Companions of the Night Read Online Free

she was able to catch a glimpse of her fingers. The razor blade had cut two of them, but the bleeding seemed to be slowing down. She pressed the fourth sheet against his head with the two injured fingers—not daring to press against the actual wound, which would hurt, only near it. Every time she glanced at Ethan, he was watching her with those wary eyes. Which might mean that he could tell she was up to something and was afraid that she was going to get them both killed in the very near future, or it might mean that the blows to his head and the loss of blood had him confused enough to worry she was working with his captors. Or, more likely, the whole side of his head throbbed, and she was just making it worse.
    Hold on,
she wished at him.
I don't know exactly what I'm doing, but I'm trying to help.
Out loud she asked him, "Are you all right? Can you make it till dawn?"
    He nodded, still looking—Kerry feared—awfully wobbly.
    In a disgusted tone of voice, Sidowski swore and said, "This is the most ridiculous—"
    —at the same moment Ethan shifted position.
    Kerry knew exactly what he was doing. He'd been in the same kneeling position all along. His legs had to be cramping up, even not counting that one of them was injured And he was tied to the laundry tub, which should be clear indication to all that he wasn't going far.
    But Sidowski took the slight movement as a sign of intent to escape. Or he just used it as an excuse. He kicked Ethan in the chest and Kerry heard his head crack yet again against the laundry tub.
    Ethan clenched his jaw—against an outcry of pain or just trying to maintain consciousness, Kerry couldn't tell. His head bowed submissively, he took a couple deep breaths before getting out the barest whisper: "I just need to move my leg Please."
    "Poor thing," Sidowski said, not even sneering or sounding angry Just cold hatred in that voice.
    Ethan glanced at Sidowski with a look that cut through the hazy befuddlement, a look that all but shouted,
If I
were
a vampire, I'd rip out your throat.
    Or maybe it was just Kerry's interpretation of what he
should
be feeling.
    In the next instant he closed his eyes and he asked, not quite begging but with a desperate edge, "May I—please—move my legs?"
    Kerry looked over her shoulder to the laundry owner, who was still sitting at the desk, still holding his Bible, though the commotion had caused him to look up. "It's not like he can get away," she pointed out.
    Nobody said anything.
    Which, eventually, Ethan took as permission. Wincing, he leaned back and simultaneously raised himself the inch or so that the rope permitted, then gingerly managed to get his right leg out from under him and swing it around to the front.
    That was the injured one. Very obviously the injured one. The whole side of his jeans was torn and bloody, from the knee down.
    Ethan took a few seconds to catch his breath before moving, with a singular lack of grace, to get his other leg out from under.
    Kerry felt a dizzy sympathetic reaction. "I'm going to get up now," she announced, not wanting to take Sidowski by surprise. She indicated the fistful of towels in her hand. "I just want to wet these down."
    The laundry owner had resumed reading his Bible, which made Kerry so furious she wanted to knock it out of his hands and rip it up in front of his face, though she'd never had these violent inclinations toward the Bible before. Roth had moved to the main entrance, peeking out into the street from between the slats of the blinds. So she got up with only Sidowski to worry about and went to the drinking fountain, where she figured the water would be coldest and most likely to numb pain.
    There was a wastepaper basket next to the fountain, where she emptied her jacket pocket of all but the towel with the razor. With these guys having vampires on the mind, she didn't want them speculating why she'd want to hold on to bloody towels.
    She wet the fresh towels using her left hand, so as not to get