"It wasn't like that."
"You're good at your job, Anita, but you're not a better cop than I am, or Zerbrowski is."
"I never said I was."
"But you exclude us. You keep secrets from us."
"Yeah, just like you keep them from me. I know you don't call me in all the time anymore. You don't trust me."
"Do you trust me?" he asked.
"I trust you, Dolph, but I don't trust the hate in you."
"I don't hate you, Anita."
"No, but you hate some of the people I love, and that makes it hard, Dolph."
"I've never hurt any of your boyfriends."
"No, but you hate them, hate them for just being what they are, who they are. You're like an old-time racist, Dolph; your hate blinds you."
He looked down, took another deep breath. "I've been to the company shrink. I'm trying to come to an understanding with…" He looked at Edward, who looked innocently back at him.
"Your family," I finished for him so he wouldn't have to go into details.
He nodded.
"I'm glad, Dolph, really. Lucille's been…" I shrugged. What was I supposed to say, that his wife, Lucille, had been frantic, afraid for him and of him? His rages had trashed a room or two of their house, much like he'd done to an interrogation room with me in it, once. He'd manhandled me at a crime scene. Dolph was close to losing his badge, if he didn't get a grip.
"She said you've been helpful about it. Her."
I nodded. If Edward hadn't been in the room, I'd have said your son's fiancée. "I'm glad I could help."
"I will never be okay with you dating the monsters."
"That's fine, as long as you don't let it rain all over police business."
"Fine, police business." He glanced at Edward, then reached into his suit coat and got out his notebook. "What killed the vampire in the hotel room?"
"When her animal to call died, the master didn't survive it. It happens like that sometimes: kill one and they all die."
"The police have killed wereanimals that were guarding vampire lairs, and the master vampire didn't die."
"Most master vamps have an animal that they can control, but the phrase 'an animal to call' means it's the furry equivalent of a human servant."
"A human that's helping a vampire because of mind tricks?" He made it a question.
"I thought that once, too, but a human servant is more than that. It's a human with a preternatural connection, a mystical connection, with the vampire. Sometimes the vampire survives the death of its servant, but the servant usually doesn't survive the death of the vampire. I've also seen the body survive, but the human servant driven crazy by the master's death. But this weretiger had healing abilities that it shouldn't have had. It was almost like it had the best of both worlds on healing. The lycanthropy healing, and the rotting vampire's ability to laugh off bullets, even silver."
"I thought you just woke up?" Dolph said.
"I did."
"How did you know she rotted?"
"I didn't, but her animal healed like a rotting vampire, so I assumed she was one of them. But even if she was, her animal to call should not have had that close a tie with the vampire's powers. It's unusual, very unusual, as if the tie between master and servant was closer even than normal."
"She started to rot as soon as we took her head," Edward said.
"Ol… Otto must have been disappointed," I said.
"He was, but at least they don't smell like they look. Why is that?" Edward asked. "Not complaining, mind you, but why don't they smell like a rotting corpse?"
"I don't know, I think maybe because they aren't really rotting. It's like they, the vampires, went to a certain stage of rotting, then stopped. The smell is from decomposition. If the vampire isn't actually rotting, then no decomp, no smell." I shrugged. "Truthfully, that's just theory. I don't know for sure. I don't think I've seen more than a handful of them. It doesn't seem to be a common type of vamp, at least not in this country."
"They're all rotting corpses, Anita," Dolph said.
"No," I said, and met his eyes just fine, "no, they aren't. Most vampires, if you ever see them rotting like that, looking like that, they are well and truly dead. But the rotting ones can actually rot around you, then sort of heal themselves. They can go from looking like the walking dead to looking normal."
"Normal," Dolph said, and made a sound.
"Normal as they started," I said. I turned to Edward. "Do we know where the other vamp went?"
Dolph answered, "We know that a white male, late twenties, early thirties, brown hair, cut short, jeans, jean jacket, carried a large duffel bag out to his car and drove away while two uniforms watched."
"They watched," I said.
"Civilians who saw the incident said the man told the officers"—Dolph flipped back through his notebook, then read—" 'You're going to let me go to my car, aren't you?' The policemen replied, 'Yes, we are.' "
"Shit, he pulled an Obi-Wan," I said.
"What?" Edward and Dolph said together.
"You know, from Star Wars, 'These are not the droids you're looking for.'"
Edward grinned. "Yeah, while Otto and I were taking the other vampire apart, the man pulled an Obi-Wan."
"He had to do it to several officers, or some version of it," Dolph said. "By the time he drove off there were police all over that hotel. I thought daylight wasn't good for vamps."
"I think the vampire was in the duffel bag. My guess, and it's only a guess, is that as the weretiger shared her master's healing ability, so the human servant of this other one shared her mind powers. I've never heard of anything like it, but it makes sense. If I think of another theory that makes more sense, I'll let you know."
"How did you know they would be at the hotel, Anita?" Dolph asked.
"I told you, an informant."
"Was the informant a vampire?"
"No," I said.
"No," he said.
"No," I said.
"Was the informant human?"
"I'm not giving you the name, so it doesn't matter, does it?"
"How many vampires are involved with these murders?"
"Two that I'm sure of."
"How close is your tie to your master, Anita?"
"What?" I just stared at him.
He looked at me, and there was no anger in his eyes, just a demand. He repeated the question.
My pulse was in my throat, and I couldn't help it. My voice was almost normal when I said, "Are we going to catch these bastards, or are you going to go back to obsessing on how up close and personal I am with the vampires? I'm sorry that I've disappointed you, Dolph. I'm sorry that you disapprove of my personal life, but we have dead on the ground. We have injured people. Can we please, please, concentrate on that instead of your obsession with my love life?"
He blinked, slow, over those cool cop eyes. "Fine, how did Peter Black get injured, and who exactly is he?"
I looked at Edward, because I had no idea what story he'd come up with. I doubted the truth, the whole truth, had been involved.
"Now, Lieutenant," Edward said, "I told you all this."
"I want to hear Anita's version."
"My version, like you know it's a version and not the truth," I said.
"I don't think you've told me the whole truth about anything since you started dating that bloodsucking son of a bitch."
"Politically, that bloodsucking son of a bitch is the Master of the City."
"Is he your master, Anita?"
"What?"
"Are you the human servant of the Master of this City?"
I'd outed myself once in front of Detective Smith. I'd done it to save the life of a vampire Good Samaritan. Apparently Smith hadn't ratted me out. I owed him a beer.
I needed a moment to think how to answer Dolph. Edward gave me that moment. "You know, Lieutenant, your persistent interest in Marshal Blake's personal life is a little disturbing. Especially as it seems to be distracting you from the investigation and capture of a double murderer."