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He stared at it, riveted. Beyond tempted. It called to him, sang to him. Human blood. He remembered the taste, the wonder of it. Couldn t deny that he had yearned for it, just as Doyle had insisted. Before he realized what he was doing, he thrust two blood-covered fingers into his mouth. He reeled; his eyes clamped shut at the over-whelming sensation far more than taste, or smell, or sustenance it was what he was; the blood was the life his life and soul; it was his being. Oh, oh, more His eyes snapped open. What had he done? He was sickened. Lurching, he stumbled to the bathroom, sick, and turned the water on hot, hotter than he could stand. He thrust his hands under the nearly boiling gush and washed them, scrubbing over and over until they were nearly raw. How could he have done that to her? The last act of betrayal of her sad life. Committed by the one person whom she really could have trusted. Or should have been able to trust. He kept scrubbing, remembering how he had tried to decontaminate himself after his change back from Angel into Angelus. After Buffy s love had reactivated his curse. Spike and Dru had laughed so at him. Looked at him askance now and then, utterly horrified at the notion that one of their own had gone rene-gade. Killed his own kind, siding with the humans. Since there was little honor among vampires, they accepted him back; Dru with arms wide open, Spike initially delighted, but never quite losing his suspicion that Angelus was not there to stay. Spike had been too right. Or had Angelus stayed after all? Did that demon lurk inside, biding his time, waiting for just the right moment to make a rebid for ascendance? Angel looked in the mirror, which offered no reflection. But he could see, behind him on the floor, Tina s body. She bore silent witness to his memories, and his regrets, and to his despair. I must never assume I m the good guy, he thought.It could have been me, literally, under the right circumstances. He was stunned that even now he stared at the wound on her throat with fascination. Even now. He crossed to the phone, his gaze never leaving her face. Silently he dialed 911. Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html It must have been like this after I killed Jenny, Angel thought.And Giles was there, watching every impersonal, uncaring moment of it. Tina s apartment bustled with activity. A coroner studied Tina s body while two detectives combed the place for clues. A forensics assistant was dusting for prints. All this, Angel could see from his vantage point on a neighboring rooftop. He waited, still and silent, as her body was bagged and taken away. Then he turned, grim, stepped up on the roof ledge, and leaped. He landed on another rooftop far below and disappeared into the darkness. He had so much to make up for. He wasn t certain eternity would be long enough to do it in. Russell Winters lived in an enormous, ostentatious fortress. Iron gates secured the stone wall that surrounded it; a guard was stationed in a kiosk next to the gates at all hours of the day and night. When you were who and what Russell Winters was, you took precautions. Which was fine. Russell Winters could certainly afford them. He sat back with satisfaction in his office and watched the video Margo had shot at the party of Tina. His place of business was large and spacious, and filled with the tools of his trade: computers, huge monitors, paintings, an empty desk, and thick drapes secured against the daylight. Enormous piles of material shielded him from that famous Southern California sunshine. From this nest of vast luxury, he kept his finger on the pulse of the world economies. He had more information pouring into this room than some of the large Wall Street brokerage houses received from all their branch offices. He had more money than many small nations. With that money he had bought himself a wonderful existence here in Los Angeles. Beautiful artwork. Exquisite clothes and cars. Beautiful people. The intercom buzzed and William said, Mr. McDonald from Wolfram and Hart is here, sir. Ah, another of my precautions. Show him in, William. William, the butler, escorted Lindsey McDonald from the foyer of Russell Winters s mansion toward the study. It was a trip Lindsey had made many times, and yet it never failed to impress and inspire him. Uniformed maids polishing and cleaning; everything speaking of incredible wealth and power. Lindsey aspired to it. He would do whatever he could to get it. Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html Hello, Mr. Winters, sorry to disturb you at home, he said politely as William bowed out, leaving them alone. Mr. Winters rewound the video. It was the girl. The young, beautiful, dead girl. A man is only disturbed to see someone from his law firm when he brings bad news, Mr. Winters said offhandedly, his eyes on the video. Am I going to be disturbed, Lindsey? No, Lindsey assured him, staying poised and professional, although he was very proud of all the good things he had done for Russell Winters in the last twenty-four hours. The Eltron merger is a go. They caved on everything after you . . . negotiated with their C.F.O. We ll bring the final drafts to your office tomorrow. Mr. Winters took that in. Yet you re here today. Lindsey nodded, glancing at the girl on the screen. Mr. Winters said, She had something, didn t she. He rewound the tape again. It s a little sad when you kill them so young. Lindsey stared at the girl, then impassively opened his briefcase and brought out a sheaf of documents. He showed them to Mr. Winters. Actually, you haven t seen her in several weeks, he informed his firm s client. You were in conference yesterday with your contract lawyers when the unfortunate incident occurred. And we ve located a witness who s telling the police he saw a dark-complected man with blood on his hands fleeing the scene. Winters was impressed. Am I paying you fellows at Wolfram and Hart enough? He shoots, he scores! Yes, Lindsey said calmly. See you tomorrow. Concealing his sense of triumph, he returned his papers to his briefcase while Mr. Winters continued watching the video. New scenes from the same party splashed across the monitor. Who s this? Mr. Winters asked, interest in his voice. Lindsey looked at the monitor. He and Mr. Winters were looking at a vivacious young woman with a terrific figure and lustrous dark hair. Very lovely. Lovelier even than yesterday s. Stunning cheekbones. And what a smile. Thoughtfully he closed his briefcase and asked, Should I alert the firm that this young lady may constitute another . . . long-term investment? Mr. Winters studied the girl s image. I don t think so. I just want something to eat. That reminds me. Short Brew Food Supplies four hundred thousand shares. Lindsey made a mental note. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] |
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