73
The EMTs, emergency medical techs, had given Ronnie a blanket. They seemed to think she was suffering from shock. That wasn't it. She was sobering up. Sobering up in the middle of a murder investigation, when she'd drunk more in one night than she'd consumed in the entire six years I'd known her. They had her sitting in the open back of their ambulance. I think partly it gave them something to do. It's good to keep busy.
Physically Ronnie felt the worst, but none of us were having a good time. Sheriff Melvin Christopher's opening shot to me had been, "Almost didn't recognize you with more clothes on, Miss Blake."
I smiled sweetly and said, "That's Marshal Blake to you, sheriff, and you are awfully interested in women's clothing for a heterosexual man in a rural area." It had gone downhill from there. I even admit that part of it was my fault. I shouldn't have made the comment about women's clothing, or questioned his sexual orientation, but, hey, his face got all the way to this awful maroon color before he started yelling at me. For a second, I thought I'd given him a stroke or something. Deputy Douglas had to separate us and take his boss for a little walk around the parking lot.
It gave me time to go check on Micah and Nathaniel. Micah was saying calmly, patiently, but in a tone that said it wasn't the first time he'd said it, or the second, "I do not work at this club."
The deputy who was questioning him was too tall for his body, as if his joints and hands and feet hadn't had a chance to catch up yet. He was either well under twenty-five, or needed to eat more. "What club do you work at, then?"
Micah looked at me. The look said, help me.
I tried. "Deputy," I said.
He looked at me. His eyes flicked to the badge in my hand, but since his boss hadn't been too impressed with the badge, it was hard for him to be impressed, either. The boss sets the tone. He had pale bluish eyes. They weren't friendly, almost mean. "I'm questioning a witness here."
I smiled and tried to push it all the way up into my eyes, but probably didn't manage it. "I see that, but, Deputy," and I read his name tag, "Patterson, the witness has answered your question several times."
"He won't tell me where he works."
"You never asked where I worked," Micah said.
Deputy Patterson looked back at him, pale eyes narrowed in what he probably thought was a hard look. It wasn't. "I did ask where you worked, and you won't answer."
"You asked what club I work for, I do not work at a club of any kind. I do not strip for a living, is that clear enough?" Micah asked. His voice had an edge of impatience. He was one of the most easygoing people I knew. What had Patterson been saying to put that tone in Micah's voice?
Patterson's face showed that he didn't believe it. He was really going to have to work on the blank cop face, right now everything he thought spilled across his face. "Then what were you doing inside this place?" A look of near evil joy crossed his face. "Oh, I get it. You like to look at other people's beans and wienies."
"Beans and wienies," I said, "what the fuck does that mean?"
"Dick and balls," he said, with a tone that implied everyone knew that.
Micah looked at me, and even through the dark glasses, I could picture the look. I was beginning to see what had gotten on his nerves.
"Patterson, I allowed you to question my friends out of courtesy. This is my crime scene, not yours, and if you can't ask a single question that could help us solve this crime, then you need to go somewhere else."
I don't know what he would have said, but I felt Sheriff Christopher coming up behind me, even before I saw the look of satisfaction on the deputy's face. His look said clearly that the sheriff would sort me out, and he'd enjoy a ringside seat.
Patterson said, "He won't tell me where he works, Sheriff. Says he's not a stripper. Says he just came to watch a little fag wag."
I made a small sound in my throat. "I'm going to say this just one more time. We got a call from my friend Veronica Simms that the bartender at this club told her she was too drunk to drive and she needed a ride home. Micah came along so that he could help me with her."
"And what about the other one?" Patterson asked. "He says he's a stripper at Guilty Pleasures."
"Nathaniel came along to keep us company," I said.
Sheriff Christopher gave me a flat cop look. It was a real look. He might be a prejudiced, woman-hating, good ol' boy, but he was a cop, too. Underneath all the crap was someone who could be good at the job, when his personal agenda wasn't getting in the way. It made me feel better, that look, but of course, his personal agenda was raining all over us.
"Why'd you need two friends," and he stressed the friends, "to help pick up one drunk girlfriend?"
"Nathaniel had just gotten off work, and we hadn't gotten to talk, so he came along, so we could visit."
Sheriff Christopher frowned at me. "You said you were home."
"I was."
"I thought this one was your boyfriend." He pointed at Micah.
"He is."
"So what's that one?" he asked, pointing a thumb in Nathaniel's direction. Nathaniel was talking to the last deputy. He seemed to be having an easier time of it than Micah or me, maybe his deputy was smarter, or just less prejudiced.
"My boyfriend," I said.
"They're both your boyfriends?"
I took in air, let it out slow. "Yes."
"Well, my, my," he said.
I said a small prayer that Zerbrowski would get here soon. "We've got another victim, Sheriff, or don't you care?"
"Yeah, that's another thing," he said, and he put those hard cop eyes on me. If he thought it was going to make me flinch, he was wrong, but it was still a good look. "You just accidentally found our serial killer's next vic."
"Yes," I said.
"Bullshit, bullfuckingshit."
"Believe what you want, Sheriff. I've told you and your people the absolute truth. I could make stuff up, if it would make you happier."
He looked past me to Micah. "I like to see a man's eyes when I talk to him, take off the glasses."
Shit. Micah looked at me, and I looked at him. I shrugged. "Patterson has never actually asked what Micah does for a living. He's been too busy trying to get Micah to admit that he's a stripper, or a homosexual, to worry much about the facts."
"Fine, I'm askin' what do you do for a living, Mr. Callahan?"
"I am the coordinator for the Coalition for Better Understanding between Lycanthrope and Human Communities."
"You're the what?" Patterson said.
"Shut up, Patterson," Christopher said. "So you're one of the bleeding heart liberals that think the animals deserve equal rights."
"Something like that, Sheriff."
Christopher was giving Micah all his attention suddenly. "Take off the glasses, Mr. Coordinator."
Micah took off the glasses.
Patterson backed up, and his hand actually touched his gun butt. Not good. The sheriff just stared into Micah's kitty-cat eyes and shook his head. "Bestiality and coffin-bait, that is pretty damn low for a white woman."
And the "white woman" comment took care of any worries I might have had about what other prejudices the sheriff happened to be carrying around. He was an equal opportunity bigot. He hated everybody that wasn't male and white and straight. What a terribly stark and empty worldview.
"My mother was Hispanic, from Mexico, does that help?"
"Half spic," he said.
I smiled, and it went all the way to my eyes. "Perfect," I said, "just perfect."
"You look awfully happy for someone who's about to have a really bad night."
"And how is this night supposed to get any worse, Sheriff?"
"You knew the body would be here, because your boyfriend and his people did it. That's how you found it."
"And why did I bring my boyfriends, and how did I arrange for my friend to be here getting drunk?"
"You were going to move the body, hide it. That's why you needed this many people. There's something about this one that will lead to your fag vampire friends."
I wondered how Jean-Claude and Asher would like being referred to as my fag vampire friends. Better not to know. I shook my head. "How many lawsuits do you have against your department?"
"None," he said.
I laughed, but it wasn't a happy laugh. "I find that hard to believe."
"I get the job done, and that's all people care about."
It wasn't my business, but I had to wonder how many of his arrests were people not white, not straight, not like him. I would have bet almost any amount of money, most of his arrests fell into those categories. I hoped I was wrong, but I doubted I was.
"You know the line that if all you have is a hammer, all your problems begin to look like nails?"
He frowned at me, not sure where I was going. "Yeah, I like Mr. Ayoob's writings."
"Yeah, so do I, but my point is this. If all you're looking at is the monsters, then that's all you're going to see."
He frowned harder. "I don't follow."
Why was I even trying? "You're so busy hating me and everyone with me, that you've done almost no real police work, or don't you care about this one? Is that it, sheriff? Is this just some little fag stripper that got himself killed, so it's not as important as the white women earlier?"
Something flinched through his eyes, if I hadn't been staring right at him, I'd have missed it. "You must really hate this club."
His eyes were cool and unreadable when he said, "My experience has been that what goes around, comes around, Marshal. You engage in high-risk behavior, and it catches up with you, and payback's a bitch."
I shook my head. "No one so blind as those that will not see."
"What?" he said.
"Nothing, Sheriff, just wasting my breath."
The radios on the black and whites crackled to life, and what we heard was enough to stop the squabbling. "Officer down, officer down."
Location was just down the road at the first strip bar that the vampires hit. Ambitious bastards. I yelled to Micah and Nathaniel, "Take Ronnie's car and go home." I was already opening the Jeep's driver's side door.
"Anita..." Micah started.
"I love you," I said, and I slid behind the wheel. I backed up and had to wait for one of the other police cars to get out of my way. Nathaniel was still leaning against the car where the deputy had questioned him. I hit the button for my driver's side window. I blew him a kiss. He smiled and blew one back. Then I was in line between two of the black and whites, and we were gone. Officer down, was it the vampires? Or had some drunk gotten lucky? No way to know until we got there. The only bright spot was that I wouldn't be alone with just the sheriff and his men for long. Police would come from all over for this one. Officers that wouldn't normally have any business or jurisdiction here would be driving up within minutes.
The ambulance was behind us, with its lights and sirens going. They could have been simply following the police's lead, but I took it for a good sign. EMTs only do the full cherry, when they know there's someone hurt but still alive. I said a quick prayer and concentrated on driving. The sheriff was a bigoted asshole, but he knew the roads, and I didn't. Here's hoping I didn't end up in a ditch.
74
We were the first officers on the scene, because we'd been less than ten minutes away. The sound of sirens wailed off into the night. More help coming. There was an Illinois State Trooper car standing in the parking lot with one door open, and the officer slumped, sitting by the door. His face was just a white blur, one arm looked injured, and his gun was clasped awkwardly in his other hand. There was blood on the shoulder of his uniform.
The black and whites hit their doors, and they took cover behind the doors, or the engine block while they looked around. No one just ran straight at the injured trooper. We all took cover, we all had our weapons out, we all assessed the situation before we ran in. You never know about bad guys, sometimes they use bait. I hugged the front of my Jeep with my back, gun out, pointed skyward. I had the engine block at my back, so no matter what the bad guys were using I was okay, as long as I was on the right side of the Jeep. There were so many things to think about, and no time to think deep, you had to let training and experience do some of the thinking for you.
The sheriff did something with his arm, and suddenly all the sirens cut off. The silence was suddenly loud, just the strobing of the lights to let people know something was wrong,
We were all scanning the parking lot and the surrounding area. There was a privacy fence behind the dumpsters. There were other buildings within a few yards. The parking lot was packed. The bad guy could be hiding behind any of the cars, or they could have fled when they heard the sirens. No way to be sure.
Nothing moved, except the trooper who blinked at us. He was alive, and I wanted him to stay that way. We had to move up. As if Sheriff Christopher had read my mind, he moved up. He kept low, which with his stomach and his height was impressive. A lot more limber than he looked.
I pointed my gun not at anything in particular, but in the directions I could cover that might potentially have someone hiding who wanted to shoot at the sheriff. A white plastic bag rolled near the Dumpster, pushed by the wind. Nothing else moved.
Sheriff Christopher gave the all clear. His men all stood up, broke cover, and converged on him. I was more cautious, scanning the area as I moved to join them, my gun pointed at the ground, but held two-handed, ready to go back up. There was a crowd starting at the door to the club. Until I stood up, I couldn't see the doors over the hood of my Jeep, but I was betting the crowd had been there all along. People have no sense. Or they knew something we didn't. Naw.
I heard, "Get the EMTs up here."
Patterson trotted off to let the medics know it was safe to come up. Sheriff Christopher glared up at me. "It was one of your vampire friends."
"Looks like a knife wound to me, how do you know it was a vampire?"
The trooper spoke in a voice that was strained low with pain and shock, "Bastards flew off with her. Flew up like fucking birds, straight up."
Okay. "Alright, vampires. Who did they take?"
"One of the dancers," the trooper said. "I was making a drive-through, like we're supposed to. Saw her come out, and saw them just come out of the shadows, one on either side of her. She started screaming. I got out, pulled my gun. But there was another one, I didn't see him. I don't know why, but it was like he just appeared behind me. He put the knife to my throat, told me to watch. Then the others just flew away with the girl. They fucking flew away." He closed his eyes and looked like he was struggling with the pain.
The EMTs were there, pushing us all back.
The trooper opened his eyes, and he looked at the sheriff. "He had the knife at my throat, why didn't he kill me? He switched the blade, drove it into my shoulder. Why? Why didn't he kill me?"
I answered, while the medics went to work on him. "He wanted you alive, so you could tell us what you saw."
"Why?" he asked, and he looked at me.
"It's a message."
"What message?"
I shook my head. "They want us to come and save her. They want to force us to move tonight, while they're strong, not wait until dawn when the advantage is ours."
Sheriff Christopher stood up and reached out for me, but seemed to think better of it, and just motioned for me to follow him. I followed him. "Last I knew we didn't know where these bastards are hiding. You sound like you know."
I blinked up at him and thought, What can I tell him that won't get us all in trouble? "I've got a date with Mobile Reserve for just after dawn, but if they've got a hostage, we can't wait until dawn." I dug my cell phone out of my jacket pocket and dialed Zerbrowski's cell. "Give me Captain Parker's number, Zerbrowski."
"Why?"
"The vamps took a stripper, alive. They even made sure we had a wounded but living state trooper to tell us about it."
"Jesus, Anita, it's a trap."
"Probably, but give me the number anyway."
He gave me the number, and I punched it in. Captain Parker came on the line with Sheriff Christopher watching me. I gave Parker the rundown.
"Is it a trap?" he asked.
"Maybe, or maybe they know we're coming, and they're just trying to rush us, so we will come in at night when they've got the upper hand. But yeah, it's probably a trap."
"I don't want to send my men in to die, Blake."
"I'm not wild about it either, but she was alive when they took her, and if we wait for dawn, she won't be. Of course, she may already be dead, I don't know."
"It's a trap, and the woman is bait," Parker said.
"I know," I said.
"You still demanding to go in with us?"
"Wouldn't miss it for the world."
He gave a small dry chuckle. "You argued your way into this operation, I hope you don't regret that."
"I regret it now, but if you're really going in at night, then you're going to need me more than ever."
"Are you really that much better with vamps than we are?"
"Yes, Captain, yes I am."
"I hope you're as good as advertised, Marshal Blake."
"Better," I said.
"Then get over here, we're going to hit the target in less than thirty minutes, if you're late, we go without you." He hung up.
I cursed as I folded the phone shut. I started walking for my Jeep. "Where the hell are you going?"
"To take the bait," I said.
He frowned. "The stripper."
I nodded, and was still walking with him dogging me.
"Mobile Reserve is really taking you in with them."
"If you don't believe me, call Captain Parker yourself." I was at the door to the Jeep.
He caught the door edge before I could close it. "Isn't this a conflict of interest for you, shooting up your boyfriend's vampires?"
"These are bad guys, Sheriff, they don't belong to anybody." I shut the door, and he let me. I didn't exactly peel out, but close. I knew Parker, and I knew how Mobile Reserve operated, if I didn't make the time schedule, they would leave without me. The vampires wanted us to go in tonight. They knew we had the address. They knew we were planning on hitting them. They assumed that we meant to hit them after sunrise, and they were forcing our hand. They wanted us in there on their terms. That meant tonight. But why not run? If they knew we had their location, why not just vacate it? Why not just run, and find another daytime retreat? Why take a hostage and go to such elaborate lengths to make sure we knew about it? It was a trap, but even knowing that's what it was, we still had to go.
75
The dry erase board was covered with diagrams. Sergeants Hudson and Melbourne had done a recon of the area before the rest of us got set up in our nice, safe, block-away location. They'd covered the whiteboard with entries and exits, lights, windows, and all the minutiae that I would never have noticed, or rather I'd have seen it, but I wouldn't have been able to make use of it. I could have reported what I'd seen, but one of them would have had to interpret it for everybody else. I simply hadn't had the training. My way of doing it would have been to do a front entry and kill everything that moved. It wouldn't have occurred to me to get a diagram of the condo's interior, or have the landlord of the building there tell us what he knew of the woman who owned the apartment. They'd already evacuated the condos adjoining ours, and they had the nearest neighbor, again, give us information about the interior and the owner. It was useful to know that there was almost no furniture in the condo, because the owner, Jill Conroy, was waiting for a shipment that had been delayed twice. That she worked as a lawyer in a large downtown firm and had just made partner. Fascinating, but I didn't see that it was useful. They were still trying to find someone who would answer the phone at her job, to find out when she was last at work. No one at work at nearly two in the morning, fucking slackers. It was all interesting, but our victim was in there, alone with vampires who had murdered at least ten people in three states. I wanted to get her out, and I was having trouble concentrating on the trivia. It must have shown, because Sergeant Hudson said, "We boring you, Blake?"
I blinked up at him, from where I'd finally curled up on the street. I was tired and didn't see a reason not to sit down, some of the Mobile Reserve guys were kneeling. "A little," I said.
The two men closest to me, Killian of the white, buzz cut, and Jung, who was the only green-eyed Asian American I'd ever met, both moved away from me, as if they didn't want to be too close when the blood started to fly. I noticed that Melbourne stayed where he was next to Hudson, as if he expected the blood flow to be one-sided.
"There's the street, Blake, start walking."
"You asked the question, Sergeant. If you didn't want an honest answer, you should have warned me."
Someone laughed, low enough that I wasn't sure who'd done it, and neither, apparently, was Hudson, because he didn't try to find out who'd laughed, he just used it as an excuse to be more pissed at me.
Hudson took a step toward me. I stood up.
"If we're boring you, Blake, then go home. We don't need your attitude, we got enough of our own." His voice was low and even, and every word was very carefully enunciated. I knew that oh-so-careful tone. It was the voice you used instead of screaming or hitting something.
"Dawn Morgan may still be alive in there," I said. "But every minute we wait cuts her chances of survival. You can hate that your captain let me come, you can fucking hate me, I don't care, but let's get this done. I'd like to get to Dawn before it's too late, Sergeant Hudson. Just once, I'd like not to be the cleanup crew and be there early enough to have something left to rescue."
He blinked solid brown eyes at me that matched the mustache and close-cropped hair. My own hair was back in a ponytail. They had handed me a helmet, and hair nearly to your waist just didn't fit in helmets without being pulled back in some fashion. I'd have cut my hair months ago, but Micah said if I cut mine, he'd cut his, the threat had left me with the longest hair of my life. I looked like a short, curvy hippie among the militaryesque haircuts and very masculine figures around me. Even stuffing me into one of their vests couldn't hide that I so didn't match everyone else. There are moments when I suddenly feel awkward again, not a cop, not a man, not part of this great brotherhood. Just a girl, just a voodoo dabbler, who no one trusts at their back. It had been years since I'd felt this bad about it. Maybe it was the borrowed equipment, which didn't really fit, or maybe it was Arnet and Dolph being mad at me, or maybe it was just that I believed what was in Hudson's eyes. I didn't belong here. I wasn't a tactical anything. I didn't know how they did business. I wasn't part of their team, and part of me understood that no matter how many friends I had that were cops, and no matter that I had a badge, that there would always be more cops that thought I didn't belong than ones who did. I would always and forever be the outsider, no matter what I did. Part of it was gender, part of it was my day job, part of it was fucking the monsters, and part of it was just simply that I didn't belong. I didn't follow orders, or keep my mouth shut, or play the political game. I would have never survived as a real policeperson, I just couldn't play the game by anyone else's rules. Police, real police, understand and live by the rules. I spent most of my life going, rules, what rules? I stood there and looked at Hudson, held his gaze, his anger, and I just wasn't angry. Too much of me agreed with his anger for me to get angry back.
"A badge doesn't make you a cop, Blake. You have no discipline. If you get any of my people killed because you were hotdogging it, you will not like the next talk we have."
I wasn't really enjoying this talk very much, but I didn't say that out loud either. I was getting smarter, or more tired, or maybe I just didn't care enough anymore. Who the hell knew? I stood my ground, and I felt nothing. My voice was empty of all the emotion his was carrying when I said, "What if you get your people killed because you didn't let me do my job to the best of my ability? Do I get to have a talk with you then?"
All the men around me just moved back, in unison, as if minimum safe distance was suddenly a real concern. He spoke through his teeth, and the anger turned his brown eyes nearly black. "And what exactly is your job, Blake?"
"I'm a vampire hunter."
He came toward me slowly, and Melbourne actually touched his shoulder, as if it was getting out of hand. Hudson just looked at the hand, and the hand went away. Everyone was treating Hudson like he was a very scary guy. He wasn't the biggest, or the most muscled, or anything, but he wore his authority like some sort of invisible coat; it was just there. If he hadn't hated me, I'd have respected it, but he made it impossible for me to see him as anything but an obstacle. He spoke from inches in front of me, each word pushed into my face, careful as a blow, "You-are-a-fuck-ing-assassin."
I looked up into his face, almost close enough to kiss, and said, "Yeah, sometimes, sometimes, I am."
He blinked at me, puzzlement filling his eyes, chasing back the anger. "That was an insult, Blake."
"I try never to get insulted by the truth, Sergeant." I gave him mild eyes and willed myself to feel nothing, because if I let myself feel anything I was going to be sad, and if I teared up, or worse, cried, that would be it. They wouldn't let me play, not if I cried. I'd cried because Jessica Arnet thought I was corrupting Nathaniel. I'd cried because of having to kill Jonah Cooper. What the fuck was wrong with me tonight? Usually the only thing that made me cry was Richard.
He shook his head. "You will just slow us down, Blake."
"I'm immune to vampire powers," I said.
"We will clear this entire structure in less than a minute. We know not to make eye contact, and we are cleared to treat all approaching vampires inside as hostiles. There won't be time for them to do any tricks on us."
I nodded, as if I really understood how they could possibly clear an entire condo, the size of a small house, in less than a minute. "Fine, you don't think you need me to help with the vampires, fine."
He blinked again, and he couldn't hide the fact that I'd caught him off guard a second time in almost as many minutes. "You'll wait outside?"
"What happens to your speed record, if you have to treat the vampires like human beings?" I asked.
"They're legal citizens, that makes them human beings."
"Yeah, but can you clear the place in less than a minute if you have to take the time to subdue maybe upwards of seven vampires, at least one a master? If you think I'll slow you down, Hudson, trust me, they'll slow you down a lot more than I will."
Melbourne spoke over Hudson's shoulder, "We've been green-lighted. Everything vampire in there is target."
I shook my head and looked at Melbourne, as if Hudson wasn't still looming over me. "When warrants of execution first came into existence, one of the main concerns was that they would turn the police of this country into nothing more than fucking assassins, so the warrants are worded very carefully. If the legal executioner is with you and we are in danger then you may use any and all means to execute this warrant, but if the legal executioner is not with you, then the warrant is not in effect." I turned back to look at Hudson, and I was beginning to get a little angry, at last. Good, that was better than tears. "Which means if you go in without me and shoot any damn body, that you'll be up on review, or leave, or some motherfucking shit. Hesitate against vampires, and you risk your life and the lives of your men. Don't hesitate against the vampires, and you may lose your job, your pension, or even see jail time. Depends on the judge, the lawyer, the political climate of the city at the time of the incident." I was almost smiling, because I was telling the absolute truth.
Hudson gave a smile that was more snarl than anything. "Or we can just sit this one out and let you take the order of execution all on your own little shoulders. How'd that be? You go in by yourself."
I laughed, and it surprised him again, made him back up. "Killian," I said, turning to look for him. He came up to me, sort of hesitating, glancing at his sergeant. Killian was only an inch or two taller than me, it was one of the main reasons that his extra gear had nearly fit me. "Help me out of this, I don't want to mess up your gear. Thanks for the loan."
"Why are you taking off the gear?" Hudson asked.
"If I go in without you, I don't need the vest, or the helmet, or the damn radio that's attached to it. I go in alone, like normal, I get to take the equipment I want to take, not that I'm ordered to take." I started looking at the straps. "Help me out here, Killian, you helped me get into it."
Hudson shook his head and Killian backed up. "Ms. Blake..."
"That's Marshal Blake to you, Sergeant Hudson."
He took in a deep breath, and let it out slow. "Marshal Blake, we can't let you go in there alone."
"This is my damn warrant, not yours. I shared my information with you guys, not the other way around. None of you would have even known where to look for this woman without me."
"Do you know what they're saying you did to get this information, Marshal?"
Just the way he said it, I knew I didn't want to know, but I said, "No, what?"
"That you fucked the suspect. Fucked him in front of other officers, and he told you everything, then you blew his brains out with a gun. De-fucking-capitated him, you shot him so many times."
I laughed again. "Jesus, I'd love to know who made that one up."
"You're saying it's a lie?"
"That I fucked him, yeah, wishful thinking on someone's part, but I did vamp it out of him, as in vampire, not whore. And yeah, I did shoot him until his head wasn't there anymore, because I didn't have my vampire hunting kit with me. The handgun was all I had, so it's what I used."
I shook my head and felt that faint anger fade away. "This warrant is my damn party, Sergeant Hudson. I invited you to the dance, not the other way around. I would like you to try and remember that, when we're dealing with each other."
He looked at me, really looked at me. I don't think he'd seen me until that moment. I'd been some woman, some zombie queen slut, forced on him by the upper brass. I'd been a civilian with a badge, but I hadn't been real to him, not a person. Now he looked at me, and he saw me, and I watched that unreasoning anger fade.
"You really would go in there alone, wouldn't you?"
I sighed and shook my head. "I'm a vampire executioner, Sergeant, I'm usually alone, just me and the bad guys."
He gave a small smile, barely more than a flex of his mustache. "Not tonight, Marshal, tonight, you go in with us."
I smiled at him, it was a good smile, not flirting, though some men take it that way, just a good, open, honest, happy to have you smile. He smiled back, he couldn't seem to help it. "Good, great," I said, "but can we move it along? We're burning moonlight."
He gave me a look like he wasn't sure how to take me, then he laughed. The moment he laughed, all the other men relaxed, I could feel it, like a sort of psychic sigh of relief. "You are a pushy damn woman."
"Yes," I said, "yes, I am."
He gave a smaller laugh. "You'll follow orders once we're inside, yes?"
I sighed. "I'll try."
He shook his head.
"If I just say yes, it'll be a lie, but I will do my utmost to do what I'm told. I promise."
"That's the best I'm going to get, isn't it?"
I nodded. "Yep, unless you want me to lie to you."
"No, truth from a federal agent is downright refreshing."
"Well, then I am just going to be a breath of fresh air."
He looked at me, shook his head, and started back toward the dry erase board. "Now that I do believe Marshal, that I do believe." They went back to their briefing, and I went back to counting the minutes and wondering if there was going to be anything alive in the condo by the time we hit the door.
