14

Pounding on the door and the sound of Lien calling his name dragged him back to consciousness. "Garreth? Garreth, we're leaving for work. Sleep in as long as you like, then help yourself to whatever you want for breakfast. I've left a message for you from I Ching on the kitchen table. Be sure to read it. We'll see you later."

So she still consulted the Sage every morning to see what the day held for Harry, and today, for him. "Okay. Thanks," he mumbled.

Sleep in as long as he liked. He would. Sometime he had to see Holle, but afternoon would be soon enough. Late afternoon.

The thought trailed away as he sank back into sleep.

Sleep, not rest. He dreamed of stalking the hustler up Broadway. As he tried to catch the other vampire, however, he felt someone watching him. Lane? The spicy musk of her perfume curled out of the blood scents around him. He swore bitterly. Would her shadow never stop following him? Every time he turned around, he glimpsed her tall, red-haired figure, but when he pursued her, she became a small woman with violet eyes who vanished among the crowd before he could see her face.

Lane's voice remained, though. It called to him from every shadow. "Garreth. Lover. Come to me. Come to me, Mik-san."

Mik-san?

In the dream he pounded his fist against a wall. Shit. That had to be a real voice calling him, not Lane's. Cursing wearily, he clawed his way back toward consciousness.

"Mik-san." The doorknob rattled in a futile attempt to open the door. A fist pounded. "It's Harry. Wake up, damn it!"

Maybe Dracula knew what he was doing sleeping in a crypt deep under the castle. From there no doorbell could disburb him, no matter how long and hard friends and salesmen from the daylight world leaned on it. Without opening his eyes, Garreth called through gritted teeth, "I have a loaded gun, Harry. In five seconds I am going to fire it through the door at whoever is stupid enough to be standing there."

"At last. I thought maybe you'd died in there, Mik-san."

The man not only woke him, but had the unmitigated gall to sound cheerful! "I'm not kidding, Harry."

"I'm not either, I'm afraid. You have to get up. It's important. Besides, this isn't the middle of the morning; it's three-fifteen in the afternoon."

Three— Garreth pried open his eyes, only to squeeze them shut again in pain. Sunlight flooded around and through the thin window shades. Struggling out of bed, he groped blindly for his sport coat hanging on the closet door and fished his glasses out of the breast pocket. With them on, he stumbled over to unlock and open the door.

In the hall, Harry wore a grimly unhappy expression.

A chill slid down Garreth's spine. "What's wrong?"

Harry grimaced. "You're sure a hard man to wake up. When no one answered the phone, we thought you'd gotten up and gone out. Then the black-and-white spotted your car still here, so they tried knocking on the door. Without any response. So Serruto asked me to drive home and see if you were inside."

The cold in Garreth's spine deepened. "Why, Harry?" And why did he have this sudden vision of violet eyes peering out of the shadows at him?

Harry rubbed at a flaw on the paint of the doorjam. "What do you know about a guy named Richard Maruska?"

Garreth frowned. "I've never heard of him. Who is he?"

Harry sighed. "A male prostitute. Faye and Centrello's new case. Some people they've talked to say they heard a guy threaten him last night up in North Beach, a guy who claimed to be a cop and who fits your description, Mik-san."