Tanya Huff - Victoria Nelson - 04 - Blood Pact

VIP免费

2024-11-29 0 0 439.75KB 167 页 5.9玖币

file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruiswijk/Mijn%20d...a%20Huff%20-%20Victoria%20Nelson%20-%2004%20-%20Blood%20Pact.txt

It began with the call no daughter ever wants to get, the call that told private investigator Vicki Nelson

her mother had died.

Mrs. Nelson's coworker at the Queen's University Life Science Department told Vicki that the cause of

death was a heart attack, and that they'd be waiting for her to arrive in Kingston to make the funeral

arrangements. But what started as an all too normal personal tragedy soon became the most terrifying

case of

Vicki's career. For when Marjory Nelson's body mysteriously disappeared from the funeral home, Vicki,

her sometime lover and fellow investigator, vampire Henry

Fitzroy, and her former homicide squad partner, Detective-Sergeant Mike Celluci, realized that there

was something unnatural about her mother's demise. Vicki swore she'd find the culprit, and see that her

mother was properly laid to rest. But what she hadn't counted on was that someone at Queen's University

seemed determined to keep Mrs. Nelson on the job-alive or dead!

If you purchase this book without a cover you should be aware that this book may have been stolen

property and reported as "unsold and destroyed" to the publisher. In such case neither the author nor the

publisher has received any payment for this "stripped book."

For Mrs. Mac, who helped me through a rough time without having a clue of what she was getting into

and never really got thanked. Thank you.

Thanks also to Michael Humphries of Wat-tarn's Funeral Home in Picton, Ontario, who gave generously

of his time and expertise.

First Printing, November 1993 8 9

DAW TRADEMARK REGISTERED U.S. PAT. OFF. AND FOREIGN COUNTRIES -MARCA

REGISTRADA HECHO EN U.S.A.

PRINTED IN THE U.S.A.

One

"Mrs. Simmons? It's Vicki Nelson calling; the private investigator from Toronto?" She paused and

considered how best to present the information. Oh, what the hell. . . "We've found your husband."

"Is he . . . alive?"

"Yes, ma'am, very much so. He's working as an insurance adjuster under the name Tom O'Conner."

"Don always works in insurance."

"Yes, ma'am, that's how we found him. I've just sent you a package, by courier, containing a copy of

everything we've discovered including a number of recent photographs-you should receive it before

noon tomorrow. The moment you call me with a positive ID, I'll take the information to the police and

they can pick him up."

"The police thought they found him once before- in Vancouver-but when they went to pick him up he

was gone."

"Well, he'll be there this time." Vicki leaned back in her chair, shoved her free hand up under the bottom

edge of her glasses and scrubbed at her eyes. In eight years with the Metropolitan Toronto Police and

nearly two years out on her own, she'd seen some real SOBs; SimmonsIO'Conner ranked right up there

file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruis...20Victoria%20Nelson%20-%2004%20-%20Blood%20Pact.txt (1 of 167)23-2-2006 23:10:32

file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruiswijk/Mijn%20d...a%20Huff%20-%20Victoria%20Nelson%20-%2004%20-%20Blood%20Pact.txt

with the best of them. Anyone who faked his own death in order to ditch a wife and five kids deserved

exactly what he got. "My partner's going to talk to him tonight. I thinkyour husband will decide to stay

right where he is."

The bar was noisy and smoky, with tables too small to be useful and chairs too stylized to be

comfortable.

The beer was overpriced, the liquor over-iced, and the menu a tarted-up mix of at least three kinds of

quasi-ethnic cooking plus the usual grease and carbohydrates. The staff were all young, attractive, and

interchangeable. The clientele were a little older, not quite so attractive although they tried desperately

hard to camouflage it, and just as faceless. It was, for the moment, the premier poser bar in the city and

all the wannabes in Toronto shoehorned themselves through its doors on Friday night.Henry Fitzroy

paused just past the threshold and scanned the crowd through narrowed eyes. The smell of so many

bodies crammed together, the sound of so many heartbeats pounding in time to the music blasting out of

half a dozen suspended speakers, the feel of so many lives in so little space pulled the Hunger up and

threatened to turn it loose. Fastidiousness more than willpower held it in check. In over

four and a half centuries, Henry had never seen so many people working so hard and so futilely at

having a goou time.

It was the kind of place he wouldn't be caught dead in under normal circumstances, but tonight he was

hunting and this was where his quarry had gone to ground. The crowd parted as he moved away from

the door, and eddies of whispered speculation followed in his wake.

"Who does he think he is . . ."

". . . I'm telling you, he's somebody ..."

Henry Fitzroy, bastard son of Henry VIII, one time Duke of Richmond and Somerset, Lord President of

the Council of the North, noted, with an inward sigh, that some things never changed. He sat down at the

bar-the young man who had been on the stool having vacated it as Henry approached-and waved the

bartender away.To his right, an attractive young woman raised one ebony brow in obvious invitation.

Although his gaze dropped to the pulse that beat in the ivory column of her throat and almost

involuntarily traced the vein until it disappeared beneath the soft drape of magenta silk clinging to

shoulders and breasts, he regretfully, silently, declined. She acknowledged both his glance and his

refusal, then turned to more receptive game. Henry hid a smile. He wasn't the only hunter abroad

tonight. To his left, a wide back in a charcoal gray suit made up most of the view. The hair above the

suit had been artfully styled to hide the thinning patches just as the suit itself had been cut to cover the

areas that a fortieth birthday had thickened. Henry reached out and tapped lightly on one wool-clad

shoulder. The wearer of the suit turned, saw no one he knew, and began to scowl. Then he fell into the

depths of a pair of hazel eyes, much darker than hazel eyes should have been, much deeper than mortal

eyes could be. "We need to have a talk, Mr. O'Conner."

It would have taken a much stronger man to look away.

"In fact, I think you'd better come with me." A thin sheen of sweat greased the other man's forehead.'

'This is just a little too public for what I plan to . . Slightly elongated canines became visible for an

instant between parted lips. "... discuss."

"And?"

Henry stood at the window, one hand flat against the cool glass. Although he seemed to be looking

down at the lights of the city, he was actually watching the reflection of the woman seated on the couch

behind him. "And what?"

file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruis...20Victoria%20Nelson%20-%2004%20-%20Blood%20Pact.txt (2 of 167)23-2-2006 23:10:32

file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruiswijk/Mijn%20d...a%20Huff%20-%20Victoria%20Nelson%20-%2004%20-%20Blood%20Pact.txt

"Henry, stop being an undead pain in the ass. Did you convince Mr. O'ConnerISimmons to stay put until

the police arrive?''

He loved to watch her; loved to watch emotions play across her face, loved to watch her move, loved to

watch her in repose. Loved her. But as that was a topic not to be discussed, all he said was, "Yes."

"Good. I hope you scared the living shit out of him while you were at it."

"Vicki." He turned, arms crossed on his chest, and frowned in what was only partially mock disapproval.

"I am not your personal bogeyman, to be pulled out of the closet every time you think someone needs to

have the fear of God ..."

Vicki snorted. "Think highly of yourself, don't you?''

"... put into them," he continued, ignoring the interruption.

"Have I ever treated you like my 'personal bogeyman'?" She raised a hand to cut off his immediate reply.

"Be honest. You have certain skills, just like I have certain skills, and when I think it's necessary, I use

them. Besides," she pushed her glasses back into place on the bridge of her nose, "you said you wanted

to be more involved in my business. Help out with more cases now that you've handed in Purple

Passion's Pinnacle and aren't due to start another romantic masterpiece until next month."''Love Labors

On.'' Henry saw no reason to be ashamed of writing historical romances; it paid well and he was good at

it. He doubted, however, that Vicki had ever read one. She wasn't the type to enjoy, or even desire,

escape through fiction. "Tonight-it wasn't what I had in mind when I said I wanted to be more involved."

"Henry, it's been over a year." She sounded amused. "You should know by now that most private

investigating consists of days and days of boring, tedious research. Thrilling and exciting life-

threatening situations are few and far between."

Henry raised one red-gold brow.

Vicki looked a little sheepish. "Look, it's not my fault people keep trying to kill me. And you. And

anyway, you know those were the exceptions that prove

the rule." She straightened, tucking one sneakered foot up under her butt. "Tonight, I needed to convince

a sleazebag-who deserved to be terrified after what he put his wife and kids through-to stay put until the

police arrive. Tonight, I needed you. Henry Fitzroy, vampire. No one else could've done it."

Upon reflection, he was willing to grant her that no one else could have done the job as well although a

couple of burly mortals and fifty feet of rope would have had the same general effect. "You really didn't

like him, did you?''

"No. I didn't." Her lip curled. "It's one thing to walk out of your responsibilities, but it takes a special

kind of asshole to do it in such a way that everyone thinks he's dead. They mourned him, Henry. Cried

for him. And the son of a bitch was off building a new life, fancy-free, while they were bringing flowers,

every Saturday, to an empty grave. If he hadn't gotten into the background of that national news report,

they'd still be crying for him. He owes them. In my book, he owes them big."

"Well, then, you'll be happy to know that I did, as you so inelegantly put it, scare the living shit out of

him."

"Good." She loosened her grip on the throw pillow. "Did you ... uh ... feed?"

"Would it matter if I had?" Would she admit it if it mattered. "Blood's blood, Vicki. And his fear was

enough to raise the Hunger.''

"I know. And I know you feed from others. It's just..." She dragged one hand through her hair, standing

it up in dark blonde spikes. "It's just that ..."

"No. I didn't feed from him." Her involuntary smile was all he could have asked, so he crossed the room

file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruis...20Victoria%20Nelson%20-%2004%20-%20Blood%20Pact.txt (3 of 167)23-2-2006 23:10:32

file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruiswijk/Mijn%20d...a%20Huff%20-%20Victoria%20Nelson%20-%2004%20-%20Blood%20Pact.txt

to see it better.

"You're probably hungry, then."

"Yes." He took her hand and gently caressed the inner skin of her wrist with his thumb. Her pulse leapt

under his touch.

She tried to stand, but he pushed her back, bent his head, and ran his tongue down the faint blue line of a

vein.''Henry, if we don't go soon, I won't be able to . . ." Her voice faded out as her brain became

preoccupied with other things. With a mighty effort, she forced her throat to open and her mouth to

work. "We'll end up staying on the . . . couch."

He lifted his mouth long enough to murmur, "So?" and that was the last coherent word either of them

spoke for some time.

"Four o'clock in the morning," Vicki muttered, digging for the keys to her apartment. "Another two

hours and I'll have seen the clock around. Again. Why do I keep doing this to myself?" Her wrist

throbbed, as if in answer, and she sighed. "Never mind. Stupid question."

Muscles tensed across her back as the door unexpectedly swung fully open. The security chain hung

loose, unlocked, arcing back and forth, scraping softly, metal against wood. Holding her breath, she

filtered out the ambient noises of the apartment-the sound of the refrigerator motor, a dripping tap, the

distant hum of the hydro substation across the street-and noted a faint mechanical whir. It sounded

like . . .

She almost had it when a sudden noise drove off all hope of identification. The horrible crunching,

grinding, smashing, continued for about ten seconds, then muted.

"I'II grind his bones to make my bread . . ."It was the closest she could come to figuring out what could

possibly be happening. And all things considered, I'm not denying the possibility of a literal translation.

After demons, werewolves, mummies, not to mention the omnipresent vampire in her life, a Jack-eating

giant in her living room was less than impossible no matter how unlikely. She shrugged the huge, black

leather purse off hershoulder and caught it just before it hit the floor. With the strap wrapped twice

around her wrist it made a weapon even a giant would flinch at. Good thing I hung onto that brick . . .

The sensible thing to do would involve closing the door, trotting to the phone booth on the corner, and

calling the cops.

I am way too tired for this shit. Vicki stepped silently into the apartment. Four in the morning courage.

Gotta love it.

Sliding each foot a centimeter above the floor and placing it back down with exaggerated care, she made

her way along the short length of hall and around the corner into the living room, senses straining. Over

the last few months she'd started to believe that, while the retinitis pigmentosa had robbed her of any

semblance of night sight, sound and smell were beginning to compensate. The proof would be in the

pudding; although she knew the streetlight outside the bay window provided a certain amount of

illumination in spite of the blinds and the apartment never actually got completely dark, as far as her

vision was concerned, she might as well be wearing a padded blindfold.

Well, not quite a blindfold. Even she couldn't miss the blob of light that had to be the television

flickering silently against the far wall. She stopped, weapon ready, cocked her head, and got a whiff of a

well known after-shave mixed with . . . cheese?''

The sudden release of tension almost knocked her over.

"What the hell are you doing here at this hour, Celluci?"

"What does it look like?" the familiar voice asked mockingly in turn. "I'm watching an incredibly stupid

file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruis...20Victoria%20Nelson%20-%2004%20-%20Blood%20Pact.txt (4 of 167)23-2-2006 23:10:32

file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruiswijk/Mijn%20d...a%20Huff%20-%20Victoria%20Nelson%20-%2004%20-%20Blood%20Pact.txt

movie with the sound off and eating very stale taco chips. How long have you had these things sitting

around, anyway?"

Vicki groped for the wall, then walked her fingers along it to the switch for the overhead light.

Blinkingaway tears as her sensitive eyes reacted to the glare, she gently lowered her purse to the floor.

Mr. Chin, downstairs in the first floor apartment, wouldn't appreciate being woken up by twenty pounds

of assorted bric-a-brac slamming into his ceiling.

Detective-Sergeant Michael Celluci squinted up at her from the couch and set the half-empty bag of taco

chips to one side. "Rough night?" he growled.

Yawning, she shrugged out of her jacket, tossing it over the back of the recliner. "Not really. Why?"

"Those bags under your eyes look more like a set of matched luggage." He swung his legs to the floor

and stretched. "Thirty-two just doesn't bounce back the way thirty-one used to. You need more

sleep.""Which I had every intention of getting," she crossed the room and jabbed a finger at the

television control panel, "until I came home to find you in my living room. And you haven't answered

my question."

"What question?" He smiled charmingly, but eight years on the force with him, the last four intimately

involved-Now that's a tidy label for a complicated situation, she mused-had made her pretty much

immune to classical good looks used to effect.

"I'm too tired for this shit, Celluci. Cut to the chase."

"All right, I came by to see what you remembered about Howard Balland."

She shrugged. "Small-time hood, always looking for the big score but would probably miss said big

score if it bit him on the butt. I thought he left town.''

Celluci spread his hands. "He's back, in a manner of speaking. A couple of kids found his body earlier

tonight behind a bookstore down on Queen Street West."

"And you've come to me to see if I remember anything that'll help you nail his killer?"

"You've got it."

"Mike, I was in fraud for only three short months before I transferred to homicide and that was a good

chunk of time ago."

"So you don't remember anything?"

"I didn't say that ..."

"Ah." The single syllable held a disproportionate weight of sarcasm. "You're tired and you'd rather

screw around with your little undead friend than help get the bastard who slit the throat of a harmless old

con man. I understand."

Vicki blinked. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"You know what I'm talking about. You've been off playing Vlad the Impaler with Henry Fucking

Fitzroy!"

Her brows drew down into a deep vee, the expression making it necessary for her to jab her glasses back

up onto the bridge of her nose. "I don't believe this. You're jealous!"

They were chest to chest and would Ve been nose to nose accept for the difference in their heights.

Although Vicki was tall at five ten, Celluci was taller still at six four.

"JEALOUS!"

Over the years Vicki had learned enough Italian to get the gist of what followed. The fight had barely

begun to heat up when a soft voice slid through a pause in the screaming.

"Excuse me?"

file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruis...20Victoria%20Nelson%20-%2004%20-%20Blood%20Pact.txt (5 of 167)23-2-2006 23:10:32

文档加载中……请稍候！
如果长时间未打开，您也可以点击刷新试试。

下载文档到电脑，查找使用更方便

5.9 玖币 0人已下载

立即下载 VIP免费下载

摘要：

file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruiswijk/Mijn%20d...a%20H\uff%20-%20Victoria%20Nelson%20-%2004%20-%20Blood%20Pact.txtItbeganwiththecallnodaughtereverwantstoget,thecallthattold\privateinvestigatorVickiNelsonhermotherhaddied.Mrs.Nelson'scoworkerattheQueen'sUniversityLifeScienceDepartmen...

展开>> 收起<<

Tanya Huff - Victoria Nelson - 04 - Blood Pact.pdf

共167页,预览5页

还剩页未读，继续阅读

声明：本站为文档C2C交易模式，即用户上传的文档直接被用户下载，本站只是中间服务平台，本站所有文档下载所得的收益归上传人(含作者)所有。玖贝云文库仅提供信息存储空间，仅对用户上传内容的表现方式做保护处理，对上载内容本身不做任何修改或编辑。若文档所含内容侵犯了您的版权或隐私，请立即通知玖贝云文库，我们立即给予删除！

Tanya Huff - Victoria Nelson - 04 - Blood Pact

相关推荐

开通VIP享超值会员特权

作者详情

相关内容

热门标签

举报选择: