Page 101 of Cerulean Sins (Vampire Hunter 11)

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I'd seen enough of Van Anders's handy work to be prepared for the worst. What I saw in the hallway wasn't even close to his worst. Compared to the other crime scenes, it was almost clean. There was a uniformed officer standing next to the window at the end of the hallway. The window was almost completely free of glass, as if something large had been thrown through it. I turned away from the thought of one of the city's finest plunging to his death. Other than the window, there wasn't much else.

A sprinkling of blood on the pale brown carpet in the hallway. Two blood smears on the wall looked almost artificial, overly dramatic on the off-white walls. That was all. Van Anders hadn't had time to enjoy himself. One officer was dead, maybe two, but he'd just had time to kill them. He hadn't had time to cut them up. I wondered if that made him angry? Did he feel cheated?

There was a trickle of police in the hallway, but the sound of voices from the open door of the apartment was as murmurous as the sea. A sorrowful, angry, urgent, confused sea.

The apartment was pristine, untouched. There had been no fight inside. All the trouble had started and ended in the hallway.

Detective Webster had come up with me. He was still in the doorway, because there wasn't room to walk into the room. Every homicide has more cops than you think it needs, but I'd never seen a crowd like this. It was nearly wall-to-wall people like at a party, except that every face was grim, or shocked, or angry. No one was having a good time.

Zerbrowski had called my cell phone in the car on the way there. Everybody was wanting answers, answers about the monsters, answers that he couldn't give, because he didn't f**king know. His quote, not mine.

I debated on whether to yell for Zerbrowski or call him back on his cell phone. I don't usually mind being short, but this time I couldn't see through the crowd, and I sure as hell couldn't see over it.

I glanced at Webster. He was damn near six feet. "Can you spot Sergeant Zerbrowski?"

Webster suddenly looked even taller. I realized that he'd been slumping, artfully, the way some tall people do, especially if they got tall early and didn't like it. Standing with his shoulders back, and trying to gaze across the crowd, he was at least six one, maybe an inch more. I'm usually a pretty good judge of height.

"He's on the far side of the room." He suddenly seemed to shrink, shoulders rounding, almost like his spine compressed before my eyes.

I shook my head, and said, "Can you get his attention?"

He got a mischievous grin on his face, a look that Zerbrowski and Jason had made me dread. "I could put you on my shoulders, then he'd spot you."

I gave him a look that wilted the grin into a smile. He shrugged. "Sorry." But it was the kind of sorry I'm used to, the one Jason always gives when he's not sorry at all.

Either Zerbrowski is more psychic than I thought, or he was trying to get away from the man who was dogging him. It was one of the Mobile Reserve officers in full combat black, body armor still in place, but he'd lost his helmet, his mask, and his eyes were wild. The whites kept flashing like a horse's when it's about to bolt.

Zerbrowski saw me, and the look of relief on his face was so pure, so happy, that it almost scared me. "Officer Elsworthy, this is Anita Blake, Marshal Anita Blake. She's our preternatural expert."

Elsworthy frowned, blinking a little too rapidly. It was as if it took longer than it should have for the words to filter through and have meaning. I'd seen enough shock to know the symptoms. Why wasn't he at the hospital with the rest of his squad?

Zerbrowski mouthed, "Sorry," to me.

Elsworthy blinked at me, his brown eyes didn't even look like they were focusing, as if what he was seeing was somewhere inside his head. Shit. A moment ago he'd been yelling at Zerbrowski, now he was staring at things that we couldn't see. Probably reliving the disaster. He was pale, and there was a light dew of sweat on his face. I was betting he would be clammy to the touch.

I put my face close to Zerbrowski, and spoke low, "Why isn't he at the hospital with the others?"

"He wouldn't go. Said he wanted to ask RPIT how the hell a werewolf can grow claws when it's still in human form."

I must have reacted to the question, because Zerbrowski suddenly gave me a look through the rims of his glasses. "I told him it wasn't possible for a shifter to gain claws while still in full human form. Was I wrong?"

I nodded. "A shifter has to be really powerful to be able to do it. I've only known a handful that could do partial change while they pretty much looked human."

Zerbrowski lowered his voice even more, "It might have been good to know that before they busted in on Van Anders."

"I thought a minimum of one person from each squad went down to Quantico for the big preternatural class and lecture."

"They did."

I gave him a disgusted look. "I don't go around assuming that I know more about the monsters than the freaking FBI."

"Maybe you should," Zerbrowski said softly.

The way he said it took the heat out of my words. I couldn't really get angry with Elsworthy standing there blinking like an innocent come to slaughter.

"Is it hot in here?" Elsworthy asked.

Actually, it was, too many people in too small a space. "Detective Webster, take Elsworthy out into the hall for a breath of air, would you?" '

Webster did what I asked, and Elsworthy went without a single complaint. It was as if he'd used up all his anger before I got there, and now all that was left was the shock and the horror of it all.

Zerbrowski and I stayed in our little corner. "What went wrong?" I asked.

"I've been yelled at by Elsworthy, but even better, Captain Parker. He's waiting at the hospital for me to get my ass down there and explain to him how the hell Van Anders was able to do what he did."

"What exactly did he do?"

Zerbrowski dug his ever-present notebook out of his jacket pocket. The notebook looked like it'd been rolled in the dirt, then stepped on. He ruffled through it until he got to the pages he wanted. "Van Anders cooperated completely when they came in. He seemed surprised and didn't know why anyone would want to arrest him. He was handcuffed, patted down, and the two tactical officers, Bates and Meyer, led him out into the hallway, while the rest of the squad reformed and made sure the rest of the apartment was clear." He glanced up at me. "Standard procedure."

"So when did it stop being standard?"

"Then it gets a little confused. Meyer never came back on the radio, at all. Bates started yelling, officer down, and something about, he's got claws. Elsworthy and another officer got out the door in time to see Van Anders clear enough that they both swear he had claws but was in full human form." Zerbrowski gave me a look. "Truthfully, I was ready to think Elsworthy, and . . ." He turned a page of his notebook, "Tucker, were seeing things."

I shook my head. "No, it's possible." I shook my head again and fought the urge to rub my temples. I had a headache starting. "The lycanthropes that I've seen do this, the claws just whip out. It's like having five switchblades suddenly appear. There wouldn't have been anything for the officer, Bates, was it? to see."

"Meyer, Bates is still alive."

I nodded. Names were important. It was important to remember who was dead and who was alive. "Van Anders stabbed Meyer. When the claws shot out of his fingertips, he used them like knives."

"Apparently Kevlar doesn't stop lycanthrope claws," Zerbrowski said.

"Kevlar isn't made to stop a stabbing attack," I said, "the claws acted like blades."

He nodded. "Van Anders used the officer as a shield, held him on his claws like a . . . puppet, is what Elsworthy finally said."

"He should have gone to the hospital with the others," I said.

"He looked fine when I got here, Anita, honest. I don't blame them for not forcing him to go."

"Well, he doesn't look fine now."

"We can give him a ride to the hospital when we go."

I looked at him. "Why do I think that we are going to the hospital for more than just a show of moral support?"

"You're just perceptive as hell tonight."

"Zerbrowski," I said.

"I told Captain Parker that I'd be right along once Marshal Blake showed up."

"You bastard."

"He's asking questions about the monsters that I don't have the answers to. Maybe Dolph would, but there is no way I want him to be here. We managed to quiet down the worst of what happened in the interrogation with your furry friend, but if Dolph loses it in a public setting . . ." He just shook his head.

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