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Blair almost smiled. “I’m your paralegal. For now.”
“Oh, will I be getting someone else soon? Pity.”
“No, it’s a permanent assignment. Permanent being a relative term, since I’ll move on when you do. If you even decide to take the job.”
Sara took a step closer, then looked Blair up and down, exactly as the paralegal had done. “You think I’ll flame out?”
Blair shrugged, and Sara fought the urge to dance with victory when she moved a step backward. “Eh, you might last longer than the last one.”
“Last one?”
“Last human prosecutor. That was two—no, three—years ago.”
“What happened?”
Blair’s eyes narrowed, and she smiled with delight before saying, “Took a swan dive off a building.”
“Oh. I—”
“He moved to Tulsa.” The words, spoken in a deep, melodious voice, came from behind her, and Sara spun to find herself facing a tall and debonair man in a dark suit. He looked to be in his fifties, with graying temples and a stern but kind face. “That’s all for now, Blair. You two can bond later.”
“I’m counting the minutes,” she said, then turned, extended her wings, and flew off down the hallway. Sara watched, and when she was sure she wasn’t gawking, turned back to the man.
“Her bedside side manner leaves a bit to be desired. Still, I won’t lie. It’s a different environment down here. You may not be warmly welcomed at first, but do good work, and you will be accepted.”
“You’re Nikko Leviathan.”
He inclined his head. Like everyone else, he wore a lanyard. His, however, had no bold letter.
“So, um, what are you?”
“I’m the Director of Division 6 and head of the Violent Crimes Department.”
“Right.” So apparently that wasn’t an Emily Post approved question. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. May I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
“Why me?”
“You have well-placed advocates,” he said, beginning to walk.
“Advocates?” She hurried to keep up.
“Let’s just say that your skills have not gone unnoticed. The Stemmons case is an excellent example. And I need good people.”
“So does Alexander Porter. So do the victims of criminals like Stemmons. All those little girls.”
“What about that little girl who found her father murdered on her eighth birthday. Do you stand for her, too?”
She came to a dead stop. Leviathan paused as well, then looked back at her.
“So it’s true? A vampire killed my father?”
Leviathan only nodded, but it was enough. Her stomach twisted and her knees went weak. She forced herself not to crumple to the floor. “Do you know who? Was he punished? That’s what you do here, right?”
“It is what we do, but no. I’m afraid the matter of Frank Constantine remains a cold case in both your old world and you’re new. But now, at least, you know the true nature of the defendant.”
“No, sir,” she said firmly, forcing her chin up. “That’s not true. I’ve known since the night my father died that the man who did that to him was something monstrous and inhuman. Knowing his murderer was a vampire doesn’t change my perception of him at all.”
