gave the shorter man a push forward and, dropping the accent, added, "Here you go, shrimp, delivered as ordered."
The woman sitting on the steps to Alex's locked studio stood considerably shorter even than Henry's five six. Her lack of height, combined with baggy jeans and an oversized sweater, gave her a waiflike quality completely at odds with the cropped platinum hair and the intensity of her expression.
Sliding out from Alex's arm, Henry executed a perfect sixteenth century court bow-not that anyone in the room could identify it as such. "Isabelle," he intoned gravely.
Isabelle snorted, reached out, grabbed his lapels, and yanked his mouth against hers.
Henry returned the kiss enthusiastically, skillfully parrying her tongue away from the sharp points of his teeth. He hadn't been certain he was going to feed tonight. He was certain now.
"Well, if you two are going to indulge in such rampant heterosexuality, in my house yet, I'm going." With an exaggerated limp-wristed wave, Alex sashayed off into the crowd.
"He'll change personalities again before he gets to the door," Henry observed settling himself on the step. The length of their thighs touched and he could feel his hunger growing.
"Alex has more masks than anyone I know," Isabelle agreed, retrieving her beer bottle and picking at the label.
Henry stroked one finger along the curve of her brow. It had been bleached near white to match her hair. "We all wear masks."
Isabelle raised the brow out from under his finger. "How profound. And do we all unmask at midnight?"
"No." He couldn't stop the melancholy from sounding in his voice as he realized the source of his recent discontent. It had been so long, so very long, since he'd been able to trust someone with the reality of what he was and all that meant. So long since he'd been able to find a mortal he could build a bond with based on more than sex and blood. And that a child could be created out of the deepest bond that vampire and mortal could share, then abandoned, sharpened his loneliness to a cutting edge.
He felt Isabelle's hand stroke his cheek, saw the puzzled compassion on her face, and with an inward curse realized his mask had slipped for the second time that night. If he didn't find someone who could accept him soon, he feared the choice would be taken from him, his need exposing him whether he willed it or not.
"So," with an effort, he brought himself back to the moment, "how was the gig?"
"It was March. It was Sudbury." She shrugged, returning to the moment with him, if that was how he wanted it. "Not much else to add."
If you can't share the reality, there are worse things than having someone to share the masks.
His gaze dropped to a faint line of blue disappearing beneath the edge of her sweater and the thought of the blood moving so close beneath the surface quickened his breath. It was hunger, not lust, but he supposed in the end they were much the same thing. "How long will you be in town?"
"Only tonight and tomorrow."
"Then we shouldn't waste the time we have."
She twined her fingers in his, carefully ignoring the bandage, and pulled him with her as she stood. "I thought you'd never ask."
* * *
Saturday night, at 11:15, Norman realized he was out of charcoal for the hibachi and the only local store he'd been able to find it in had closed at nine. He considered substitutions and then decided he'd better not mess with a system that worked.
Saturday night passed quietly.
Sunday night. . . .
* * *
"Damn. Damn! DAMN!"
Mrs. Kopolous clicked her tongue and frowned. Not at Vicki's profanity, as she might have on any other day, but at the headline of the tabloid now lying on her counter.
"VAMPIRE KILLS STUDENT; Young man found drained in York Mills."
Four
"Good God, would you look at old Norman."
"Why?" Roger pulled his head out of his locker and turned around. He could feel his jaw quite literally drop. "'Good God' doesn't quite cover it, my man. I wish Bill
The woman sitting on the steps to Alex's locked studio stood considerably shorter even than Henry's five six. Her lack of height, combined with baggy jeans and an oversized sweater, gave her a waiflike quality completely at odds with the cropped platinum hair and the intensity of her expression.
Sliding out from Alex's arm, Henry executed a perfect sixteenth century court bow-not that anyone in the room could identify it as such. "Isabelle," he intoned gravely.
Isabelle snorted, reached out, grabbed his lapels, and yanked his mouth against hers.
Henry returned the kiss enthusiastically, skillfully parrying her tongue away from the sharp points of his teeth. He hadn't been certain he was going to feed tonight. He was certain now.
"Well, if you two are going to indulge in such rampant heterosexuality, in my house yet, I'm going." With an exaggerated limp-wristed wave, Alex sashayed off into the crowd.
"He'll change personalities again before he gets to the door," Henry observed settling himself on the step. The length of their thighs touched and he could feel his hunger growing.
"Alex has more masks than anyone I know," Isabelle agreed, retrieving her beer bottle and picking at the label.
Henry stroked one finger along the curve of her brow. It had been bleached near white to match her hair. "We all wear masks."
Isabelle raised the brow out from under his finger. "How profound. And do we all unmask at midnight?"
"No." He couldn't stop the melancholy from sounding in his voice as he realized the source of his recent discontent. It had been so long, so very long, since he'd been able to trust someone with the reality of what he was and all that meant. So long since he'd been able to find a mortal he could build a bond with based on more than sex and blood. And that a child could be created out of the deepest bond that vampire and mortal could share, then abandoned, sharpened his loneliness to a cutting edge.
He felt Isabelle's hand stroke his cheek, saw the puzzled compassion on her face, and with an inward curse realized his mask had slipped for the second time that night. If he didn't find someone who could accept him soon, he feared the choice would be taken from him, his need exposing him whether he willed it or not.
"So," with an effort, he brought himself back to the moment, "how was the gig?"
"It was March. It was Sudbury." She shrugged, returning to the moment with him, if that was how he wanted it. "Not much else to add."
If you can't share the reality, there are worse things than having someone to share the masks.
His gaze dropped to a faint line of blue disappearing beneath the edge of her sweater and the thought of the blood moving so close beneath the surface quickened his breath. It was hunger, not lust, but he supposed in the end they were much the same thing. "How long will you be in town?"
"Only tonight and tomorrow."
"Then we shouldn't waste the time we have."
She twined her fingers in his, carefully ignoring the bandage, and pulled him with her as she stood. "I thought you'd never ask."
* * *
Saturday night, at 11:15, Norman realized he was out of charcoal for the hibachi and the only local store he'd been able to find it in had closed at nine. He considered substitutions and then decided he'd better not mess with a system that worked.
Saturday night passed quietly.
Sunday night. . . .
* * *
"Damn. Damn! DAMN!"
Mrs. Kopolous clicked her tongue and frowned. Not at Vicki's profanity, as she might have on any other day, but at the headline of the tabloid now lying on her counter.
"VAMPIRE KILLS STUDENT; Young man found drained in York Mills."
Four
"Good God, would you look at old Norman."
"Why?" Roger pulled his head out of his locker and turned around. He could feel his jaw quite literally drop. "'Good God' doesn't quite cover it, my man. I wish Bill
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