“A badge doesn’t make you a cop, Blake. You have no discipline. If you get any of my people killed because you were hotdogging it, you will not like the next talk we have.”
I wasn’t really enjoying this talk very much, but I didn’t say that out loud either. I was getting smarter, or more tired, or maybe I just didn’t care enough anymore. Who the hell knew? I stood my ground, and I felt nothing. My voice was empty of all the emotion his was carrying when I said, “What if you get your people killed because you didn’t let me do my job to the best of my ability? Do I get to have a talk with you then?”
All the men around me just moved back, in unison, as if minimum safe distance was suddenly a real concern. He spoke through his teeth, and the anger turned his brown eyes nearly black. “And what exactly is your job, Blake?”
“I’m a vampire hunter.”
He came toward me slowly, and Melbourne actually touched his shoulder, as if it was getting out of hand. Hudson just looked at the hand, and the hand went away. Everyone was treating Hudson like he was a very scary guy. He wasn’t the biggest, or the most muscled, or anything, but he wore his authority like some sort of invisible coat; it was just there. If he hadn’t hated me, I’d have respected it, but he made it impossible for me to see him as anything but an obstacle. He spoke from inches in front of me, each word pushed into my face, careful as a blow, “You-are-a-fuck-ing-assassin.”
I looked up into his face, almost close enough to kiss, and said, “Yeah, sometimes, sometimes, I am.”
He blinked at me, puzzlement filling his eyes, chasing back the anger. “That was an insult, Blake.”
“I try never to get insulted by the truth, Sergeant.” I gave him mild eyes and willed myself to feel nothing, because if I let myself feel anything I was going to be sad, and if I teared up, or worse, cried, that would be it. They wouldn’t let me play, not if I cried. I’d cried because Jessica Arnet thought I was corrupting Nathaniel. I’d cried because of having to kill Jonah Cooper. What the fuck was wrong with me tonight? Usually the only thing that made me cry was Richard.
He shook his head. “You will just slow us down, Blake.”
“I’m immune to vampire powers,” I said.
“We will clear this entire structure in less than a minute. We know not to make eye contact, and we are cleared to treat all approaching vampires inside as hostiles. There won’t be time for them to do any tricks on us.”
I nodded, as if I really understood how they could possibly clear an entire condo, the size of a small house, in less than a minute. “Fine, you don’t think you need me to help with the vampires, fine.”
He blinked again, and he couldn’t hide the fact that I’d caught him off guard a second time in almost as many minutes. “You’ll wait outside?”
“What happens to your speed record, if you have to treat the vampires like human beings?” I asked.
“They’re legal citizens, that makes them human beings.”
“Yeah, but can you clear the place in less than a minute if you have to take the time to subdue maybe upwards of seven vampires, at least one a master? If you think I’ll slow you down, Hudson, trust me, they’ll slow you down a lot more than I will.”
Melbourne spoke over Hudson’s shoulder, “We’ve been green-lighted. Everything vampire in there is target.”
I shook my head and looked at Melbourne, as if Hudson wasn’t still looming over me. “When warrants of execution first came into existence, one of the main concerns was that they would turn the police of this country into nothing more than fucking assassins, so the warrants are worded very carefully. If the legal executioner is with you and we are in danger then you may use any and all means to execute this warrant, but if the legal executioner is not with you, then the warrant is not in effect.” I turned back to look at Hudson, and I was beginning to get a little angry, at last. Good, that was better than tears. “Which means if you go in without me and shoot any damn body, that you’ll be up on review, or leave, or some motherfucking shit. Hesitate against vampires, and you risk your life and the lives of your men. Don’t hesitate against the vampires, and you may lose your job, your pension, or even see jail time. Depends on the judge, the lawyer, the political climate of the city at the time of the incident.” I was almost smiling, because I was telling the absolute truth.
Hudson gave a smile that was more snarl than anything. “Or we can just sit this one out and let you take the order of execution all on your own little shoulders. How’d that be? You go in by yourself.”
I laughed, and it surprised him again, made him back up. “Killian,” I said, turning to look for him. He came up to me, sort of hesitating, glancing at his sergeant. Killian was only an inch or two taller than me, it was one of the main reasons that his extra gear had nearly fit me. “Help me out of this, I don’t want to mess up your gear. Thanks for the loan.”
“Why are you taking off the gear?” Hudson asked.
“If I go in without you, I don’t need the vest, or the helmet, or the damn radio that’s attached to it. I go in alone, like normal, I get to take the equipment I want to take, not that I’m ordered to take.” I started looking at the straps. “Help me out here, Killian, you helped me get into it.”
Hudson shook his head and Killian backed up. “Ms. Blake . . .”
“That’s Marshal Blake to you, Sergeant Hudson.”
He took in a deep breath, and let it out slow. “Marshal Blake, we can’t let you go in there alone.”
“This is my damn warrant, not yours. I shared my information with you guys, not the other way around. None of you would have even known where to look for this woman without me.”
“Do you know what they’re saying you did to get this information, Marshal?”
Just the way he said it, I knew I didn’t want to know, but I said, “No, what?”
“That you fucked the suspect. Fucked him in front of other officers, and he told you everything, then you blew his brains out with a gun. Defucking-capitated him, you shot him so many times.”
I laughed again. “Jesus, I’d love to know who made that one up.”
“You’re saying it’s a lie?”
“That I fucked him, yeah, wishful thinking on someone’s part, but I did vamp it out of him, as in vampire, not whore. And yeah, I did shoot him until his head wasn’t there anymore, because I didn’t have my vampire hunting kit with me. The handgun was all I had, so it’s what I used.”
I shook my head and felt that faint anger fade away. “This warrant is my damn party, Sergeant Hudson. I invited you to the dance, not the other way around. I would like you to try and remember that, when we’re dealing with each other.”
He looked at me, really looked at me. I don’t think he’d seen me until that moment. I’d been some woman, some zombie queen slut, forced on him by the upper brass. I’d been a civilian with a badge, but I hadn’t been real to him, not a person. Now he looked at me, and he saw me, and I watched that unreasoning anger fade.
“You really would go in there alone, wouldn’t you?”
I sighed and shook my head. “I’m a vampire executioner, Sergeant, I’m usually alone, just me and the bad guys.”
He gave a small smile, barely more than a flex of his mustache. “Not tonight, Marshal, tonight, you go in with us.”
I smiled at him, it was a good smile, not flirting, though some men take it that way, just a good, open, honest, happy to have you smile. He smiled back, he couldn’t seem to help it. “Good, great,” I said, “but can we move it along? We’re burning moonlight.”
He gave me a look like he wasn’t sure how to take me, then he laughed. The moment he laughed, all the other men relaxed, I could feel it, like a sort of psychic sigh of relief. “You are a pushy damn woman.”
“Yes,” I said, “yes, I am.”
He gave a smaller laugh. “You’ll follow orders once we’re inside, yes?”
I sighed. “I’ll try.”
He shook his head.
“If I ju
st say yes, it’ll be a lie, but I will do my utmost to do what I’m told. I promise.”
“That’s the best I’m going to get, isn’t it?”
I nodded. “Yep, unless you want me to lie to you.”
“No, truth from a federal agent is downright refreshing.”
“Well, then I am just going to be a breath of fresh air.”
He looked at me, shook his head, and started back toward the dry erase board. “Now that I do believe Marshal, that I do believe.” They went back to their briefing, and I went back to counting the minutes and wondering if there was going to be anything alive in the condo by the time we hit the door.
76
AT MY SUGGESTION they put the sniper where he could see the windows, not at the front door. One, we didn’t know what they looked like, so the sniper couldn’t just drop the people coming out the front. There might be law-abiding vampire citizens in the building, so the sniper couldn’t even just shoot vampires. If he could tell for dead certain they were vamps. Even I wouldn’t want to say yes or no on the vamp question through a scope. I mean, what if you’re wrong? High silver content, there would be no apology. But anyone that flew out of the windows of our condo, they would be bad guys, and the sniper could drop them with impunity. Green-light city.
The rest of us were huddled around the van. In the movies the van is sleek and roomy. In real life, it’s narrow, cluttered, and looks like a cross between a plumber’s van and the Good Humor truck, if it sold guns instead of ice cream. There wasn’t room for us and the guns. Hell, as empty as it got, most of us wouldn’t have fit. It was an equipment van, not a transport vehicle. I was still in the vest, even though I’d pointed out that nothing we were about to go up against would be shooting at us, and vests were useless for stabbing or tearing. I’d run into this before with both military and law enforcement. They just couldn’t wrap their heads around the fact that the body armor, their best defense, didn’t help against someone that could crush steel. It was like going up against Superman, and thinking Kevlar would keep you safe. Finally, Sergeant Melbourne said what few special tactical units will ever admit out loud, “We’re using bullets. Bullets can ricochet, and we’d just feel better if we knew you were safe from friendly fire.” The microphone was integral to the vest and attached to a little earpiece, like the Secret Service wear. They showed me the button for the mike in the center of the vest, near your gun when you were holding it. They made sure the mike worked, someone patted me on top of my helmet, and I was good to go. Or as good as it was going to get. Not going in would have been the good thing, but the vamps had kidnapped that option away from us.
The woman they’d taken was Dawn Morgan, twenty-two, and had only worked at the club about three weeks. They had a picture of her up on their Web site and we’d all seen it. It was a publicity shot for a stripper bar, so we tried to look at her face. Brown hair, about shoulder length, and enough makeup that it was hard to really see her face. She was all blue eyes and red pouting lips. I didn’t ask if the men had a harder time looking at her face than I did. She was covered by hands and a few well-placed pieces of cloth, but the illusion was that more skin was showing than really was. Distracting, and meant to be. I’m sure if Ms. Morgan had been told she’d be kidnapped by murderous vampires, she’d have left us a nice, less glamorous face shot. But you just don’t plan for these kinds of things. We memorized the face of the hostage so we wouldn’t accidentally shoot her during the action. Yeah, that would be bad.
I think that if I hadn’t had my own dangerous toys to play with they would have taken me in unarmed. Most of the tactical team seemed to think I was a civilian and treated me that way. They weren’t rude, just didn’t like the idea of me having a loaded gun at their backs. I guess I couldn’t blame them. I hadn’t had their training. They’d never seen me use a gun. They’d never seen me do this kind of work. They seemed to consider me almost more dangerous than the vampires.
My biggest problem with the vest was that it made it impossible for me to carry the Browning and the Firestar in their current holsters and have any hope of drawing them. Officer Derry had thrown me a thigh holster with velcro straps. “It’ll hold the Browning and an extra clip.” Derry looked as Irish as his name, except for his coloring, which was dark.
I had to take the vest off to thread the upper part of the thigh holster through my belt, then the other straps went around my leg. The thigh holster wasn’t bad actually, though I wouldn’t have wanted to try it unless I had pants on to protect my thighs. My thighs rub together when I walk, thank you very much. But with jeans it wasn’t bad. It was a different draw though, not just the angle, or where the gun was, but the actual hand movement was different. I wouldn’t be as quick, because I’d have to think about it. Of course, for tonight’s work, the handguns were secondary.
I had a new Mossberg 590A1 Bantam. Thirteen-inch length-of-pull, lighter weight overall. It meant more recoil, but, once you adjusted for it, it was the shotgun of my dreams. No more heavy barrel out there hanging while you tried to aim, leaving me feeling top heavy. I had a sawed-off that had started life as an Ithica 37, but now was just used for in-close vampire blasting. The Ithica had a strap fitted for it, so that it fitted across my body sort of like an awkward purse. To keep it from moving around until I wanted it for in-fighting, Edward, my friend and the only person I’d ever seen use a flamethrower, had helped me rig velcro to the thigh holster on my left thigh. That thigh holster was mine, but it was for extra ammo, not for holding guns. The velcro strap fit over the Ithica’s shortened barrel, so that it was held tight against my leg, but not at an angle where if something went terribly wrong I’d shoot my kneecap off. One quick, hard pull, and the sawed-off would be in my hands, and it would be time to be very, very close with the vamps. The Mossberg had an Urban Ops sling from U.S. Tactical Supply. It had become my preferred sling for the bigger guns. Unfortunately, you couldn’t carry two guns on two different Urban slings, because the sling was designed for switching hands, ease of movement. Which meant the gun would move around more. Edward, who was truly the assassin Hudson had accused me of being, wasn’t as fond of the Urban sling as I was, but then he didn’t do as much close in undercover work with the monsters. Most of the time he went in like a one-man demolition team. The sling also worked better if you had a heavier jacket over the sling to keep it from sliding off your shoulder. If I’d had broader shoulders, it would have stayed put better, and since most of the people who test this stuff are male, and thus have broader shoulders, I couldn’t really complain much. It was still a sweet piece of equipment.
I had a stock mag attached to the butt of the Mossberg. I’d started carrying extra ammo in a thigh holder, but the Browning was on that thigh. I’d found that if I wore the extra ammo on my left thigh, it was harder to get to. It cost me a second, or three. If I couldn’t have my right thigh for it, then the stock mag was the next best thing. I went ahead and put extra ammo in the left thigh holder. You know that old saying, I’d rather have it and not need it, than need it and not have it. That applied to ammo better than anything else I knew.
Derry said, “That’s almost the exact same thigh holder as I gave you for your Browning. If you had it already, you didn’t need to borrow ours.”
“I have two set up for ammo. I don’t have one for handguns. If it’s comfortable I might get one.”
“So glad Mobile Reserve could help you try out some new toys.” He smiled at me.
I smiled back.
“He gives you a lousy holster, and you flirt with him. I loan you my whole second rig and nothing,” Killian said.
“That wasn’t flirting, Killian. When I flirt, you’ll know it.”
“Ooh,” Derry said.
Hudson came up, in full gear. “You going to keep distracting my men, Marshal, or are you ready to execute that warrant of yours?”
“I’m through distracting, if you’re through planning.”
“I’m through,” he said.
“Then
me, too. Let’s go kill some vampires.”
“Not hunt, just kill?” he asked.
“Hunting vampires isn’t a catch-and-release sport, Sergeant.”
He laughed, a short surprised sound. “Either you’re getting funnier, or it’s fucking late.”
“It’s fucking late,” I said. “There are dozens of people who’ll say that I’m not funny at all.” I made him laugh again, and when you’re about to risk your life together, there are worse ways to begin.
77
IT WAS ONE of those buildings downtown that had been rehabbed until outside it was an architectural wonder that had been saved from demolition, but inside it was ultramodern, ultrasleek, with carpet and almost empty halls, as if once they agreed on the two-tone paint job, they couldn’t agree on anything else. The building still had vacancies, but was mostly full. Good news for the investers, but bad news for us. If the building had been mostly empty the chances of having collateral damage would have been less. Collateral damage, isn’t that a nice phrase. It was why they’d had to evacuate so many people. There was no way the vamps didn’t know something was up.
We were outside the condo. It still belonged to Jill Conroy. It felt like we’d learned that hours ago, but actually only about an hour had passed from the first recon to us being here in the hallway. We’d finally gotten a number for one of her fellow lawyers. Jill had been AWOL from her job for five days. Three of those days she’d called in sick, but the fourth day she hadn’t answered the phone. Hmm, three days home sick, then no answer. I was betting that Jill Conroy had become the undead. The evil, wicked undead, not a member of the Church of Eternal Life, and I knew not Jean-Claude’s people. The fact that we had a third player in town and neither of the other sides had figured it out, was bad. It showed either the master of these guys was very powerful, or we’d become careless.
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