Please see disclaimers in part one.
Vicki was almost ready for bed when the phone rang. She reached for it with relief, because Henry had not checked in after leaving to get the chalice blessed. She had tried not to worry, since he often didn't call if he finished something too late at night.
"Vicki, you're all right." Henry's voice held both relief and concern.
"I'm fine," she said. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"Because you—because I—Vicki, someone else is dead."
"What?" She had never heard Henry sound so upset. "Who?"
"Rhonda Brody. A friend. She died in the hospital today." She heard him take a breath. "Vicki, I fed from her last night."
"I thought you fed on Janice."
"And Rhonda. They were both fine last night. Now they're dead. Right after the grimoire. I'm the one who destroyed the grimoire, and now everyone I touch dies."
"Wait, wait. Calm down." Vicki found it unnerving to hear Henry sound off-balance. "It's not anyone you touch. You've been with Coreen and me and we're fine. Mike, too. And what about the priest? Did you get the chalice blessed?"
"Yes. It's blessed," Henry said, sounding more like himself. "Vicki, this is very serious. We did something wrong, and this is the consequence."
"Are you at home? I'm coming over."
"No! You have to stay away!"
"Henry, think. Do you honestly think I'm going to die because I walk into your apartment? Be reasonable. Think this through."
Henry said nothing.
Vicki rubbed her eyes. "Think of all the people you've been with tonight and last night. Did you talk to your doorman?"
"Yes."
"Anyone else in the building?"
"Yes."
"When you were at the club, you must have talked to other people. Did you dance with anyone else?"
"Yes, but Vicki—"
"Did you dance with them, or feed on them?"
"I only—just Janice and Rhonda."
"You fed on two women last night? Is that usual for you?"
"It's called clubbing. You should try it sometime." Now Henry sounded exactly like he did when Mike interrogated him. Normal. Vicki relaxed.
"Done that, thanks. I'm going blind, I don't need to go deaf as well. I'm coming over. We have to talk. Just don't bite me and we'll be fine."
Henry opened his door to her promptly. At this time of night Vicki generally found him at his work, wearing loose-fitting, vaguely sensual clothes. Tonight, he still wore the suit he'd had on earlier, including the vest. It made him look confined. He didn't smile as she entered.
"Anyone else dead?" she asked, in all seriousness. As a cop she'd learned to use dark humor as a shield, but she wouldn't dream of joking with Henry about this.
"Not if you aren't." He took her right hand in his, palm up, and stroked the almost-healed gash with his thumb. "I fed from you, too."
"That was the night before," she said, and pressed her tongue against the inside of her healed lip at the memory of their kiss.
"And before we destroyed the grimoire. Thank God." He dropped her hand and turned away from her, pacing farther into his condo. He invited her to sit with a short gesture of one hand.
Vicki took a seat, allowing herself to watch him move. Henry had a dancer's grace she seldom had the opportunity to enjoy. When they'd had cause for swift action, it was usually too dark for her to see him, and she'd tended to be occupied, herself. Often he'd moved too fast for anyone to see him, so she'd mostly noticed his grace those few times she'd seen him pacing with thought or worry. Like now.
"I knew something like this would happen," he said. "We don't know what we're doing and we're tossing black magic around like it's a hockey puck. I threw that grimoire on the fire like it was just another log. As if I knew— And now two young women are dead."
"I was the one who thought we should burn the grimoire. You did it to shield me from any consequences. And we weren't casual about it. You prayed for it to work. This isn't your fault. You couldn't have known."
"How does ignorance excuse it? They're dead, Vicki. Their lives are over because of our overconfidence. My overconfidence," he amended.
"Oh, don't go all noble on me. I'm in this, too. Shoot, I'm at the center of it. And I'm sorry they're dead. I really am. I hate it when—" She had to stop herself as a cascade of memories tumbled through her consciousness, the most recent being -- a young man she was trying to save, who was murdered while under her protection and because of her investigation.
Henry's steel-hard gaze on her softened minutely.
"But we can't let it stop us," she said. "I'm not even completely convinced their deaths are related."
Henry snorted as he turned away from her to resume his pacing.
"How did you learn Rhonda was dead?"
"From her friends at the club. She felt sick in the morning when she woke up. She collapsed and was taken to the hospital. She died in the afternoon."
"Of what?"
"They didn't know."
"Did the hospital know?"
"I don't know. What does it matter?"
"Of course it matters. Was it something contagious? Did Janice have it and you spread it to Rhonda? We'll talk to the hospital and find out. At least you know Rhonda's last name. What were you doing tonight at a nightclub? Are there any new girls we should be worried about?"
Henry whirled toward her. "Vicki, this is not the time to deal with your ridiculous jealousy. This is life and death."
"My what?" What? Where was this coming from? Vicki stood up.
"Jealousy. You refuse my attentions but you're jealous whenever you see me with someone else. You can't even refer to my dates without sarcasm, and God forbid I should have someone in my bed. You behave like I'm an adulterous libertine. This is not just carnal pleasure; it's how Ilive. I don't need you passing judgment on it."
Vicki got in his face. "What are you talking about? I don't care what you do. I know it's how you live, but maybe right now it would be healthier for everyone if you found an alternative lifestyle."
Henry turned away. Vicki felt stunned. Neither of them spoke.
Vicki breathed once, twice. She put a hand on his arm. "Henry, you're—afraid to feed."
Henry turned slowly back to her, his expression tight. "Whose life should I gamble with next?" he asked.
Now that she'd realized the problem, Vicki's brain buzzed. "You've got other—there are other ways. Right?"
The look Henry gave her had hopelessness in it, and buried terror. Vicki saw her answer there, but had to ask anyway. "Like bagged blood?"
"I drink life," Henry said evenly. "Blood is just the vessel. Without life, the blood is empty."
"There must be something else—the dump! You said there's all kinds of life in a dump. You could drink from animals."
Henry closed his eyes. "It's like bread and water. I can't live on it forever."
Vicki licked dry lips, still thinking furiously.
"Mendoza gave me a rat," he said. "He needed to keep me alive. It would have helped, but I let it go."
"Why?" Vicki asked, not sure where these musings were going. The starved, desperate Henry she remembered from that time could have used any help he could get.
"I wanted to persuade him I was a man, not a monster. That I could show mercy." Henry smiled slightly. "To a rat."
"You were his prisoner," Vicki said. "Appealing to his humanity was your only hope."
"No, Vicki. You were my only hope. Mendoza was not impressed."
Vicki took his hand. "Well, I am. We'll solve this, I promise. We'll fix it."
