Page 26 of The Undead

Adam leaned casually against one wall of the cul-de-sac, hands in his pockets and eyes camouflaged behind his glasses. He looked at me without anger or triumph.

“Not the greatest choice, Michael, but I guess you weren’t thinking too clearly. Relax. You must remember what happened in the morgue when you tried to fight me.”

I didn’t say anything. Adam shrugged and sighed.

“I’ve always wondered what would happen if someone I’d scrubbed suffered a head injury—I suspect it brings back the true memories, doesn’t it? I noticed the bump when you talked to me in the waiting room. Well, that’s something worth knowing, not that I can do anything about it now. I don’t think another alteration of your memory would hold now, with as much as you know. I’d have to remove the past three days, and that would be a little obvious.” Adam smiled slightly, not at me, just at everything. “Besides which, it’s exhausting work trying to hang onto you, Michael. You’re very strong. I don’t really feel like exerting myself that much.” “Why don’t you just get your buddies to cut my throat, then? Just because they missed once doesn’t mean I’ll get lucky again” I blurted. It wasn’t courage. It was stupidity, and useless rage. Adam’s smile vanished, and the tiniest line formed between his eyebrows as he cocked his head and looked directly at me.

“My buddies?” he repeated slowly.

“The ones in the park. The ones chasing me.”

Adam tapped the surface of the mirror next to him with one shortnailed finger. It was odd to see no reflection echoing him.

Adam finally answered me in a voice that seemed more contemplative than defensive. I don’t send humans to do my work for me. No percentage in it. They fail too often, and besides, my nature is one thing I prefer to keep strictly quiet, so there’s no reason for me to have ‘associates,’ is there?”

“You told me in the morgue—”

“Yes. I told you that you might be attacked in the park, and killed. I considered doing just that” Adam was plainly troubled. “But I didn’t. I couldn’t. I let you out of the morgue, and that was the end of it.”

“Why didn’t you kill me then, in the morgue?” I demanded shakily. His eyes flashed up to meet mine, then slid away.

“What do you expect me to say, my friend?” Adam asked. He was staring at the point where his finger touched the mirror. As he spoke, a reflection began forming, first of his finger, then of the rest of his body. It was dim and distant, and it didn’t exist in any of the other mirrors. Adam released it with a sigh, and it faded. “Do you really think I like killing that much? Think what you want, Michael. You will anyway.”

“No. I want to know, Adam, you owe me that!”

“Do I?” His eyebrows rose, but he still refused to look at me. “Yeah, I could have killed you, but I didn’t, and all I asked for was your silence. Nothing but your silence. But tonight you chased me, you spied on me, for all I know, you may turn into one of those persistent, pesky, obsessive vampire killers. I think the balance of debt is pretty heavily in my favor, don’t you?”

“That all depends on why you held back,” I countered doggedly. “If you did it just to—to—”

“Feed?” Adam interrupted a little sharply. “No. As you probably saw tonight, I have very little difficulty in finding that, and I don’t kill often. When we’re young in this life, that’s all we know to do, but it isn’t really necessary. I don’t want your blood, Michael. And I don’t even really want your death. I—I remembered that you had always been my friend, even though we both operated under false assumptions. So I did you a favor, one friend to another.”

He looked up at me over the top of his glasses, and there was a sudden flash of expression that was startlingly human. Pain.

“I have been your friend, Michael. But if you continue this stupidity, you’ll force me to kill you, and I don’t want to do that. Please. I’m asking you, for both our sakes, to forget what you’ve seen and go on with your life.”

I could feel the cold metal under my shoulder blades as I pressed against it, knew that there was no defense for me here at all. Nothing to use against him, if I chose to fight, except my hands and feet. Fat lot of good that would do; it would be like slapping a dog with a T-bone.

“I don’t think I can ignore this,” I whispered truthfully. “You’re not supposed to exist, Adam. Do you think I can just shrug and forget about that?”

“I don’t think you have much choice,” he pointed out, and took a step toward me. “There’s Maggie to think about, too. I’ve always liked her a lot, and I’d really hate to have her in the middle of this.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” I whispered. Adam raised his eyes again, and this time they were harsh and unforgiving.

“War, Michael. It’s what you’re starting. Think about it.”

I looked at him and thought about a lot of things, about Maggie, about the terror in the park, about Adam’s deliberate care with his victim in the alleyway.

And, again, about Maggie. I couldn’t protect Maggie from Adam, and I knew it. That frightened me more than the prospect of losing my life. He’d known it would, the bastard—the practical, intelligent bastard.

I reached out and took his hand. It was cold and strong. I knew as his fingers closed over mine that I’d never be able to pull free of him, short of losing a few fingers, but there wasn’t anything menacing about his strength, not just now.

“Okay. I won’t say anything about you, and you keep Maggie out of it. Fair enough?”

“And you stop following me. You’re putting a serious cramp in my life,” he added with a upward tilt to his eyebrows. There was a smile lurking around the corners of his lips.

“Yes. I’ll stop following you.” What a concession, considering how miserably I’d failed at the task so for.

“Excellent.” Adam’s fingers released mine. “Take care, Mike.”

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