"But if you are going to be a weretiger, then the shot would stop it from happening."
"You think I should take it," he said.
I sighed. "Honest?"
"Honest would be good," he said.
"I didn't like the way you said that if you turn into a weretiger, it's good because you did it saving me. I don't want you to think about me in this equation. I want you be a selfish son of a bitch, Peter. I want you to think about yourself and yourself alone. What do you want to do? What feels right to you?"
"Honest?" he said.
"Yeah, honest," I said.
"I think I've made up my mind, then I go back and change it. I think if I decided, and they had the shot here and ready, I'd just take it, but they won't bring it until I say so." He closed his eyes. "Part of me wants to call my mom and let her decide for me. Part of me wants someone to blame if it goes wrong, but a man doesn't do that. A man makes his own decisions."
"In this situation, yes. But don't imprint that whole lone gunman mentality too deep on your psyche."
"Why?" he asked.
I smiled. "I know from experience that it's hard to be part of a couple when you're so damned independent. I've had to learn how to share my decisions. Balance is what you're looking for."
"I don't know how to balance anything anymore," and his eyes were shiny.
"Peter, I…"
"Go, okay?" he said, in a voice that was too thick. "Just go, please."
I almost reached out and touched his shoulder. I wanted to comfort him. Hell, I wanted to go back in time and put his ass back on a plane home as soon as he showed up in St. Louis. I wished I had humiliated him and sent him packing. Wasn't a bruised ego better than this?
Hands came and touched me, drew me back from the bed. Micah and Nathaniel drew me away so Peter could cry without me watching. My throat was so tight it hurt to breathe. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
They got me outside in the hallway before the first tear slid hot and almost painful down my own face. "Damn it," I said.
Micah tried to hug me, but I pushed him away. "I'll cry if you hug me."
"Anita, just let it out."
I shook my head. "No, don't you understand. We have to kill her first. I'll cry when Mercia's dead."
"You blame her for Peter being hurt," he said.
"No, I blame me, and Edward, but I can't kill us, so I'll kill who I can."
"If you're going to talk about killing people, Anita, you might not want to do it in front of a policeman." Zerbrowski walked down the hallway with his usual smile. He looked as he always did, like he'd slept in his suit, though I knew he hadn't. His dark curly hair had more gray in it, but it was still the careless curls. Katie, his wife, hadn't made him cut it recently. He was cheerfully messy, and Katie was one of the neatest people I'd ever met. Opposites attract.
I had a horrible urge to hug him. He just looked so nicely normal coming down the hallway. Which made me turn to Micah and Nathaniel. If I was thinking about falling into Zerbrowski's arms, I was badly in need of a hug. All three of them had seen me cry before, including Zerbrowski.
I threw an arm around Micah, then held the other one out to Nathaniel. I let them hold me, but I didn't cry. My face felt hot, but no more tears came. I clung to them, let them hold me. I had this horrible urge to simply collapse, to just fall apart in their arms, but I couldn't do it. I couldn't let myself do it.
"I'll give you some privacy," Zerbrowski said.
I shook my head and drew back from the men. "No, we have to catch this bitch."
"No one's seen her, Anita. Her or the man who we assume is her human servant."
"He has to be her human servant to share her mind powers, Zerbrowski." I tried to move farther away, but Nathaniel's arm slipped around my shoulders, drawing me back. I patted his arm and said, "I'm okay now."
He whispered, "Liar, but maybe it's me who needs to touch you." He squeezed me tight, his other arm sliding around my waist. "You've got to stop almost dying, Anita; it's hard on the heart."
Somehow I didn't think he meant hard as in a heart attack. There were so many more ways for a heart to break. I let him press me back against his body. I stroked my hands down his arms.
Zerbrowski shook his head, smiled. "You know, Katie feels the same way after I get hurt, but she's too cool to do it in public."
I looked at him, and it wasn't an entirely friendly look.
He held up his hands. "It wasn't a criticism, Anita, Nathaniel. It's just, well, hell, I mean it's interesting watching people be as open as you guys are. Is it a shapeshifter culture thing?"
I thought about it. "Yeah, I guess it is."
"If we don't have to play human," Micah said, "we're very touchy-feely, and we tend to wear our emotions out."
Zerbrowski grinned. "Damn, that must have been an adjustment for you, Anita."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means you're like most cops I know—you stuff your emotions. Does this mean if the boyfriends aren't around at a crime scene some night, I can look forward to you hanging all over me?"
"You wish," I said, and smiled at him. I patted Nathaniel's arm and took a step forward. He let me draw a little farther away from him, but kept my hand. I understood the need to touch and be touched. It wasn't just the normal lycanthropy stuff. I wanted to hug Peter as if he were a little boy, and tell him it would all be all right, but it was a lie. Even if he'd been a little boy, it would still have been a lie. I couldn't promise him anything.
"That's an awful serious face for a woman who just got a hug from her sweetie."
"I'm thinking about Peter."
"Yeah, you got cut up trying to save him."
I fought to keep my face neutral. If we were going to change the story for the police, then Edward should have told me. That he didn't tell me the "official" version, and I hadn't asked, said just how distracted the two of us were. Not good.
"You saved his life, Anita. That's the best you could do," Zerbrowski said.
I nodded, and went for a hug from Micah, partially to hide my face, because I still couldn't quite figure out how to look. My guilt was because Peter had gotten cut up saving me. He wouldn't even get credit for it from the cops. That seemed like insult to injury.
Micah kissed the side of my face and whispered, "Edward didn't tell you the official version?"
"No," I whispered back.
Micah spoke with me still in his arms. "I think Anita also blames herself because she was already hunting the vampires. She thinks they might not have reacted so violently if they hadn't known she was on their trail."
I turned, still half in Micah's arms. "When a person knows that they're being tracked by someone who can kill them on sight, Zerbrowski, what options does that leave them?"
"Are you saying you disagree with the execution order?" he asked.
"No, not in this case, but there are nights when I wish I had an option that was less than lethal force. I'd love someone to do a study and see if the vampires get more violent in trying to stay alive than in the crimes they were originally condemned for."
"Have you had that happen?" Zerbrowski asked.
"No, no, I guess I haven't. Most of them would have kept killing if we hadn't stopped them. But, still, the vamp we're hunting framed a vampire from the Church of Eternal Life. She helped frame two of them. If I had just followed the trail they mapped out for us, I'd have killed two innocent people."
"Isn't this the second time you've had the bad vampires frame the good vampires and try to use you as a murder weapon?"