Part 36 (2/2)

Slowly, Vic peeled the sheet back from her body. Jane writhed before him, straining against her bonds, as he plucked at an abdominal suture, took stock of her damage.

There was nothing fatal. Nothing that wouldn't heal, in time. She was young. She was strong. She was already one of them.

And best of all, she was his.

And that was the beauty of it. He could smell Syd's mark all over this b.i.t.c.h. It made him crazy to even think of it, filled him with boundless, malevolent glee. At that moment Vic wasn't sure whether he should kill her, or f.u.c.k her, or both. And in what order. He drew near, getting very, very close in her face before he spoke.

”So here's my situation,” he growled. ”At the moment, I don't know exactly what I'm gonna do with you.” He smelled the fear on her, loved it. ”But I'll tell you what I am gonna do.

”First, I'm gonna go and take care of your little chickens.h.i.+t boyfriend: the one who lets you do all his dirty work for him.

”And then-I swear to you, sweetheart-I'll be back for you.”

He smiled then, his eyes alight with dreadful purpose. Vic leaned forward, close enough to graze her cheek. Jane shut her eyes. Trying, in vain, to shut him out.

Vic nuzzled her menacingly, and as he did he brought one taloned finger up to lightly slice its way along the inside of her thigh.

”I'll be back,” he a.s.sured her.

And then, as quickly as he had appeared, he was gone.

Jane lay s.h.i.+vering for several minutes afterward: afraid to move, afraid to even breathe. The ward grew deathly quiet again. When she dared open her eyes she saw that a bright track of blood graced her thigh from knee to groin, dripping with malign promise.

There was no measuring the depths of her terror, or the magnitude of her need. Any second now, the room would explode again: with nurses, with doctors, with frantic, screaming people. With police . . . and police . . . and police . . .

She closed her eyes, saw men with needles. Men with guns.

I have to get out of here, she told herself, struggling in her bed. I have to get out.

But her every move was agony.

And she had so far to go. . . .

44.

It wasn't until the redhead came up to the bar that Syd realized he was a dead man. Coming back from Randy's office had been bad enough. After an eternity of desperate wheedling, the miserable woman at the hospital switchboard had finally relented. But when she'd put him through to ICU, no one had answered.

As he returned, the crowd was so thick and rowdy that Vic's table was utterly lost from view. If I can't see him, maybe he can't see me, he hoped. It was an ostrich's prayer, at best; but that didn't mean that it might not be true.

And indeed, once safely behind the bar, it was like he'd never left. Vic didn't come up, demand to know where he'd been. In fact, Vic didn't come up at all. Fifteen million other people did; and they managed to keep him running.

But no Vic.

No Vic whatsoever.

So Syd was already feeling nervous by the time the redhead came up to the bar. ”Excuse me,” she said, as he came within range. He nodded, giving her his full attention, and it suddenly dawned on him where he had seen her before.

At the bar, there were people who'd been waiting. They made faces Syd ignored. There was only one face he could see: the one that had greeted him as he'd staggered into the Emergency Room, the b.l.o.o.d.y bundle in his arms.

”Listen,” she said, in the here and now. ”Have you seen that guy I was with . . .?”

Syd's breath sucked in sharply. ”He's not with you?” Already, he was looking over her shoulder to the empty booth.

”No,” she said. ”I came up here for drinks, and when I got back, he was gone. . . .”

”How long ago?” Syd was looking all over the bar now, scanning the sea of bobbing heads; but the intensity in his voice commanded her complete attention.

Her eyes startled wide. ”It's been almost forty minutes now. . . .”

”f.u.c.k!” He banged the bar with his fist, already moving away from Tanya, racing down the length of the bar. ”TRENT!” he hollered, catching his cohort's attention, waiting till they got close enough before going on.

”Got a medical emergency, man. Jane needs me at the hospital.”

”Oh, s.h.i.+t . . .”

”I know.” Acknowledging the madness. ”But I gotta go.”

Trent looked miserable, and Syd was sorry, but there wasn't a d.a.m.n thing he could do about it, so he turned away before Trent had a chance to debate it, then slipped through the bartender's exit to the floor. The side door exit was closest, had the fewest crowds to fight through.

As he neared the bathrooms, the lines piled up and gridlocked, clogging the narrow hallway. Syd tried to gently push his way through, then fell back, caught himself on the iron ladder that led to the attic.

”MOVE YOUR a.s.s!”.

The crowd parted reluctantly, let him squeeze through.

Syd broke free to the other side, quickly covered the remaining distance. He slammed down on the push-bar. The door wouldn't open.

He pushed again, more deliberately this time. The door gave just a little, locked up tight. He peered through the crack, saw a glimmer of steel. It took a second to register.

Someone had chained shut the door.

”Okay,” he said, trying to remain calm. ”Okay.” Backing up, thinking three moves ahead. The next closest exit was the one leading out of the kitchen. He could duck through there.

If it wasn't too late . . .

. . . and before he could even start to rationally examine that thought, he was blowing past the bathroom lines and ramming through the kitchen doors.

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