Cerulean Sins ab-11

by Laurell K. Hamilton

  I gave him a look that wilted the grin into a smile. He shrugged. "Sorry." But it was the kind of sorry I'm used to, the one Jason always gives when he's not sorry at all.

  Either Zerbrowski is more psychic than I thought, or he was trying to get away from the man who was dogging him. It was one of the Mobile Reserve officers in full combat black, body armor still in place, but he'd lost his helmet, his mask, and his eyes were wild. The whites kept flashing like a horse's when it's about to bolt.

  Zerbrowski saw me, and the look of relief on his face was so pure, so happy, that it almost scared me. "Officer Elsworthy, this is Anita Blake, Marshal Anita Blake. She's our preternatural expert."

  Elsworthy frowned, blinking a little too rapidly. It was as if it took longer than it should have for the words to filter through and have meaning. I'd seen enough shock to know the symptoms. Why wasn't he at the hospital with the rest of his squad?

  Zerbrowski mouthed, "Sorry," to me.

  Elsworthy blinked at me, his brown eyes didn't even look like they were focusing, as if what he was seeing was somewhere inside his head. Shit. A moment ago he'd been yelling at Zerbrowski, now he was staring at things that we couldn't see. Probably reliving the disaster. He was pale, and there was a light dew of sweat on his face. I was betting he would be clammy to the touch.

  I put my face close to Zerbrowski, and spoke low, "Why isn't he at the hospital with the others?"

  "He wouldn't go. Said he wanted to ask RPIT how the hell a werewolf can grow claws when it's still in human form."

  I must have reacted to the question, because Zerbrowski suddenly gave me a look through the rims of his glasses. "I told him it wasn't possible for a shifter to gain claws while still in full human form. Was I wrong?"

  I nodded. "A shifter has to be really powerful to be able to do it. I've only known a handful that could do partial change while they pretty much looked human."

  Zerbrowski lowered his voice even more, "It might have been good to know that before they busted in on Van Anders."

  "I thought a minimum of one person from each squad went down to Quantico for the big preternatural class and lecture."

  "They did."

  I gave him a disgusted look. "I don't go around assuming that I know more about the monsters than the freaking FBI."

  "Maybe you should," Zerbrowski said softly.

  The way he said it took the heat out of my words. I couldn't really get angry with Elsworthy standing there blinking like an innocent come to slaughter.

  "Is it hot in here?" Elsworthy asked.

  Actually, it was, too many people in too small a space. "Detective Webster, take Elsworthy out into the hall for a breath of air, would you?" '

  Webster did what I asked, and Elsworthy went without a single complaint. It was as if he'd used up all his anger before I got there, and now all that was left was the shock and the horror of it all.

  Zerbrowski and I stayed in our little corner. "What went wrong?" I asked.

  "I've been yelled at by Elsworthy, but even better, Captain Parker. He's waiting at the hospital for me to get my ass down there and explain to him how the hell Van Anders was able to do what he did."

  "What exactly did he do?"

  Zerbrowski dug his ever-present notebook out of his jacket pocket. The notebook looked like it'd been rolled in the dirt, then stepped on. He ruffled through it until he got to the pages he wanted. "Van Anders cooperated completely when they came in. He seemed surprised and didn't know why anyone would want to arrest him. He was handcuffed, patted down, and the two tactical officers, Bates and Meyer, led him out into the hallway, while the rest of the squad reformed and made sure the rest of the apartment was clear." He glanced up at me. "Standard procedure."

  "So when did it stop being standard?"

  "Then it gets a little confused. Meyer never came back on the radio, at all. Bates started yelling, officer down, and something about, he's got claws. Elsworthy and another officer got out the door in time to see Van Anders clear enough that they both swear he had claws but was in full human form." Zerbrowski gave me a look. "Truthfully, I was ready to think Elsworthy, and..." He turned a page of his notebook, "Tucker, were seeing things."

  I shook my head. "No, it's possible." I shook my head again and fought the urge to rub my temples. I had a headache starting. "The lycanthropes that I've seen do this, the claws just whip out. It's like having five switchblades suddenly appear. There wouldn't have been anything for the officer, Bates, was it? to see."

  "Meyer, Bates is still alive."

  I nodded. Names were important. It was important to remember who was dead and who was alive. "Van Anders stabbed Meyer. When the claws shot out of his fingertips, he used them like knives."

  "Apparently Kevlar doesn't stop lycanthrope claws," Zerbrowski said.

  "Kevlar isn't made to stop a stabbing attack," I said, "the claws acted like blades."

  He nodded. "Van Anders used the officer as a shield, held him on his claws like a... puppet, is what Elsworthy finally said."

  "He should have gone to the hospital with the others," I said.

  "He looked fine when I got here, Anita, honest. I don't blame them for not forcing him to go."

  "Well, he doesn't look fine now."

  "We can give him a ride to the hospital when we go."

  I looked at him. "Why do I think that we are going to the hospital for more than just a show of moral support?"

  "You're just perceptive as hell tonight."

  "Zerbrowski," I said.

  "I told Captain Parker that I'd be right along once Marshal Blake showed up."

  "You bastard."

  "He's asking questions about the monsters that I don't have the answers to. Maybe Dolph would, but there is no way I want him to be here. We managed to quiet down the worst of what happened in the interrogation with your furry friend, but if Dolph loses it in a public setting..." He just shook his head.

  I agreed with him. "Fine, I'll go with you to the hospital and see if I can answer the captain's questions."

  "Ah, but first ya gotta see this." He was actually smiling, and it wasn't a place for smiles.

  "See what?" I asked suspiciously.

  He turned without a word and led the way down the hallway towards the empty window. Webster had taken Elsworthy in the opposite direction so that they stood as far from the window as the hallway allowed. Good for Webster.

  When we were close enough, my eyes started looking at something besides the window. There were two neat bullet holes in the wall near the window at the end of the hallway. Mobile Reserve's weapons can go fully automatic at the flick of a switch, but they're trained to do it one bullet at a time. With two officers down, and a monster on the loose, they'd remembered their training.

  Zerbrowski motioned the uniform back, so we had some privacy. There was almost no glass on the carpet, because it had all gone outside.

  "Did Van Anders throw someone through the window?"

  "He threw himself," Zerbrowski said.

  I stared at him. "We're twenty stories up, even a werewolf isn't going to walk away from that kind of fall. It may not kill him, but he'll be hurting."

  "He didn't go down, he went up." He motioned me closer to the window.

  I didn't like the window. It had a very low sill, almost low enough to step through. That gives a better view, but without glass in the metal frame, there was nothing but empty air between me and a very big fall.

  "Careful of the glass, and don't look down. But trust me, Anita, it's worth leaning out just a little, and looking up. Look at the right side of the window."

  I placed a hand against the wall and found a place in the metal that was glass free so I could get a grip. The air was beating against me, like eager hands ready to snatch me away. I'm not afraid of heights, but the idea of falling from them, well, that I'm afraid of. I fought the almost irresistible urge to look down, because I knew if I looked down I might not be able to look out the window at all.

  I
leaned out, very carefully, and at first I didn't understand what I was seeing. There were holes in the side of the building, all the way up, as far as my eyes could follow. Small holes at regular intervals.

  I eased myself back in, carefully, watching for glass as much as a fall. I frowned at Zerbrowski. "I saw the holes, but what are they?"

  "Van Anders did a Spiderman on them. The sniper and observer were set up on the opposite side of the building. There was nothing they could do."

  I felt my eyes go wide. "You mean the holes are where he shoved his hands into the building, and climbed up?"

  Zerbrowski nodded, and he was smiling. "Captain Parker was screaming that he didn't know werewolves could do that either."

  I glanced back at the window. "Captain Parker isn't the only one that didn't know. I mean they have the strength, but they get cut and scraped and break bones even. They may heal quickly, but it hurts them." I looked up at the ceiling as if I could still see the upward march of holes. "Being shot would have hurt like hell."

  Zerbrowski nodded. "Will he need to see an emergency room, a doctor, something?"

  I shook my head. "I doubt it. If he's strong enough to do a partial change, then I'll have to assume that his healing abilities are on the high end. If they are, he'll be healed within a couple hours, maybe less. If he changes form, when he's human again, he'll be good as new."

  "They've put the word out to all the emergency and urgent care places, just in case."

  I nodded. "Can't hurt, I guess, but I don't think you're going to catch him that way."

  "How are we going to catch him, Anita? How do you catch something like this?"

  I looked at him. "Did you ask the upper brass what they thought of using werewolves to track him?"

  "They vetoed it."

  "I think you might find them in a more receptive mood now."

  "You think your friends will be nice on a leash for me?"

  "I was really thinking I'd been holding the leash." My phone rang, and the sound made me jump. I flipped it open, and it was a voice I didn't recognize. I don't talk to the chief of police all that often.

  I did a lot of yes, sir, and no, sir. Then the phone was buzzing, and I was left with Zerbrowski staring at me. "Were you talking to who I think you were talking to?"

  "They've issued a court order of execution for Van Anders."

  Zerbrowski's eyes were wide. "You are not going after him alone."

  I shook my head. "I hadn't planned on it."

  He looked like he didn't believe me. I actually had to give him my word I wouldn't try to pop Van Anders without backup. I'd have backup. The police chief had told me over the phone that they'd go along with the werewolf tracking idea. I'd have backup-if I could persuade Richard to give them to me.

  I asked for some plastic evidence bags and raided Van Anders's dirty clothes drawer. I used gloves, not to keep my scent off them, but because I didn't want to touch anything that had touched Van Anders's body. I sealed the clothes in the bag, and hoped it would be enough to help the werewolves track him. We'd come back and start around the foot of this building. Van Anders might have climbed up, but he had to come down somewhere.

  Zerbrowski drove me, Officer Elsworthy, and himself off to the hospital, so Captain Parker could yell at us both. Bates had died on the operating table.

  Zerbrowski had to take the tongue lashing, because a sergeant doesn't outrank a captain. I took it, because I smelled the fear on Parker. I didn't blame him for being afraid. I think we were all afraid, every single person in the hallway. Every person in the apartment. Every policeman, and woman, in town should have been afraid. Because when something like this happens it's still the police that have to clean up the mess. Well, the police, and your friendly neighborhood executioner. We were all afraid, and we should have been.

  59

  I met Richard at his house. We sat at the kitchen table where we'd sat so many weekend mornings. He drank tea. I sipped coffee. He wouldn't meet my eyes, and I didn't know what to say.

  He caught me off guard by starting. "If you'd stuck to my morals, Asher would be dead right now, or worse, trapped in Europe with that monstrous bitch."

  I was pretty sure that "monstrous bitch" was Belle Morte. "That's true," I said, and I tried to keep my voice neutral. I wanted to get down to business and ask Richard to loan me some werewolves, but it didn't usually work well to approach Richard head on. It didn't take much to offend him. I needed his cooperation, not another fight.

  "I don't understand how you could let them feed off of you, Anita." He finally looked up and his perfectly brown eyes were filled with a pain and confusion, so raw, that it hurt me to look at them.

  "It's hard for me to cast stones anymore, Richard."

  "The ardeur," he said.

  I nodded.

  "I can't let you feed off of me either,"

  "I understand that," I said.

  He searched my face. "Then why are you here?"

  Had he really thought this was going to be some tearful reunion, some plea on my part to get him back in my bed? Part of me was pissed, part of me was sad, none of me had time for it.

  "The werewolf that's been raping and killing women here got away from the police today."

  "I haven't seen anything on the news."

  "We're trying to keep it quiet."

  "You're here for business," his voice was soft.

  "I'm here to keep other women from dying."

  He got up from the table, and I was afraid for a moment that he'd leave, but he took the tea cozy off the teapot and refreshed his mug. "It's not one of my wolves, Anita."

  "I know that."

  He turned, and there was the first hint of anger. "Then what do you want from me?"

  I sighed. "Richard, I love you, I may always love you, but I don't have time for this fight, not right now."

  "Why not now?" he asked, and he was angry.

  I opened the file folder and took out the first photo. I held it up so he could see it. He frowned, narrowing his eyes, then finally his mind made sense of it, and total disgust filled his face. He turned away.

  "Why are you showing me that?"

  "He's killed three women here and over a half dozen in other countries. Those are only the ones we know about. He's out there right now picking a new victim."

  "I can't do anything about that."

  "But I can, if you'll give me some werewolves to help track him."

  He looked at me then, then away, because I still had the photo showing. "Track him, you mean like a dog?"

  "No, most dogs won't track a shape-shifter, they're too scared of them."

  "We're not animals, Anita."

  "No, you're not, but in animal form you have the nose of one, but you still have the brain of a person. You can track and think."

  "Me, you expect me to do this?"

  I shook my head, and laid the photo down on the pile. I stood and spread the pile out across his table. "No, but Jason would, and Jamil would if you asked him to. I'd say Sylvie, but she's not well enough to do much of anything."

  "She challenged me, and she lost," Richard said. His eyes kept flicking to the photos on the table. "Get those off of my table."

  "He's out there right now, about to turn another woman into so much meat."

  "Fine, fine, take Jason, take Jamil, take whoever the hell you want."

  "Thank you." I started gathering the photos up.

  "You didn't have to do it this way, Anita."

  "What way?" I asked, shutting the file over the gruesome photos.

  "Harsh. You could have just asked me."

  "Would you have said yes?"

  "I don't know, but those photos are going to haunt me."

  "I saw the real deal, Richard, your nightmares can't be worse than mine."

  He moved in one of those blurs of speed and grabbed my arm. "Part of me thinks they're horrifying, just like I'm supposed to, but part of me likes the pictures." His fingers dug into my arm, bruising. "Part of
me just sees fresh meat." He let a growl trickle out from between his even white teeth.

  "I'm sorry you hate what you are, Richard."

  He let go of me so fast, I almost fell. "Take the wolves you need, and get out."

  "If I could wave a magic wand over you and make you human, purely human, I'd do it, Richard."

  He looked at me; his eyes had bled to wolf amber. "I believe you, but there isn't a magic wand. I am what I am, and nothing will ever change that."

  "I'm sorry, Richard."

  "I've decided to live, Anita."

  I looked at him. "I'm sorry, I don't understand."

  "I've been trying to die. I'm not going to die anymore. I'm going to live, whatever that means."

  "I'm glad, but I wish you sounded happier about the choice."

  "Go, Anita, you've got a murderer to catch."

  I did, and time was not on our side. But I still hated leaving him like this. "I'll do what I can to help you, Richard, you know that."

  "Like you help all your friends."

  I shook my head, gathered up the folder, and went for the door. "When you want to talk, and not to fight, give me a call, Richard."

  "And when you want to talk, and not catch murderers, you give me a call."

  We left it at that. But I didn't have time to hold his hand, even if he would have let me. Van Anders was out there, and there were so many people he could hurt. What was a little emotional desolation between friends compared to getting Van Anders off the streets?

  60

  Jason and Jamil stayed in human form, while Norman and Patricia stayed in wolf form. I'd seen Norman in human form before, but I couldn't put a face on Patricia. She was just a big shaggy wolf, pale, almost white. We had to put the two pony-sized wolves on leashes. Today of all days I did not want the police seeing a giant wolf running loose on the streets. I was thinking they'd be in a shoot-first-ask-questions-later sort of mood.

  I'd unzipped the two bags that I'd collected from Van Anders's rented apartment. The wolves sniffed it, growled, and on the end of leashes, they tracked him from the sidewalk around his apartment building, and all through the city, and finally to a mall.