scary journey it had been so far.
But he'd gotten something much different.
A glimpse into his future if he didn't get the Eye and wish to be human again.
He knew that he'd eventually turn into somebody like Malcolm. Confused and irrational and more than a little crazy.
Well, more than he already was, anyhow.
Now all he could do was focus on getting the map away from the old man before it was too late.
Malcolm smiled at Quinn and glanced off toward the mechanical bull again as he sipped from his glass of
Heineken.
"The woman today," he said. "The mercenary. Did you know her well?"
Quinn kept his face neutral, striving for bored despite all the upsetting information he was dealing with.
"No. The bitch was willing to kill me to get her hands on that map. You did me a favor."
"Did she wake while you fed from her?"
He shook his head. "No."
"And she's dead now."
"Very. Didn't want to risk siring her."
"Siring a vampire is a serious business. You must be there with them at all times. You will develop a bond that sometimes allows you to sense where they are, how they're feeling. It is best that you didn't sire this one. She was pretty, but obviously a very stubborn, driven woman who would do nothing but cause problems."
Quinn shrugged. "I've never been a huge fan of blondes, so it was a no-brainer to just kill her. Why are you asking me questions about her? She's dead.So's this topic. Let's talk about the map."
Malcolm turned his gaze away from the mechanical bull, and his expression was now cold. "I'm asking you about her because she's here right now. Over by the bar."
Quinn's aching stomach dropped. "That's impossible."
Malcolm's eyes wrinkled as he smiled—a very cold expression. "I'm disappointed in you, boy. I had such high hopes for our future. But I see now that you're a liar."
"You must be seeing things. I drained her. She's dead."
Or at least she will be when I get through with her, he thought, restraining the impulse to turn his head and look.
She followed him to the bar? After he asked her to wait at the motel?
Unbelievable.
Malcolm stared icily at him. "I never understood why your father was so disappointed in you. He was never satisfied, wished that you had a deeper resolve to the kill, to strive for better, to follow in his footsteps. To me you seemed the perfect son. Obedient, strong, willing to learn and grow. But I think I see now that you're all that Roger said you were. You're a complete disappointment."
He stood up from the table.
Quinn's cheeks twitched and he forced a nervous laugh. "Come on, Malcolm. Sit down and let's talk about this. The map—"
The cold expression disappeared, replaced by one of fury. "You'll never lay one finger on that map." He brought his cane up to his chest with both hands, clutching it like a weapon.
Quinn eyed it and allowed the false friendliness to slide from his own expression. "What are you going to do? Try to knock me out, too?"
"No, that only works best with humans." He removed the silver tip from the end of the cane. "For vampires I have other methods."
Just as Quinn noticed that the silver covered a sharp wooden point, he shot up from the table and turned away. He was fast enough that the weapon missed his heart, but not fast enough to prevent it from thrusting into his body under the right side of his rib cage with a searing, white-hot pain.
He grabbed the long stake on either side, stunned speechless as he watched Malcolm quickly walk
Quinn tore his pained gaze away from the departing Malcolm and stared down at the stake. He braced himself against the side of the table and slowly eased the sharp wood out of his flesh.
The stake hurt more coming out than it had going in and he stumbled, dropping back down into the booth. It left a dark mark on his T-shirt. He hadn't eaten in so long that his own blood had changed consistency. Instead of red and flowing, it was dark and thick.
He gagged.
On the bright side, it meant he didn't bleed very much.
The country music blared in his ears and, since he hadn't made a single sound, the crowd that surrounded him seemed to have no idea of what just happened.
He staggered to his feet with only one thought. He couldn't let Malcolm get away. If he did, he'd never see the map again. He couldn't let Malcolm keep it. His plans were too extreme, too specific. He couldn't have the Eye if it was the last thing Quinn did.
And based on how the night was going, it just might be.
He scanned the bar for Janie but didn't see her anywhere. If she really had been there, she was gone now.
Holding his hand against his wounded stomach and trying to ignore the pain, he began to make his way through the crowded club, being jostled on every side. As he passed the long bar, the blondes eyed him again like hot-bodied vultures.
"We knew you'd be back," one said.
"Got to leave," he managed.
"Come on, one drink. We promise we won't bite."
If he'd been feeling half himself he might have laughed at that. Instead, he roughly pushed past them as they attempted to block his escape route.
One made an annoyed sound. "Probably gay, aren't you?"
Quinn gritted his teeth. "Never been happier, thanks for asking."
He got to the front doors, pushed them open, and was greeted by the surprisingly cool breeze from the dark night. The bouncers eyed him as they would any obviously inebriated, staggering patron, and gave him a wide berth.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of white hair as Malcolm disappeared behind a corner.