There was no time for shoes if I wanted the hooker to live.
I’d left them on the floor on her side of the bed, and caught a glimpse of them when she picked up my T-shirt to dry her tears on. Watching her, something drew my eyes to her throat, some old habit, some new awareness saw the artery pulse, a little twitch she wasn’t aware of.
I grabbed her wrists and yanked her across the bed, rolled us both to the floor, kicked the bathroom door open bare-footed and listened to the floorboards. The worn-out quilt slumped to the floor in our wake, most of its weight having been pinched to the edge of the bed.
“What the fuck –”
“Shh!” I covered her mouth. Shit, I’d forgotten that it hurt to land on things. My hip flared in frustration. Those little things, those stupid little things, you could forget them so easily. “Ever been religious, Maggie?”
Labels: bill kte'pi, fiction, novel, serial, vampires
April 2007 May 2007 June 2007 July 2007 August 2007 October 2007
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