Chapter Twenty Two
“…And so now he wants you to hunt the… Vampire…” The statement was laced with heavy sarcasm, which bit like the poison tainted blade. “And will you indulge this… whim?” Her laughter was filled with more sarcasm.
“Of course not! …But, he’s still my brother… I have to… humour him…” The final words trickled a deep felt pain, the subtle tug of responsibility. He could not abandon Paul, despite it all, he was the only person who still felt anything for him, who cared for him; who pitied him? The ropes pull, the horses of action and event tear the charioteer apart.
The razor blade chopped and shaped as Julia traced the line of white powder into a neat, final line. She placed the blade on the dresser and rolled a narrow paper tube. “I want him out of here!” Her voice raised slightly into a shrill tone.
A look of disbelief, “You know I cannot do that, he is my responsibility.”
“My love,” she drawled, her voice deeper now, velvet and sexual, “For one who can be so strong, you can be pathetically weak! I am going to try and make the contact tonight. Get him out!”
John’s voice dropped to a whisper, yet it was edged with granite, “I will give him something to make him sleep, he will not get in the way – I promise you that.” His hand shot out, grabbing her milk white wrist. He pulled her violently towards him, “Do not dare to tell me my business, nor to comment upon my powers or your fantasised lack of them.” He released her wrist, already beginning to burn with the red marks of his grip, his eyes on fire.
Julia shuddered, involuntarily, and then sniffed the white powder, a nasal hypodermic, ecstasy mind death.
© 1990 & 2006 Andrew M Boylan