Mel I didn't do anything, she said, answering him the same way. I'm afraid you were the one who attacked her. She seemed very unhappy about it; she even stabbed you with a pencil. Maya lifted a hand and Thierry saw a neat dark hole puncturing it, faintly ringed with blood.
The power of illusion, he thought. Maya could appear as anyone and anything she wanted. She had talents that usually only belonged to werewolves and shapeshifters. And of course she was a witch.
She really has extraordinary spirit, Maya went on. But she's all right-you didn't exchange as much blood as you 'd planned. The pencil, you see.
People were gathering behind Thierry, murmuring anxiously. They were about to interfere and ask him to please let go of the girl he was strangling.
He ignored them.
Listen to me, he told Maya, staring into her mocking golden eyes. Listen, because I'm never going to say this again. If you touch Hannah again-ever-in any life-I will kill you.
"I'll kill you," he whispered out loud, to emphasize it. "Believe me, Maya, I'll do it."
Then he let her go. He had to get to Hannah. Even a small exchange of blood with a vampire could be dangerous, and Maya's blood was the most potent on earth. Worse, he'd already taken some of Hannah's blood last night. She could be critically weak now ... or starting to change.
He wouldn't think about that.
You won't, you know. Maya's telepathic voice followed him as he made for the door. You won't kill me.
Not Thierry the compassionate, Thierry the good vampire, Thierry the saint of Circle Daybreak. You're not capable of it. You can't kill.
Thierry stopped on the threshold and turned around. He stared directly into Maya's eyes.
"Try me."
Then he was outside, moving quickly through the night. Even so, Maya got the last word.
And, of course, there's your promise....
Chapter 11
Hannah stirred.
She vaguely felt that something was wrong, something needed doing. Then she remembered. The car!
She had to stay awake, had to keep the car on the road. . .
Her eyes flew open.
She was already off the road. The Ford had gone roving over the open prairie, where there was almost nothing to hit except sagebrush and tumble-weeds. It had ended up with its front bumper against a prickly pear, bending the cactus at an impossible angle.
The night was very quiet. She looked around and found that she could see the light of Chess's house, behind her and to the left.
The engine was off. Hannah turned the key in the ignition, but only got a grinding sound.
Now what? Should I get out and walk?
She tried to concentrate on her body, to figure out how she felt. She ought to feel terrible-after all, she'd lost blood and swallowed who knew what kind of poison from Thierry's veins.
But instead she only felt strangely dizzy, slightly dreamy.
I can walk. I'm fine.
Holding on to her length of dowel, she got out of the car and started toward the light. She could hardly feel the rough ground and the bluestem grass under her feet.
She had gone about a hundred yards toward the light when she heard a wolf howl.
It was such a distinctive sound-and so incongruous. Hannah stopped in her tracks. For a wild moment she wondered if coyotes howled.
But that was ridiculous. It was a wolf, just like the wolves that had attacked her at Paul's. And she didn't have anything made of silver.
Just keep walking, she thought. She didn't need the cool wind voice to tell her that.
Even in her lightheaded state, she was frightened. She'd seen the savagery of teeth and claws close up.
And the part of her that was Hana of the Three Rivers had a gut-deep fear of wild animals that the civilized Hannah Snow could never begin to approach.
She gripped her stick in a clammy palm and kept walking grimly.
The howl sounded again, so close that Hannah jumped inside her skin. Her eyes darted, trying to pick objects out in the darkness. She felt as if she could see better than usual at night-could the vampire blood have done that? But even with her new vision, she couldn't spot anything moving. The world around her was deserted and eerily quiet.
And the stars were very far away. They blazed in the sky with a cold blue light as if to show how distant they were from human affairs.
I could die here and they'd go right on shining, Hannah thought. She felt very small and very unimportant-and very alone.
And then she heard a breath drawn behind her.
Funny. The wolf howls had been so loud, and this was so soft... and yet it was much more terrifying. It was close-intimate. A personal sound that told her she definitely wasn't alone.
Hannah whirled with her stick held ready. Her skin was crawling and she could feel a wash of acid from her stomach, but she meant to fight for her life. She was at one with the cool wind voice; her heart was dark and cold and steely.
A tall figure was standing there. Starlight reflected off pale blond hair.
Thierry.
Hannah leveled her stick.
"What's the matter? Come back for more?" she said, and she was pleased to find her voice steady.
Husky, but steady. She waved her stick at him to show what kind of "more" she meant.
"Are you all right?" Thierry said.
He looked-different from the last time she'd seen him. His expression was different. His dark eyes seemed pensive again, the sort of expression a star might have if it cared about anything that was going on underneath it. Infinitely remote, but infinitely sad, too.
"Why should you care?" A wave of dizziness went through her. She fought it off-and saw that he was stepping toward her, hand reaching out. She whipped the stick up to the exact level of his hand, an inch from his palm. She was impressed with herself for how fast she did it. Her body was moving the way it had with the werewolves, instinctively and smoothly.