Blood Pact

the ceiling, coughing almost continually, she started for the door, lifting her feet with alcohol exaggerated caution over bodies and parts of bodies.

    Then she spotted the disk. Spilled half out of Catherine's lab coat pocket, very blue against the bloodstained white, it could contain only one thing: the copies of the tests made that afternoon on the vampire. What else would be important enough for Catherine to carry around with her?

    Only this afternoon. Seems so long ago. With one hand resting against the end of the isolation box, her balance not being exactly stable, Dr. Burke bent to pick it up. It didn't seem to be damaged. Having been sheltered in the curve of Catherine's body, it didn't even seem to be very hot. She shoved it into her own pocket, suddenly realizing that not only would she come out of this with her career essentially undamaged, but with information the scientific community would award high honors for.

    A few simple experiments, she thought, grinning broadly, and that Nobel prize is . . .

    One of the oxygen tanks had remained amazingly undamaged after the earlier explosion had flung it out into the lab. It had lain, partially under the far side of the isolation box, safely away from the main heat of the fire. But temperatures were rising. The plastic valve finally began to melt. The metal collar below it expanded a very, very small amount. It was enough.

    The blast slammed Dr. Burke to the floor where she watched in horror as a giant, invisible hand lifted the isolation box and dropped it to fall, impossibly slowly, across her legs. She heard bones shatter, felt the pain a moment later, and slid into darkness.

    When the light returned, it was the orange-red of the approaching fire and almost no time had passed. She couldn't feel what was left of her legs.

    "That's all right. Don't need legs.”

    Catherine's extended hand had begun to sizzle.

    "Don't need legs. Need to get out of here." The isolation box was on its side. The curve would give her a little room. If she could just push against it, she could pull her legs free and crawl out of the room. Crawl away from the flames. She didn't need legs.

    Dragging herself up into a sitting position, she shoved at the box. Nestled on an uneven surface, it rocked. Something squelched beneath it but that didn't matter.

    The flames were licking at the sleeve of Catherine's lab coat. Over the stink of chemical-laden smoke, came the smell of roasting pork.

    Swallowing saliva, she pounded at the box.

    It rocked again.

    The latch that number nine had partially turned, gave way.

    The lid fell open, knocking Dr. Burke back to the floor as it rose into the air on silent hinges, spilling the body thrown up against it by the explosion out onto her lap.

    The naked, empty shell of Donald Li rolled once and came to rest in the circle of her arms, his head tucked back so that it seemed his face stared up into hers.

    The flames stopped the screaming when they finally came.

    "Christ on crutches!" Detective Fergusson ducked behind his car as the explosion flung pieces of burning wood and heated metal out into the street. "Next time I investigate drunken confessions in the fucking morning!" Snatching up his radio, he ignored the panicked shouts of the approaching security guards and called in the fire with a calm professionalism he was far from feeling.

    ". . . and an ambulance!”

    He thought he could hear screaming. He hoped like hell he was wrong.

    * * *
    "Now what.”

    "It's just after two. I need to feed. In about an hour, if she's still alive, I need to feed her. And then I need to get her back to Toronto before dawn.”

    "Why Toronto? Why can't she just stay here?”

    Henry sank down onto the end of the bed. His head felt almost too heavy to lift. "Because if she changes, I need to have her in a place I know is secure." He waved a weary, bloodstained arm at the apartment. "This isn't. And if she . . . if she . . .”

    "Dies," Celluci said emotionlessly, staring down at Vicki's unconscious form. He felt as though the world had skewed a few degrees sideways and he had no choice but to try to keep his balance on the slope.

    "Yes." Henry matched the detective's lack of expression. If the facade cracked now, it would sweep them all away. "If she dies, I'll need to dispose of the body. I'll need to be in a city I know in order to do that.”

    "Dispose of the body?”

    "Her death is going to be a little difficult to explain if I don't, don't