The Harlequin

Chapter Thirty-five

REQUIEM DIDN'T EVEN turn around. He just said, "Leave us." But he said it in that "voice," that power-ridden voice that some vamps have. That voice that was supposed to bespell and bemuse.

I saw the flare of Dolph's cross around his neck. It made a halo around Requiem's body. I could see Dolph over Requiem's head, because he had eight inches on the six-foot-tall vampire. I didn't like the look on Dolph's face.

"He's my friend, Dolph, but the bad guys have him bespelled." My voice held more fear now than it had when I'd called for Graham. The look on Dolph's face made me afraid.

"One vampire can't bespell another," Dolph said. I saw his arms move, and knew before he moved around the vampire's body that he'd drawn his gun. He moved so that if he had to shoot, he wouldn't risk me. His cross stayed at a steady white light, not too bright - after all, the vampire who was being bad wasn't actually in the room.

"These vampires can, I swear to you, Dolph. Requiem is being controlled by one of the bad guys."

"Is that what is happening to me?" Requiem asked, and he looked confused.

"He's a vampire, Anita; he is a bad guy."

"They're brainwashing you, Requiem," I said, and reached out to him.

"Don't touch him," Dolph said, his gun up and pointed.

Requiem's hand closed over mine; his skin was cool to the touch, as if he hadn't fed. But he had fed; I'd felt his power. "If you shoot him now, like this, it's murder, Dolph. He hasn't done anything wrong." I drew a breath of my own power, my necromancy, and tried to "look" at Requiem, gently. If I had a repeat of being thrown across the room by metaphysics, I was afraid Dolph would blame Requiem and shoot him.

"You're the one who taught me that if my cross glows, they're fucking with me."

"They are fucking with you, and with Requiem. They're messing with you both."

"I'm still wearing a cross, Anita; my mind is my own. You taught me that, too. Or did you forget everything about monster hunting when you started fucking them?"

I was too scared to be insulted. "Listen to yourself, Dolph, please. They are messing with your thoughts." I traced my power over Requiem, as delicate a brush of power as I'd ever attempted. I felt the power, and I knew the taste of it. It was Mercia. If we all survived, I'd ask Edward how he managed to miss her. But it was like chasing a ghost; her power withdrew before me. She just gave him up and left. Maybe she didn't want to risk another metaphysical knockout.

Requiem swayed, grabbing the rail, and my hand, to keep from falling.

"Get away from her, now," Dolph said.

"The bad vamp is gone, Dolph," I said.

Requiem said, "Give me but a moment and I will do as you ask, officer. I am unwell." He kept his face averted from the cross that was still glowing soft and steady. It wasn't glowing because of Requiem.

Edward came slowly through the door. Olaf loomed behind him. "Hey, Lieutenant, what's going on?"

"This vamp is trying to mind-fuck me." Dolph's voice was low and even, with a thread of anger to it like a fuse waiting to be lit. He was holding a two-handed shooting stance; the gun looked strangely small in his hands.

"Anita," Edward called.

"Requiem is fine now. The bad vamps were messing with him, but it's over."

"Lieutenant Storr, we don't have a warrant of execution on this vampire. Kill him now, and it's murder." Edward's voice was his good-ol'-boy best, apologetic, somehow implying by tone that he thought it was a shame, too, that they couldn't just kill all the vampires, but shucks, it just didn't work that way.

Edward and Olaf eased into the room. Edward hadn't gone for a weapon. There was already one too many guns in this room. I had an idea.

"Dolph, this vampire messed with me while I wore a cross. She makes your feelings stronger. You hate vampires, and she's feeding that feeling. Requiem is jealous of Jean-Claude, and she was feeding that."

"There's nothing wrong with me," Dolph said.

"You're about to shoot an unarmed civilian," Edward said, in his good-ol'-boy voice. "Is that a good thing, Lieutenant, or a bad thing?"

Dolph frowned, and the tip of the gun wavered. "He's not a civilian."

"Well, now," Edward said, "I agree with you, but legally he's a citizen with rights. You kill him, and you're up on charges. If you're going to go down for killing one of them, why not make it one that's actually breaking the law? Lose your badge saving some innocent human from a bloodsucker about to munch on 'em. That'd be satisfyin'." Edward's down-home accent was growing thicker as he talked. He was also easing deeper into the room. He waved Olaf to stay near the door, then crept closer to Dolph.

Dolph didn't seem to notice. He just stood there, frowning, as if he were listening to things I couldn't hear. His cross kept up a steady white light. He shook his head as if trying to chase off some buzzing thing. His gun pointed at the floor, and he looked up. The cross faded, but it had never had the light it should have for such an attack. It was almost as if whatever Mercia's powers were, they somehow didn't set off holy objects as much as they should have. Dolph looked first at Edward. "I'm okay now, Marshal Forrester."

Edward, with Ted's smiling face, said, "If you don't mind, Lieutenant, I'd feel better if you came out of the room."

Dolph nodded, then put the safety on his gun and handed it butt first to Edward. Edward let his face show surprise. I didn't try to hide the shock I felt. No cop gives up his gun voluntarily, least of all Dolph. Edward took the gun. "You still not feelin' okay, Lieutenant Storr?"

"I'm okay at the moment, but if this vampire can get past my cross once, it can do it again. I almost shot him." He jerked a thumb in Requiem's direction. "I want to talk to Marshal Blake alone."

Edward gave him all the doubt on his face, and said, "I'm not so sure that's a good idea, Lieutenant."

Dolph looked at me. "We need to talk."

"Not alone," Requiem said.

Dolph didn't even look at him, but kept those dark, angry eyes on me. "Anita."

"Dolph, this bad vamp wants me dead. Even unarmed you outmuscle me. I'd rather we had company for the talk."

He pointed a finger at Requiem. "Not him."

"Fine, but someone."

He looked at Edward. "You seem to feel like I do about them."

"They're not my favorite thing," Edward said, and the good ol' boy was starting to fray around the edges.

"Fine, you stay." He looked at Olaf and the people in the hallway beyond. "Just the marshals."

Edward said something low to Olaf, who nodded. He started to close the door.

Dolph said, "No, the vampire leaves, too."

"His name's Requiem," I said.

Requiem squeezed my hand and gave me one of his rare smiles. "I take no offense, my evening star; he hates what I am, many people do." He raised my hand and gave it a kiss, then picked up his cloak from the floor and moved toward the door.

He stopped closer to the door and Edward, away from Dolph, but turned to the big man. " 'Darkling I listen; and, for many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death, Call'd him soft names in many a mused rhyme.' "

"Are you threatening me?" Dolph asked, in a voice gone cold.

"Not you," I said. "I don't think he was threatening you."

"Then what did he mean by that?"

"He's quoting Keats. 'Ode to a Nightingale,' I think," I said.

Requiem looked back at me and nodded, making it almost a bow. He kept looking at me, and there was too much intensity in that gaze. I met it, but it took effort.

"I don't care what he's quoting, Anita. I want to know what he meant by it."

"What it means," I said, meeting Requiem's blue, blue gaze, "at a guess, is that he's half-wishing you'd pulled the trigger."

Requiem bowed then, a full-out sweeping movement, using his cloak as part of the theatre of it. It was a lovely, graceful show of body, hair, and all of him. But it made my throat tight, and my stomach jump. My stomach didn't like that, and I winced.

Requiem put his cloak on, drawing the hood around his face. He gave me the full force of that handsome face, those eyes, and said, " 'I saw pale kings and princes too, Pale warriors, death-pale were they all; They cried, 'La Belle Dame sans Merci Hath thee in thrall!' "

Dolph looked at me then, then back at the vampire. Requiem glided out the door all black cloak and melancholy. Dolph looked back at me. "I don't think he likes you very much."

"I don't think that's the problem," I said.

"He wants to pick out curtains," Edward said from where he was slouched beside the door. He only slouched when he was pretending to be Ted Forrester.

"Something like that," I said.

"You fucking him?" Dolph asked.

I gave him the look the question deserved. "That is none of your damn business."

"That's a yes," he said, and his face was taking on that look, that disapproving look.

I glared at him, though frankly it's hard to glare in a hospital bed hooked up to tubes. It always makes you feel so vulnerable. Hard to be tough when you're feeling weak. "I said what I meant, Dolph."

"You only get defensive when the answer's yes," he said. The disapproving look was sliding into his angry look.

"My answer's always defensive when someone asks me if I'm fucking someone. Try asking if I'm dating him, or hell, even if he's my lover. Try being polite about it. It's still none of your business, but I might, might, answer the question if you weren't ugly about it."

He took in a lot of air, which with his chest was a whole lot, and let it out very slowly. Olaf was taller, but Dolph was bigger, beefier, built like an old-style wrestler before they all went to heavy bodybuilding. He actually closed his eyes and took another breath. He let that out and nodded. "You're right. You are right."

"Glad to hear it," I said.

"Are you dating him?"

"I'm seeing him, yes."

"What do you do on dates with a vampire?" It seemed to be a real question, or maybe he was just trying to make up for being pissy.

"Pretty much what you do on a date with any guy, except the hickeys are really spectacular."

It took him a second, and then he stared at me. He tried to frown, then laughed and shook his head. "I hate that you date the monsters. I hate that you are fucking them. I think it compromises you, Anita. I think it makes you have to choose where your loyalties lie, and I don't think us mere humans always win the coin toss."

I nodded and found that it didn't hurt my stomach to do it. Had I healed more in the little bit we'd been talking? "I'm sorry that's how you feel."

"You aren't going to deny it?"

"I'm not going to react all angry and defensive. You're being reasonable about your feelings, so I'll be reasonable back. I don't shortchange the humans, Dolph. I do a lot to make sure that the citizens of our fair city stay upright and mobile, the living and the dead, the furry and the not-so-furry."

"I hear you're still dating that junior high teacher, Richard Zeeman."

"Yeah." I said it carefully, trying not to act tense about it. To my knowledge the police didn't know Richard was a werewolf. Was his secret identity about to be revealed? I rubbed my hand over my stomach to give my eyes somewhere else to look and hoped that any tension in my body would be attributed to the wounds. Hoped.

"I asked you once if you were dating any humans, and you said no."

I fought not to look too relaxed, or too tense. This was Richard's world I was playing with. "You probably asked during one of our many breakups. We're pretty on and off."

"Why?"

"Why all the questions about my love life? We have a dangerous vampire out there to catch."

"To kill," he said.

I nodded. "To kill, so why all the questions about who I'm dating?"

"Why don't you want to answer questions about Mr. Zeeman?"

We were on dangerous ground. Dolph hated the monsters, all monsters. His son was engaged to a vampire, and she was trying to talk the son into joining her as undead. It had made Dolph's attitude toward the preternatural citizens go from cynical and dark to downright dangerous. Did he know about Richard, or suspect?

"Truthfully, Richard was who I thought I'd spend my life with, and the fact that we seem to be headed for the big breakup still hurts, okay?"

He gave me cop eyes, as if he were tasting the truth and weighing the lie. "What changed?"

I thought about how to answer that. The first time we'd broken up had been after I saw Richard eat someone. It had been a bad guy, but still, a girl's got to have standards. Or that's what I thought at the time. If I had it to do over again, would I have made a different choice? Maybe.

Dolph was beside the bed now. "Anita, what changed?"

"Me," I said softly, "I changed. We broke up, and I started dating Jean-Claude. I went back and forth between them for a while, and finally Richard just couldn't take me not deciding. So he decided for us, for me. If I couldn't choose, he'd take away one of my choices."

"He didn't want to share you."

"No."

"But he's dating you again, now."

"Some." I so did not like where this conversation was going.

Edward must not have liked it either, because he interrupted. "Not that this isn't fascinating, Lieutenant, but we still have a very powerful vamp out there. She's killed, or helped kill, at least two women that we know of: one Bev Leveto, and Margaret Ross." I think he used their names to make them more real to Dolph. Names have a way of doing that. "Shouldn't we be concentrating on catching the bad vampire, instead of quizzing the marshal here about her dates?" He said it all with a smile and a face full of down-home charm. I would never be the actor that Edward was, but damn there were moments when I wished I could be.

"How did you manage not to catch both of the vampires in the hotel room?" I asked. Maybe if we concentrated on crime-stopping, Dolph would let the other topic go.

Edward did his "aw, shucks" look, like he was embarrassed. The reaction wasn't his, but maybe the emotion was; it was incredibly rare for Edward to miss a target. He came to stand by the head of the bed.

One, so I could see him around Dolph's broad build, but two, I think, so Dolph wouldn't be able to scrutinize my reactions so damn closely.

"When we got to the hotel room there was only one vampire in the room. She was dead when we got there, but we took her head and heart, just like we're supposed to. I know that dead doesn't always mean dead for these guys."

"That must have been Nivia."

"How did you know her name?" Dolph asked.

I opened my mouth, closed it, and said, "An informant."

"Who, Anita?" he said.

I shook my head. "Don't ask, and I won't have to lie to you."

"You have someone who knows more about these murderers, and you won't bring them in so we can all question them. You, and just you, get to do the interrogation."

"It wasn't like that."

"You're good at your job, Anita, but you're not a better cop than I am, or Zerbrowski is."

"I never said I was."

"But you exclude us. You keep secrets from us."

"Yeah, just like you keep them from me. I know you don't call me in all the time anymore. You don't trust me."

"Do you trust me?" he asked.

"I trust you, Dolph, but I don't trust the hate in you."

"I don't hate you, Anita."

"No, but you hate some of the people I love, and that makes it hard, Dolph."

"I've never hurt any of your boyfriends."

"No, but you hate them, hate them for just being what they are, who they are. You're like an old-time racist, Dolph; your hate blinds you."

He looked down, took another deep breath. "I've been to the company shrink. I'm trying to come to an understanding with..." He looked at Edward, who looked innocently back at him.

"Your family," I finished for him so he wouldn't have to go into details.

He nodded.

"I'm glad, Dolph, really. Lucille's been..." I shrugged. What was I supposed to say, that his wife, Lucille, had been frantic, afraid for him and of him? His rages had trashed a room or two of their house, much like he'd done to an interrogation room with me in it, once. He'd manhandled me at a crime scene. Dolph was close to losing his badge, if he didn't get a grip.

"She said you've been helpful about it. Her."

I nodded. If Edward hadn't been in the room, I'd have said your son's fiancee. "I'm glad I could help."

"I will never be okay with you dating the monsters."

"That's fine, as long as you don't let it rain all over police business."

"Fine, police business." He glanced at Edward, then reached into his suit coat and got out his notebook. "What killed the vampire in the hotel room?"

"When her animal to call died, the master didn't survive it. It happens like that sometimes: kill one and they all die."

"The police have killed wereanimals that were guarding vampire lairs, and the master vampire didn't die."

"Most master vamps have an animal that they can control, but the phrase 'an animal to call' means it's the furry equivalent of a human servant."

"A human that's helping a vampire because of mind tricks?" He made it a question.

"I thought that once, too, but a human servant is more than that. It's a human with a preternatural connection, a mystical connection, with the vampire. Sometimes the vampire survives the death of its servant, but the servant usually doesn't survive the death of the vampire. I've also seen the body survive, but the human servant driven crazy by the master's death. But this weretiger had healing abilities that it shouldn't have had. It was almost like it had the best of both worlds on healing. The lycanthropy healing, and the rotting vampire's ability to laugh off bullets, even silver."

"I thought you just woke up?" Dolph said.

"I did."

"How did you know she rotted?"

"I didn't, but her animal healed like a rotting vampire, so I assumed she was one of them. But even if she was, her animal to call should not have had that close a tie with the vampire's powers. It's unusual, very unusual, as if the tie between master and servant was closer even than normal."

"She started to rot as soon as we took her head," Edward said.

"Ol... Otto must have been disappointed," I said.

"He was, but at least they don't smell like they look. Why is that?" Edward asked. "Not complaining, mind you, but why don't they smell like a rotting corpse?"

"I don't know, I think maybe because they aren't really rotting. It's like they, the vampires, went to a certain stage of rotting, then stopped. The smell is from decomposition. If the vampire isn't actually rotting, then no decomp, no smell." I shrugged. "Truthfully, that's just theory. I don't know for sure. I don't think I've seen more than a handful of them. It doesn't seem to be a common type of vamp, at least not in this country."

"They're all rotting corpses, Anita," Dolph said.

"No," I said, and met his eyes just fine, "no, they aren't. Most vampires, if you ever see them rotting like that, looking like that, they are well and truly dead. But the rotting ones can actually rot around you, then sort of heal themselves. They can go from looking like the walking dead to looking normal."

"Normal," Dolph said, and made a sound.

"Normal as they started," I said. I turned to Edward. "Do we know where the other vamp went?"

Dolph answered, "We know that a white male, late twenties, early thirties, brown hair, cut short, jeans, jean jacket, carried a large duffel bag out to his car and drove away while two uniforms watched."

"They watched," I said.

"Civilians who saw the incident said the man told the officers" - Dolph flipped back through his notebook, then read - " 'You're going to let me go to my car, aren't you?' The policemen replied, 'Yes, we are.' "

"Shit, he pulled an Obi-Wan," I said.

"What?" Edward and Dolph said together.

"You know, from Star Wars, 'These are not the droids you're looking for.'"

Edward grinned. "Yeah, while Otto and I were taking the other vampire apart, the man pulled an Obi-Wan."

"He had to do it to several officers, or some version of it," Dolph said. "By the time he drove off there were police all over that hotel. I thought daylight wasn't good for vamps."

"I think the vampire was in the duffel bag. My guess, and it's only a guess, is that as the weretiger shared her master's healing ability, so the human servant of this other one shared her mind powers. I've never heard of anything like it, but it makes sense. If I think of another theory that makes more sense, I'll let you know."

"How did you know they would be at the hotel, Anita?" Dolph asked.

"I told you, an informant."

"Was the informant a vampire?"

"No," I said.

"No," he said.

"No," I said.

"Was the informant human?"

"I'm not giving you the name, so it doesn't matter, does it?"

"How many vampires are involved with these murders?"

"Two that I'm sure of."

"How close is your tie to your master, Anita?"

"What?" I just stared at him.

He looked at me, and there was no anger in his eyes, just a demand. He repeated the question.

My pulse was in my throat, and I couldn't help it. My voice was almost normal when I said, "Are we going to catch these bastards, or are you going to go back to obsessing on how up close and personal I am with the vampires? I'm sorry that I've disappointed you, Dolph. I'm sorry that you disapprove of my personal life, but we have dead on the ground. We have injured people. Can we please, please, concentrate on that instead of your obsession with my love life?"

He blinked, slow, over those cool cop eyes. "Fine, how did Peter Black get injured, and who exactly is he?"

I looked at Edward, because I had no idea what story he'd come up with. I doubted the truth, the whole truth, had been involved.

"Now, Lieutenant," Edward said, "I told you all this."

"I want to hear Anita's version."

"My version, like you know it's a version and not the truth," I said.

"I don't think you've told me the whole truth about anything since you started dating that bloodsucking son of a bitch."

"Politically, that bloodsucking son of a bitch is the Master of the City."

"Is he your master, Anita?"

"What?"

"Are you the human servant of the Master of this City?"

I'd outed myself once in front of Detective Smith. I'd done it to save the life of a vampire Good Samaritan. Apparently Smith hadn't ratted me out. I owed him a beer.

I needed a moment to think how to answer Dolph. Edward gave me that moment. "You know, Lieutenant, your persistent interest in Marshal Blake's personal life is a little disturbing. Especially as it seems to be distracting you from the investigation and capture of a double murderer."

Dolph ignored him and kept those cool cop eyes on me. If I'd been sure how the federal marshal program would have handled my being Jean-Claude's human servant I might have just said yes, but I wasn't sure, so I had to lie, or distract him. "You know, Dolph, I've tried to be professional here, but you've asked me if I've fucked someone, you've persistently asked personal and sexual questions. Did you miss the day they covered sexual harassment?"

"You are, you really belong to him, don't you?"

"I don't belong to anyone, Dolph. I'm so my own woman that I'm chasing some of them away. Requiem wants to own me; that's the vampire who just left, if you didn't catch his name. I don't want to be owned, not by anybody. Jean-Claude understands that better than any human I ever dated. Maybe that's what your son sees in his fiancee, Dolph. Maybe she understands him in ways you never will." That last was mean, and meant to be, but we had to end this conversation.

"You leave my family out of this." His voice was low and careful.

"I will if you will. Your obsession with vampires and my personal life started about the time your son got engaged to a vampire. It's not my fault. I didn't introduce them. I didn't even know he'd done it, until you told me."

"The Master of the City knew. He just didn't tell you," Dolph said.

"Is that what you've been thinking, that Jean-Claude somehow sicced a vampire on your son, so she'd seduce him?"

He gave me a look. "You're not the only vampire hunter in this country now, Anita. You're not even the only one with a badge. They tell me that the Master of the City has absolute authority. That no local vamp does anything without permission."

"If only that were true, but your son's fiancee belongs to the Church of Eternal Life. She's Malcolm's problem right now, not Jean-Claude's. The Church of Eternal Life is its own little universe in vampireland. Frankly, the other vamps are a little puzzled on how to deal with the Church when its members do stupid stuff like dating a policeman's son."

"Why was it stupid?"

"Because most police still hate the vampires. It's just better policy to leave the cops alone if you can. None of Jean-Claude's vampires have gone near a police person of any kind for anything."

"He's gone near you," Dolph said.

"I wasn't officially a cop when we started dating."

"No, you were a vampire executioner. He shouldn't have come near you, and you should have known better than to go near him."

"Who I date is not your business, Dolph."

"It is if it affects how you do your job."

"I do my job better because I'm up close and personal with the monsters." I struggled to sit up a little, tired of him looming over me. My stomach was tight, but it didn't hurt. "You count on me knowing more about the monsters. Hell, every cop that comes near me for help counts on me knowing more about the monsters than they do. How the hell do you think I found all that out? By keeping them at arm's length and hating them the way you do? They don't like talking to people who treat them like shit. They don't volunteer information to people they know hate them. If you want someone's help you have to reach out to them."

"How many have you reached out to, Anita?" Such innocent words, but he made it sound ugly.

"Enough so I could help you every time you called."

He closed his eyes then, balled his fist around his notebook until something in it ripped. "If I'd left you where I found you, raising the dead, Jean-Claude would never have met you. You went into his club on police business the first time. On my business." He opened his eyes and there was such pain in them.

I reached out to touch his arm, but he moved back, out of reach. "We did our jobs, Dolph."

"When you look in the mirror, is that enough, Anita? At the end of the day, is that enough, that we do our jobs?"

"Sometimes, sometimes not."

"Are you a lycanthrope?"

"No," I said.

"Your blood work says different."

"My blood work is puzzling the hell out of the lab, and it'll puzzle the hell out of any lab you send it to."

"You know you're carrying lycanthropy."

"Yeah, I'm carrying four different kinds of lycanthropy."

"You knew."

"I found out when I ended up in the hospital in Philadelphia, after that zombie case with the FBI."

"You didn't mention it to anyone here."

"You hated me for dating shapeshifters; if you found out I was carrying it" - I spread my hands - "I couldn't depend on how you'd react."

He nodded. "You're right. You were right not to tell me, but you could have told Zerbrowski or someone."

"It doesn't affect my job, Dolph. I've got a disease that I'm mostly asymptomatic for. It's no one's business unless it impacts the job." In my head I wondered what would happen if the almost-beasts that I carried inside me got out of control on a case. That would be bad. I almost had the ardeur under control, and now I had something else that might keep me from being able to do my police work.

"Anita, did you hear what I said?"

"I'm sorry, no, I didn't."

"I said, how do you know it doesn't affect the job? How do you know that your ties to the monsters don't color your choices?"

"I'm tired, Dolph. I'm tired, and I need to rest." Why hadn't I thought of that before? I was in a hospital, I could have just cried hurt. Damn, I was slow tonight.

He uncrumpled his notebook, tried to smooth it out as best he could. He tried to fit it back in his suit pocket, but he'd damaged it so bad it wouldn't fit. He finally just took it in his hand. "I'll want to talk to you when you've rested. There comes a point, Anita, when you have enough secrets from your friends that they begin to wonder where your loyalties lie."

"Get out, Dolph, just go."

"But he gets to stay," and he pointed at Edward.

"He hasn't insulted me. He's been nothing but professional."

"I guess I deserve that." He seemed about to say something else. He held his hand out. Edward hesitated, then gave Dolph back his gun. Dolph just left, closing the door softly behind him.

Edward holstered his gun and we waited a few seconds, then looked at each other. "You are not going to be able to avoid answering him for very long, Anita."

"I know."

"It's not just you that's going to be in trouble."

I nodded. "Richard."

"He was hinting."

"If he knew, he'd do more than hint."

"Lieutenant Storr isn't stupid."

"I never thought he was."

"His hatred makes him stupid in some ways, but it also makes him very determined. If that determination gets turned on you and your friends, well..."

"I know, Edward, I know."

"What are you going to do?"

"There isn't a law on the books that says I can't date the monsters. Legally it would be like telling a federal agent he can't date someone who's not white; it would be a public relations nightmare."

"But the human servant bit, that's an area they haven't covered in the federal regulations."

"You've checked?" I asked.

"Before I took the badge, yeah, I read up. Nothing says you can't be Jean-Claude's human servant and a federal marshal."

"Because the laws haven't caught up to themselves."

"It doesn't matter, Anita; it still means even if Dolph finds out, you're covered."

"I'm covered legally, but there are other ways to be gotten rid of, if cops want you gone."

"Like not calling you in on cases."

"Dolph's already doing that."

"Frankly, I think they see you sleeping with the enemy as being just as bad as any metaphysical stuff, or worse."

I thought about it. "They don't really understand the metaphysics, but they understand fucking."

"Your lieutenant seems almost as worried that you're sleeping around as who you're sleeping around with."

"A lot of police are prudes at heart."

"I think Lieutenant Storr would almost be as disappointed with you if you were just sleeping around with humans."

"I think he sees himself as sort of a surrogate father figure."

"How do you see him?"

"My boss, sort of. Once I thought he was my friend."

"You're sitting up - does it hurt?"

I thought about it, letting myself feel my body, sort of searching it for pain. I took a deep breath, all the way down to my stomach. "It's tight, but not painful. It has that tight feeling that it gets if you don't stretch the scar tissue out. You know?"

"I know."

"You don't have any scars as bad as mine, do you?"

"Only Donna knows." He smiled.

"How is Peter, really?"

"Brave."

"I meant, oh, hell, Edward, is he going to get the injection or not?"

"Still debating."

"You have to tell Donna."

"She'd take the injection."

"Legally, it's her decision."

"One of the reasons we kept him Peter Black was so he could make the decision. I've been talking to your furry friends. Tiger lycanthropy is one of the harder-to-catch ones. It's also one of the few that runs in families and can be inherited as well as caught."

"That's actually news to me," I said.

"Apparently the tigers keep it a close family secret. I've been talking to the only other weretiger in town."

"Christine," I said.

He nodded. "Did you know she ran to a town with no tigers to escape being forced to marry into a clan of weretigers?"

"I didn't know - wait, I remember Claudia saying that Soledad had come to St. Louis to probably escape an arranged marriage. Something about the tigers liking to keep it in the family."

"That was her cover story."

"How good was her cover?"

"It was good. I've seen her documents; they look real. They were excellent forgeries, and I know what I'm talking about."

"I'll just bet you do," I said.

He gave me a look. The real Edward began to peek out, Ted Forrester melting from the eyes outward. It was always his eyes that reverted back to real first. Sort of the way most lycanthropes shifted, interestingly enough.

"Thanks for sending Graham when you did. The shot they had was tiger. It's their standard because it's so rare. They're sending for a different batch, not tiger this time."

"Will he take the shot?"

"If you were him, what would you do?"

I thought about it. "I'm not the one to ask, Edward. I've been cut up a lot, and I've taken my chances. So far, so good."

"But the shot didn't exist last time. Would you have taken it?"

"I won't make this decision for you, or for Peter. He's not my kid."

"The other shapeshifters make weretigers sound like the last thing you'd want to be."

"How so?"

"Like I said, they try to force you to marry into the clan to keep everyone related. They'd find Peter and they'd offer him girls, try to lure him in. If he wouldn't be lured, they've been known to abduct."

"Illegal," I said.

"Most of them homeschool their kids."

"Very isolationist," I said.

"Peter doesn't like the sound of being a weretiger. He's not very big on other people telling him what to do."

"He's sixteen," I said. "No sixteen-year-old likes to be bossed around."

"I don't think he's going to grow out of it."

"He takes orders from you, and from Claudia."

"He takes them from people he respects, but you have to earn it. I wouldn't let some clan of weretigers take him, Anita."

"They can't force you, or Peter. Christine has lived in St. Louis for years and never been bothered that I'm aware of."

"Apparently, there're only four clans of tigers in the United States. They all keep to themselves. Their culture is also divided about pure-bloods, inherited lycanthropy, and attacks. Being given tiger lycanthropy is seen as a reward for a job well done. They think it's a sin to give it to someone you don't value."

"Sounds sort of vampirelike," I said. "They feel the same way about human servants and animals to call. But I've seen my share of both that were forced, and didn't go willingly."

"Were you willing?" he asked, and it was all Edward in those eyes now.

I sighed. "If I say no, are you going to do something stupid?"

"No, you love him. I see it. I don't understand it, but I see it."

"I don't get you and Donna either."

"I know."

"I wasn't willing at first, but somehow it just happened. Where we are now wasn't forced on me."

"Rumor has it that you're the power behind the throne, the one pulling his strings."

"Don't believe every rumor you hear."

"If I believed them all, I'd be too afraid to be alone with you."

I stared at him, trying to read that face, that unreadable face. "Do I want to know what people are saying about me behind my back?"

"No," he said.

I nodded. "Fine, get a doctor, see if I can get up and mobile."

"It's been ten hours, Anita, you can't be healed."

"Let's find out," I said.

"If you get out of bed this quick, some of those rumors are going to get confirmed."

"Are the police talking to you about me?"

"Not everyone knows that we're friends."

"Okay, what rumors?"

"That you're a shapeshifter."

"Some of my best friends are shapeshifters," I said.

"Meaning?"

"Meaning, get a doctor. I'm not going to stay in bed just to keep people from thinking what they already think. Truthfully, I've had actual shapeshifters think I'm one of them just from the way my energy feels."

"Would it hurt you to stay in bed?"

"Why do you care if people think I'm a shapeshifter?"

"I care because if Peter finds out you're already out of bed he'll feel weak. He'll want to be all macho, too."

"If the doctor tells me I'm too sick to move, I'll stay in bed. I'm not being macho."

"No, but Peter has similar injuries to yours, and he knows how he feels."

"His wounds aren't healing faster than normal?" I asked.

"They don't seem to be, why?"

"It's not a certainty, but often if a victim is going to get lycanthropy, wounds heal more than human-fast."

"Always?" he asked.

"No, but sometimes. Critical wounds that would cause death will heal faster. Smaller wounds sometimes heal faster, sometimes not."

"What do I tell Peter about the injection?"

I shook my head. "I can't make that call. I won't make that call." I looked at him, studied a face that didn't have the cheerfulness of Ted, or the coldness of Edward. There was real anguish there, guilt maybe. Since I thought he'd been foolish to bring Peter into this mess, I couldn't help him. Peter hadn't been ready for this much action. The shame of it was that in a few years he might have been.

"You're thinking I was wrong to bring him, that he wasn't ready."

"Hey, I told you that when I saw him. You don't have to read my mind, Edward. I'll usually tell you what I think."

"Okay, what do you think?"

"Well, shit," I said, and sighed. "Fine, fine. Of course you shouldn't have brought him. I was impressed with him in the middle of the fight. He held his ground. He remembered his training. In a few years, if he wants to follow in his father's footsteps, then fine. But he needs a few more years of practice and training. He needs a little seasoning before you throw him to the wolves again."

Edward nodded. "I was weak, I've never been weak before, Anita. Donna, Becca, and Peter, they make me weak. They make me back down. They make me flinch."

"They don't make you do anything, Edward. Your reaction to them, your feelings for them, has changed you."

"I'm not sure I like the change."

I sighed again. "I know the feeling."

"I let you down."

"I didn't mean that." I lay back down on the bed. Sitting up didn't hurt, but it didn't exactly feel good either. "What I meant was that loving people changes you. It's changed me, too. I'm softer in some ways, harder in others. I haven't compromised myself as much as you have."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I'm not trying to live with someone who doesn't know who and what I am. I'm not driving an eight-year-old to ballet class."

"My schedule's easier to move around than Donna's."

"I know. She runs her own metaphysical store. I remember, but that's not the point, Edward. The point is that I'm not trying to live a normal life. I'm not even trying to pretend that what I do, and what I am, is normal."

"If you had kids, you'd have to try."

I nodded. "The pregnancy scare last month made me have to look at that. I don't see myself ever getting pregnant on purpose. If it happens accidentally we'll deal, but my life doesn't work with babies."

"You're saying mine doesn't either." He sounded sad, and I hadn't expected that.

"No, I mean, I don't know. It doesn't work for me because I'm the girl. I'm the one pregnant, and, God forbid, nursing. Sheer biology makes it harder for me to combine gunplay and kids."

"I can't marry Donna, can I?"

The voice in my head screamed, Nooo, you can't. But out loud I said, "Again, I can't answer that. Hell, Edward, I have enough trouble with my own life, I can't run yours."

He gave me a look; it was an Edward look, but there was something in the eyes, something that wasn't cold, no, it was definitely warm, hot even. I watched the force of personality that could kill gather in his eyes. But what was it gathering for?

"Edward," I said, softly, "don't do anything right now that you'll regret later."

"We kill the vampire that caused this," he said.

"Well, of course," I said. "I meant don't make any hasty decisions about Donna and the kids. I don't know much, but I do know that if Peter does turn furry they'll need you more than ever."

"If he does turn furry, can I bring him up here to talk to your friends?"

"Yes, of course."

He nodded. He looked at me, his eyes softening a little. "I know you think I should leave Donna and the kids. You've always thought it was a bad idea."

"Maybe, but you love them, and they love you. Love's hard to come by, Edward; you should never throw it away just because it's a bad idea."

He laughed. "That made no sense at all."

"I'm trying here; what I meant to say was that you all love each other. If you can just make Peter stay home long enough to finish his training... I think in a few years, if he still wants to, he can join the family business, but he isn't ready now. Put your foot down and explain it like that and make it stick."

He nodded. "You think he can do it, what we do?"

"I think so, if this little adventure didn't take all the fun out of it for him."

He nodded again. "I'll go find a doctor." He walked out without a backward glance. I lay in the bed, listening to the sudden whispering silence of the room. I prayed that Peter wouldn't be a lycanthrope. I prayed that the council wouldn't let the Harlequin declare war on us. I prayed that we'd all survive. Well, I guess it was too late for Cisco. I hadn't known him that well, but he'd died defending me. He'd died at eighteen doing his job, defending the people he'd signed up to defend. It was an honorable death, a good death, so why didn't that make me feel better? Did he have family? Was he somebody's little boy? Someone's sweetheart? Who was crying right now for him? Or was there no one to mourn him? Were we, his coworkers and friends, all he had? Strangely, that thought made me more sad than any of the thoughts that had come before.

Chapter Thirty-six

THERE WAS A soft knock at the door. Edward wouldn't knock, and if a doctor knocks it's followed with an opening door. Who knocks in a hospital? I asked, "Who is it?"

The answer came, "It's Truth."

A second voice called, "And Wicked."

They were brothers, and vampires, and had only recently joined Jean-Claude's group. The first time I'd met them, Truth had nearly died trying to help me catch a bad guy. They'd been warriors and mercenaries for centuries. Now they were ours. Jean-Claude's and mine.

Wicked came through the door first, in his pale-brown designer suit, tailored to the wide sweep of shoulder and the strain of muscles in his arms and legs. He actually went to the gym and had added some bulk to the muscles they'd both started with. His shirt was buttoned up tight, with an elegant tie and a gold tie clip. His blond hair was cut long enough to cover his ears, but still had a few inches to go before it reached shoulder length. He was clean-shaven so that the deep dimple in his chin showed. He was handsome, utterly masculine, and utterly modern from his haircut to his shined shoes. Only the sword hilt peeking from behind one shoulder spoiled the modern effect.

Truth followed at his brother's side as he usually did. He had the same half-growth of dark beard he'd had since I met him. It wasn't a beard, just as if when he'd died he hadn't shaved in a while, and he'd never gotten around to changing it. The almost-beard hid the clean, perfect masculine face, the dimple that they shared. You had to stare at them side-by-side for a while to realize how terribly much alike they looked. Truth's hair was shoulder length, a dark, nondescript brown that was almost black. The hair wasn't exactly stringy, but it was far from his brother's shining halo of hair. He wore leather, but it wasn't Goth leather. It was like fifteenth-century battle-hardened leather crossed with modern motorcycle leather. His boots were knee high, and they had a look about them that said they might be as old as he was, but they fit, they were comfortable, and they were just his boots. He liked them in the way that some men like that favorite chair that has molded to their bodies. So what if they were a little patched and worn; they were comfy.

Truth had a sword at his back, too. I knew they both were carrying guns - one hidden under the beautiful suit jacket, the other hidden under a leather jacket that had seen better days. The brothers were always well armed.

"Requiem said he didn't trust himself around you, so Jean-Claude sent us," Wicked said. He said it with a smile that filled his blue eyes with speculation.

"Why would Requiem say that?" Truth asked. His eyes were the mirrors of his brother's, but the expression in them was totally different. Truth was so sincere it almost hurt. Wicked always seemed to be laughing at me, or at himself, or the world in general.

"The Harlequin messed with his mind."

"So he didn't trust himself to keep you safe," Truth said.

"Something like that," I said.

There was another knock on the door, but Graham opened it and peeked through. "We've got company out here."

Wicked and Truth were suddenly on alert. It was hard to explain, but cops do it, too. One minute normal, ordinary, then suddenly they were on. They were ready.

"Who?" I asked.

"The lions' Rex."

I blinked at Graham. "You mean Joseph?"

Graham nodded.

"What's that bastard doing here?" Wicked asked.

"I think that's my line," I said.

Wicked gave me a small half-bow. "Sorry about that."

I said, "What does he want?"

Graham leaned the door closed and licked his lips. "I think he wants to beg your forgiveness, or something like that."

"I don't feel very forgiving," I said. I smoothed down the sheets on my hospital bed. No, I didn't feel very forgiving.

"I know," Graham said, "but he's out here alone. The lions left you and the vampires and our Ulfric to die. You don't owe them anything."

"Then why tell her he's outside?" Wicked asked.

Graham licked his lips again. "Because if I didn't tell Anita, and she found out later he'd come to see her, she'd be mad."

"Why would I be mad?" I asked.

"Because of what Joseph thinks is about to happen to his lions."

"His lions are no concern of mine anymore," I said, and I believed that down to the hard, cold feeling in my heart.

Graham nodded. "Okay, but don't say later that I didn't tell you, because I did." He moved away from the door so he could open it.

"Wait," I said.

Graham turned and looked at me, hand on the door handle.

"What do you mean, what's about to happen to the lions?"

"It's not our concern, you said so," Truth said.

I looked at the tall vampire, shook my head, and then looked back to Graham. "I feel like I'm missing something. Just in case I do care, a little, someone explain what I'm missing."

"Asher invited the lions from Chicago back," Graham said.

"When did this happen?" I asked.

"When you and Jean-Claude were dying," Truth said.

"And Richard," Graham added. "Our Ulfric was dying, too."

Truth gave a small bow from the neck. "I meant no offense, wolf."

Graham said, grudgingly, "It's okay."

"The vampires would not have listened to your Ulfric," Wicked said. There was something in the way he said it, the way he stood, that said he wanted a fight.

"Don't pick a fight, Wicked," I said.

He turned just enough to give me a little bit of his eyes. "That's not picking."

"I don't feel well enough to mess with it. I need everyone to be a grown-up, okay?"

Wicked gave me a look that wasn't entirely friendly, but he didn't say anything else. I'd take sullen silence. The brothers were an asset, the muscle we'd needed for a while, but they bothered me, too. There was always this feeling that they weren't quite the obedient little vampires they might have been. Maybe it was the fact that I knew they'd spent centuries with all vampires turned against them. They'd killed the head of their bloodline when he went crazy and sent his vampires out to slaughter humans. Their crime hadn't been slaying him, because the vampire council had decided he needed killing. Their crime had been surviving his death. Superstition said that lesser vampires died when the head of their bloodline died. Jean-Claude said it was true of weaker vampires, but it was supposed to be true of all vampires. I think it was a way to discourage palace coups. But Wicked and Truth were proof that it wasn't true, not if you were powerful enough. And of course, only the very powerful would attempt to overthrow their creator.

I had given the brothers shelter, a master to call their own. Truth would have died if I hadn't shared Jean-Claude's power with him. And where one brother went they both went, so Wicked was ours, too.

"Tell me about the lions," I said.

"Asher was in charge of the city as Jean-Claude's temoin, his second-in-command," Truth said.

"So?"

"He is not the second most powerful vampire in St. Louis. We thought" - and by we he always meant his brother and himself - "that sentimentality had clouded Jean-Claude's judgment. But there are other qualities in a leader than vampire powers. He was decisive, ruthless, and swift."

"What was he decisive, ruthless, and swift about?" I asked.

"We needed extra muscle," Graham said.

"You said that."

Graham nodded.

"Just tell me. I won't be mad."

Wicked laughed, a loud bray of sound that was nothing like the perfect masculine chuckle he usually allowed himself. "Don't promise until you know."

"I'll know if you tell me," I said, and already there was a thread of anger in my tone. Damn it.

"Asher called Augustine in Chicago. He asked for soldiers," Wicked said.

"He let Auggie send his werelions back into our territory," I said.

Wicked and Truth nodded. Truth asked, "Do you understand what that means for St. Louis's Rex and his pride?"

I lay in the bed and thought about it. I did know. "I sent Auggie's lions back to Chicago in November because they would have taken over Joseph's pride. He doesn't have anyone strong enough to protect them from the brutes that Auggie has."

"I'm not sure they'd like being called brutes," Wicked said, "but it's accurate." He smiled, a most unpleasant smile that turned his handsome face to something else. Something more basic, less practiced, more real. Wicked and Truth had honor; you could bank on that honor, trust it. If they'd been one inch less honorable, they would have been totally untrustworthy, and too dangerous to keep.

"Have they moved on Joseph's pride?" I asked.

"Not yet," Graham said. "I think they're waiting to talk to you first."

"Me, not Jean-Claude," I said.

"They talked to Jean-Claude. He's removed his protection from the lions."

"It's all up to you, babe," Wicked said.

"Micah is the head of the furry coalition," I said.

"Micah kicked them out, unless you make him put them back in," Graham said.

"When your Nimir-Raj found out what the St. Louis lions had done, he accused them of having broken the treaty with both the wolves and the leopards," Truth said.

Wicked continued the story. "Since they broke the treaty, they are no longer allies of the coalition. So the coalition members don't owe them anything."

"So when Auggie's lions attack, no one will come to their aid," I said, my voice soft.

"Exactly," Wicked said. He seemed pleased.

Graham said, "Joseph is outside, alone. He thinks you will be the weak link."

I looked at Graham, because it was odd wording. "You think I should let Joseph and his people fry."

"They betrayed us," Graham said. I saw something in his face then, a hardness that I hadn't noticed before. He could be a good bodyguard when he wasn't trying to fuck something, but he wasn't hard, or ruthless. Not until now.

I remembered what I'd said to Edward. I'd planned on taking revenge on the werelions. Edward was going to help me. But I'd met Joseph and his people, knew them. They were real, and they weren't all a waste of time. Travis and Noel had helped feed me for months while I tried to find a more permanent lion. They were too weak to satisfy my lioness, but they were good kids.

"Do I send him away?" Graham asked, as if that was what he wanted to do.

I thought about it. It would be so easy to just refuse to see him. Then I could be ruthless and hard-hearted, and not have to look the man in the face who I was condemning to death. I might be able to keep Auggie's lions from slaughtering all the pride, but one death would be an absolute must - Joseph's.

"Send him in," I said.

"You think that's a good idea?" Wicked asked. He managed to keep his voice neutral.

"It'd be easier not to see him," I said.

"Then why see him?" Wicked said.

"Because it would be easier."

"That makes no sense."

"It makes sense to me," Truth said.

I looked up at the other vampire. We exchanged a long look. He understood why I had to turn Joseph away in person: because if I couldn't look him in the eye and tell him the truth, then maybe it was the wrong thing to do. I had to see him, to know whether I could stand by and let nature take its course with the lions in our city. The lions weren't my problem, damn it. They had betrayed us. They would have let us all die. Their moral superiority had been worth more to them than the lives of our vampires. I wouldn't cause them harm, but I was done stepping in and saving them. Or that's what I told myself when I told Graham to open the door.