The Killing Dance abvh-6

by Laurell Hamilton

"You'd just killed a woman, Anita. Tends to give a bad first impression."

  He had a point. "Do I need to have Catherine meet us down at the station?" I asked.

  "You're not under arrest," Dolph said.

  "I'd still like Catherine to meet us at the station."

  "Call her."

  I stood.

  Dolph touched my arm. "Wait." He turned to the other cops. "Everybody wait outside for a minute." There were some glances, but no one argued, they just went. They'd all worked with Dolph before, and no one present outranked him.

  When we were alone behind closed doors, he said, "Give it up."

  "What?"

  "You've got some kind of freaking blade down your back. Let's see it."

  I sighed and reached under my hair to the hilt. I drew the knife out. It took a while. It was a long knife.

  Dolph held out his hand. I handed it to him.

  He balanced it on his open hands and gave a low whistle. "Jesus, what were you planning to do with this?"

  I just looked at him.

  "Who frisked you at the club?"

  "Rizzo's partner," I said.

  "Have to have a talk with him." Dolph looked up at me. "Be a bad thing to miss on someone who might use it. Is it the only weapon he missed?"

  "Yep."

  He stared at me. "Lean on the bureau, Anita."

  My eyebrows raised. "You're going to pat me down?"

  "Yeah."

  I thought about arguing but decided not to. There were no more weapons to find. I leaned on the bureau. Dolph laid the knife on the chair and searched me. If there'd been anything to find, he'd have found it. Dolph was thorough in everything he did, methodical. It was one of the things that made him a great cop.

  I looked at him in the mirror without turning around. "Satisfied?"

  "Yeah." He handed the knife back to me, hilt first.

  I must have looked as surprised as I felt. "You're giving it back to me?"

  "If you'd lied to me about it being your last weapon, I'd have kept it and everything I found." He took a deep breath and let it out. "But I won't take your last weapon, not with a contract out on you."

  I took the knife and resheathed it. It was a lot harder putting it back than getting it out. I finally had to use the mirror to sort of direct me.

  "I take it it's a new weapon?" Dolph asked.

  "Yeah." I flipped my hair out over the sheath and presto, you couldn't see it. I was really going to have practice with it more. It was too good a hiding place not to use more often.

  "Any other impressions of the scene before I take you back?"

  "Was there forced entry?"

  "No."

  "Someone he knew then," I said.

  "Maybe."

  I glanced at Robert's still form. "Could we finish this discussion in another room?"

  "This one bother you?"

  "I knew him, Dolph. I might not have liked him, but I knew him."

  Dolph nodded. "You can finish telling me all about it in the nursery."

  I looked at him. I could feel myself going pale. I was not up to seeing what Monica would have done with a nursery. "You're developing a mean streak, Dolph."

  "Can't seem to get past the fact you're dating the Master of the City, Anita. Just can't shake it."

  "You want to punish me because I'm dating a vampire?"

  He looked at me, a long searching look. I didn't look away. "I want you to not date him."

  "You're not my dad."

  "Does your family know?"

  I did look away then. "No."

  "They're Catholic, aren't they?"

  "I am not going to have this discussion with you, Dolph."

  "You need to have it with someone," he said.

  "Maybe, but not with you."

  "Look at him, Anita. Look at him, and tell me you could sleep with that."

  "Drop it," I said.

  "I can't."

  We stared at each other. I was not going to stand here and explain my relationship with Jean-Claude to Dolph. It wasn't any of his business. "Then we have a problem."

  There was a knock on the door. "Not now," Dolph said.

  "Come in," I said.

  The door opened. Goody. Zerbrowski walked in. Even better. I knew I was grinning like an idiot, but I couldn't seem to stop. The last time I'd seen him had been the day he got out of the hospital. He'd been nearly gutted by a shapeshifter, a wereleopard the size of a pony. His attacker had been not a lycanthrope but a shapeshifting witch. That was why Zerbrowski wasn't turning furry once a month. The witch had clawed him up horribly. I'd killed it. I'd held my hands over his stomach and pressed his intestines back into his body. I still had the scars from the same monster.

  Zerbrowski's hair is normally curly and a mess, black going grey. He'd cut it short enough that it stayed in place. Made him look more serious, more grown-up, less like Zerbrowski. His suit was brown and looked like he'd slept in it. His tie was medium blue and matched nothing that he was wearing.

  "Blake, long time no see."

  I couldn't help myself; I walked over and hugged him. There are benefits to being a girl. Though, before Richard came into my life, I might have resisted the urge. Richard was bringing out my feminine side.

  Zerbrowski hugged me awkwardly, laughing. "I always knew you wanted my body, Blake."

  I pushed away from him. "You wish."

  He eyed me up and down, eyes glittering with laughter. "If you dress up like that every night, I might leave Katie for you. If that skirt was any shorter, it'd be a lamp shade.''

  Even with the teasing, I was glad to see him. "How long have you been back on full duty?"

  "Not long. I saw you on the news with your boyfriend."

  "News?" I said. I'd forgotten about the media blitz Jean-Claude and I had walked through.

  "He sure was pretty for a dead guy."

  "Shit."

  "What?" Dolph asked.

  "It was national media, not just local."

  "So?"

  "My father doesn't know."

  Zerbrowski laughed. "He does now."

  "Shit."

  "I guess you'll have that talk with your father after all," Dolph said.

  There must have been something in Dolph's voice or my face, because the humor faded from Zerbrowski's face. "What's up, you two? You look like someone stepped on your puppy."

  Dolph looked at me. I looked at him. "Philosophical differences," I said finally. Dolph didn't add anything. I hadn't really expected him to.

  "Okay," Zerbrowski said. He knew Dolph well enough not to pry. Me alone, he'd have bugged the hell out of me, but not Dolph.

  "One of the nearest neighbors is a serious right-wing vampire hater," he said. That got our attention.

  "Explain," Dolph said.

  "Delbert Spalding and his wife Dora sat on the couch, holding hands. She offered me iced tea. He objected to me saying that Robert had been murdered. Said you couldn't kill the dead." Zerbrowski dug a wrinkled notebook out of his suit pocket. He flipped some pages, tried to smooth the page down, gave up, and quoted. "Now that someone has destroyed that thing, the woman should abort that monster she's carrying. I don't believe in abortion normally, but this is abomination, pure abomination."

  "Humans Against Vampires, at the very least," I said, "Maybe even Humans First."

  "Maybe he just doesn't like living next door to a vampire," Dolph said.

  Zerbrowski and I looked at him.

  "Did you ask Mr. Spalding if he belonged to either of the hate groups?" Dolph asked.

  "He had HAV's newsletters scattered on his coffee table, gave me one."

  "Great," I said, "evangelizing hatemongers."

  "HAV doesn't advocate this kind of violence," Dolph said.

  The way he said it made me wonder what mailing list Dolph was on. I shook my head. I wouldn't believe the worst of him just because he didn't like me dating the walking dead. A few months back, I'd have felt the same way. "Humans First does," I said.


  "We'll find out if Mr. Spalding is a member of Humans First," Dolph said.

  "You also need to find out if the Spaldings have any magical talent," I said.

  "How?" Dolph said.

  "I could meet them, be in the same room with them. To be sure, I might have to touch them, shake hands."

  "I shook Mr. Spalding's hand," Zerbrowski said. "It was like shaking anybody else's hand."

  "You're a great cop, Zerbrowski, but you're almost a null. You could shake the grand high pooh-bah's hand and not get more than a twinge. Dolph's a complete null."

  "What's a null?" Dolph asked.

  "A magical null. Someone who has no magical or psychic ability. It's what let you cross the blood circle and kept me out."

  "So you're saying Ihave some magical ability?" Zerbrowski asked.

  I shook my head. "You're a tiny bit sensitive. Probably one of those people who get hunches that turn out to be right."

  "I get hunches," Dolph said.

  "I'll bet your hunches are based on experience, years of police work. Zerbrowski will make a leap of logic that makes no sense, but proves to be true. Am I wrong?"

  They looked at each other, then at me, then both nodded. "Zerbrowski has his moments," Dolph said.

  "You want to come shake the Spaldings' hands?" Zerbrowski asked.

  "Detective Reynolds can do it. It's one of the reasons you brought her on board, right?"

  They looked at each other again. Zerbrowski grinned. "I'll get Reynolds and go back over." He stopped at the door. "Katie's been after me to invite you over for dinner, meet the kids, a real domestic affair." He stared at me with his brown eyes guileless behind dark-rimmed glasses. "I was going to tell you to bring Richard, but if you're dating Count Dracula now, guess that'd be awkward." He stared at me, asking without asking.

  "I'm still seeing Richard, you pushy son of a bitch."

  He smiled. "Good. Bring him over a week from Saturday. Katie'll fix her famous mushroom chicken."

  "If I was only dating Jean-Claude, would the invitation still include my boyfriend?"

  "No," he said. "Katie's a little nervous. I don't think she'd be up to meeting Count Dracula."

  "His name's Jean-Claude."

  "I know." He shut the door behind him, and Dolph and I were alone with the body once more. The night was not looking up.

  "What are we hunting for, Anita?" I was actually relieved that Dolph was talking business. I'd had enough personal chitchat to last the night.

  "More than one murderer."

  "Why?"

  I looked up at him. "I don't know if there's enough humans in the world to pin a vampire to the floor like that. Even if it was other vampires or shapeshifters, it'd take more than one. I'd say two beings with abnormal strength to hold, and a third to put in the knives. Maybe more to hold, maybe more to do the spell. I don't know, but at least three."

  "Even if they were vampires?" Dolph asked.

  I nodded. "Unless one vamp was strong enough to have mind control over Robert." I looked down at the body, careful not to touch the circle. I forced myself to stare at what had been done to him. "No, once they started putting knives in him, I don't think any mind control would work. A human, yeah, they could have done this to a human and made him smile while they did it, but not another vamp. Did any of the neighbors see or hear anything? I mean the Spaldings may be involved, so they'd lie, but someone had to see or hear something. He didn't go quietly."

  "They say no," Dolph said. He said it like he knew some or all of them had lied. One of the things cops learn first is that everyone lies. Some people to hide things, some people just for the hell of it, but everyone lies. Assume that everyone is hiding something, it saves time.

  I stared at Robert's face, his mouth half-open, slack. There were rubbed marks at each corner of his mouth, a slight reddening. "Did you notice the marks by his mouth?"

  "Yes," Dolph said.

  "And you weren't going to mention them to me?"

  "You were a suspect."

  I shook my head. "You didn't really believe that. You're just playing all the details close to your chest, like always. I get tired of putting the pieces together when you've already done it."

  "So, what do you make of the marks?" he asked, his voice neutral.

  "You know damn well what I make of them. He may have been gagged while they did this to him. The neighbors really might not have heard anything. But that still doesn't say how the killers got into the house. If vampires were involved, they couldn't cross the threshold without an invitation. Robert wouldn't have invited strange vamps into his house, so someone with them had to be known, or human, or at least not vampire."

  "Could a human cross the threshold and invite vampires inside?"

  "Yes," I said.

  Dolph was making notes, not looking at me. "So we're looking for a mixed group, at least one vamp, at least one not vamp, at least one witch or necromancer."

  "You got that last from Reynolds," I said.

  "You disagree?"

  "No, but since I'm the only necromancer in town, it has to be outside talent." The moment I said it, I realized that outside talent was in town now. Dominic Dumare.

  "John Burke couldn't do it?"

  I thought about that. "John's a vaudun priest, but this isn't voodoo. I don't know if his knowledge of the arcane stretches this far. I also don't know if he's powerful enough to have done this, even with the knowledge."

  "Are you powerful enough?"

  I sighed. "I don't know, Dolph. I'm sort of new at necromancy. I mean, I've raised the dead for years, but not this formally." I motioned at the body. "I've never seen a spell like this."

  He nodded. "Anything else?"

  I hated dragging Dominic into it, but it was too bloody big a coincidence that a powerful necromancer hits town and a vamp gets taken out with necromancy. If he was innocent, I'd apologize. If he wasn't innocent, it was a death penalty case.

  "Dominic Dumare is a necromancer. He just got into town."

  "Could he have done this?" Dolph asked.

  "I only met the man once, Dolph."

  "Give me an opinion, Anita."

  I thought about the feel of Dominic in my head. His offer to teach me necromancy. The big thing was that killing Robert and leaving the body for us to find was stupid. Dominic Dumare didn't strike me as a stupid man.

  "He could have. He's a vampire's human servant, so it gives you two of your mixed group."

  "Did the vampire know Robert?"

  I shook my head. "Not to my knowledge."

  "You got a number where we can reach Mr. Dumare?"

  "I can call our night secretary and get it for you."

  "Great." Dolph stared down at his notes. "Is Dumare your best suspect?"

  I thought about that. "Yeah, I guess he is."

  "You got any proof?"

  "He's a necromancer, and this was done by someone with knowledge of necromancy." I shrugged.

  "The same reason we suspected you," Dolph said. He almost smiled when he said it.

  "Point taken," I said. "Prejudiced little me."

  Dolph closed his notebook. "I'll take you down for your statement then."

  "Fine. Now can I call Catherine?"

  "There's a phone in the kitchen."

  Zerbrowski opened the door. "The wife's here, and she's pretty hysterical."

  "Who's with her?" Dolph asked.

  "Reynolds."

  Through the open door, I heard a woman talking, just below the level of screaming. "Robert, my husband, dead? He can't be dead. He can't be dead. I have to see him. You don't understand what he is. He isn't dead." The voice was coming closer.

  "She's doesn't need to see this, Anita."

  I nodded. I walked out the door and closed it tightly behind me. I couldn't see Monica yet, but I could hear her. Her voice rising, growing thinner with panic. "You don't understand. He isn't really dead."

  I was betting that Monica wouldn't take my word for Robert being well
and truly dead. I guess if it was Jean-Claude lying in there, I wouldn't, either. I'd have to see for myself. I took a deep breath and walked forward to meet the grieving widow. Damn. This night just kept getting better and better.

  21

  The hospital room was soft mauve with paintings of flowers on the wall. The bed had a mauve bedspread and pink sheets. Monica lay in the bed hooked up to an IV and two different kinds of monitors. A strap across her belly monitored the contractions. Gratefully, the lines had gone flat. The other monitor was the baby's heartbeat. The sound had scared me at first; too fast, like the heart of a small bird. When the nurses assured me the heartbeat was normal, I relaxed. After nearly two hours, the frantic beat had become a comforting sound like white noise.

  Monica's auburn hair was plastered in wet tendrils to her forehead. Her careful makeup was smeared across her face. They had been forced to give her a sedative, though it wasn't great for the baby. She had fallen into a light, almost feverish sleep. Her head turned, eyes flicking behind her lids, mouth working, caught in some dream, a very bad dream probably, after the night she'd had. It was almost two o'clock, and I still had to go to the station and make my statement to Detective Greeley. Catherine was on her way to take my place at Monica's bedside. I'd be glad to see her.

  I had little crescent nail marks on my right hand. Monica had clung to it like it was all that was holding her together. At the worst of the contractions, when it looked like Monica would lose her baby as well as her husband, her long, painted nails had bitten into me, and only when blood trickled down my hand in fine crimson lines did a nurse say something. When Monica calmed down, they had insisted on messing with the wounds. They'd used the cartoon bandages they kept for the babies, so that my hand was covered in Mickey Mouse and Goofy.

  There was a television on a shelf on the wall, but I hadn't turned it on. The only sounds were the whirr of air circulating through the vents and the baby's heartbeat.

  A uniformed cop stood outside the door. If Robert had been killed by a hate group, then Monica and the baby were possible targets. If he'd been killed for personal reasons, Monica might know something. Either way, she was in danger. So they'd put a guard on her. Fine with me, since all I had left was a knife. I was really missing my guns.

  The phone on the bedside table rang, and I flung myself out of the chair, scrambling for it, terrified that it would wake Monica. I cupped the receiver against my mouth and spoke quietly while my pulse pounded. "Yes?"