Vampires Read Online Free Page B

received scant appreciation for my concern. Mr. Crow called me... me..
    “Called you what?”
    “Nutless.”
    The Man sighed. “It is very difficult for you, my old friend. We are sorry.”
    “Oh, please, Holiness. I am not complaining. I only. . .” The aide stopped and smiled with some embarrassment. “I suppose I am complaining at that. Forgive me, Holiness.”
    “There is nothing to forgive.”
    “Thank you, Holiness.”
    “We hear the man is injured.”
    “Yes, Holiness. His entire right shoulder is wrapped in bandages. But he will not let any of our doctors examine him.” The aide paused, looked at the window at the far end of the ancient room. “He claims he is fine, Holiness. But he lies. I believe him to be in great pain when he moves.”
    “He is indeed, my friend,” said the Man softly. “Even when he does not.” The Man smiled sadly. “Great pain.”
    The aide was silent for several moments. Then: “Holiness, I know this Mr. Crow is of great importance to... But it would help greatly if-Holiness, can we not know who he is?”
    “You cannot.”
    "But Holiness, if we could just. .
    “You cannot.”
    The aide sighed once more. “Yes, Holiness.” He took a slow deep breath, seemed to rid himself of the concern, said, “All is in readiness. The dining room is prepared. American food, as your Holiness ordered, will be served.”
    “Thank you. You have been very thorough.”
    “Thank you, Holiness. The man Crow is already in the dining room, has been for”-he checked his watch-“almost fifteen minutes. He is already intoxicated, Holiness. Perhaps there would be a better time.”
    “There will be no better time,” replied the Man in a voice of such infinite sadness and despair that the aide found he could not speak for a bit.
    He made ready to go, kissing the ring. But at the door the aide paused. The Man could see how clearly the other felt driven to utter this last.
    “Holiness, be very careful with Mr. Crow. He has much anger in his soul. And... I believe he hates you.”
    The Man waited until he was alone before rising. Then he padded softly across the room to the side entrance. He paused before opening the door to his private dining room.
    “So he does,” the Man muttered softly to himself. “And why should he not?”
    Then he opened the door and went in.
    Tapestries. A broad arched ceiling. A carpet over three hundred years old. A long, thin table with a single heavy wooden chair at each end. In the far one sat Jack Crow, one leg over an arm, a glass of wine in one hand and a cigarette in the other.
    The Man nodded to the bows of the four servants-two on each wall and recessed like the paneling-and stepped easily to the center of the room. He waited.
    “Well, there he is at last,” barked Crow. He stood ponderously, still carrying his glass and cigarette, and walked over.
    The Man waited until the other had come within a few feet. “It is good to see you again, Jack,” he said easily. Then he offered his ring.
    Crow stared at the ring with apparent bewilderment. Then he smiled. He put his cigarette in his mouth, transferred the wineglass from his right hand to his left, shook the hand holding the ring, and said, through cigarette smoke, “How the heck are you?”
    Despite repeated and insistent orders, it was all the servants could do to restrain themselves.
    The Man did not stir. He met Crow's piercing gaze without rancor. He smiled. “We are quite well, Jack. But I see you are injured.” He indicated the bulky bandaging underneath Crow's corduroy jacket.
    Crow felt his arm absently. “Oh, it ain't much, priest, considering. Everybody else is dead. Except for Cat and me. Everybody else, though. The Team is dead. All of 'em.”
    “Yes, Jack. We know.”
    The two locked eyes for several seconds. Then Crow turned abruptly away, fucking an ash onto the carpet and reaching for the decanter of wine. “All dead. Everyone of 'em slaughtered.” He poured some more wine into his