by Cat Adams
with a gesture. There was no point fretting about it. I couldn’t make the man rest. And he did have a
point. Hel , in his shoes I’d be doing the same damned thing.
“I came out this direction a few weeks ago to recruit his former partner.” He gave me an amused
glance. “I don’t know if he’s more pissed that I recruited Manny or that I didn’t recruit him. ”
I chuckled. Ah, wounded pride. That’d do it. And it also explained something I’d been wondering about
—why Rizzoli and Erikson didn’t seem comfortable with each other. The partnership was too new.
I reached into the safe to retrieve a shoulder holster. It was a custom piece, tailored to fit me by the
same man who’d tailored my lost, lamented suit jacket. Isaac Levy worked out of a tiny shop tucked
between a dry cleaners and a men’s suit shop. The modest place belies the very nice income he takes
home and spends on his wife and children. Gilda Levy was, in fact, so “gilded” that most of the time she
practical y clanked. Her rings—one on every finger—could put your eyes out from the glare. To say
Gilda likes jewelry is like saying the Pope is Catholic. I’d had Isaac’s number programmed into my cel
phone, so I hadn’t bothered to memorize it. I would have to stop by the shop or cal soon. I wanted to
replace that jacket as soon as possible and maybe get a second one, too—assuming the price wasn’t
too high.
The holster wasn’t completely comfortable over the thin fabric of my new top, but then, they rarely
are. You get used to it when you wear them often enough. I checked the Colt, making sure it was ful y
loaded with silver, clicked on the safety, and holstered it. I put some extra ammo into both jacket
pockets.
“Got anything in there for me? I was flying, so I didn’t bring my own.”
I gave him an inquiring look. I knew Bruno knew how to shoot. But I’d never known him to carry a gun.
Ever. “Do you have a concealed-carry permit?”
“It’s required for the job. Have to be recertified for accuracy every six months, too.” He gave me a
wicked grin. “Bet I can clean your clock at the range.”
“In your dreams, DeLuca. In your dreams.”
17
The ads say: If you want it, you can find it … at PharMart. Thus far I’d found quite a bit of what I
wanted: an Ace bandage for my knee, heavy-duty sunscreen, a gardening hat that, while sil y looking,
had a wide enough brim that I could lose the umbrel a and not risk crisping. Oh, and one each of a big,
conspicuous gold-tone cross with lots of rhinestones, a Star of David, and a Buddha necklace, al from
One Shot’s special line of “Certified Blessed Holy Items for True Believers.” While I am not a true
believer, the looks I was getting in broad daylight made me decide that I needed something distinctly
unsubtle if I wanted to go out and about without people trying to stake me or spraying me down again
with holy water. Subtle it wasn’t, but I was beginning to learn that most humans don’t think in terms of
subtle when dealing with vampires. The fear comes more from that basal, animal part of the brain
—fight or flight. The thing was, an actual vampire might go unnoticed, whereas I, who wasn’t completely
turned, couldn’t. Must have missed out on some of the camouflaging magic or something.
I’d downed another pair of shakes, just for good measure, and set the alarm on my cel phone to ring
in four hours. I’d had coffee earlier, but I wanted something cold to drink, so I picked up an extra-large
Pepsi, sipping it cautiously at first. Do vampires get gas? Could I digest it? But to my delight I’d
discovered that yes, I could drink soda. Hallelujah!
Bruno had cal ed his brother Matty from the car while we were on the way to the store. Matteo had
been delighted to have a lead on the demon but had been royal y pissed that the lead was me. Which
was why I was glad to have an excuse to be staying right where I was, for however long it took.
I had, inevitably, chosen the one checkout line in the store where a little old lady wanted to do an
exchange without the receipt, wanted the manager to look and see if they had something in the back
room that they were out of on the shelves, and was now proceeding to count out her payment in smal
change. Bruno had gone through the express lane with his purchase of incense and holy water. I could
see him outside, arguing with his brother.
Father Matteo DeLuca is a Catholic priest of the Order of St. Michael. It’s a militant order. They
actively seek out vampires, demons, and monsters and either slay them or send them back to their
eternal damnation, whichever applies. While I was not technical y either of the former, I got the definite
impression that Father Matteo wouldn’t mind doing a little slayage right about now. Oh, don’t get me
wrong. He wouldn’t do it. But he was human enough that the temptation was there. I had, after al ,
broken his baby brother’s heart. Never mind that he’d broken mine, too. So, while I waited in my own
personal version of purgatory, Bruno was trying to explain away my now unearthly pal or and fancy new
teeth.
Better him than me.
A bored clerk was setting the brand-new shipment of tabloids and magazines into the wire display
racks near the checkouts. One proudly proclaimed that Abraham Lincoln not only had been a woman
but also was actual y the mother of the Bat Boy. Wow. That set me back on my heels long enough for
the woman in front of me to finish counting her change—and discover she didn’t have enough, so was
going to have to put a few things back. Was Elvis a father after death, thanks to alien abduction?
Sheer perversity was almost enough to make me reach for the publication in question. I actual y might
have bought a copy for Bruno, but the cover of a less entertaining, much more mainstream magazine
caught my eye.
Holy crap, it was the prince and the rest of the royal family posed in front of a row of beefy, heavily
armed men who looked more like military than bodyguards, with the prince’s new fiancée.
I stood there blinking stupidly for at least a ful minute, long enough that the cashier had to actual y say
something to get my attention. I grabbed the magazine, tossing it onto the stack of stuff I was buying.
I’d read it in the car while Bruno and Matty reinforced the wards around PharMart. They refused to
leave the night shift defenseless, particularly after I’d told Bruno about Edgar’s female companion and
how she’d been able to bespel the kid last night—through the line of protection and with his cross
glowing—without so much as breaking a sweat. In fact, that little tidbit, combined with her ability to fog
my brain, made both men very nervous.
Either she was an übervamp, a thousand years old or better, or she was that lesser demon Matty and
his fel ow priests had been hunting. Of course, thus far they’d been so busy doing the sibling arguing
thing that I didn’t think they’d even gotten around to investigating. I’d had a chance to meet the entire
DeLuca clan one Christmas when Bruno and I were stil engaged. They’d argue long and loud, but it
never kept them from getting the job done, and it wouldn’t keep them from uniting against anything or
anyone that went after another family member. It was a perfect example of the classic “nobody picks
on my brother but me” attitude you find in so many big families, and it had made me wis
tful for my own
sister.
I paid for my purchases, but my mind was elsewhere. Something about the magazine picture was
nagging at me. Actual y several things, but whether it was stress, lack of sleep, or something else
entirely, I couldn’t seem to bludgeon my brain into coughing up the answer.
Scowling, my hat pul ed down to my ears, I stepped out of the air-conditioned comfort of the store into
the heat of a ful -blown argument that ground to an abrupt and awkward halt when they saw me. Gee,
think they were talking about me?
I decided to pretend I hadn’t noticed. Smiling, I turned to the elder of the two. “Hey, Matty. Long time
no see. So, is she the demon and do you think she’l come back here?”
Matty turned, glaring with enough heat that I expected to burst into flames at any second. His
chocolate brown eyes had darkened to black, and there was a dangerous flush creeping up his neck.
Stil , Mama DeLuca raised her boys to be gentlemen. He responded politely—through gritted teeth.
“Hel o, Celia. We were discussing that very thing.”
Didn’t anyone ever tell you lying’s a sin, Father?
“Real y? What did you come up with?”
Matty started to say something negative, but Bruno talked over him, earning an even blacker look
than the one I’d been given. Brave man that he is, he ignored it. “She’s not a demon. Just a very old
and dangerous bat. But why do you think she’l come back?”
It was a good question. Logical y, she shouldn’t. There was an entire world of victims out there, a
veritable buffet. But I’d bet money she’d be back here tonight, waiting for those protections to fail.
“Celia?” No, the DeLuca boys weren’t impatient. Not at al .
I tried to explain what I’d been thinking. “She hated that she couldn’t get to him. Almost as if it were a
personal affront. And she didn’t like that Edgar ordered her back. I can’t swear to it, but I’d bet she’l be
back, if for no other reason than to prove he doesn’t control her.” Petty, maybe even stupid. But while
vamps may not keep their memories, they do keep their basic personality traits. I was betting Ms.
Übervamp had been quite the bitch back in the day.
“You sure about the demon thing?”
“Positive.” Matteo smiled, a baring of teeth. Reaching into the pocket of his black uniform trousers,
he pul ed out a little car that was very similar to the one I’d lost, except this one had a crucifix
emblazoned on its tiny little hood.
I whistled, impressed. I’d looked at one of those the other day. It had been so far out of my price
range.
“So what’s the plan? She’s not what you’re after, but she is a serious threat. Even if we put the barrier
back up, she bespel ed the kid last night as if there was no barrier. She might do it again.”
Bruno looked at his brother “Matty?”
Matty sighed. “We can’t afford to take anyone off of the main hunt. But if she got her hooks into the
kid deep enough, she’l be able to cal him. I can’t take that risk. I’l stay and deal with this.”
“Not alone you won’t.” That wasn’t diplomatic. Yes, he’d hunted bats professional y. But he hadn’t met
her. I had. One person was so not going to take this one down.
“Excuse me?” Matty puffed himself up to his ful height and would gladly have launched into me, but
Bruno stepped between us.
“She didn’t mean it like that, Matt. And it’s an old bat. You yourself have said that any bat over two
hundred needs at least a two-person team.”
Matty glared at me over his brother’s shoulder, but he didn’t argue, so Bruno continued. “Besides, it’s
been a while since we worked together.”
Oh, Lord. Male bonding. Male family bonding. I had to put a stop to this before I drowned in
testosterone. “Is Matty a mage, too?”
“Yessss.” Bruno drew the word out slowly. It was a subtle way of tel ing me that while Matty was a
mage, he wasn’t in Bruno’s league. No surprise there, few are.
“I’m only ranked at a six.” Matty spoke calmly, but the flush was stil there and his jaw was thrust out
just a little more aggressively than I would’ve liked.
“Six is enough to do a trip wire, isn’t it?” I turned to Bruno for confirmation. I thought I remembered
my lessons correctly, but my last class in the paranormal had been a long damned time ago.
He grinned, flashing deep dimples and showing a lot of white teeth. “Yes it is, you clever girl.”
Matty looked from one to the other of us. He was bright enough to know that he’d missed something,
but he didn’t share enough of the same background and education to know exactly what. I could tel it
irritated him, but beneath the frustrated anger there was a glimmer of comprehension. Until that
moment I think he’d figured I was just arm candy that his brother had been infatuated with. Our being
able to finish each other’s thoughts, however, meant there was more to our relationship than Matty had
original y thought. And while his figuring that out didn’t change a damned thing, it did make me feel a little
bit better. Because dammit, I’m not eye candy.
“Care to enlighten me?” He looked from Bruno to me, impatient for either of us to elaborate.
Bruno gave me the nod, so I started to explain.
“Either one of you could just put up the barrier. But if you do, she’l sense it. And she’l go somewhere
else for tonight’s kil , and we might lose her.”
“I know that.” He scowled.
“But we don’t dare leave them unprotected knowing that she’s singled this place out, and that kid in
particular.”
He was losing patience, but I wanted to make sure that we al were on the same page about the plan.
If he wanted to be pissy, fine, but better safe than sorry. There was no room for error here. Not with
lives at stake.
“So, we set up an invisible boundary line, a magical trip wire as it were. When she crosses over, it
signals both of you and you each raise a perimeter—one in front of her, one behind. Trapped between
them, she’l be pinned down enough that we can take her out with minimal risk.”
I watched him rol ing the plan over in his mind, looking for flaws. Honestly, I was surprised it wasn’t
one of the standard plans used by the order, but then again, maybe they didn’t get a lot of mages. It
wouldn’t surprise me. The church doesn’t pay nearly as wel as the private sector, and while the militant
orders only ask for a five-year stint, they stil require abstinence for the duration. Not too many people
are interested in that lifestyle anymore.
The plan wasn’t perfect by any means. First, it assumed she would come here, tonight. I thought she
would. But I wasn’t a clairvoyant. I was basing the whole idea on a hunch and my personal experience
of human nature. I’d bet money the vamp would strike here tonight—but not a lot of money.
Too, it would take a coordinated effort. And with both Bruno and Matty tied up working the spel , I’d
have to to take her out. Not that I couldn’t do it. I’ve done for more than a few bats in my time, after al .
Silver bul ets and holy water to wound her enough to move in for a kil , then a stake, and beheading with
an axe. Messy and gross, but effective. Of course, now that I had my spiffy new knives, it might be
easier to use them for the kil . I’d stil do the staking and beheading, after, and I
’d stil make sure the
authorities took the body and the head to separate crematoria and spread the ashes over running
water. Paranoid? Maybe. But I didn’t like taking chances. I particularly wasn’t going to take chances
with a creature as old and powerful as this one.
“It could actual y work.” There was an unflattering amount of surprise in Matty’s voice. Being a grownup, I ignored it.
“Can you think of anything better?” Bruno chal enged him.
Matty sighed. “No.” He made the concession with il grace, but I appreciated his honesty.
“Between the three of us, we can handle one vampire.” Bruno sounded supremely confident.
Talk about your famous last words.
18
I should’ve been exhausted. God knows it had been a rough couple of days and I’d had too little
sleep. But I was wired and jumpy, too tired to sleep. So I dropped Bruno off at his hotel, promising to
pick him up wel before sunset. The rest of the afternoon I spent running errands: visiting the attorney
about Vicki’s funeral arrangements, seeing Isaac about making a replacement jacket and having it
delivered ASAP. Dawna had texted me several times—about Bruno mostly, although she did send word
that Gwendolyn Talbert had cal ed me back.
That was one cal I needed to return. I pul ed off into a shady parking lot to dial.
“Hel o.”
“Gwen? It’s me.”
“Celia! It’s good to hear your voice.” She paused. “I was so sorry to hear about Vicki. How are you
holding up?”
“Not wel ,” I admitted. “Did you get my message?”
“Yes, and I can’t say how sorry I am that I can’t help you. When I retired I let my certification lapse.
But I’ve got a few names for you. They’re real y excel ent. And if you’d be wil ing to try an inpatient
stay—”
“No.”
She sighed. “I know you don’t like the idea. But admitting you need help is not a failure.”
“I’m not locking myself up, Gwen. Particularly not now. Not if I can help it.”
“Why particularly not now?”
I forced myself to stay calm and answer her question rational y. “Because I look like a monster—a