"You and Mr. Burke aren't married and don't have kids."
"That's right."
"Neither do I," he said.
I had to smile. Had I ever been this eager? Naw. "No one likes a smart alec, Larry."
He grinned, and it made him look about thirteen. Jesus, why wasn't he running for cover after tonight? Why wasn't I? No answers, at least none that made sense. Why did I do it? Because I was good at it, came the answer. Maybe Larry could be good at it, too. Maybe, or maybe he'd just get dead.
I got out of the car and leaned back in the open door. "Go straight home, and if you don't have an extra cross, buy one tomorrow."
"Okay," he said.
I shut the door on his solemn, earnest face. I walked up the stairs and didn't look back. I didn't watch him drive away, still alive, still eager after his first brush with the monsters. I was only four years older than he was. Four years. It felt like centuries. I had never been that green. My mother's death when I was eight saw to that. It takes the edge off the shiny brightness to lose a parent early.
I was still going to try to talk Larry out of being a vampire executioner, but if all else failed, I'd work with him. There are only two kinds of vampire hunters: good ones and dead ones. Maybe I could make Larry one of the good ones. It beat the hell out of the alternative.
26
IT WAS 3:34, FRIDAY morning. It had been a long week. Of course, when hadn't it been a long week this year? I had told Bert to hire more help. He hired Larry. Why didn't that make me happy? Because Larry was just another victim waiting for the right monster. Please keep him safe, God, please. I'd had about as many innocents die on me as I thought I could handle.
The hallway had that middle-of-the-night feel to it. The only sounds were the hush of the heating vents, the muffled sound of my Nike Airs on the carpeting. It was too late for my day-living neighbors to stay up, and too early for them to get up. Two hours before dawn, you get privacy.
I opened my brand-new burglarproof lock and stepped into the darkness of my apartment. I hit the lights and flooded the white walls, carpet, couch, and chair with bright light. No matter how good your night vision is, everyone likes light. We're creatures of the daylight, no matter what we do for a living.
I threw my jacket on the kitchen counter. It was too dirty to toss on the white couch. I had mud and bits of weed plastered all over me. But very little blood; the night had turned out alright.
I was slipping out of the shoulder holster when I felt it. The air currents had moved, as if something had moved through them. Just like that I knew I wasn't alone.
My hand was on the gun butt when Edward's voice came out of the darkness of my bedroom. "Don't, Anita."
I hesitated, fingers touching the gun. "And if I do?"
"I'll shoot you. You know I'll do it." His voice was that soft, sure predatory sound. I'd seen him use flamethrowers when his voice sounded like that. Smooth and calm as the road to Hell.
I eased away from my gun. Edward would shoot me if I forced him to. Better not to force it, not yet. Not yet.
I clasped my hands on top of my head without waiting for him to tell me. Maybe I'd get brownie points for being a cooperative prisoner. Naw.
Edward stepped out of the darkness like a blond ghost. He was dressed all in black except for his short hair and pale face. His black-gloved hands held a Beretta 9mm pointed very steadily at my chest.
"New gun?" I asked.
The ghost of a smile curled his lips. "Yes, like it?"
"Beretta's a nice gun, but you know me."
"A Browning fan," he said.
I smiled at him. Just two ol' buddies talking shop.
He pressed the gun barrel against my body while he took the Browning from me. "Lean and spread it."
I leaned on the back of the couch while he patted me down. There was nothing to find, but Edward didn't know that. He was never careless. That was one of the reasons he was still alive. That, and the fact that he was very, very good.
"You said you couldn't pick my lock," I said.
"I brought better tools," he said.
"So it's not burglarproof."
"It would be to most people."
"But not to you."
He stared at me, his eyes as empty and dead as winter's sky. "I am not most people."
I had to smile. "You can say that again."
He frowned at me. "Give me the master's name, and we don't have to do this." The gun never wavered. My Browning stuck out of the front of his belt. I hoped he'd remembered the safety. Or maybe I didn't.
I opened my mouth, closed it, and just looked at him. I couldn't give Jean-Claude over to Edward. I was the Executioner, but the vampires called Edward Death. He'd earned the name.
"I thought you'd be following me tonight."
"I went home after watching you raise the zombie. Guess I should have stayed around. Who bloodied your mouth?"
"I'm not going to tell you a bloody thing. You know that."
"Everyone breaks, Anita, everyone."
"Even you?"
That ghost of a smile was back again. "Even me."
"Someone got the better of Death? Tell, tell."
The smile widened. "Some other time."
"Nice to know there'll be another time," I said.
"I'm not here to kill you."
"Just to frighten or torture me into revealing the master's name, right?"
"Right," he said, voice soft and low.
"I was hoping you'd say wrong."
He almost shrugged. "Give me the Master of the City, Anita, and I'll go away."
"You know I can't do that."
"I know you have to, or it's going to be a very long night."
"Then it's going to be a long night, because I'm not going to give you shit."
"You won't be bullied," he said.
"Nope."
He shook his head. "Turn around, lean your waist up against the couch, and put your hands behind your back."
"Why?"
"Just do it."
"So you can tie my hands?"
"Do it, now."
"I don't think so."
The frown was back. "Do you want me to shoot you?"
"No, but I'm not going to just stand here while you tie me up, either."
"The tying up doesn't hurt."
"It's what comes after that I'm worried about."
"You knew what I'd do if you didn't help me."
"Then do it," I said.
"You're not cooperating."
"So sorry."
"Anita."
"I just don't believe in helping people who are going to torture me. Though I don't see any bamboo slivers. How can you possibly torture someone without bamboo slivers?"
"Stop it." He sounded angry.
"Stop what?" I widened my eyes and tried to look innocent and harmless, me and Kermit the Frog.
Edward laughed, a soft chuckle that rolled and expanded until he squatted on the floor, gun loose in his hands, staring up at me. His eyes were shiny.
"How can I torture you when you keep making me laugh?"
"You can't; that was the plan."
He shook his head. "No, it wasn't. You were just being a smartass. You're always a smartass."
"Nice of you to notice."
He held up his hand. "No more, please."
"I'll make you laugh until you beg for mercy."
"Just tell me the damn name. Please, Anita. Help me." The laughter drained from his eyes like the sun slipping out of the sky. I watched the humor, the humanity slip away, until his eyes were as cold and empty as a doll's. "Don't make me hurt you," he said.
I think I was Edward's only friend, but that wouldn't stop him from hurting me. Edward had one rule: do whatever it takes to get the job done. If I forced him to torture me, he would, but he didn't want to.
"Now that you've asked nicely, try the first question again," I said.
His eyes narrowed, then he said, "Who hit you in the mouth?"
&nbs
p; "A master vampire," I said softly.
"Tell me what happened." It was too much like an order for my taste, but he did have both the guns.
I told him everything that had happened. All about Alejandro. Alejandro who felt so old inside my head, it made my bones ache. I added one tiny lie, lost in all that truth. I told him Alejandro was Master of the City. One of my better ideas, heh?
"You really don't know where his daytime resting place is, do you?"
I shook my head. "I'd give it to you if I had it."
"Why this change of heart?"
"He tried to kill me tonight. All bets are off."
"I don't believe that."
It was too good a lie to waste, so I tried salvaging it. "He's also gone rogue. It's him and his flunkies that have been killing innocent citizens."
Edward smirked at the innocent, but he let it go. "An altruistic motive, that I believe. If you weren't such a damn bleeding heart, you'd be dangerous."
"I kill my share, Edward."
His empty, blue eyes stared at me; then he nodded, slowly. "True."
He handed me back my gun, butt first. A tight, clenched ball in my stomach unrolled. I could breathe deep, long sighs of relief.
"If I find out where this Alejandro stays, you want in on it?"
I thought about that for a minute. Did I want to go after five rogue vampires, two of them over five hundred years old? I did not. Did I want to send even Edward after them alone? No, I did not. Which meant . . .
"Yeah, I want a piece of them."
Edward smiled, broad and shining. "I love my work."
I smiled back. "Me, too."
27
JEAN-CLAUDE LAY IN the middle of a white canopied bed. His skin was only slightly less white than the sheets. He was dressed in a nightshirt. Lace fell down the low collar, forming a lace window around his chest. Lace flowed from the sleeves, nearly hiding his hands. It should have looked feminine, but Jean-Claude made it utterly masculine. How could any man wear a white lace gown and not look silly? Of course, he wasn't a man. That must be it.
His black hair curled in the lace collar. Touchable. I shook my head. Not even in my dreams. I was dressed in something long and silky. It was a shade of blue almost as dark as his eyes. My arms looked very white against it. Jean-Claude got to his knees and reached his hand out to me. An invitation.
I shook my head.
"It is only a dream, ma petite. Will you not come to me even here?"
"It's never just a dream with you. It always means more."
His hand fell to the sheets, fingertips caressing the cloth.
"What are you trying to do to me, Jean-Claude?"
He looked very steadily at me. "Seduce you, of course."
Of course. Silly me.
The phone beside the bed rang. It was one of those white princess phones with lots of gold on it. There hadn't been a telephone a second before. It rang again, and the dream fell to shreads. I came awake grabbing for the phone.
"Hello."
"Hey, did I wake you?" Irving Griswold asked.
I blinked at the phone. "Yeah, what time is it?"
"It's ten o'clock. I know better than to call early."
"What do you want, Irving?"
"Grouchy."
"I got in late. Can we skip the sarcasm?"
"I, your true-blue reporter friend, will forgive you that grumpy hello, if you answer a few questions."
"Questions?" I sat up, hugging the phone to me. "What are you talking about?"
"Is it true that Humans First saved you last night, as they're claiming?"
"Claiming? Can you talk in complete sentences, Irving?"
"The morning news had Jeremy Ruebens on it. Channel five. He claimed that he and Humans First saved your life last night. Saved you from the Master Vampire of the City."
"Oh, he did not."
"May I quote you?"
I thought about that for a minute. "No."
"I need a quote for the paper. I'm trying to give a chance for a rebuttal."
"A rebuttal?"
"Hey, I was an English major."
"That explains so much."
"Can you give me your side of the story, or not?"
I thought about that for a minute. Irving was a friend and a good reporter. If Ruebens was already on the morning news with the story, I needed to get my side out. "Can you give me fifteen minutes to make coffee and get dressed?"
"For an exclusive, you bet."
"Talk to you then." I hung up and went straight for the coffeemaker. I was wearing jogging socks, jeans, and the oversized t-shirt I'd slept in when Irving called back. I had a steaming cup of coffee on the bedside table beside the phone. Cinnamon hazelnut coffee from V. J.'s Tea and Spice Shop over on Olive. Mornings didn't get much better than this.
"Okay, spill it," he said.
"Gee, Irving, no foreplay?"
"Get to it, Blake, I've got a deadline."
I told him everything. I had to admit that Humans First had saved my cookies. Darn. "I can't confirm that the vampire they ran off was the Master of the City."
"Hey, I know Jean-Claude is the master. I interviewed him, remember?"
"I remember."
"I know this Indian guy was not Jean-Claude."
"But Humans First doesn't know that."
"A double exclusive, wowee."
"No, don't say that Alejandro isn't the master."
"Why not?"
"I'd clear it with Jean-Claude first, if I were you."
He cleared his throat. "Yeah, not a bad idea." He sounded nervous.
"Is Jean-Claude giving you trouble?"
"No, why do you ask?"
"For a reporter you lie badly."
"Jean-Claude and I got business just between us. It doesn't concern The Executioner."
"Fine; just watch your back, okay?"
"I'm flattered that you're worried about me, Anita, but trust me, I can handle it."
I didn't argue with that. I must have been in a good mood. "Anything you say, Irving."
He let it go, so I did, too. No one could handle Jean-Claude, but it wasn't my business. Irving had been the one hot for the interview. So there were strings attached; not a big surprise, and not my business. Really.
"This'll be on the front page of the morning paper. I'll check with Jean-Claude about whether to mention this new vamp isn't the master."
"I'd really appreciate it if you could hold off on that."
"Why?" He sounded suspicious.
"Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea for Humans First to believe Alejandro is the master."
"Why?"
"So they don't kill Jean-Claude," I said.
"Oh," he said.
"Yeah," I said.
"I'll bear that in mind," he said.
"You do that."
"Gotta go; deadline calls."
"Okay, Irving, talk to you later."
"Bye, Anita, thanks." He hung up.
I sipped the still-steaming coffee, slowly. The first cup of the day should never be rushed. If I could get Humans First to believe the same lie Edward bought, then no one would be hunting Jean-Claude. They'd be hunting Alejandro. The master that was slaughtering humans. Put the police on the case, and we had the rogue vamps outnumbered. Yeah, I liked it.
The trick was, would everyone buy it? Never know until you try.
28
I HAD FINISHED A pot of coffee and managed to get dressed when the phone rang again. One of those mornings.
"Yeah," I said.
"Ms. Blake?" The voice sounded very uncertain.
"Speaking."
"This is Karl Inger."
"Sorry if I sounded abrupt. What's up, Mr. Inger?"
"You said you'd speak to me again if we had a better plan. I have a better plan," he said.
"For killing the Master of the City?" I made it a question.
"Yes."
I took a deep breath and let it out slow, away from the phone. Didn't want him to thi
nk I was heavy breathing at him. "Mr. Inger . . ."
"Please, hear me out. We saved your life last night. That must be worth something."
He had me there. "What's your plan, Mr. Inger?"
"I'd rather tell you in person."
"I'm not going to my office for some hours yet."
"Could I come to your home?"
"No." It was automatic.
"You don't bring business home?"
"Not when I can help it," I said.
"Suspicious of you."
"Always," I said.
"Can we meet somewhere else? There's someone I want you to meet."
"Who, and why?"
"The name won't mean anything to you."
"Try me."
"Mr. Oliver."
"First name?"
"I don't know it."
"Okay, then why should I meet him?"
"He has a good plan for killing the Master of the City."
"What?"
"No, I think it will be better if Mr. Oliver explains it in person. He's much more persuasive than I am."
"You're doing okay," I said.
"Then you'll meet me?"
"Sure, why not?"
"That's wonderful. Do you know where Arnold is?"
"Yes."
"There's a pay fishing lake just outside of Arnold on Tesson Ferry Road. Do you know it?"
I had an impression that I had driven by it on the way to two murders. All roads led to Arnold. "I can find it."
"How soon can you meet me there?" he asked.
"An hour."
"Great; I'll be waiting."
"Is this Mr. Oliver going to be at the lake?"
"No, I'll drive you from there."
"Why all the secrecy?"
"Not secrecy," he said; his voice dropped, embarrassed. "I'm just not very good at giving directions. It'll be easier if I just take you."
"I can follow you in my car."
"Why, Ms. Blake, I don't think you entirely trust me."
"I don't entirely trust anybody, Mr. Inger, nothing personal."
"Not even people who save your life?"
"Not even."
He let that drop, probably for the best, and said, "I'll meet you at the lake in an hour."
"Sure."
"Thank you for coming, Ms. Blake."
"I owe you. You've made sure I'm aware of that."
"You sound defensive, Ms. Blake. I did not mean to offend you."
I sighed. "I'm not offended, Mr. Inger. I just don't like owing people."
"Visiting Mr. Oliver today will clear the slate between us. I promise that."
"I'll hold you to that, Inger."
"I'll meet you in an hour," he said.
"I'll be there," I said.
We hung up. "Damn." I'd forgotten that I didn't have a car. I could call a cab, but I also hadn't eaten yet today. If I'd remembered all that, I'd have said two hours.
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