he's gone, I donno where.”

”Find out. Keep it low and easy.” I wouldn't feel comfortable until I knew where he'd landed. ”What about Ruzzo?