Page 57 of The Undead

Second card: Death. Adam snorted and shrugged.

Third card: Queen of Swords. I looked at Sylvia, curious, but she was watching Adam. He touched the card with contemplative fingertips, a secret smile on his lips.

Fourth card: The Tower, shadowy figures screaming and hurtling down from the crumbling structure, hounds snarling and baying beneath it, all lit by the brilliant light of the full fertile moon. Adam’s smile vanished. Sylvia reached out to turn it over, face down, but he caught her hand and stopped her.

’You want to tell me what that one means?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Sylvia didn’t look at him, just broke free and shuffled the Tower back into the deck. Adam sat back, frowning, rubbing his fingertips lightly on the smooth tabletop. Sylvia squared the edges on her deck, wrapped them in a dark scarf, and opened a drawer in the little oak sideboard next to her. She didn’t say a thing to either one of us, just got up and left the room.

“What’s wrong with her?” I asked Adam. His lips pressed together, smothering some expression he didn’t want me to see.

“You understand women all the time?”

“You’ve got to be kidding. I don’t even understand them some of the time.” I picked up his mug and rinsed it in the white porcelain sink. The dregs of the blood turned pink and disappeared into the whirlpool of the drain. “How long you going to keep me here, Adam?”

“Nobody’s keeping you here.”

I stuck the mugs into the waiting dishwasher and turned to look at him, eyebrows raised. He smiled.

“You don’t know, Michael, you just don’t understand. But tonight you start to. It’s time you learned a few things—things I can’t teach you, not directly, not here.”

“Where are we going?” Sylvia called from the other room, amid a rustle of fabric. She was pulling things out of the coat closet, I guessed, and I was proven right when she appeared in the kitchen doorway with an armload of leather and wool. Adam tilted his head backward to look at her.

“The dub, I thought. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“You’re going too?” I asked, surprised. Adam stood up and pulled his coat on, then held Sylvia’s coat for her. He freed her long unbound hair from the collar and let it spill down her back; for just an instant, his fingers lingered in the rich flow, and something flashed in his eyes. It wasn’t hunger, not so soon after the blood. But it was like that.

“I’m not leaving her here. Not again. Not while I can help it.”

He’d left her last night to come for me, to keep me from killing Maggie as—face it—I’d probably intended to. He’d risked Sylvia’s life to save my sanity. I hadn’t appreciated that, until now—but I had a sudden dizzying vision of what it must have cost him to take such a chance with her, to know that when he returned she might have been gone forever. Taken by William’s cruel, stupid game.

He’d never even hinted at his own pain last night, or if he had I’d missed it, so wrapped in my own misery and jealousy that I couldn’t have spotted a Mack truck heading for my nose. I caught his eye briefly, and his lips twitched into a pale imitation of a grin.

“I,” Sylvia announced as she picked up her purse from the chair, “need something to eat. We’re stopping on the way.”

Adam’s groan was heartfelt; I didn’t—quite—echo him. Sylvia gave us both an exasperated look. Adam spread his hands in surrender.

“All right, fine, but we take the convertible. I can’t stay in your car with it.”

Sylvia laughed, a warm rich sound that echoed back from the kitchen and the wood floors. She unlocked the door and blew him a kiss.

“You know, you remind me of a boss I once had. Health-food fanatic, only ate unpesticided vegetables and water-packed tuna.”

“This the boss who died crossing the street at the age of thirty-four?” Adam asked. He followed her out. I missed her answer, but not Adam’s laughter, rare and unforced. I locked the door behind me and took the back seat in Adam’s car.

“Where the hell is he?” I muttered. Adam’s head turned, very slightly, but he didn’t look at me. His shoulders rose and fell in elegant dismissal.

“If you’re looking for William, forget it. He never hurries. I wouldn’t worry, if I were you; he hasn’t given up.” Adam backed the car out and eased it into gear with expert care. “Dinner, Sylvia. What do you want?”

“Hamburger.”

Adam made a retching sound and sighed. I sat back and watched the city glide by, a glittering cascade of lights and sounds and smells that seemed so much brighter and immediate than it had in my living days. This was my world, and it wasn’t; it was brilliant and beautiful and alien. We drove down the freeways, alone in a river of souls, and there was something so odd and surreal about it that I couldn’t help but laugh. It was half-hysterical, but I needed it; Sylvia’s warm chuckle joined me, and I felt the warm touch of her hand on the side of my face. I turned to look at her, and the rush of hunger took me utterly by surprise. I didn’t move, didn’t look away. Her eyes widened.

---