Blood Hunt

always have? Lane passed as human.”

True, but… “She’s still a monster.”

“Because she’s chosen to be. She didn’t have to kill those men. I don’t believe anyone or anything is inherently evil.”

That sounded like Lien, always seeing the good.

“You can chose what you want to be. Do you understand, Garreth?” Her voice rose, became more insistent. “Garreth?”

That was a real voice, not a dream. He clawed his way to consciousness and opened his eyes. The sun hung low in the west. Lien knelt at his side with an expression of relief.

“You’re the soundest sleeper I’ve ever seen,” she said. “I don’t think you moved all day. I couldn’t even see you breathe. I kept coming out to make sure you were still alive.” She paused. “Did you know it’s almost impossible to feel your pulse? Your skin is cold, too. Garreth, please, please, let me take you back to the hospital. They’re turning the city upside down looking for you.”

He flinched at the reproach in her voice and sat up stiffly, groping for the dream. Had the dream Lien been right? Could he go on being the same person? “Thanks for not giving me away.”

“You needed the rest.” She stood. “Come inside. It’s freezing out here.”

It did not seem so to him.

“What do you think you can stomach For supper?”

His throat burned. A cramp contracted his stomach. He let it pass before answering. “Maybe just tea.”

She turned around sharply. “This is ridiculous. You have to eat! Are you trying to kill yourself?”

Maybe that would be best. Dreams were often just dreams. He did not want to think about eating. “Please, Lien.”

She fixed the tea and stood with arms folded, watching him sip it. “At least show up at the Hall to let them know you’re alive so they can go back to hunting people who deserve it.”

He hated lying to her. He did it anyway. “All right. I’ll turn myself in to Harry.”

She hissed in exasperation. “Don’t be childish. It isn’t like that and you know it.”

“I’m sorry.”

The tea curbed none of his thirst, but at least its warmth soothed his throat and the cramps. He stood and put on his coat.

Lien followed him to the door. “Please take care of yourself.”

He hugged her. “I will. Thanks for everything. You’re a super lady.”

Picking up the car from around the corner, he drove to the public library in the Civic Center.

The subject needed research, his dream Lien had said. Racing to beat closing time, he hurriedly picked out books about the vampire legend, and after skimming them, copied pages to study more closely over multiple cups of tea in a near-by cafe.

That went fine as long as he considered the information just research, as long as he did not think of it applying to him personally. Let that awareness seep in, though, and all the horror, the dread, returned in an icy flood. His hands shook so much he could hold neither cup or papers. It all seemed so preposterous, a nightmare. If only he would wake up. Or consider it just a delusion born of the trauma of Lane’s attack.

He humored the delusion and resumed reading, still shaking.

There appeared to be two kinds of vampires, those like Dracula who walked around talking and reasoning, and the zombies like Miss Lucy, mindless, dripping dirt and graveclothes, driven only by their lust for blood. Lucy had been bitten by Dracula, but he, like Mina Harker, had swallowed some of his attacker’s blood in turn. Did that make the difference? Why?

A question none of the reading helped answer was why Lane let him live. She had broken Adair’s and Mossman’s necks to destroy their nervous system and prevent them from rising again. Why had she not done the same for him?

“Inspector Mikaelian?”

He started. A uniformed officer smiled down at him. “We spotted your car out front. Everyone’s looking for you.”

No! Protest screamed in him. Not yet! He still had so much to figure out.

He contemplated excusing himself for the restroom and escaping out the back. Then rejected the idea. If he could really pass as normal — as human — it had to start with acting normal. Not wacko…not guilty. And this officer looked experienced, likely to accompany him to the restroom. No way did he intend to assault a fellow officer, too.

Casually, Garreth folded the copied pages and slipped them into the inside pocket of his sport coat. “Have you called it in?”

“Yes. Lieutenant Serruto is on his way.”

Serruto! Garreth’s stomach lurched. Could he face his boss and carry off normal? He forced a smile. “Let’s go.”

They waited in the parking lot along with the second officer from their patrol car. Serruto arrived…with Harry driving. The knot in Garreth’s stomach jerked tight in dismay. He had to face Harry, too?

The lieutenant did not bother getting out of the car, just rolled down the window. “Give one of the uniforms your car keys, Mikaelian. Drive the car to the Hall,” he told the uniformed officers, “and have the keys taken up to my office in Homicide. Get in, Mikaelian.” Neutral as the tone was, Garreth heard steel under it.

He climbed in the back seat. And almost choked. Their blood scent flooded the car. He opened the window the full third it rolled down and sat hard up against the door.

“Thanks,” Serruto told the officer, then as the car left the parking lot, he turned around on the seat to face Garreth. “Hunting you monopolized a lot of manpower, Mikaelian. We thought we’d find you collapsed somewhere, really dead this time.”

Garreth slunk down in the seat, flushing guiltily. “I’m sorry.”

Serruto shook his head. “I don’t know how anyone practically dead three days ago manages to overpower a husky orderly but I’m more interested in why you did it. What’s going on here?”

What could he say? What would a normal man say? “I — some kind of panic attack? Once they moved me out of ICU I couldn’t eat; I couldn’t sleep. I had to get out of there.”

Serruto eyed him for several moments…then sighed. “Look…having your throat torn out by a psycho, waking up in the morgue…that’s a hell of an experience. Of course you’re screwed up. That’s why the hospital is where you need to be, so we can sort this out.”

Oh, right…discover what Lane turned him into! No. “But I feel better since I left.” Inwardly he winced, saying it. God, how lame that sounded.

To Serruto, too. His eyes narrowed.

Harry said, “Come on, Garreth. Lien called me and said you were virtually comatose all day at our house. That doesn’t sound like better to me.”

“You don’t have a choice here,” Serruto said.

About which time Garreth realized they were pulling into General’s parking lot. Now he did feel a panic attack. Short of overpowering them, how did he avoid being forced inside?

His racing mind spun back to Lane forcing him into the alley. Could he hypnotize with a look, too? Two men? Maybe not that…but Serruto made the decisions. Could he handle this in a way that compelled Serruto and convinced Harry?

He looked Serruto hard in the eyes, trying to remember how Lane stared into him. “I do feel better. If a doctor checks me over and okays me, let…me…take…my…sick… leave…at…home.”

Serruto’s eyes and expression fixed. His voice flattened. “All right.”

Garreth grinned to himself. It worked!

Harry started. “What! Sir…”

Okay…he needed more for Harry. If he shifted from Serruto, though, he might lose control over the lieutenant. He continued focusing on Serruto. “What if I stay at your place, Harry?” He needed the freedom of