Page 65 of Hoofin’ It

“Should the general public learn how wretchedly adorable you were as a child, you’ll be the target of many single women hoping to have equally cute babies. If my co-workers are to be believed, what’s a little lycanthropy when someone has a child that cute? You grew up to become a cop with a startlingly good record and the sort of ethics that make even lycanthrophobes think twice before criticizing you.”

Yep, I was right to worry. What did I want with many single women? I’d be happy with one—a nice one who didn’t mind I wasn’t entirely human, had a father who hated fleas, and a mother who would one day hate fleas as much as Dad. I seemed to have no problems with single women who bit, although I hoped Marian’s bite would finish healing soon.

“That’s disturbing.”

“Sources inform me you’re the conservative, traditional type who would probably like being pursued by women a lot.”

“Your sources are clueless.”

“Your parents.”

“Definitely clueless.” I paused. “Wait. You were talking to my parents?”

Was that a good sign or a bad sign? Did I need to update my will or buy an engagement ring? If I ran away with an FBI agent, how long would the prison term be? Did it count as kidnapping if I asked before running off with her? Maybe I could just ask her to run off with me. That would solve a lot of problems.

It also had the potential to cause a lot of problems. I didn’t even know if she was single.

“They were very useful in giving us information about you. Between the FBI and the CDC, I’m fairly certain the Gibsons have no desire to be questioned ever again.”

“You grilled them.”

“Not me specifically, although I did enjoy listening to the recordings.”

I sighed at the thought of my parents dishing out all my dirty secrets, which probably meant they were aware I’d had sex with an undercover FBI agent in the nightclub while under the influence of an incubus. “If I move to Alaska and hide in a cave, do you think anyone will notice?”

“Probably.”

Descending into Lower Chicago, I dodged the worst of the construction by detouring off the beaten path, easing the FBI’s SUV through a maze of narrow alleys, stall markets set up in abandoned, gutted lots, and residential areas most in Upper Chicago pretended didn’t exist.

“While I’d heard Chicago had some pretty unsavory parts of town, this is even worse than I thought.”

“We’re not even in the slums.”

“Are you serious?”

“Very. This isn’t a fun patrol, but most of the residents are nocturnals who have their own form of law enforcement. They don’t bother us, we keep our noses out of their business. There are a few laws the CPD doesn’t ignore, but a lot of them? Forget it. In good news, your nice little FBI sticker means no one in their right mind will bother us.”

“And if I didn’t have a nice little FBI sticker?”

I drove several more blocks, waited until we passed the first brothel, and pointed at it. “You’d probably end up there being sucked off by a vampire while an incubus had his way with you. The gentlemen get the vampire and a succubus. If they spot your badge, they’ll dump you in Upper Chicago, place an anonymous call for a pickup, and leave you alive—they’ll even give you basic first aid, but you’d need a transfusion.”

“And without a badge?”

“They’ll keep you for a couple of days to get you good and addicted, then they’ll dump you on the surface to be found later.”

“I take it you haven’t been assigned to this patrol?”

Looking at her from the corner of my eye, I decided to add a few extra minutes to our trip by taking a detour to show her the heart of the nocturnals’ hunting grounds. Newcomers found the odd combination of brick veneers, glass, and steel intriguing and comforting; by resembling a safe haven, the buildings lured in the ignorant.

“This is a lot nicer. That’s weird.”

“Kinda cozy, right?”

“Sure, if you’re a mad scientist with an architecture hobby.”

“Nice building and clean streets make victims unwary. They’re grabbed here, taken through tunnels under the street, and sent to the various brothels.”

“You know a lot about this area, don’t you?”