times in churches and meetings and classrooms. I held it lion-tamer style, with the legs facing outward. It was all I could think of to do. I thought of Bill, but that was too painful. I thought of my brother, Jason, and I wished he were there with me. It had been a long time since I'd wished that about Jason.
The door opened. Gabe was already smiling as he came in. It was a nasty smile, letting all the ugliness leak out of his soul through his mouth and eyes. This really was his idea of a good time.
'You think that little chair is going to keep you safe?' he asked.
I wasn't in the mood for talking, and I didn't want to listen to the snakes in his mind. I closed myself off, contained myself tightly, bracing myself.
He'd bolstered the gun, but kept the stun gun in his hand. Now, such was his confidence, he put it in a little leather pouch on his belt, on the left side. He seized the legs of the chair and began to yank the chair from side to side.
I charged.
I almost had him out the door, so unexpected was my strong counterattack, but at the last minute he managed to twist the legs sideways, so that they couldn't pass through the narrow doorway. He stood against the wall on the other side of the hall, panting, his face red.
'Bitch,' he hissed, and came at me again, and this time he tried to pull the chair out of my hands altogether. But as I've said before, I've had vampire blood, and I didn't let him have it. And I didn't let him have me.
Without my seeing it, he'd drawn the stun gun and, quick as a snake, he reached over the chair and touched it to my shoulder.
I didn't collapse, which he expected, but I went down on my knees, still holding the chair. While I was still trying to figure out what had happened to me, he yanked the chair from my hands, and knocked me backwards.
I could hardly move, but I could scream and lock my legs together, and I did.
'Shut up!' he yelled, and since he was touching me, I could tell that he really wanted me unconscious, he would enjoy raping me while I was unconscious; in fact, that was his ideal.
'Don't like your women awake,' I panted, 'do you?' He stuck a hand between us and yanked open my blouse.
I heard Hugo's voice, yelling, as if that would do any good. I bit at Gabe's shoulder.
He called me a bitch again, which was getting old. He'd opened his own pants, now he was trying to pull up my skirt. I was fleetingly glad I'd bought a long one.
'You afraid they'll complain, if they're awake?' I yelled. 'Let me go, get off me! Get off, get off,
He roared, and reared back, his own hands going to his head. He was so full of rage it escaped him and washed over me; it felt like bathing in fury. I knew then that he would kill me if he could, no matter what reprisals he faced. I tried to roll to one side, but he had me pinned with his legs. I watched as his right hand formed a fist, which seemed as big as a boulder to me. And with a sense of doom, I watched the arc of that fist as it descended to my face, knowing this one would knock me out and it would be all over … .
And it didn't happen.
Up in the air Gabe went, pants open and dick hanging out, his fist landing on air, his shoes kicking at my legs.
A short man was holding Gabe up in the air; not a man, I realized at second glance, a teenager. An ancient teenager.
He was blond and shirtless, and his arms and chest were covered with blue tattoos. Gabe was yelling and flailing, but the boy stood calmly, his face expressionless, until Gabe ran down. By the time Gabe was silent, the boy had transferred his grip to a kind of bear hug encircling Gabe's waist, and Gabe was hanging forward.
The boy looked down at me dispassionately. My blouse had been torn open, and my bra was ripped down the middle.
'Are you badly hurt?' the boy asked, almost reluctantly.
I had a savior, but not an enthusiastic one.
I stood up, which was more of a feat than it sounds. It took me quite a while. I was trembling violently from the emotional shock. When I was upright, I was on an eye level with the boy. In human years, he would've been about sixteen when he'd been made vampire. There was no telling how many years ago that had been. He must be older than Stan, older than Isabel. His English was clear, but heavily accented. I had no idea what kind of accent it was. Maybe his original language was not even spoken anymore. What a lonely feeling that would be.
'I'll mend,' I said. 'Thank you.' I tried to rebutton my blouse—there were a few remaining buttons—but my hands were shaking too badly. He wasn't interested in seeing my skin, anyway. It didn't do a thing for him. His eyes were quite dispassionate.
'Godfrey,' Gabe said. His voice was thready. 'Godfrey, she was trying to escape.'
Godfrey shook him, and Gabe shut up.
So, Godfrey was the vampire I'd seen through Bethany's eyes—the only eyes that could remember seeing him at the Bat's Wing that evening. The eyes that were no longer seeing anything.
'What do you intend to do?' I asked him, keeping my voice quiet and even.
Godfrey's pale blue eyes flickered. He didn't know.
He'd gotten the tattoos while he was alive, and they were very strange, symbols whose meaning had been lost centuries ago, I was willing to bet. Probably some scholar would give his eyeteeth to have a look at those tattoos. Lucky me, I was getting to see them for nothing.
'Please let me out,' I said with as much dignity as I could muster. 'They'll kill me.'
'But you consort with vampires,' he said.
My eyes darted from one side to another, as I tried to figure this one out.
'Ah,' I said hesitantly. 'You're a vampire, aren't you?'
'Tomorrow I atone for my sin publicly,' Godfrey said. 'Tomorrow I greet the dawn. For the first time in a thousand years, I will see the sun. Then I will see the face of God.'
Okay. 'You chose,' I said.
'Yes.'
'But I didn't. I don't want to die.' I spared a glance for Gabe's face, which was quite blue. In his agitation, Godfrey was squeezing Gabe much tighter than he ought to. I wondered if I should say something.
'You do consort with vampires,' Godfrey accused, and I switched my gaze back to his face. I knew I'd better not let my concentration wander again.
'I'm in love,' I said.
'With a vampire.'
'Yes. Bill Compton.'
'All vampires are damned, and should all meet the sun. We're a taint, a blot on the face of the earth.'
'And these people'—I pointed upward to indicate I meant the Fellowship—'these people are better, Godfrey?'
The vampire looked uneasy and unhappy. He was starving, I noticed; his cheeks were almost concave, and they were as white as paper. His blond hair almost floated around his head, it was so electric, and his eyes looked like blue marbles against his pallor. 'They, at least, are human, part of God's plan,' he said quietly. 'Vampires are an abomination.'
'Yet you've been nicer to me than this human.' Who was dead, I realized, as I glanced down at his face. I tried not to flinch, and refocused on Godfrey, who was much more important to my future.
'But we take the blood of the innocents.' Godfrey's pale blue eyes fixed on mine.
'Who is innocent?' I asked rhetorically, hoping I didn't sound too much like Pontius Pilate asking, What is truth? when he knew damn well.
'Well, children,' Godfrey said.
'Oh, you … fed on children?' I put my hand over my mouth.
'I killed children.'
