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"That's the way most normal folks see dead people, Zerbrowski."
He rocked forward hard on the balls of his feet, coming to a standstill. "Wouldn't it be nice to be normal?"
"Sometimes," I said.
He grinned. "Yeah, I know what you mean." He got a notebook out of his jacket pocket that looked as if someone had crumbled it in their fist.
"Geez, Zerbrowski."
"Hey, it's still paper." He tried smoothing the notebook flat, but finally gave up. He posed, pen over the wrinkled paper. "Enlighten me, oh preternatural expert."
"Am I going to have to repeat this to Dolph? I'd like to just do this once and go home to bed."
"Hey, me too. Why do you think I'm wearing my jammies?"
"I just thought it was a daring fashion statement." He looked at me. "Mm-huh."
Dolph walked out of the house. The door looked too small to hold him. He's six-nine and built bulky like a wrestler. His black hair was buzzed close to his head, leaving his ears stranded on either side of his face. But Dolph didn't care much for fashion. His tie was tight against the collar of his white dress shirt. He had to have been pulled out of bed just like Zerbrowski, but he looked neat and tidy and businesslike. It never mattered what hour you called Dolph, he was always ready to do his job. A professional cop down to his socks.
So why was Dolph heading up the most unpopular special task force in St. Louis? Punishment for something, that much I was sure of, but I'd never asked what. I probably never would. It was his business. If he wanted me to know, he'd tell me.
The squad had originally been a pacifier for the liberals. See, we're doing something about supernatural crime. But Dolph had taken his job and his men seriously. They had solved more supernatural crime in the last two years than any other group of policemen in the country. He had been invited to give talks to other police forces. They had even been loaned out to neighboring states twice.
"Well, Anita, let's have it."
That's Dolph; no preliminaries. "Gee, Dolph, it's nice to see you too."
He just looked at me.
"Okay, okay." I knelt on the far side of the body so I could point as I talked. Nothing like a visual aid to get your point across. "Just measuring shows that at least three different vampires fed on the man."
"But?" Dolph said.
He's quick. "But I think that every wound is a different vampire."
"Vampires don't hunt in packs."
"Usually they are solitary hunters, but not always."
"What causes them to hunt in packs?" he asked.
"Only two reasons that I've ever come across: first, one is the new dead and an older vampire is teaching the ropes, but that's just two pairs of fangs, not five; second, a master vampire is controlling them, and he's gone rogue."
"Explain."
"A master vampire has nearly absolute control over his or her flock. Some masters use a group kill to solidify the pack, but they wouldn't dump the body here. They'd hide it where the police would never find it."
"But the body's here," Zerbrowski said, "out in plain sight."
"Exactly; only a master that's gone crazy would dump a body like this. Most masters even before vampires were legally alive wouldn't flaunt a kill like this. It attracts attention, usually attention with a stake in one hand and a cross in the other. Even now, if we could trace the kill to the vampires that did it, we could get a warrant and kill them." I shook my head. "Slaughter like this is bad for business, and whatever else vampires are, they're practical. You don't stay alive and hidden for centuries unless you're discreet and ruthless."
"Why ruthless?" Dolph said.
I stared up at him. "It's utterly practical. Someone discovers your secret, you kill them, or make them one of your... children. Good business practices, Dolph, nothing more."
"Like the mob," Zerbrowski said.
"Yeah."
"What if they panicked?" Zerbrowski asked. "It was almost dawn."
"When did the woman find the body?"
Dolph checked his notebook. "Five-thirty."
"It's still hours until dawn. They didn't panic."
"If we've got a crazy master vampire, what exactly does that mean?"
"It means they'll kill more people faster. They may need blood every night to support five vampires."
"A fresh body every night?" Zerbrowski made it a question.
I just nodded.
"Jesus," he said.
"Yeah."
Dolph was silent, staring down at the dead man. "What can we do?"
"I should be able to raise the corpse as a zombie."
"I thought you couldn't raise a vampire victim as a zombie," Dolph said.
"If the corpse is going to rise as a vampire, you can't." I shrugged. "The whatever that makes a vampire interferes with a raising. I can't raise a body that is already set to rise as a vamp."
"But this one won't rise," Dolph said, "so you can raise it."
I nodded.
"Why won't this vampire victim rise?"
"He was killed by more than one vampire, in a mass feeding. For a corpse to rise as a vampire, you have to have just one vampire feeding over a space of several days. Three bites ending with death, and you get a vampire. If every vampire victim could come back, we'd be up to our butts in bloodsuckers."
"But this victim can come back as a zombie?" Dolph said.
I nodded.
"When can you do the animating?"
"Three nights from tonight, or really two. Tonight counts as one night."
"What time?"
"I'll have to check my schedule at work. I'll call you with a time."
"Just raise the murder victim and ask who killed him. I like it," Zerbrowski said.
"It's not that easy," I said. "You know how confused witnesses to violent crimes are. Have three people see the same crime and you get three different heights, different hair colors."
"Yeah, yeah, witness testimony is a bitch," Zerbrowski said.
"Go on, Anita," Dolph said. It was his way of saying, "Zerbrowski, shut up." Zerbrowski shut up.
"A person who died as the victim of a violent crime is more confused. Scared shitless, so that sometimes they don't remember very clearly."
"But they were there," Zerbrowski said. He looked outraged.
"Zerbrowski, let her finish."
Zerbrowski pantomimed locking his lips with a key and throwing the key away. Dolph frowned. I coughed into my hand to hide the smile. Mustn't encourage Zerbrowski.
"What I'm saying is that I can raise the victim from the dead, but we may not get as much information as you'd expect. The memories we do get will be confused, painful, but it might narrow the field down as to which master vampire led the group."
"Explain," Dolph said.
"There are only supposed to be two master vampires in St. Louis right now. Malcolm, the undead Billy Graham, and the Master of the City. There's always the possibility we've got someone new in town, but the Master of the City should be able to police that."
"We'll take the head of the Church of Eternal Life," Dolph said.
"I'll take the Master," I said.
"Take one of us with you for backup."
I shook my head. "Can't; if he knew I let the cops know who he was, he'd kill us both."
"How dangerous is it for you to do this?" Dolph asked.
What was I supposed to say? Very? Or did I tell them the Master had the hots for me, so I'd probably be okay? Neither. "I'll be all right."
He stared at me, eyes very serious.
"Besides, what choice do we have?" I motioned at the corpse. "We'll get one of these a night until we find the vampires responsible. One of us has to talk to the Master. He won't talk to police, but he will talk to me."
Dolph took a deep breath and let it out. He nodded. He knew I was right. "When can you do it?"
"Tomorrow night, if I can talk Bert into giving my zombie appointments to someone else."
"You're that sure the Master will talk to you?"
"Yeah." The problem with Jean-Claude was not getting to see him, it was avoiding him. But Dolph didn't know that, and if he did, he might have insisted on going with me. And gotten us both killed.
"Do it," he said. "Let me know what you find out."
"Will do," I said. I stood up, facing him over the bloodless corpse.
"Watch your back," he said.
"Always."
"If the Master eats you, can I have your nifty coveralls?" Zerbrowski asked.
"Buy your own, you cheap bastard."
"I'd rather have the ones that have enveloped your luscious body."
"Give it a rest, Zerbrowski. I'm not into little choo-choos."
"What the hell do trains have to do with anything?" Dolph asked.
Zerbrowski and I looked at each other. We started giggling and couldn't stop. I could claim sleep deprivation. I'd been on my feet for fourteen straight hours, raising the dead and talking to right-wing fruitcakes. The vampire victim was a perfect end to a perfect night. I had a right to be hysterical with laughter. I don't know what Zerbrowski's excuse was.
