actually really weird for a vampire – unlike in the movies, where most vampires, when killed, just laid there, dead forever.
Not this one; he was a puddle of ash inside filthy clothes. Oddly, there was no smell, and no real flash of heat, just that blinding, gorgeous light. This made sense, as it wasn't real heat that had demolished the Fiend.
I coughed explosively, spitting dead Fiend out of my mouth and wiping it out of my eyes.
“Holy shit!” Nick said from the sidewalk where Laura had shoved him. “What the hell did you do?”
“Hell being the right word,” I muttered, straightening out the kinks in my back, groaning and spitting. I was pretty sure Nick didn't know Laura was the spawn of Satan, so I kept the explanation brief, yet truthful. “That's her hellfire sword.”
“You said that like 'that's her third cup of coffee.' ”
“You know how some girls get pearls for their sweet sixteen? Laura's mom gave her weapons made of hellfire.”
“You guys never tell me anything. I should have guessed your sister would be a freak like you,” he bitched, climbing to his feet – only to get kicked over on his back by Laura, who was still holding her sword made of light.
“Now, Laura,” I started, trying to swallow my nervousness.
“She was in trouble, and you just stood there,” my sweet, good-?natured, murderously dangerous sister hissed. “She might have been hurt or killed! Protect and serve, my ass!”
Uh-?oh. She'd said ass instead of butt. Really mad, then.
“That was a Fiend! She said that was a Fiend! You led us down here, and a Fiend jumped her! Did you plan it? Do you have something up your sleeve besides catching rogue cops?” She jammed her sword under his chin, and his eyes watered at the light. It was pure bluff; her sword only disrupted unnatural magic: vampires, werewolves, spells. And only when she wanted them to, which is why it didn't work on me.
But Nick didn't know that.
“Get that thing out of my face,” he snarled, not quite daring to bat it aside. “Think I would have brought a damn witness if I was trying to eighty-?six your sister? Or are you as dumb as you look?”
“Stop it, that's enough, just – quit!” I gently pulled my sister away. “Laura, put that thing away before half the street sees it.”
Laura sullenly complied, sheathing her sword into... well, nothing, as far as I could tell. Nobody knew where her weapons went when she wasn't wreaking havoc with them.
“And you!” Nick, climbing to his feet, nearly fell over when I rounded on him. “She makes a good point, you know. A Fiend just happens to burst out of nowhere and try to kill me, and you just stand there?”
“What the fuck do I know about killing vampires? My bullets won't kill you. I don't think.” The truth was, we didn't know. His bullets had killed a vampire... once. On my honeymoon, no less. “Why would they kill that thing? Do you think we have a police training course on arresting the undead? Do you think I've got Fiend Hunter tattooed on my forehead? ”
“No, you've got Brutal Imbecile tattooed on your forehead,” Laura interrupted.
“When I want your opinion, Barbie, I'll pull the string on your back.”
“Give it a try,” she snarled. “See how many fingers you pull back.”
“You wanna go, Barbie? Because we'll go.”
“Shut up!” I howled. “I'm not a queen, I'm not a wife, I'm not a big sister, I'm a WWF referee! Sorry, Nick. This expedition is over. Everyone get in the car right now!”
Meekly, they did. This was more like it – Eric and Tina never did a damned thing I asked them to. But first, Nick carefully eased my purse off my shoulder... I guessed he was going to try to get some fingerprints off it. We sure couldn't print the pile of ash on the sidewalk. I warned him not to use any of my credit cards and to leave the strawberry Blo-?Pops alone. Sometimes I went through a dozen a day. It helped keep the blood craving down.
“Heir to the John Deere fortune, remember? I've got more money than you do, honey.”
“Good. Then you can bring me to Wendy's,” I commanded, all queen-?like. “Being the victim of assault and battery gives me a craving for a chocolate shake.”
Chapter 36
“That is strange,” Sinclair admitted. After Wendy's, we'd ended up going back to the mansion and telling him and Tina what had happened. It was the first night of the full moon; Antonia was running around somewhere on all fours. Garrett had probably gone with her.
Jessica was visiting Marc at his new digs at The Grand, and I hoped he'd be able to come home soon. Things weren't the same without him. Besides, people disappearing out of our house brought back bad memories of last summer, when I was all alone.
Shoot, I even missed BabyJon's shitty diapers.
“Which part is strange?” Nick said dryly, bringing me back to my consideration of Sinclair's comment. “The part about my receiving a call and being sent to a bad neighborhood on what might have been a phony tip? The part where a Fiend just happened to run into us? Or the part where your wife's sister pulled a fucking flame brand out of thin air and killed said Fiend, before threatening to do the same thing to me?”
Hearing that Laura had threatened the officer didn't seem to perturb Sinclair one bit. “You say the chief is the one who gave you this assignment?”
“Yeah. And don't go there, pal, he's a stand-?up guy.”
“Oh, Nick.” I shook my head sorrowfully. “Nobody says 'don't go there' anymore. Seriously. I'm so embarrassed for you right now. More so than usual, even.”
He ignored me. “The chief's a year away from forced retirement – it's no time for him to fuck up a perfect record. It'd be the closest thing to suicide – this guy's job means everything to him. That's why Chief Hamlin wants these rogue cops caught, but he doesn't want to trash the police department's rep at the same time. Hell, he's the one who figured out the pattern – and the killings have been going on less than a month.”
“I would think the reputation of his house would be the least of his problems,” Tina ventured.
“Yeah? Come on, they're still making jokes about the LAPD, and how many years ago was Rodney King?”
“Some might say,” I said carefully, “that there've been one or two incidents in that department since the King videotape.”
Laura beamed at me. “You're right, Betsy. Some police departments deserve the reputations they have.”
I shrugged under Nick's withering stare. “I don't have a problem with cops,” I said apologetically. “But I've been known to channel Jessica's point of view, from time to time.”
“Getting back to the issue at hand,” Sinclair suggested, “I wonder why this Fiend came alone. Did any of you get a look at which one it was?”
“Skippy,” I said immediately.
“Skippy?” Nick asked, incredulous. “Friggin' Frankenstein was named Skippy? He was almost seven feet tall!”
I was embarrassed to hear the nickname repeated; what had at first sounded fun now seemed stupid, careless, and immature. Worse, nobody'd ever know the dead guy's real name now. The least I could have done when they came by was ask their real names. Mistake number 1,429 in what was turning into a shitty week.
“I am in your debt, Ms. Goodman, for the assistance you rendered my wife.”
Laura blushed to her eyebrows. “Oh, no, Eric, it's fine. We're family. I'm just happy I was there to help.” She sharpened her words by narrowing her eyes at Nick.
“Hey, hey,” he protested. “The whole thing happened in about two seconds. I could have got a shot off, but I might have blown a hole in your pretty wife's head. I mean, I could have lived with it, but – ”
Sinclair silenced him with a wave of his kingly hand, which I could tell irritated Nick to no end.
“So what are you going to tell your boss? The chief?”
