“We would need to keep him here until we are sure he’ll not give away our location.”
I nodded. “Of course.”
“If I do this, you must promise to do something for me.”
Quinn moaned in agony, and I glanced at him before returning my attention to Thierry.
“Okay. Anything. What is it?”
His eyes flashed at me. “Later. All I need now is your promise to help me.”
“I promise.”
The knife was suddenly in his hand again. I hadn’t even seen him reach for it. Quinn watched him approach, his features contorted with pain. When he glimpsed the knife, I saw fear race through his eyes. He murmured something, but I couldn’t hear it. He tried to back away, but he was already pressed against the wall as far as he could go.
Thierry slashed his left forearm in one quick swipe. He tossed the knife to the side and pressed his arm against Quinn’s mouth. “Drink, hunter.”
I watched in silence as the last ounce of fight went out of Quinn. Finally it was too much, and his body went limp. All except his hands, which clutched at Thierry’s arm like a baby with a bottle. After five minutes Thierry pulled his arm away and helped Quinn over to the sofa. He fell asleep instantly.
Thierry picked up the knife from the floor and left the room without glancing at me. I followed him out into the club.
“Thank you for doing that,” I called after him.
“He’ll sleep for a while, I think. He won’t be happy when he wakens.”
“Yeah, he doesn’t seem like much of a morning person.”
He turned to look me directly in the eyes. “If you’ve endangered the people who look at this place as a refuge, I will not be pleased.”
I swallowed. “I know.”
“Go home now, Sarah. Rest.”
“Okay.” I turned to leave. “Oh, so what did I just agree to, anyhow? What do you want my help with?”
Thierry settled back into his booth and took a sip from his glass of cranberry juice. “When the hunters have moved on to their next city, and when I’m sure that you will be safe, you will assist me in ending my existence once and for all.”
I took a moment to let his words sink in before I freaked out.
“You want me to help you kill yourself?” I sputtered. Maybe I’d heard him wrong.
He stared at me. “That is correct.”
I sat down heavily. My face and hands felt cold. “Have you ever thought about going to see a therapist? Maybe try some kind of antidepression medication?”
He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I have given this matter much thought, Sarah. My existence has simply ceased to mean anything to me anymore. There is no longer anything to keep me here. Being what I am, I was not able to live a normal life and die of natural causes; therefore, I must choose the proper time for myself. That time is now.”
“And on the bridge—”
“On the bridge I was considering my limited options more than anything. Obviously, I was well aware that the fall would do nothing. The wooden stake in my pocket was another thing.”
“Oh, that was a stake?” I said. “I thought you were just happy to see me.”
He frowned.
“I’m kidding.” I bit my bottom lip nervously. “I didn’t even know you had one on you that night. Sorry. Humor at inappropriate times, that’s me.”
“So you will help me?”
I took a deep breath. “I don’t like it at all, but I did promise to help with whatever it is you need.”
That was as far away from a yes as I could get at the moment. How could he want to die? He had everything any man would want. Long life, good looks, a thriving business… a hot chick across the table from him. Hmmm. Well, three out of four ain’t bad.
“We will discuss this more at a later time,” he said. “For now, get some sleep. I will do what I can to look after your friend.”
“His name is Quinn, and he’s more of a passing acquaintance, really.” I looked around the busy club for a moment. “Fine, I’ll go, but I’ll be back first thing in the morning to make sure everything’s okay.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Do you think it will be?”
I bit my bottom lip again and looked away. “I’ll bring donuts.”
First thing in the morning ended up being nine-forty-five. The alarm didn’t go off. I know—excuses, excuses.
I’d slept so soundly that I hadn’t even heard the phone ring. There were two messages on my voice mail at home, both from my mother. She wanted to know details about my travel plans for my cousin Missy’s wedding. When I was showing up, if I was bringing a date, and that she’d made my favorite chocolate-chip cookies for my arrival.
Tomorrow.
I almost died when I remembered that little detail. How time flies when you’re being hunted within an inch of your newly immortal life. I’d booked three days off work, not that that was an issue anymore. In twenty-four hours I was supposed to be on my merry way three hours north of Toronto to my hometown and the site of my cousin’s second wedding. I was one of the bridesmaids. I wondered if they’d believe I had the flu.
Or maybe I could just tell them the truth. I’d been bled nearly dry and made into a creature of the night, a bloodsucking monster who barely had a reflection anymore. I wondered if that meant I wouldn’t show up in the wedding photos. Or was it just a mirror thing? I should probably figure that out before I went anywhere. I had to get out of going. There was no other way. To be a bridesmaid in my current condition would be wrong on too many levels to list. I’d have to think about what I’d say later, though. Right now I had to deal with the Quinn situation.
I swung past Tim Hortons on the way back to Midnight Eclipse to buy a dozen donuts. I used to love donuts, but now that I seemed to be on a strictly liquid diet, their sweet, carb-filled aroma didn’t make me want to gorge myself on the first dozen and buy a second dozen to cover up my binge. Not that that had ever happened before. Right. Strawberry-filled seemed to be a pretty good choice for your average pastry-eating vampire. Red stuff in the middle and all that.
The taxi dropped me off in front of the tanning salon. I’d decided to take only taxis everywhere now, as long as I could afford it. Walking the streets alone, even in the blinding broad daylight, was making me more nervous with every passing day. The front door was locked, so I went around to the back. I was surprised to see George leaning against the wall outside, wearing very dark sunglasses that mirrored my own, and passionately smoking a cigarette. There were many butts strewn on the ground by his feet.
“You’re still here?” I said. “Don’t tell me you never left last night.”
I couldn’t see his eyes, but the expression on the rest of his face wasn’t pleasant. “Oh,
you’re back. Thanks so much for leaving us with that lunatic.”
“Lunatic? Quinn? What did he do?”
“The real question is, what didn’t he do?”
I shoved the box of donuts at George and pulled the door open all the way. I immediately heard banging—a loud, steady noise, as if somebody were playing around with a battering ram.