Sam put out
a hand to stop the doors closing. “You may want to wait her for a
few minutes. Finish your coffee. Imagine a crossword. No sense in
letting these two go to waste, eh?”
Harold
nodded silently, trying not to let the disgust show on his face, and
turned away. He held up his free hand to stop Gillian and Jasfoup.
“He's going to check the lay of the land for us,”
Sam gave him
a thumbs-up as the elevator doors closed, the blood smeared over his
face giving him a wild expression.
Harold
turned to the others. “Fast little blighter, isn't he?”
“Isn't
he.” Gillian ladled all the scorn she could muster into two little
words. “He'd take the medal for the hundred-meter shuffle easily.”
“You
didn't see what I just saw.” He handed the coffee to Gillian, the
only one of the four of them who deigned to drink the stuff. “He
took out two guards with his bare hands in the space it took for a
cup of coffee to fall a couple of feet.”
“Ha!”
Gillian laughed. “As if. There aren't many vampires that fast, and
you're looking at one here.”
“I think
you'd have your work cut out to take him on.”
Gillian
rolled her eyes but Jasfoup frowned. “You're talking about Sam,
aren't you? He seems to be able to direct electrical impulses
somehow. That would make him fast. He'll react with the speed of
thought. The only barrier would be the physical time it takes to move
his body through points in space.” He stroked a non-existent beard.
“It could work against him, though. The human body isn't designed
for that sort of speed. It could so easily pull itself apart.”
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