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"You do understand that you have the right to refuse me? That my word is not like from on high?"
"Just tell me what you want me to do, Anita, and I'll do it."
"Just like that, no questions, you'll just do it?"
He nodded. "Anything."
"Is this a custom among the leopards, the pard?" I asked.
"No," Stephen said, "it's just Nathaniel's way."
I shook my head, literally waving my hands in the air as if I'd just erase it all. "I don't have time for this. He's healed. Take him with you."
"Do you want me to wait in your room?" Nathaniel asked.
"If you need to rest, help yourself to a bed. I won't be there."
He smiled happily and I had the oddest feeling that what I was saying wasn't what he was hearing. I wanted out of the room, away from them all. I'd tell Padgett I was sending them all to a safe house, and he'd buy it because he wanted off this detail. He wanted away from them more than I did.
The doctor was amazed at Nathaniel's recovery. They released him, though they started talking about wanting to run more tests. I vetoed that. We had places to go, people to meet. They all piled into Kevin's and Teddy's cars, and I went for my Jeep. Happy to be rid of them for a while. Happy even if it meant another crime scene. Happy even if I still didn't know how to tell if Malcolm was alive down there in the dark. Nathaniel watched me through the back window of the car, his lilac gaze on me until the car turned a corner. He'd been lost, and now he thought he'd been found. But if he expected me to be more than friends, he was still lost.
39
I felt like shit and didn't have a bruise to show for it. I concentrated on the next problem, pushing what I'd done, and almost done, to the back burner. Nothing I could do about it until I talked to Richard and Jean-Claude. I'd worried about tying myself to the vampire, but I'd never really worried about being tied to the werewolf. I should have known I'd get shit from both sides.
I got beeped three times in about three minutes. McKinnon first, Dolph second, and an unknown number. The unknown number called back twice in ten minutes. Damn. I pulled off into a service station. I called Dolph first.
"Anita."
"How do you always know it's me?"
"I don't," he said.
"What's up?"
"We need you at a new location."
"I'm on my way to the church site for McKinnon."
"Pete's here with me."
"That sounds ominous."
"We've got a vamp on his way to the hospital," he said.
"In his coffin?"
"No."
"Then how...?"
"He was on the stairs covered in blankets. They don't think he's going to make it. But this is one of the halfway houses for the Church. We've got a two-biter here that says the vamp we took was the guardian for the younger vamps still inside. She seems worried about what the vamps will do when they wake and the guardian isn't there to calm them down or feed them."
"Feed them?" I asked.
"Says that they each take a small drink from the guardian to start the night. Without it, she says the hunger grows too strong, and they may be dangerous."
"Isn't she a font of information."
"She's scared, Anita. She's got two freaking vampire bites on her neck, and she's scared."
"Shit," I said. "I'm on my way, but frankly, Dolph, I don't know what you want me to do."
"You're the vampire expert, you tell me." A little hostility there.
"I'll think about it on the way. Maybe I'll have come up with a plan by the time I get there."
"Before they became legal, we'd have just burned them out ourselves."
"Yeah," I said, "the good old days."
"Yeah," he said. I don't think he got the sarcasm. But with Dolph it was always hard to tell.
I dialed the third number. Larry answered, "Anita." His voice sounded strained, pain-filled.
"What's wrong?" I asked, my throat suddenly tight.
"I'm all right."
"You don't sound all right," I said.
"I've just been moving around too much with the stitches and stuff. I need to take a pain pill, but I won't be able to drive."
"You need a lift?"
He was quiet for a second or two, then, "Yes."
I knew how much it had cost him to call me. This was one of his first times in the field on a police job without me. The fact that he needed my help for anything must have griped his ass. It would have bugged the hell out of me. In fact, I wouldn't have called. I'd have toughed it out, until I passed out. This wasn't a criticism of Larry, it was a criticism of me. He was just smarter than I was sometimes. This was one of those times.
"Where are you?"
He gave me the address, and it was close. Lucky us. "I'm less than five minutes away, but I can't take you home. I'm on my way to another crime scene."
"As long as I don't have to drive, I'll be okay. It's starting to take all my attention just to stay on the road. Time to stop driving when it's this hard."
"You really do have a higher wisdom score than I do."
"Which means you wouldn't have asked for help yet," he said.
"Well... yeah."
"When would you have asked for help?"
"When I drove off the road and had to call a tow truck."
He laughed and took a sharp breath as if it hurt. "I'll be waiting for you."
"I'll be there."
"I know," he said. "Thanks for not saying you told me so."
"I wasn't even thinking it, Larry."
"Honest?"
"Cross my heart and..."
"Don't say it."
"You getting superstitious on me, Larry?"
He was quiet for a space of heartbeats. "Maybe, or maybe it's just been a long day."
"It'll be a longer night," I said.
"Thanks," he said. "Just what I wanted to hear." He hung up then without saying goodbye.
Maybe I'd trained Dolph never to say goodbye. Maybe I was always the bearer of bad tidings, and everyone wanted to get off the phone with me as soon as possible. Naw.
40
I expected Larry to be sitting in his car. He wasn't. He was leaning against it. Even from a distance I could tell he was in pain, back stiff, trying not to move any more than necessary. I pulled in beside him. Up close he looked worse. His white dress shirt was smeared with black soot. His summer-weight dress pants were brown, so they'd survived a little better. A black smudge ran across his forehead to his chin. The blackness outlined one of his blue eyes so that it seemed darker, like a sapphire surrounded by onyx. The look in his eyes was dull, as if the pain had drained him.
"Jesus, you look like shit," I said.
He almost smiled. "Thanks, I needed that."
"Take a pill, get in the Jeep."
He started to shake his head, stopped in mid-motion and said, "No, if you can drive, I can go to the next disaster."
"You smell like someone set your clothes on fire."
"You look pristine," he said, and he sounded resentful.
"What's wrong, Larry?"
"Other than my back feels like a red-hot poker is being shoved up it?"
"Besides that," I said.
"I'll tell you in the car." Underneath the sulkiness, he sounded tired.
I didn't argue with him, just started walking for the Jeep. A few steps and I realized he wasn't keeping up. I turned and found him standing very still, eyes closed, hands in fists at his sides.
I walked back to him. "Need a hand?"
He opened his eyes, smiled, "A back, actually. Hands work fine."
I smiled and took his arm gently, half expecting him to tell me not to, but he didn't. He was hurting. He took a stiff step, and I steadied him. We made slow but sure progress to the Jeep. His breath was coming in small, shallow pants by the time I got him around to the passenger side door. I opened the door, wasn't sure how to get him inside. It was going to hurt any way I could do it.
"Just let me hold your arm. I can do it myself," he said.
I offered my arm. He got a death grip on it and sat down. He made a small hissing noise between his teeth. "You said it would hurt worse the second day. Why are you always right?"
"Hard to be perfect," I said, "but it's a burden I've learned to cope with." I gave him my best bland face.
