“Ricardo!I was hoping you wouldn’t return, and that you’d left Helen here withus.”
Helengiggled—she held an empty tumbler. They’d probably been at this forhours.
“Thanksfor entertaining her for me,” Rick said. “My pleasure. Really.”
“Helen,we need to talk,” Rick said, gesturing to the doorway.
“Yourfriend’s acharmer, Rick,” she said.
“Yes,he is. Let’s go.”
Shepushed herself from the seat. Glancing over her shoulder, she wavedfingers at him, and Arturo answered with an indulgent smile. Rick putan arm over her shoulder and guided her into the safe room.
“Don’tbe angry,” she said. “I needed to ask him if there was a phone.”
“Whodid you need to call?”
“Thepolice,” she said, and ducked her gaze. “I didn’t want you to get hurt,so I called the police and told them there might be trouble atMurray’s.”
Andthere was trouble, and the police had shown up.
“I’dalmost taken care of Blake when the police arrived,” he said.
Hedidn’t say, You should have trusted me.
Shepaled. “What happened?”
“He’sin jail now, but he’s not going to stay there unless they get someproof that he committed those murders. They know he did it, they justdon’t have evidence.”
Shepaced back and forth along the foot of the bed. Her shoulderstightened, and she hugged herself.
“Ithink you should go talk to them, Helen. You can testify, Blake will goto prison, and he won’t bother you again. You’ll be safe.”
“Ican’t do that, Rick. I can’t say anything. He’ll kill me, he’ll—”
“Notif he’s in prison.”
“Butwhat if he gets out? The first thing he’ll do is come after me.”
“I’llkill him first,” Rick said.
“Rick,no. I don’t want you to get in trouble over me. I don’t even know whyyou’re looking out for me, you barely know me—”
“I’mdoing it because I can,” he said. “But if you go to the police, they’lltake care of Blake.”
Shemoved close, pressing herself to him, wrapping her arms around him andresting her head on his chest. This again. She was so close, he couldhear blood pouring through her veins, near the surface. She was flushedand so warm. He rubbed his face along her hair, gathering that warmthto him.
“Helen,”he said with something like despair.
“What’sthe matter?” she said.
“I’mnot . . . right for you. This is dangerous—”
“Why?”She stepped away. “What’s up with you? You’re so nice, butyou’re not afraid of Blake, and you keep talking like I ought to beafraid of you. What aren’t you telling me?”
Sucha large answer to that question. He shifted her, so that he could seeher face, trace the soft skin of her jaw, then drop to trace the pulseon her neck. He should send her to sleep and make her forget all this.He never should have taken her on that first date. And life was toolong for that kind of regret. It didn’t matter how immortal you were,you still needed friends.
“Haveyou ever read Dracula?” he said. “
What,likeBela Lugosi?”
“Notquite like. But yes.”
“Yeah,ages ago. I like the movie better.”
“Vampiresexist. They’re real.”
Shechuckled. “Sorry?”
Hetook her hand and placed it on his chest, where his dead heart laystill. “What do you feel?”
Hersmile fell. She moved her hand, pressing it flat to his chest, his ribsdigging into her palm. She stared at him. “What am I supposed to say?Tell you you’re crazy?”
“Liestill,” he said.
“What?”
Hesat her on the bed, stacked up the pillows, and forced her back so thatshe reclined against them. He kissed her, and she kissed back,enthusiastic if confused. Taking in her scent, her warmth, and the feelof her blood, he let the appetite grow in him.
Plantinga final kiss on her neck, he held her hand and drew her arm straightbefore him. No hypnotism this time, no shrouding her memory. Let hersee what he was. He put his lips to her elbow—more kisses, slow andtender, tracing her veins with his tongue. She let out a moan.
Hesucked on her wrist, drawing blood to the surface.
“Rick?What are youdoing? Rick?”
“Isaid lie still.” He pushed her back to the pillow and returned hisattention to her wrist.
Finally,he bit, and she gasped. But she lay still.
Herblood was not as sweet as it might have been—she was too wary. But itwas still sweet, and she didn’t panic, and when he licked the woundclosed and glanced at her, her gaze was clear. Uncertain, but clear. Hewas relieved. He folded her arms across her belly, wrapping her in anembrace, her head pillowed on his shoulder. She melted against him.
“Idon’t understand,” she whispered.
“Idon’t expect you to. But do you trust me to look after you if Blakegoes free?”
Shenodded. He kissed her hair and waited for her to fall asleep.
Rickbrought her to Murray’s the next night, and Detective Simpsonwas waiting for them. Her hands were trembling, but Rick stayed closeto her, and she stood tall and spoke clearly. Simpson promised shewouldn’t be charged with any of the petty crimes she’d committed, inexchange for her testimony. The case against Blake went to trial, andHelen was the prosecution’s star witness. Blake was convicted and sentaway for a long, long time. Rick was sure he’d never see the guy again.
Heonly needed a little digging—a visit to a parole office, someobfuscation and inveigling, a deep look into an informant’s eyes—tolearnwhich halfway house Blake was staying at, east of downtown. He drovethere with a single-minded intensity. He wasn’t often wrong these days,but he’d been wrong about Blake, and he’d failed Helen. Petty revengewouldn’t make that right. But it might help tip the scales back in theright direction.
Thehouse was back from the street, run-down and lit up, and gave nooutward sign of what it was. Rick wondered if the neighbors knew. Heparked his car on the curb, stuck his hands in his pockets, and headedto the front door.
Thehouse pressed outward against him; his steps slowed. The placewas protected—he wasn’t sure it would be, given its nature, and thefact that people were always moving in and out. Did that make it apublic institution, or a home? But here was his answer—this was a home.He couldn’t enter without invitation. By the time he reached
