Disclaimers in part one

"I would say Mendoza was responsible for their deaths, not you," Mike said.

If he tried to apply the rules of law to the situation, he'd be inclined to judge that Fitzroy had been guilty of criminal negligence by creating a vampire - though some lawyer would have to first prove that the existence of vampires was an inherent threat to public safety, and that Fitzroy knew that, but that shouldn't be too hard to do - but it was Mendoza's actions, illegal actions, that had resulted in the women's deaths; even if it wasn't his intent, like getting people killed when you only meant to rob the convenience store. No, Mike's law-steeped mind had no trouble categorizing relative guilt and laying almost all of it on Mendoza.

Vicki nodded.

Mike couldn't read Fitzroy's expression as he gazed at Mike, but it wasn't hostile. That was an improvement.

"And these others?" he asked.

"No idea," Fitzroy said, still watching Mike.

Mike decided to quit while he was ahead. He gathered up the photos and returned them to his case. "That's all I needed," he said. "Vicki?"

Vicki frowned, started to say something, then stopped, watching Fitzroy. Fitzroy had gathered up the water glasses and turned toward the kitchen, but then stopped, staring at nothing. Vicki threw Mike a wait-I've-noticed-something-interesting look.

Fitzroy turned back to the folding table and set the glasses back down.

"Henry," she asked, and he focused on her again, "Why won't you go in the kitchen?"

"I can go in the kitchen," he protested, just a bit too much.

"But why won't you? What's in the kitchen?"

"There's nothing in the kitchen. What do you mean?" He sounded indignant, not puzzled. Mike realized what Vicki had seen.

"So take the glasses in there."

"I'll clear up later." The man positively fidgeted.

Vicki stood, "Henry, tell me."

For a long moment, Fitzroy said nothing, staring at her, then glancing at Mike, then looking all around the room. Both Mike and Vicki regarded him levelly.

"What is it about the kitchen?"

"I know it's stupid," he said, "but there are kitchen knives on the counter and whenever I see them . . ."

Mike's heart sank. Whenever you see them, you remember what it felt like to be cut and stabbed while terrified and helpless. God, he hated himself.

Vicki nodded. "Uh huh," she said.

"I didn't know you were a mind reader," Fitzroy said, with a hint of a smile.

"I'm not," Vicki said, "this is something I actually have experience with. What do you say I go hide your knives?"

Fitzroy gave her a surprised stare. "Hide them? Oh, okay. You'd do that?"

"Of course." She put a hand on his shoulder. "You're really not used to having help, are you?" She didn't let him answer. "It's only a band-aid, I know, but at least you can go in your own kitchen." She strode away.

With the two of them alone, Mike couldn't bear to look at Fitzroy, but had to when he said, "Celucci."

"Yeah?"

"Thank you for coming after me." He said it like he was forcing himself to.

"I had to," Mike said, and winced at how that sounded. Like Vicki made him or something.

Vicki was back, brushing her hands against each other like she'd finished dirty work. "All clear." She gestured at the water glasses. "Care to try it out?"

Fitzroy collected the glasses again and left.

"Mike," Vicki said. "I'm going to stay if he'll let me. You go on home."

"Vic, are you sure? You're not af -" Oh no, he shouldn't have said that.

Anger flared in her eyes, enough to tell him that yes, she was, and no, she wasn't going to accept it. Mike had his own little flashback to the fanged, ravenous, wounded creature that lunged at him and sank his teeth into his neck.

"I would be," he told her.

"Well, I'm not."

"You're not what?" Fitzroy asked from behind her.

Vicki turned, nervously. "I'm not leaving. Can I stay?"

From Fitzroy's expression, she might have been offering a drowning man a rope. He managed to nod.

Vicki took his hand. "Good. Then maybe we can talk about the color red."

Fitzroy closed his eyes and tensed. Direct hit. Boy, Vicki was good, Mike thought. He hadn't even spotted that one.

There was a whole lot of trauma floating around, Mike reflected, and they were all going to have to help each other through it. But right now, he was the third wheel. He stood and slipped out the door, leaving the image of Vicki holding Fitzroy's hand burned in his brain.

Well, that could have gone worse.

the end