“All warrants of execution are considered high risk, so SWAT helps deliver the message.”
“Yeah, they’re talking about that in St. Louis, too.” I was still unsure how I felt about them forcing me to take SWAT on vampire hunts. Part of me was happy for the backup, and another part was totally against it. The last time SWAT had backed me, some of them died. I didn’t like being responsible for more people. Also, it was always a chore to convince them I was worthy to put my shoulder beside theirs and hit that door.
“If our men killed any of the monsters, we don’t have any evidence to prove it. It looks like our people dropped where they stood.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I ignored it. “How long ago did all this happen?”
“Yesterday, no, night before last, yeah. I’ve been up for a while; it starts to make you lose track.”
“I know,” I said.
“What the hell did you do to this vampire to make him like you this much?”
“I have no idea. Maybe let him get away and not chase him. Oh, hell, Shaw, you know there’s no logic to these nut-bunnies.”
“Nut-bunnies,” he said.
“Fine, serial killers. Dead or alive they operate on a logic all their own. It doesn’t make sense to the rest of us because we’re not nut-bunnies.”
He made a sound that I think was a laugh. “No, we’re not nut-bunnies, yet. The papers and television say you killed a bunch of his people.”
“I had help. Our SWAT was with me. They lost men.”
“I’ve looked up the articles, but frankly, I thought you’d take credit and not mention the police.”
“They went in with me. They risked their lives. Some of them died. It was bad. I don’t think I’d forget that.”
“Rumor has it that you’re a publicity sl-hound,” he said, changing the word he was going to use to something less offensive.
I actually laughed, which was a good sign. I wasn’t completely in shock, yea! “I’m not a publicity hound, or a publicity slut, Sheriff Shaw. Trust me, I get way more media attention than I want.”
“For someone who doesn’t want the attention, you get a hell of a lot of it.”
I shrugged, realized he couldn’t see it, and said, “I’m involved with some pretty gruesome cases, Sheriff; it attracts the media.”
“You’re also a beautiful young woman and are dating the master of your city.”
“Do I thank you for the
“It is if it interferes with your job.”
“Check the record, Sheriff Shaw. I’ve killed more vampires since I’ve been dating Jean-Claude than I did before.”
“I heard you’ve refused to do stakings in the morgue.”
“I’ve lost my taste for putting a stake through the heart of someone chained and helpless on a gurney.”
“They’re asleep, or whatever, right?”
“Not always, and trust me, the first time you have to look someone in the face while they beg for their life… Let’s just say that even with practice, putting a stake through someone’s heart is a slow way to die. They beg and explain themselves right up to the last.”
“But they’ve done something to deserve death,” he said.
“Not always; sometimes they fall into that three-strikes law for vampires. It’s written so that no matter what the crime is, even a misdemeanor, three times and you get a warrant of execution on your ass. I don’t like killing people for stealing when there’s no violence involved.”
“But stealing big items, right?”
“No, Sheriff, one woman got executed for stealing less than a thousand dollars of shit. She was a diagnosed kleptomaniac before becoming a vampire; dying didn’t cure her like she thought it would.”
“Someone put a stake through her heart for petty theft?”
“They did,” I said.
“The law doesn’t give the preternatural branch of the marshal program a right to refuse jobs.”
“Technically, no, but I just don’t do the stakedowns. I had stopped doing them before the vampire executioners got grandfathered into the U.S. Marshal program.”
“And they let you.”
“Let’s say I have an understanding with my superiors.” The understanding had been that I wouldn’t testify on behalf of the family of the woman executed for shoplifting if they simply wouldn’t make me kill anyone who hadn’t taken lives. A life for a life made some sense. A life for some costume jewelry made no sense to me. A lot of us had turned down the woman. In the end they’d had to send to Washington, DC, for Gerald Mallory, who was one of the first vampire hunters ever who was still alive. He still thought all vampires were evil monsters, so he’d staked her without a qualm. Mallory sort of scared me. There was something in his eyes when he looked at any vampire that wasn’t quite sane.
“Marshal, are you still there?”
“I’m sorry, Sheriff, you got me thinking too hard about the shoplifter.”
“It’s in the news that the family is suing for wrongful death.”
“They are.”
“You don’t talk much, do you?”
“I say what needs saying.”
“You’re damn quiet for a woman.”
“You don’t need me to talk. I assume you need me to come to Vegas and do my job.”
“It’s a trap, Blake. A trap just for you.”
“Probably, and sending me the head of your executioner is about as direct as a threat gets.”
“And you’re still going to come?”
I stood up and looked down at the box and the head staring up at me. It looked somewhere between surprised and sleepy. “He mailed me the head of your vampire executioner. He mailed it to my office. He wrote a message to me in the blood on the wall where he slaughtered three of your operators. Hell, yes, I’m coming to Vegas.”
“You sound angry.”
In my head I thought,
“I’d be scared.”
That stopped me, because cops almost never admit that they’re scared. “You broke the rule, Shaw, you never admit you’re scared.”
“I just want you to know, Blake, really know, what you’re walking into, that’s all.”
“It must have been bad.”
“I’ve seen more men dead at one time. Hell, I’ve lost more men under my command.”
“You must be ex-military,” I said.
“I am,” he said.
I waited for him to say what service; most would, but he didn’t.
“Where were you stationed?” I asked.
“Classified, most of it.”
“Ex-special teams?” I made it part question, part statement.
“Yes.”
“Do I ask what flavor, or just let it drop, before you have to threaten me with the old if-I-tell-you-then-I-have- to-kill-you routine?” I tried for a joke, but Shaw didn’t take it that way.
“You’re making a joke. If you can do that, then you don’t get what’s happening.”
“You’ve got three operators dead, one vamp executioner dead and cut up; that
“They didn’t get away,” he said, and something in his voice made that tight, black pit of fear rise a little higher
