"Why?" he asked, and he looked at me.
"It's a message."
"What message?"
I shook my head. "They want us to come and save her. They want to force us to move tonight, while they're strong, not wait until dawn when the advantage is ours."
Sheriff Christopher stood up and reached out for me, but seemed to think better of it, and just motioned for me to follow him. I followed him. "Last I knew we didn't know where these bastards are hiding. You sound like you know."
I blinked up at him and thought, What can I tell him that won't get us all in trouble? "I've got a date with Mobile Reserve for just after dawn, but if they've got a hostage, we can't wait until dawn." I dug my cell phone out of my jacket pocket and dialed Zerbrowski's cell. "Give me Captain Parker's number, Zerbrowski."
"Why?"
"The vamps took a stripper, alive. They even made sure we had a wounded but living state trooper to tell us about it."
"Jesus, Anita, it's a trap."
"Probably, but give me the number anyway."
He gave me the number, and I punched it in. Captain Parker came on the line with Sheriff Christopher watching me. I gave Parker the rundown.
"Is it a trap?" he asked.
"Maybe, or maybe they know we're coming, and they're just trying to rush us, so we will come in at night when they've got the upper hand. But yeah, it's probably a trap."
"I don't want to send my men in to die, Blake."
"I'm not wild about it either, but she was alive when they took her, and if we wait for dawn, she won't be. Of course, she may already be dead, I don't know."
"It's a trap, and the woman is bait," Parker said.
"I know," I said.
"You still demanding to go in with us?"
"Wouldn't miss it for the world."
He gave a small dry chuckle. "You argued your way into this operation, I hope you don't regret that."
"I regret it now, but if you're really going in at night, then you're going to need me more than ever."
"Are you really that much better with vamps than we are?"
"Yes, Captain, yes I am."
"I hope you're as good as advertised, Marshal Blake."
"Better," I said.
"Then get over here, we're going to hit the target in less than thirty minutes, if you're late, we go without you." He hung up.
I cursed as I folded the phone shut. I started walking for my Jeep. "Where the hell are you going?"
"To take the bait," I said.
He frowned. "The stripper."
I nodded, and was still walking with him dogging me.
"Mobile Reserve is really taking you in with them."
"If you don't believe me, call Captain Parker yourself." I was at the door to the Jeep.
He caught the door edge before I could close it. "Isn't this a conflict of interest for you, shooting up your boyfriend's vampires?"
"These are bad guys, Sheriff, they don't belong to anybody." I shut the door, and he let me. I didn't exactly peel out, but close. I knew Parker, and I knew how Mobile Reserve operated, if I didn't make the time schedule, they would leave without me. The vampires wanted us to go in tonight. They knew we had the address. They knew we were planning on hitting them. They assumed that we meant to hit them after sunrise, and they were forcing our hand. They wanted us in there on their terms. That meant tonight. But why not run? If they knew we had their location, why not just vacate it? Why not just run, and find another daytime retreat? Why take a hostage and go to such elaborate lengths to make sure we knew about it? It was a trap, but even knowing that's what it was, we still had to go.
75
The dry erase board was covered with diagrams. Sergeants Hudson and Melbourne had done a recon of the area before the rest of us got set up in our nice, safe, block-away location. They'd covered the whiteboard with entries and exits, lights, windows, and all the minutiae that I would never have noticed, or rather I'd have seen it, but I wouldn't have been able to make use of it. I could have reported what I'd seen, but one of them would have had to interpret it for everybody else. I simply hadn't had the training. My way of doing it would have been to do a front entry and kill everything that moved. It wouldn't have occurred to me to get a diagram of the condo's interior, or have the landlord of the building there tell us what he knew of the woman who owned the apartment. They'd already evacuated the condos adjoining ours, and they had the nearest neighbor, again, give us information about the interior and the owner. It was useful to know that there was almost no furniture in the condo, because the owner, Jill Conroy, was waiting for a shipment that had been delayed twice. That she worked as a lawyer in a large downtown firm and had just made partner. Fascinating, but I didn't see that it was useful. They were still trying to find someone who would answer the phone at her job, to find out when she was last at work. No one at work at nearly two in the morning, fucking slackers. It was all interesting, but our victim was in there, alone with vampires who had murdered at least ten people in three states. I wanted to get her out, and I was having trouble concentrating on the trivia. It must have shown, because Sergeant Hudson said, "We boring you, Blake?"
I blinked up at him, from where I'd finally curled up on the street. I was tired and didn't see a reason not to sit down, some of the Mobile Reserve guys were kneeling. "A little," I said.
The two men closest to me, Killian of the white, buzz cut, and Jung, who was the only green-eyed Asian American I'd ever met, both moved away from me, as if they didn't want to be too close when the blood started to fly. I noticed that Melbourne stayed where he was next to Hudson, as if he expected the blood flow to be one-sided.
"There's the street, Blake, start walking."
"You asked the question, Sergeant. If you didn't want an honest answer, you should have warned me."
Someone laughed, low enough that I wasn't sure who'd done it, and neither, apparently, was Hudson, because he didn't try to find out who'd laughed, he just used it as an excuse to be more pissed at me.
Hudson took a step toward me. I stood up.
"If we're boring you, Blake, then go home. We don't need your attitude, we got enough of our own." His voice was low and even, and every word was very carefully enunciated. I knew that oh-so-careful tone. It was the voice you used instead of screaming or hitting something.
"Dawn Morgan may still be alive in there," I said. "But every minute we wait cuts her chances of survival. You can hate that your captain let me come, you can fucking hate me, I don't care, but let's get this done. I'd like to get to Dawn before it's too late, Sergeant Hudson. Just once, I'd like not to be the cleanup crew and be there early enough to have something left to rescue."
He blinked solid brown eyes at me that matched the mustache and close-cropped hair. My own hair was back in a ponytail. They had handed me a helmet, and hair nearly to your waist just didn't fit in helmets without being pulled back in some fashion. I'd have cut my hair months ago, but Micah said if I cut mine, he'd cut his, the threat had left me with the longest hair of my life. I looked like a short, curvy hippie among the militaryesque haircuts and very masculine figures around me. Even stuffing me into one of their vests couldn't hide that I so didn't match everyone else. There are moments when I suddenly feel awkward again, not a cop, not a man, not part of this great brotherhood. Just a girl, just a voodoo dabbler, who no one trusts at their back. It had been years since I'd felt this bad about it. Maybe it was the borrowed equipment, which didn't really fit, or maybe it was Arnet and Dolph being mad at me, or maybe it was just that I believed what was in Hudson's eyes. I didn't belong here. I wasn't a tactical anything. I didn't know how they did business. I wasn't part of their team, and part of me understood that no matter how many friends I had that were cops, and no matter that I had a badge, that there would always be more cops that thought I didn't belong than ones who did. I would always and forever be the outsider, no matter what I did. Part of it was gender, part of it was my day job, part of it was fucking the
monsters, and part of it was just simply that I didn't belong. I didn't follow orders, or keep my mouth shut, or play the political game. I would have never survived as a real policeperson, I just couldn't play the game by anyone else's rules. Police, real police, understand and live by the rules. I spent most of my life going, rules, what rules? I stood there and looked at Hudson, held his gaze, his anger, and I just wasn't angry. Too much of me agreed with his anger for me to get angry back.
"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. De-fucking-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."<
br />
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 just 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.
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