The Good, The Bad, And The Undead

moving. I looked past my hair at the fake window. The sun was up, shining on the buildings. He would probably stay down until nightfall. Probably.

'Kill him,' Quen croaked.

I pulled my head up, I'd forgotten he was there.

Quen had risen, a hand against his neck. The blood seeping through his fingers made an ugly pattern on the white carpet. He threw a second wooden sword at me. 'Kill him now.'

I caught it as if I had been catching swords my entire life. Trembling, I turned its point into the carpet and used it to get up. Shouts and calls were coming from the hole in the wall. The FIB had arrived. Late as usual. 'I'm a runner,' I said, my throat sore and my words rough. 'I don't kill my marks. I bring them in alive.'

'Then you're a fool.'

I lurched to an overstuffed chair before I fell down. Dropping the sword, I put my head between my knees and stared at the carpet. 'You kill him, then,' I whispered, knowing he could hear me.

Quen moved unsteadily to his satchel by the ragged hole in the wall. 'I can't. I'm not here.'

The puff of air that escaped me hurt. I looked up as he crossed the room to me, his steps slow and careful. He took the sword from the floor, jamming it into in his duffle bag with a bloody hand. I thought I saw a gray square of explosive in there, too, telling me how he had blown a hole in the wall.

He looked tired, his lanky stature hunched in pain. His neck didn't look bad, but I'd rather be in traction for six months than have one saliva-laced bite from Piscary. Quen was an Inderlander and so couldn't be turned vampire, but by the look of fear edging his veneer of confidence, he knew he might be tied to Piscary. With a vampire that old, the bond might last a lifetime. Time would tell how much binding saliva, if any, Piscary had laced the bite with.

'Sa'han is wrong about you,' he said wearily. 'If you can't survive a vampire without help, your value is questionable. And your unpredictability makes you unreliable and therefore unsafe.' Quen gave me a nod before he turned and headed for the stairway. I watched him go, my mouth hanging open.

Sa'han is wrong about me, I thought sarcastically. Well goodie for Trent.

My hands hurt, the palms red with what looked like first-degree burns. Edden's voice in the stairway was loud. The FIB could take care of Piscary. I could go home….

Home to Ivy, I thought, closing my eyes briefly. How did my life get this ugly?

Tired beyond belief, I got to my feet as Edden and a string of FIB officers exploded out of the hole Quen had made.

'It's me!' I croaked, putting my good hand in the air since there was a frightening clatter of safeties going off. 'Don't shoot me!'

'Morgan!' Edden peered through the sifting dust and lowered his weapon. Only half the FIB officers did the same. It was a better than average number. 'You're alive?'

He sounded surprised. Bent in pain, I looked down at myself, my broken arm clutched close. 'Yeah. I think so.' I started shivering, cold.

Someone snickered, and the remaining weapons were lowered. Edden made a motion, and the officers fanned out. 'Piscary is over there,' I said, looking that way. 'He's down until sunset. I think.'

Coming closer, Edden eyed Piscary, his robe fallen open to show a good portion of muscular thigh. 'What was he trying to do, seduce you?'

'No,' I whispered, so my throat wouldn't hurt so much. 'He was trying to kill me.' I met his eyes and added, 'There is a living vamp named Kisten around somewhere. He's blond and angry. Please don't shoot him. Other than him and Quen, I haven't seen anyone but the eight living vamps upstairs. You can shoot them if you want.'

'Mr. Kalamack's security officer?' Edden's gaze roved over me, cataloging my hurts. 'He came with you?' He put a hand on my shoulder to steady me. 'It looks like your arm is broken.'

'It is,' I said, jerking back as he reached for it. Why do people do that? 'And yeah, he came out here. Why didn't you?' Suddenly angry, I poked him in the chest. 'You ever refuse to take my call again, and I swear I'll have Jenks pix you every night for a month.'

Arrogance crossed Edden's face and he flicked a glance at the FIB officers warily circling Piscary. Someone called for an I.S. ambulance. 'I didn't refuse your call. I was asleep. Being woken up by a frantic pixy and a panicking boyfriend telling me you went out to stake one of Cincinnati's master vampires is not my favorite way to wake up. And who gave you my unlisted number?'

Oh God, Nick. The remembered burst of ley line energy I'd pulled through him made my face go cold. 'Nick,' I stammered. 'I have to call Nick.' But as I looked over the room for my bag and the phone in it, I hesitated. Quen's blood was gone. All of it. I guess Quen was serious about not wanting any evidence that he was here. How had he done that? A little elven magic, perhaps?

'Mr. Sparagmos is in the parking lot,' Edden said. Peering at me and my cold face, he snagged a passing officer. 'Get me a blanket. She's going shocky.'

Numb, I let him help me across the room and the hole in the wall. 'Poor guy passed out, he was so worried about you. I wouldn't let him or Jenks out of the car.' Eyes alight in a sudden thought, he reached for the radio on his belt. 'Tell Mr. Sparagmos and Jenks that we found her and she's all right,' he said into it, getting a garbled answer back. Taking my elbow, he muttered, 'Please tell me you didn't really leave a note on your door saying you were going to stake Piscary?'

My eyes were fixed upon my bag with its pain amulet clear across the room, but my head snapped up at his words. 'No!' I protested as my vision swam at the quick movement. 'I said I was going to talk to him and that he was the witch hunter. Kisten must have done that, because my note is here somewhere. I saw it!' Kisten had replaced my note?

I stumbled in confusion as Edden pulled me forward. Kisten had replaced my note, giving Nick the only number that would bring the FIB out here. Why? Had it been to help me, or simply to cover his betrayal of Piscary?

'Kisten?' Edden questioned. 'That's the living vamp you don't want me to shoot, right?' He took the blue FIB blanket someone held out and draped it over my shoulders. 'Come on. I want to get you upstairs. We can figure this out later.'

Leaning heavily on him, I tugged the blanket closer, wincing as the rough wool hurt my hands. I wouldn't look at them, thinking they were nothing compared to the smut on my soul for having invoked that black charm Quen had taught me. I took a slow breath. What did it matter if I knew black charms? I was going to be a demon's familiar.

'My God, Morgan,' Edden said as he put the two-way back on his belt. 'Did you have to blow a hole in his wall?'

'I didn't,' I said, focusing on the carpet three feet in front of me. 'It was Quen.'

More officers clattered down the stairs and into the room, a hoard of official presences suddenly making me feel like an alien. 'Rachel, Quen isn't here.'

'Yeah,' I said, shivering violently as I looked over my shoulder at the pristine carpet. 'I probably imagined it all.' The adrenaline was gone, and fatigue and nausea pulled at me. People were moving quickly around us, making me dizzy. My arm was a solid ache. I wanted my bag and the pain amulet in it, but we were moving in the wrong direction, and it looked as if someone had dropped an evidence card by it. Swell.

My mood darkened even further when a woman in an FIB uniform stopped us short by dangling my gun in front of Edden. It was in an evidence bag, and I couldn't stop my hand from reaching out. 'Hey, my splat gun,' I said, and Edden sighed, not sounding at all happy.

'Tag it,' he said, his voice laced with guilt. 'Put Ms. Morgan as a positive ID.'

The woman looked almost frightened as she nodded and turned away.

'Hey,' I protested again, and Edden kept me from following her.

'Sorry, Rachel. It's evidence.' He ran a quick look over the surrounding officers before whispering, 'But thanks for leaving it where we could find it. Glenn couldn't have downed those living vamps without it.'

'But…' I stammered, seeing the woman disappear upstairs with my splat gun. The dust was worse here, and I swallowed hard so I wouldn't cough and make myself pass out.

'Let's go,' Edden said, sounding tired as he tried to pull me forward. 'I hate to do this, but I should get a