Part 31 (1/2)

As her features went icy and hard . . .

. . . and suddenly all of her plans were in jeopardy, igniting to sizzling flame in her brain.

The sight of Syd on the other side of the bar was weird enough, the idea that he would not want to leave with her had never even entered her mind. There was, after all, the reality of Vic to b.u.t.tress her story: one twist of the radio dial would confirm that.

Beyond that, there was her vast repertoire of skills. Nora could cry; she could browbeat; she could lie; she could intimidate; she could plead, cajole, caress, extol, impress, distress, and suck c.o.c.k like a pro. And because there was nothing she wouldn't do, there was virtually nothing she couldn't do. It was the essence of her strength.

Right up until the moment the little b.i.t.c.h came up behind him.

She hadn't planned for this, hadn't considered it at all. She had saved his G.o.dd.a.m.ned life, and he had just gone on without her. She vaguely remembered this second-string c.u.n.t from way back, recalled the way she'd so wisely deferred. Now she wasn't being nearly so smart.

”Syd, you gotta believe me,” she continued, negating the intrusion. ”I tried to get back to you, I really did. Baby, I missed you so much. . . .”

”Syd.” The c.u.n.t was speaking again. ”Syd, what-”

”Shut up!” Nora snarled. Jane visibly recoiled, but did not move. Nora turned her attention back to Syd. ”Quit f.u.c.king around, baby.” She reached out to take his hand. ”C'mon, we gotta go. . . .”

”Seriously, baby, we-”

”NO!”.

He yanked his hand away, out of her grasp. Nora's eyes flared, then narrowed to flinty slits. ”What did you say?” she asked incredulously.

”He said, 'No.'”

Nora glared. Another c.u.n.ting intrusion. Bad enough she should speak; Nora then watched in amazement as the little s.l.u.t actually insinuated herself: placing a protective hand on Syd's shoulder, trying to pull him away. Nora's eyes locked on the offending hand before flitting back to Syd's face. For the first time, she realized how different he looked. How much he had changed.

But she didn't miss-couldn't miss-the way Syd moved, not back, but instinctively forward to s.h.i.+eld the b.i.t.c.h. She saw the way his body language so eloquently revealed his betrayal. Syd took position in front of his barmaid b.i.t.c.h, his entire body tensed and ready.

Ready to defend her, Nora realized. Defend her against me . . .

And it was all so suddenly, terribly clear. Nora realized with a slick rush of horror that they were completely, una.s.sailably in love, and they didn't even know it yet.

She started to laugh then: a caustic, acid-tinged explosion, devoid of mirth. ”You gotta be kidding,” she said. ”What'd she do, Syd, wrap your d.i.c.k around her little finger?”

”Nora, stop it.”

”Do you have any idea what I've been through?” Nora hissed, tears beginning to well in her eyes. ”I fought my way through h.e.l.l to get back to you, you miserable sonofab.i.t.c.h; you'd be dead if it wasn't for me. . . .”

”Nora, please . . .”

”I put my a.s.s on the line for you, and now you're telling me you're gonna throw me over for this . . . this-”

She gestured dismissively to his little squeeze. ”I love you, G.o.ddammit! I need your help! Now, are you coming with me, or what??”

But Syd just stood his ground and stared at her: not speaking, not moving, not giving her an inch. He didn't have to. The light in his eyes said it all. There was fear there, yes, and confusion. But there was something else, too: and its mere presence made Nora crazy, made it very hard to keep from just slaughtering him on the spot, slaughtering them both.

She looked in his eyes, and saw pity.

”I'm sorry,” he croaked.

”Motherf.u.c.ker,” she spat. ”You had your chance. Just remember that. You had your chance. . . .”

. . . and then she was whirling, stalking off toward the door while the feelings surged up inside him, yanking at the far end of his chain. There was no getting around how powerful it felt . . .

. . . just as there had been no getting around the look in her eyes, in the moment before she turned . . .

. . . and then she was gone, her memory burning a freeway of fire through his brain. He had seen the murder in those eyes-had seen, there, what she was capable of-and it flashed him back on Jules, and that night of blood and destruction.

The door hissed closed behind her. Syd felt Jane shudder beside him, slipped his arm around her.

”It's okay,” Syd murmured; and that was when Jane pulled away. As she did he saw that it was anger, not fear, that made her tremble. ”It'll be okay. . . .”

”Don't bet on it,” Jane said. ”That b.i.t.c.h is crazy.” Syd nodded, thinking you don't know the half of it.

”If she comes around again,” Jane added, ”I'll f.u.c.king kill her.”

Syd looked at her. Thinking you don't know . . .

The time for revelation had come.

It was twelve fifty-one.

35.

Revelation, however, didn't come all at once; nor did it come easily. The first order of business was to get Jane home, alive and in one piece. He could worry about the rest from there.

Closing up early, by comparison, was a given. Under the circ.u.mstances, it was the only thing to do. Syd announced last call practically the moment Nora left. Jane backed him up completely, scooping half-finished drinks off of customers' tables, hustling everyone out the door as quickly as they possibly could. By the time the last stragglers were ready to go, Syd and Jane were ready as well.

Throughout the whole ordeal, Jane didn't utter a single word that wasn't entirely job-related. Whatever she was feeling, she played it close to the vest. That was fine with Syd; he couldn't talk about it, either, though he suspected his reasons and hers were maybe just a little bit different.

Her concerns, he was forced to suspect, were probably just a touch more terrestrial than his. The odds were pretty good that, when she thought about this, she wasn't factoring in the supernatural. In fact, he found himself thinking about asking her jeez, honey, you ain't scared of no werewolves, now, are ya? But then again, it probably wasn't the best idea. Whatever was going to happen, he sure as s.h.i.+t didn't need her doubting his sanity.

Lord knows, she'd soon have reason enough to doubt her own.

At one-thirty they chased out the last stragglers. Jane didn't complain when he left on the parking lot lights; she seemed to instinctively grasp that it was best to leave with all the lights on and as many people around as possible. As the last customer filed out Syd darted behind the bar, reached behind the ice chest and grabbed the shotgun, wrapping it in his jacket like so much fresh fish from market. Jane flashed him a worrisome look as he rejoined her, but said nothing.

Even in the company of others, the parking lot felt both treacherous and terrifying. The relentless, pounding rain didn't help matters. Syd held the jacket-wrapped gun in one hand, clutched Jane's hand in the other as they exited. He wouldn't let her leave his side, not even for a second. The memories were far too vivid, his recollection of them far too clear.

And it was so easy, so easy to let his mind slip horribly back. The pool of blood. The growling beast. Jules's dead face sliding across the window. It would paralyze him if he let it, this fear: freeze him right in his tracks. Another thing he could not allow. He feared for these people, knowing they could just as easily become human s.h.i.+elds, more bodies to pile between him and the horror awaiting if things went out of control.

It was an ugly, soul-curdling thought, and he felt unclean even having it. But that didn't change its essential truth.

And Syd felt a fierce sense of duty, a territorial protectiveness that spread like an umbrella to encompa.s.s all of them. This place was his: everyone who came to this place was his charge, so long as they were there.