13

First they had to set Fowler up. While Irina prepared their prisoner to turn from a statue back into a man, Lien closed the windows and drapes. That left the room lighted by only a three-way table lamp beside the fireplace chair where Grandma Doyle sat, a lamp she turned off as soon Lien sat down in the wicker chair they had positioned on the other side of the fireplace. She left her hand on the lamp switch.

The dark felt wonderful. Garreth savored it as he limped to the kitchen.

"Ready, Grania?" Irina asked from beside Fowler.

"Ready."

Curse of the Vampire, Act One. Garreth moved faster.

"Five . . . four . . ." Irina raced after him. "Three." They pulled back out of sight on each side of the kitchen archway. "Two. One!"

In the living room, Fowler opened his eyes right on cue.

"Well now, I think he's rejoining us at last," Grandma Doyle said. "Good evening to you, Mr. Fowler."

Garreth peeked around the edge of the door. Fowler lay blinking in disorientation. After several moments, puzzlement became a frown. His head cocked in a listening attitude, obviously waiting for sounds which might tell him about his surroundings.

"You're uncomfortable, I hope," Grandma Doyle went on.

Fowler craned his head in the direction of her voice. "Who are you?" he demanded.

"Your judge." She switched the lamp on its lowest setting. The shade had been adjusted to cast light across her lap, leaving her face shadowed. "It could be I'm your doom as well."

Lien said in an impatient voice, "Why do you bother talking to him?"

Fowler's head whipped around toward her. She sat beyond the direct light of the lamp. He could not be seeing more than a general form. "Who are you?"

She pretended to ignore him. "He's conscious again. He can feel pain." She picked up the stake lying in her lap. Fowler saw that well enough. Garreth watched his eyes widen and heard his breath catch. "Let's kill him and be done."

Grandma Doyle shook her head. "You newcomers to the life are still so full of human impatience. Besides, killing is merciful. After the way he's slaughtered our brothers and sisters, do you really want to be merciful?"

Lien appeared to consider. "No!" She fingered the stake. "I want him to suffer! Let me give him a taste of how this feels."

Fowler spat a curse.

"I'll handle this me own way, thank you. Mr. Fowler."

He craned his neck to look at Grandma Doyle again. Garreth wondered what he could be thinking, lying there with these two halfseen figures talking across him. At least there was no doubt what he felt. Hatred twisted his face. "Who the bloody hell are you?"

"Those of the blood call me the Grand Dame . . . because I came to this life late in years and I've lived a long time. If there's a quarrel to be settled or a problem to solve, it's me they come to for the settling or solving. You, Mr. Fowler, are a problem in need of settling."

"Go to hell."

She laughed with a note so authentically bitter and savage it sent a shiver down Garreth's spine. "We're already there, Mr. Fowler. Prepare yourself to join us."

Fowler stiffened. "What—"

"Hold him for me, girl . . . up on his knees with his head pulled back. You don't have to be gentle."

"You—" Fowler began.

"No!" Lien spat. "I won't have him one of us!"

"Didn't you say you wanted him to suffer? What worse suffering than to be trapped among those he hates, unable to escape because he's one of us."

"I'll escape," Fowler snarled. "I'll see all of you destroyed."

Grandma Doyle laughed. "You think so now, but it's different once you've made the change. Even though you hate us, you'll protect us . . . because suddenly you're as terrified of the stake as we are. You'll even protect Mada."

"No!" He writhed wildly, fighting the bonds on his wrists and ankles. "I won't be cheated out of destroying that bloody bitch! No matter what I am, I'll find her and kill her, and then I'll see that the whole world knows you exist! They'll have to believe me with a live specimen in front of them!"

"Live specimen?" Lien said with a snicker.

He cursed at her.

Grandma Doyle sighed gustily. "Enough of this yelling. Mr. Fowler, be still."

Fowler froze in response to the command suggestion Irina had given him.

Grandma Doyle and Lien slid out of their chairs to kneel beside the writer. While Fowler's eyes bulged in horror and hatred, Grandma Doyle bent low and closed her teeth on his throat.

Irina's second command took effect. Fowler turned into a statue again.

Garreth limped out of the kitchen. "Great work, girls. Now let's get him out of here."