experience, you won’t have to feel; you’ll be able to judge by looking. In any case, you must push the tool in quickly, do you understand? Like this”—Cole demonstrated, in the air—“like punching a hole. Quick and neat. Then you’ve got to latch on right away, as soon as you make the hole. If you don’t, the omni will likely be screaming and perhaps bleeding all over the place. Act quickly; get your mouth on the cut, because that will numb it. Don’t go too long; count to—hmm, let’s say twenty—as you’re feeding. Twenty seconds should be about right for the jugular, and the omni will be none the wiser. Oh.” Cole pulled out his wallet. “Here’s your ID.” He held out the plastic card he’d gotten from Alice.
Gordon stared at it. After a moment he reluctantly took the card between two fingers and studied it more closely.
“This is fake.”
“No kidding.”
“My birthday’s not in October.”
“It doesn’t matter when your birthday is.”
“And I’m not”—he squinted at the card—“twenty-one. I’m eighteen.”
“You’re as old as you need to be.”
“Hey. Does this mean I can buy beer?”
“You may buy beer to your heart’s content,” Cole said. He did not add that the kid wouldn’t want to once he’d tasted it.
“Good,” Gordon said, with the first real sign of spirit Cole had seen in him so far. “I’m going to get totally wasted. I’m not going to stop till I pass out. And then when I wake up, I’m going to start all over again.”
“You can’t.”
“Why not? I saw you’ve got that credit card. It’s not even yours, is it? What difference does it make to you if I check out for a bit? God, I deserve it. I—”
“It’s not the money. You can’t get drunk.”
“Oh yeah? Watch me.”
“No, I mean it’s physically impossible. Alcohol has no effect on you. It might make you sick, if you drink very much—but you won’t want to. Now hush and come on.”
Cole led the way into Fromm’s. It looked larger on the inside, with small round tables surrounding a dance floor and a long bar down one side of the room. Neon signs flashed the names of various beers.
“We’ll order drinks,” he told Gordon. “Go ahead andget whatever you like. You can even try to drink it. But the reason it’s there is in case something goes wrong, and you need to excuse your behavior to an omni. Best to order from the bar tonight,” he said to Sandor.
“Ah, yes, good thinking,” said Sandor. “No interruptions by waitresses. See, Gordon, Cole thinks of everything. Now you two sit down, and I’ll go.”
“I want beer,” Gordon said stubbornly. “Something imported.”
“Same for me,” Cole told Sandor. He had already picked out a table. It was nestled in a corner but had a fairly good view of the room.
He led the way, and Gordon followed, willingly now. Cole watched him as he sat down. The kid looked around the room, and Cole noticed that he tilted his head back slightly—for a heme, the air was threaded with shifting currents of scents: skin, sweat, perfume, salt. And the room wasn’t even full, not like it would have been on a weekend. Even this kid’s underdeveloped instincts were shifting toward alertness, with the promise of a feed at hand.
That was encouraging, Cole thought. Even if the boy wasn’t aware of it.
Cole let his gaze roam around the room, looking for prospects. Sandor came back with the drinks, but Cole ignored him. He’d already zeroed in on a table where four young women sat in varying postures. Two were dressed in jeans. The third wore a short plaid skirt, the fourth an even shorter dress of thin clingy material. They were intent on their conversation, apparently having a good time, not needing anyone else.
Cole heard Gordon sputtering—he’d tried his beer, obviously—but ignored it; Cole was on the hunt, waiting to make eye contact.
The girls burst into laughter, doubling over, and one laid her head on the table.
But another
Gordon stared at it. After a moment he reluctantly took the card between two fingers and studied it more closely.
“This is fake.”
“No kidding.”
“My birthday’s not in October.”
“It doesn’t matter when your birthday is.”
“And I’m not”—he squinted at the card—“twenty-one. I’m eighteen.”
“You’re as old as you need to be.”
“Hey. Does this mean I can buy beer?”
“You may buy beer to your heart’s content,” Cole said. He did not add that the kid wouldn’t want to once he’d tasted it.
“Good,” Gordon said, with the first real sign of spirit Cole had seen in him so far. “I’m going to get totally wasted. I’m not going to stop till I pass out. And then when I wake up, I’m going to start all over again.”
“You can’t.”
“Why not? I saw you’ve got that credit card. It’s not even yours, is it? What difference does it make to you if I check out for a bit? God, I deserve it. I—”
“It’s not the money. You can’t get drunk.”
“Oh yeah? Watch me.”
“No, I mean it’s physically impossible. Alcohol has no effect on you. It might make you sick, if you drink very much—but you won’t want to. Now hush and come on.”
Cole led the way into Fromm’s. It looked larger on the inside, with small round tables surrounding a dance floor and a long bar down one side of the room. Neon signs flashed the names of various beers.
“We’ll order drinks,” he told Gordon. “Go ahead andget whatever you like. You can even try to drink it. But the reason it’s there is in case something goes wrong, and you need to excuse your behavior to an omni. Best to order from the bar tonight,” he said to Sandor.
“Ah, yes, good thinking,” said Sandor. “No interruptions by waitresses. See, Gordon, Cole thinks of everything. Now you two sit down, and I’ll go.”
“I want beer,” Gordon said stubbornly. “Something imported.”
“Same for me,” Cole told Sandor. He had already picked out a table. It was nestled in a corner but had a fairly good view of the room.
He led the way, and Gordon followed, willingly now. Cole watched him as he sat down. The kid looked around the room, and Cole noticed that he tilted his head back slightly—for a heme, the air was threaded with shifting currents of scents: skin, sweat, perfume, salt. And the room wasn’t even full, not like it would have been on a weekend. Even this kid’s underdeveloped instincts were shifting toward alertness, with the promise of a feed at hand.
That was encouraging, Cole thought. Even if the boy wasn’t aware of it.
Cole let his gaze roam around the room, looking for prospects. Sandor came back with the drinks, but Cole ignored him. He’d already zeroed in on a table where four young women sat in varying postures. Two were dressed in jeans. The third wore a short plaid skirt, the fourth an even shorter dress of thin clingy material. They were intent on their conversation, apparently having a good time, not needing anyone else.
Cole heard Gordon sputtering—he’d tried his beer, obviously—but ignored it; Cole was on the hunt, waiting to make eye contact.
The girls burst into laughter, doubling over, and one laid her head on the table.
But another
Similar Books
