Chapter 53

THE BODY LAY in a broken heap in an alley behind the club she worked at, as if when they dumped the body they'd brought her home. The last body dump in St. Louis had been just outside the club where the dancer worked, too. But that one had been clean compared to this, just vampire bites. Death by exsanguination. This woman hadn't had time to bleed to death.

I realized that this one, like most of the body dumps in St. Louis, was in a place where shadows would hide some of the damage. Almost as if even the killer couldn't face what he'd done in bright light.

The woman's neck was at an angle so sharp that I could see spine poking against the skin of the neck, not quite through the skin, but close. The neck was ugly and wrong, but that was nothing compared to what he, or they, had done to the rest of the... body.

There were burns on half her face, and going down one side of the body. The skin was red and angry and blackened and peeling, and the other half of her body was perfect. Pale and young and beautiful, paired with the blackened ruin of the other half of her.

Bernardo took a sharp breath in and walked a little way down the alley. I forced myself to stay squatted by the body, and tried not to smell anything. The alley didn't smell that good to begin with, but usually burned flesh overpowers everything else. This didn't. The burns weren't that fresh, or they would've smelled more.

I swallowed hard and stood up, letting myself look at the people around me instead of the body. I had to keep thinking of it, really hard, as the body, because to humanize it at all would be too much. It wouldn't help me solve this crime to think about what this woman had gone through. Honest, it wouldn't.

Shaw stood there, staring down at the body, with a look on his face that I could only describe as lost. Morgan had rejoined us, telling us that he had the subpoenas in the works. He now seemed to think it was his idea, and was back to not being all that friendly with me. I was actually relieved. Whatever I'd done to him seemed to be short acting. Detective Thurgood had joined us in her ill-fitting skirt suit, sensible high heels, and bad attitude. But no one's attitude was particularly rosy, so it was okay.

I asked them, "Have the other bodies looked like this?"

"Not like this," Shaw said.

"No," Morgan said.

Thurgood just shook her head, lips in a line so thin that her mouth was almost invisble in her face. From the lips and the lack of talking, I was betting she was fighting off nausea.

"Were the other bodies burned?" I asked.

"The last two, but not nearly this bad," Shaw said.

"Are you even sure it's the same guy from St. Louis? He never did anything like this in your city," Morgan said.

"How do you know what he did in my city?" I asked.

"We talked to Lieutenant Storr, and he filled us in," Shaw said.

I didn't want to tell them that Dolph had not told me about the inquiry from Vegas. I didn't want to admit that someone who I was supposed to be working with had cut me out of the loop completely. So I pretended like this wasn't news and went back to trying to pretend that half the cops I worked with weren't treating me like a perp.

"Vittorio and his people didn't burn any of the bodies, but yeah, I'm pretty sure it's him."

"How can you be sure, if this wasn't his MO in St. Louis or any of the other towns?" Morgan asked.

Edward had moved up beside me, not too close, but close enough to let me know that he had understood that Dolph hadn't told me. That he understood how much that might bother me.

"Because this is what the Church used to do to vampires they could capture alive. They used holy water, which burns like acid. It was supposed to burn the devil out of them. But the only two I know of personally that were treated like this were both beautiful, very beautiful. It's a lot about the dark side of the Church; they say they did it to save the soul, but they usually pick victims that satisfy some need in them."

"Are you saying the Church was like a serial?" Thurgood finally spoke in a voice that was a little choked but still nicely angry.

"I guess; I just find it interesting that the only two men I know who were treated like this were very fair of face and body, and they were burned like this. I've never heard of a vamp that started life as plain that they did this to. I'd be interested to know if it was the same priest, or group of priests."

Thurgood again. "Are you saying that beautiful men were some priest's victim profile?"

"I guess two isn't a pattern, maybe a coincidence, but if I find a third, than yeah, that's what I'd be saying."

"That's a monstrous lie," she said.

"Hey, I'm Christian, too, but there are bad guys in every profession."

"What does it matter what some priest that has been dead for hundreds of years did or didn't do?" Bernardo said. He'd walked back to join us at the body. "We can't catch him; he's already dead. We need to catch Vittorio."

"The marshal's right," Shaw said. For a minute it was a little unclear which marshal he meant; then he said, "We need to catch the live ones."

"Are you saying that this vampire is trying to duplicate his own injuries?" Morgan asked. It was almost like he was ignoring them both.

"Looks like," I said.

"The others died of blood loss; there was no broken neck," Shaw said.

"Maybe they took pity on her," Bernardo said.

We all looked at him.

He nodded toward the body. "Maybe one of Vittorio's people put her out of her misery."

"Or maybe they got tired of her screaming," Olaf said.

We looked at him then; I think anything was better than looking at the body. Olaf was still staring at the body. If it bothered him, it didn't show.

"Or maybe she passed out from the pain, and it wasn't fun anymore," Shaw said.

"You don't pass out from this," Bernardo said. "You don't sleep. You don't rest. You don't do anything but hurt unless they can get enough drugs in you, and even then, sometimes the pain overrides it."

"You talk like you know," Shaw said.

"I had a friend that got burned bad." He looked away so that he wasn't looking at any of us. Whatever experession was on his face, he wanted to keep it to himself.

"What happened?" Shaw asked.

"He died." Then Bernardo walked away from us. This time he walked farther, pushing his way through the crowd, until he found a piece of alley to lean against. It put him closer to the reporters, who started shouting out questions when they saw his badge and the gloves on his hands. He ignored them all, just closing his eyes and leaning back. Whatever he was seeing, or trying not to see, cut out anything they could shout at him.

"Is he right," I asked Olaf, "you never stop screaming or pass out?"

"I do not know," Olaf said. "I do not like fire."

I realized that though it didn't seem to bother him to look at the body, he wasn't enjoying it the way he had the bodies in the morgue. He liked blades and blood, but not fire. Good to know, I guess.

I turned to Shaw. "We need to see the other photos, the other victims. Especially the last two."

He looked at me, frowning. I was getting a lot of that in Vegas. "There's nothing in the reports from St. Louis that you guys actually saw Vittorio. How do you know he's burned?"

I fought to keep my face even, empty, not to widen even my eyes, because I had forgotten. I knew Vittorio's fate from a letter from his lady love, who had left him after St. Louis, afraid for her life and her new lover's life. She hadn't been able to deal with his madness anymore. She'd even helped us in St. Louis, putting the bodies where'd we'd find them sooner, trying to leave clues. The letter had come to Jean-Claude, as Master of the City. It had never occurred to me to share it with the cops.

Jean-Claude had checked with the vampire council about Vittorio and had it confirmed. But again, I hadn't shared it with the police. It hadn't seemed important then.

I thought about what to say now. "I asked some of my vampire informants if they had any background on him." Even to me it sounded lame.

"What else did your vampires tell you?" Shaw said, and disbelief was firm in his voice.

"Just that the holy water burns are bad enough that he's probably unable to perform sex, so he puts all that energy into this."

"The vampires told you that?" This from Thurgood. She gave good disdain. The alley's shadows couldn't hide the scorn, or maybe it was just that with the short hair you could see it clear and hard. Or maybe I was just being overly sensitive.

"No, they told me the burns are bad enough he can't function. I made the logical leap about what that kind of anger might do to someone who was going to have to live forever in a body that damaged."

"You should leave the profiling to the professionals, Blake," Shaw said.

"Fine, but I've told you what I know."

"Why isn't it in the notes on the case?"

"Because I didn't find it out while the case was going on. In fact, for a while they said the case was closed."

"You told me why you were the only one who believed you hadn't killed Vittorio in that condo in St. Louis."

"No one we killed was powerful enough to be him," I said.

Shaw stepped close, looming over me. "You know what I think, Blake? I think you saw Vittorio. I think you saw him face to face. I don't think you learned any of this from your vampire friends. I think you learned it in person."

"Then why isn't he dead?"

"You're so sure you could kill him?"

"Fine, then why aren't I dead? Because I promise you this, Shaw, if we met face to face, it would be one or the other."

"Maybe he was one of your vampire lovers."

I looked down at the ground, trying not to get angry.

"You aren't going to deny it, then?"

I finally looked up and didn't try to hide that I was pissed. "I've tried to be a good sport here, but I've already told you, if reports are accurate, then he's not capable of sex. And trust me, if I'd seen him, I'd have tried to whack his ass."

"Intercourse isn't possible, but a girl as busy as you are should know there are other things you can do."

Thurgood and Morgan came up by Shaw. Thurgood said, "Sir, why don't we step back a little."

Edward touched my shoulder, which meant I'd probably made some involuntary movement toward him. Edward leaned over and whispered, "File a complaint."

I nodded. "Do you want me to file an official complaint for sexual harassment? Is that what you want?"

"File and be damned, but you know more than you're sharing with the humans, Blake."

"Even if that's true, Sheriff," Morgan said, now actually standing between us, "this isn't the way. We have reporters watching us."

Shaw glanced back, then forward. "I was willing to believe the rumors weren't true until I saw you hand in hand with one of Max's weretigers and then kissing his son, also a weretiger. You claim that you just met him, and just met Gregory Minns, but no one, no one, makes friends that fast. You managed to convince some of my best men that you're telling the truth. But I know"-he hit his big chest hard-"you fucked at least one of Bibiana's guards, maybe more. I know that you're no more human than the things that tortured that girl." He pointed dramatically at the body.

What he'd just said was wrong, odd. "Which guard did I fuck?" I asked, watching his face.

He seemed to hear himself and shook his head. "How do I know, all cats are gray in the dark," he said.

"How do you know I fucked anyone when I went to visit Bibiana?" I asked.

He fought to put his cop face back on, but it was shaky around the edges. "You came out holding hands with one of her tigers."

"Crispin's a stripper, like you said, not a guard. If you're going to accuse me in front of the other policemen, you need more proof than just me holding hands with someone."

"Maybe your reputation precedes you, Blake." He made it mean, but it lacked a certain edge.

I was pretty sure I knew now why Shaw had gone from distrustful to hostile, and it wasn't just issues with his wife. He'd heard tapes from our visit to Bibiana, which meant that someone had the apartments bugged. It had to be federal of some flavor, and they'd let Shaw hear just enough to smear my reputation to hell.

I tried to hear what it might have sounded like if all you had was the sound with Domino and Crispin and the rest. Would it sound like sex? Maybe. It would if that's the interpretation you wanted to put on it. You often find what you're looking for if that's all you look for; expectation becomes truth.

Bernardo had come up behind us all when it looked like it was going to get interesting. He'd heard, so he got to say, "What flavor of Fed are you friends with, Shaw?"

Morgan and Thurgood had moved back from him, as if he were suddenly contagious, and maybe he was. Some Fed had let him listen in to an ongoing investigation, and he'd just spilled the fact that they had successfully bugged Max's home to people that Shaw thought had fucked their people and were maybe more on their side than the cops.

"Shaw," Morgan said.

Thurgood just stood there, hands at her sides, not quite looking at him, as if that would make it better. If you don't see it, then it didn't happen, maybe.

He knew he'd fucked up; it was there in his eyes, caught in a line of light in all the shadows. He talked to us then. "I don't know what you're talking about, Marshals. With Blake's rep, why wouldn't I think she'd fucked every tiger in the place?"

He'd tried for mean, but I smiled sweetly at him.

"What's so funny?"

"You can still save this," I said, "just ask."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

He was going to pretend that he hadn't said too much. Thurgood and Morgan would probably back him on it. Did he trust that I'd play ball just because I had a badge?

"Ironic," I said, "you've just finished telling me I'm more on the side of the monsters, but you're counting on me being a good cop. You've accused me of fucking multiple weretigers, but you're depending on me honoring the badge above my supposed lovers. Or is it just that you'll pretend you didn't say it, and it will go away? I didn't think cops did that. I thought cops looked things in the face."

"You said it yourself, Blake; you're an assassin, not a cop."

I smiled, but this one wasn't sweet. "Perfect, Shaw, perfect."

Edward moved me back with a hand on my shoulder, so he was facing Shaw. "Bernardo, take Anita for a walk, that direction." He pointed away from the reporters.

Bernardo started walking, and I fell in step beside him. I half-expected Olaf to protest that he wanted to go on the walk, but he moved up to be at Edward's back. Good to know that we were there to back each other up. I wasn't sure about some of the Vegas cops anymore.

Bernardo led me past the body, and as if we'd agreed, we didn't look at it much. We just walked until the alley was a little darker without the lights they'd set up at the far end. Though what got me to stop was that the smell was less sour here, and a few more feet and we'd run into another group of cops holding the other end of the alley.

"That was interesting," he said.

I nodded. "Yeah."

"They've got the place bugged."

I nodded again. I tried to think of everything I'd said in the apartment. I couldn't remember all of it, but it had been enough.

"You're trying to remember everything you said, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"If all I had was the sound, I might think sex, and I'd so believe that you could shapeshift for real."

"Which will cost me my badge."

"Not until they're willing to admit how they got the recording," he said.

"With Shaw blabbing, who knows?"

"Do you feel conflicted?"

I looked up at him, studying his face in the dim light for what little it did me. "Do you mean, am I going to go tattle to the tigers?"

He shrugged.

"No," I said.

"You wouldn't want Jean-Claude's place bugged."

"No, but we sweep for listening devices on a regular basis. Max should, too."

"So you won't tell because it's sloppy business practices on Max's part?" He started to lean against the wall, then thought better of it and stopped in midmotion.

"Partly, but I am a federal officer. I do have a badge. Max is into criminal activities. How can I blow an operation that may save lives?"

"So, badge first," he said, softly.

I glared up at him, not sure he could see it in the dimness. "What, you believe what Shaw was saying, that I'm more loyal to the monsters than the police?"

He held up his hands as if holding me off. "That's not what I meant. It's just that if I had all your issues, I might feel conflicted."

I sighed. "Sorry, but I'm tired, Bernardo. I'm tired of having the other police think I'm one of the freaks." I shook my head. "Hell, I'm not sure they're wrong. I've begun to wonder if I can serve the badge and my other master at the same time."

He leaned forward. "Are you thinking of hanging it up?"

It was my turn to shrug. "I don't know, maybe."

"I can't see you not doing this, Anita."

"Neither can I, but... Shaw isn't the first cop to think my loyalties are divided. He won't be the last. I'm a walking sexual harassment suit lately. It's like sleeping with vampires and shapeshifters offends the police at some really basic level."

"Oh, I know that one."

I looked up at him. "What do you mean?"

He grinned, and I could see the flash of it even in the shadows. "It's the idea that if you prefer the monsters, then the rumor that they're better in bed than us mere mortals may be true. That would squick a lot of men, and a badge doesn't change that. In fact, maybe cops are more guy than most guys, so it bothers them more."

"That sounds... childish for a cop."

"I didn't say they were thinking it in the front of their heads, but somewhere in the back, where all those Neanderthal urges still live, they are wondering if just being human makes them less in every way than the monsters."

I tried to look past that flash of smile and see what was underneath, but it was too much shadow. I finally said, "Is that how you feel?"

He shook his head. "I had a lady leave her wereanimal lover for me."

I smiled; I couldn't help it. "That must have happened in the last two years because when we first met, you were a little insecure about my werewolf lover."

He shrugged and spread his hands. "What can I say, I am as good as I think I am."

That made me laugh. "Oh, nobody's that good."

"Are you saying I'm conceited?"

"Yep."

He laughed, then his face sobered, and he turned so that some stray patch of light caught his face. He was suddenly serious, painted in shadows and light like some abstract photo. "No brag, Anita, just fact. I'd love to prove that to you someday."

"I do not need to have the other cops hear that kind of shit from another man right now."

"I'm still willing to help you feed."

"I thought you were creeped by what happened with Morgan."

He frowned, thinking about it. "I was."

"I thought that would make you take the offer to feed the ardeur off the table."

He frowned harder, making creases between those big, dark eyes. "Yeah, actually I thought it had changed my mind."

"So, why the renewed offer?"

"Habit, maybe." But the frown stayed.

I had an idea, and not a good one. I did need to feed soon. In fact, I should have felt more energized, less "hungry," because Victor was supposed to have helped share his energy with me. But maybe all he'd been able to do was help me heal. I'd used up a lot of energy healing and fighting, and Belle Morte had been right about me feeding only the minimum to get by lately. We were also past the twelve-hour mark, when food was usually a good thing. Then I realized that I hadn't eaten any solid food, either. Shit, I knew better than that. One hunger did feed the other, and if I didn't eat enough real food, both my beasts and the ardeur rose faster and stronger. I knew this, but in the middle of a case, it was hard to find time to be human. Was I accidentally shopping for food now? Was I trying to bespell Bernardo without knowing it? It was the not knowing that creeped me the most.

"I need to get some food."

"You can eat after seeing that?" He didn't motion at the body; it was just implied really loudly.

"No, I'm not hungry."

"Then I..."

"If I don't eat solid food often enough, it makes it harder to control all the other hungers," I said.

"Ah," he said, then frowned. "I'm thinking something really inappropriate, even for me."

"Do I want to know?" I asked.

He shook his head. "You'd be pissed."

If it was bad enough that Bernardo wouldn't say it out loud, then it was bad. That he'd thought of it, then thought better of it, was a sign that something was wrong. I was betting that I was what was wrong. Was the ardeur calling to Bernardo? I didn't even know how to tell.

"Okay, let's get back to... Ted, and see if we can get the files we need from the locals."

"If you want to eat tonight, it has to be before we see more crime photos."

"Agreed," I said.

We turned and started walking back toward the knot of men and the remains of Vittorio's latest victim.

Chapter 54

MORGAN WAS SAYING, "You'll have everything you need in a couple of hours, but we have to finish up here."

"Call someone," Edward said.

Shaw was a little bit down the alley talking to some of the crime scene techs. It was just Thurgood and Morgan to watch us come closer and frown. Morgan just seemed generally cranky, but Thurgood had passed to hostile.

"We'll get you the information, but you'll have to wait until one of us gets back to the station."

"Why?" Edward asked.

"Because you're going to have to borrow one of our computers, and someone's going to have to babysit you."

"You don't trust us with paper copies?" I asked.

"We don't trust you," Thurgood said.

"So much for my sisterhood."

"I am not your sister," she said. "Women like you make it harder for the rest of us to do our jobs. Women like you make it harder for us to be taken seriously by the other cops."

"Women like me," I said. "What does that mean?" I knew, but I wanted to see if she'd say it out loud.

"Anita," Edward said.

I said, "What?"

"You know what you are," she said.

Morgan said, "Thurgood."

"I know what you think I am," I said.

"That's enough," Edward said. "Both of you."

"You aren't my superior," Thurgood said.

"We'll see how our superiors like knowing that the Vegas PD is preventing us from doing our jobs," Edward said. His voice was low and cold, with an edge of warmth to it. He didn't lose control that much normally. Apparently, Edward hadn't been able to soothe things.

"We just don't want her and her lovers going through our files."

"Geez," Bernardo said, "because you're a slut, we're sluts, too."

"Shut up, Bernardo," Edward said. He started walking down the alley away from them and toward the reporters. It was where our car was parked, unfortunately. The rest of us trailed after him. We all pulled our gloves off at the entry to the alley and put them in the trash bin someone had set up for it. There was a uniform guarding the can to make sure no one tried to take a souvenir. You think I'm kidding, but people go nuts on serial cases. The glove would be on eBay that night, if they listed it right and it didn't get pulled before purchase; eBay tried to police itself, but people put weird shit up.

Another uniform held the tape up, and we were suddenly blinded by camera flashes and the lights from handheld shoulder cams. They'd moved all the bigger equipment back, but the mobile stuff had crept forward.

We ignored all questions. It wasn't our town, and one of the fastest ways to piss off the locals was to talk to reporters. Some of the uniforms had to actually wade into the crowd and make a hole.

The questions were about the murders at first, and then someone in the crowd recognized me. You'd think that a serial killer vampire would be more interesting than my love life with a different vampire, or maybe they just thought I might actually answer those questions.

"Anita, Anita, what does Jean-Claude think about you hunting and killing other vampires?"

I ignored it, like I had all the rest. Because I'd learned that no matter what I said, it would go worse than if I said nothing. No matter what questions I answered, the locals would see it and think I was talking about the case. They were already pissed at me; I didn't need to help them hate me.

Olaf moved to one side of me, blocking the microphones and the reaching hands. Edward moved in front of me, and Bernardo took the back. They were protecting me from the press, the crowd. That wasn't right. I was either a real U.S. Marshal and an equal of the team, or I was just some stupid girl who needed protecting. Fuck.

The uniforms had to escort us to the cars. The press trailed us. Jean-Claude had recently appeared in some of the major celebrity magazines. Not on the cover or anything, but inside in the little tidbits. Pictures of what you're doing, profiled in one of the hottest vampire clubs in the country. I'd been caught twice by his side in pictures. Worse yet, he'd admitted that I was his girlfriend in an interview. The press seemed fascinated that a vampire hunter was dating a vampire. I'd turned down more interviews for that little factoid than most murders.

Why hadn't I warned Edward? Honestly, I thought a serial killer case would make the press ignore the stupid shit. Some were still yelling questions about the murder, but in among it, like raisins in a piece of toast, were questions about dating and vampires. That would really make the Vegas PD take me seriously. Oh, yeah.

We got in the car and started easing out through the snarl of official cars. Beyond that were news vans with huge science-fiction antennas. The cops had made a corridor between it all, for anyone who was trying to leave the scene. I think we were the first.

"If Randy Sherman's high priestess is home, let's go see her," Edward said.

"Yeah, but first food," I said.

"Food would be good," Olaf said.

"Fast or sit-down?" Edward asked.

"Fast will do," I said, "as long as there's meat involved." I'd learned that protein helped keep the beast at bay, more than veggies.

"Am I the only one who doesn't want to eat after what we just saw?" Bernardo asked from the backseat.

"Yes," Olaf said.

"I told you, Bernardo, I have to eat."

"When did you eat last?" Edward asked, as he moved into the bright and shiny of the Strip.

"About eight, for breakfast and the ardeur."

"More than thirteen hours," he said. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I need some protein," I said.

He handed me his cell phone with the screen already lit up. "Call the number, see if she'll see us, while I find someplace."

I hit the button and waited for the dialing to go through.

Edward didn't ask preference, just pulled into the first fast-food place he found. Burger King was fine with me; I like Whoppers.

I thought I was going to get a machine, but after seven rings a woman answered. "Yes," she said. Her voice sounded cautious.

"This is U.S. Marshal Anita Blake. I'm investigating the murder of one of your coven members, Randall Sherman."

"And all the others who died with him," she said, voice still soft.

"Yes," I said, "but I thought you might be able to help us with some questions."

"I know little about vampires and shapeshifters."

"It's more a question of magic, and what Randall Sherman would have done in a given situation."

"That is a different question from the ones the other police have asked me."

"Let me guess: they thought you might be involved just because you're Wiccan."

"Some of them are fine men, but some do not trust a witch."

"I'm getting a lot of that myself," I said, "and I've got a badge."

That made her laugh, just a little.

Edward got my attention, and motioned that I needed to know what I was ordering. I held up a finger.

"Do you know how to get here?"

"We've got the address."

"Then come, and we will talk about magic and Randall Sherman."

"Thank you, Phoebe Billings."

"You are welcome, Anita Blake." There was something to the way she said it that had a ring to it, almost of power.

I hung up before I could worry about it. One problem at a time. Edward handed the food around. Bernardo had gotten over his issues enough to get French fries and a fish sandwich, no sauce. I guess he didn't want the whole dripping thing after the murder scene.

I ate my sandwich, with its drippy sauce, and wasn't fazed. Once upon a time, I couldn't have eaten a messy sandwich after a scene like that. But that had been a while ago. Either you get over it, or you don't. I guess I'd gotten over it.

"You remember the address for the priestess?" I asked.

Edward just glanced at me, and the look was enough. Of course he remembered the address. And he'd been to the city before, and he was Edward, which meant he remembered his way around. He ate his very messy sandwich, one-handed, while he drove. He made it look neat, easy, while I fought not to dribble sauce down my vest with two hands and a bunch of napkins. The Coke was good, though, and it didn't drip on me.

My cell phone rang. I actually jumped, spilling just a little Coke. So much for being calm. I fumbled the drink into the cup holder, and the phone out of my pocket.

"Yeah."

"Anita, this is Wicked; we're on the ground in Vegas. Where are you?"

I tried picturing him on the other end of the phone. He'd be dressed in something designer and well fitted and very modern. His blond hair cut long, but neat. He was one of those utterly masculine men who also managed to be pretty, though handsome would probably have made him happier.

"Other than Truth, who else is with you?" I didn't ask if Truth was with Wicked. They had been the Wicked Truth for centuries. Two brothers, two mercenaries, two vampires, who were some of the best warriors I'd ever seen; but more impressive, they were some of the best warriors that Jean-Claude knew of in all of vampire land. Now they were our muscle, but they weren't food. I had crossed that line only once to save Truth's life, but other than that, I didn't touch them.

"Requiem, London, Graham, Haven, a few other werelions, and some werehyenas."

"Are the lions and hyenas muscle or food?" I asked.

"Muscle."

"Good," I said.

"Fill me in."

"Are you point man on this?"

"Jean-Claude put me in charge of the muscle."

"How did Haven take that?"

"Eventually the lion's Rex and I are going to have to have a talk, but not tonight." Translation: Haven had wanted to be in charge, but he'd bowed to Jean-Claude's authority, reluctantly.

"Wait, you said you're in charge of the muscle. What else is there to be in charge of?"

"Well," he said, "technically, I'm chief bodyguard on this operation, but Requiem is third in the power structure in St. Louis, so he's the boss."

"That makes sense, I guess." I wasn't sure how I felt about Requiem being in charge, or even in Vegas. He was a master vamp, but he was also moody as hell, and he and I weren't getting along exceptionally well lately. I'd tried to take him off the feeding list, and now here he was in Vegas when I was far from home and my usual men.

"You're thinking too hard, Anita," Wicked said. "Why aren't you happy that Requiem is here?"

I didn't owe Wicked the explanation about Requiem and me, so I said, "I told Jean-Claude not to send anyone who couldn't handle themselves in a fight. I've never seen Requiem fight."

"He does okay, but honestly, Jean-Claude didn't want to send us into another vamp's territory without someone who could be more diplomatic than the rest of us. Requiem's here just in case we need to negotiate with Max and his people."

"Like I said, Wicked, it makes sense."

"Now, ask me how Requiem likes his cover for this assignment."

"Cover, he's here to represent Jean-Claude's interests, right?"

"He is, but that's only if things go wrong with Max. He saw it as an insult to send this many people for him, but Jean-Claude explained we were worried about your safety with the serial killer."

"Makes sense," I said, not like I was happy.

"Max wanted to put his guards around you, Anita."

"No," I said.

"This is the compromise."

"What is?" I asked, and couldn't keep the impatience out of my voice.

"Requiem is being loaned out as a dancer to Max's revue."

"He hates stripping."

"Yeah, and I hate torturing people, but I'm really, really good at it."

I didn't know what to say to that, so I ignored it. "Couldn't we just tell Max that everyone's food for me?"

"We can explain bodyguards for you. We can explain a pomme de sang for you, that's London. But we can't tell Max that you need this much food, Anita. It would be too close to admitting you don't have control of the ardeur. Requiem is going to look over Max's club for a possible guest role, and if it works out for him, then Jean-Claude has agreed to the possibility of loaning other dancers occasionally."

"Max has been wanting that for a while," I said.

"Which is how we explained Requiem."

"Why are you telling me all this and not Requiem?"

"He's soothing hurt feelings among our little group."

"How pissy is everyone being?" I asked.

"You told Jean-Claude to pick people who could handle themselves in a fight, Anita. That means you've got a lot of big dogs in one room, fighting for the same bone. Requiem and I can handle it, but I thought you should know before you walk into it."

"Thanks," I said.

"Now, where are you?"

"On the way to the outskirts of town. We're going to interview a witness."

"Have you fed?"

"Solid food just a few minutes ago."

"But no wet food?" Wet food was slang among the vamps for blood, and lately I'd noticed some of them referring to my feeding on sex, or emotion, the same way. I couldn't argue with it, I guess, though part of me wanted to.

"No," I said.

"You're approaching fourteen hours between feeds, Anita. You got anyone with you, in case?"

I licked my lips. "I've got absolute-emergency volunteers, but no, not really."

"How far out are you, and what road?" he asked.

I asked Edward, who told me. I repeated it to Wicked. "This time of night, it will be quicker if one of us flies to you."

"Which of you can fly that well? And if it's Requiem, he can't come by himself. He may be okay in a fight, but okay isn't enough. I don't want any of our people alone until we get this bastard."

"You really think Vittorio will make a grab for your people?"

"Humor me. Who can fly well enough to come to me?"

"I can; Truth can. I'll ask the others." He put the phone on mute while I waited. Knowing Wicked, he'd simply ask London and Requiem which of them flew the best. I had no idea.

"We can't have Jean-Claude's men meet us at a witness's house, Anita. That'll just confirm what the PD thinks," Edward said.

"I know that, Edward. I'm hoping he'll catch up to us afterward."

"Are you planning on feeding before we drive back?" Olaf asked.

"No, but it's been fourteen hours, and I had to heal a lot of damage. That takes energy. He'll meet us, but it's just a precaution."

"I said I would feed you," Olaf said.

"Thanks, Olaf, I mean that, but..." I thought about what to say next. "I don't think we want our first time together to be in the back of a truck."

He seemed to think about it for a minute or two, then said, "More time and room would be welcome."

I had not agreed to have sex with Olaf, but I had managed not to crush his good intentions of sex that didn't involve killing his partner. Edward had asked me to try, and I was trying.

The phone came back to life in my hand. "I'll meet you."

"Wicked, I just finished saying, nobody travels alone."

"If they can take me on my own, then they're going to kill us all, so if I don't make it, you get out of town, and take our people with you."

"Are you setting yourself up as bait?"

"No; are you sure you're worried about my safety, or about the fact that you might have to have sex with me?"

"That's not fair, Wicked. You know why I'm trying to cut down."

"I know, I'm not on the meal plan. Turns out neither of the other two vamps are really that good at flying. And you scare my brother."

"I don't scare him; he just doesn't want to be food."

"You're right, he doesn't, but I'm right, too. You scare him, and Truth isn't scared by much."

"And you're not afraid I'll possess you, or something?"

"I'll take my chances. Besides, you said it yourself, you're in control right now. I'm just in case." He sounded bitter.

"Wicked."

"Yes."

"I don't need attitude from you, too."

"You can order me around, and I have to take it, but you can't dictate how I feel."

He had a point, but... What I wanted to say was that I didn't understand why all the men wanted to be on the feeding list. I had a mirror; I knew what I was seeing, and though I was pretty, and maybe even beautiful given the right outfit, it wasn't the same level of gorgeous of the men that were chasing me. But every time I tired to say it out loud, they accused me of being humble, or lying. I didn't think it was humility, just honesty.

"I will not apologize for trying to keep my list of feeds from growing, Wicked. Jean-Claude made noises that he didn't want to share me with any new men, and now he sends me nothing but, almost. What's with that?"

"He'd rather see you and all his people back home in St. Louis, alive, then save his ego."

"What's that mean?"

"It means that he agreed with your assessment of Vittorio. If he sent anyone who could be used as a hostage and couldn't handle themselves in a fight, it might be too tempting. Especially considering that his choice of victims is mostly strippers, and most of your closest lovers are also strippers."

That made my stomach clench tight.

"I feel your fear, Anita. He thought you'd reasoned that out."

"I had, just not that bluntly."

"I'm surprised; usually you're the more blunt of the two of you."

"Yeah, yeah," I said, "but I don't feel like I'm about to lose control right now."

"Then I will ride back with you and the nice executioners. But when you get back to a hotel, you are going to have to feed on someone." His careful vampire voice held self-mockery, and I knew that wasn't how he felt. It was his tone when he was hiding what he felt. "But if you feed on vampire tonight, then in the morning you are going to have to pick one of the wereanimals, because vampire only works after dark when we're above ground."

"I know that."

"I'm just saying, be thinking about your menu choices, because I do not want you losing control of the ardeur because you've gone squeamish."

"I am not squeamish."

"If you weren't, then you'd have already slept with Haven."

I let that go because he was probably more right than I wanted to admit. "How many other people with you are ones I've never slept with?"

"Most of the wereanimals."

I made an exasperated sound.

"Anita, you said not to send anyone that you'd care about too much, and only to send peole that could fight. That cuts out most of your regulars. Either they mean too much to you, or they can't fight worth a farthing." For a moment there was an echo of an accent, mostly lost long ago. "Fight off the ardeur, and you don't have to touch us."

"It's not that, damn it. It's just that I'm trying to trim down the list of men, not add to it."

"I understand that, too, but that you not only can resist my charms, but are actively disturbed by the thought of sex with me, now that does hurt an old vampire's heart."

"Damn it, Wicked, don't make this about hurt feelings."

"I'll do my best."

"Wicked..."

"I will wait by the car, outside the house, so I don't compromise your investigation." He hung up.

"I didn't know Wicked was on the menu for you," Edward said.

"He's not."

Edward gave me a look, one pale eyebrow raised.

"Don't you start, too." I curled into the corner of my seat, crossed my arms, and let myself pout. Yes, it was childish, but every time I thought I was getting control of my powers, I was wrong. I did not want to add to the men I was sleeping with, honest. Why didn't I want to sleep with gorgeous men who were usually pretty good in bed? Because though I'd found I could have sex with this many men, I couldn't "date" them. I couldn't be their emotional rock. I was trying, and failing, but I seemed incapable of just fucking and feeding. Jean-Claude was right; I had to either stop needing so much, or stop trying for emotion with my sex. I just didn't have a clue how to do that. If it didn't matter emotionally, why have sex at all? Oh, because you are a succubus, and would die and drain the life out of people you loved, so they died first. Yeah, that was reason enough. I guess Wicked was right; I was still trying to pretend that it wasn't my reality.

"So a vampire is going to meet us at the witness's house?" Bernardo asked.

"Yes. He'll be waiting by the car when we get out."

"Won't his car be there, too?" Bernardo asked.

"He's going to fly," I said.

"Fly... oh, you mean fly." Bernardo actually flapped his arms a little.

"Yeah, but they don't actually flap their arms. It's more levitation than actually flying."

"Like Superman," Olaf said.

I glanced back at him in the darkened car. "Yeah, I guess so, like Superman."

"Are you feeling shaky enough to need them to meet us out here?" Edward asked.

"No, but he's right, it's going on fourteen hours. Let's just say I love you like a brother; I'd rather not have to explain that whole incest taboo to Donna and the kids."

"So, if you lose control..." He didn't finish the sentence.

"It could go badly," I said. I made myself sit up straighter. I would not pout in the corner, damn it.

"You mean, you could just lose control of this ardeur?" Bernardo asked.

"Yes," I said, and let the first hint of anger into that word.

"How much loss of control?" Olaf asked.

"Let's hope none of you find out."

"We're at the house," Edward said.

"Let's put on our cop faces," I said brightly, "and pretend that one of us isn't a living vampire that feeds on sex."

"Don't let the other cops make you feel bad about it, Anita."

"Edward, it is bad."

"Everything that has happened to you happened because you were trying to save someone else. The vampire powers are the same as a gunshot wound, Anita. You got both in the line of duty."

I looked into his face, studied it. "Do you really believe that?"

"I don't say things I don't mean, Anita."

"You lie like butter wouldn't melt in your mouth, Edward."

He smiled. "I don't lie to you."

"Really," I said.

The smile became a grin. "Okay, not most of the time, anymore." His face sobered. "I'm not lying now."

I nodded. "I'll take that."

"I feel like a voyeur," Bernardo said.

We both frowned at him, together. He raised his hands. "Sorry to ruin the touching moment, but honestly, if you want to have the heart-to-heart talks, let us get out of the car first. I'm not kidding on the voyeur part."

"Get out," Edward said.

He opened the door and did, without asking another thing. Olaf's face showed clearly in the sudden overhead light. He was studying us both, as if he'd never seen us before.

"What?" I asked.

He just shook his head and got out, too. We were left alone in the car. Edward patted my leg. "I meant what I said, Anita. It's like an injury, or a disease that you got on duty. Don't let the rest of them get to you."

"Edward, I've never touched Wicked intimately, and now he's speeding his way through the night to offer himself up for sex and maybe more."

He frowned at me. "What do you mean, maybe more than sex?"

"It's like when I feed off the preternatural men, they're under my power, or something. It's why his brother, Truth, doesn't want to sleep with me. He's afraid I'll possess him."

"Would you?"

"Not on purpose."

"How much of this can you control?"

"Not enough," I said.

We looked at each other as the overhead light dimned and went out. "I'm sorry, Anita."

"Me, too. You know, Edward, if I can't travel without needing to feed, then I can't travel."

"We'll work it out."

"It's getting in the way of my doing the marshal stuff."

"We'll work it out, Anita."

"What if we can't?"

"We will," and he sounded very firm when he said it. I knew that tone; arguing wouldn't help me. It was the tone he used when he simply expected you to listen and do what he said.

I'd listen, but even the great Edward couldn't solve everything. I'd like to think he'd be able to help me keep working as a marshal while I had to feed the ardeur, but some things aren't fixable.

"Let's go question the witch."

"Most of them don't like to be called that."

He flashed me a smile as he opened the door, and the light went on again. "I'll let you take the lead. You're our magic expert."

I realized he would let me take the lead not just because I was the magic expert but because he wanted me to feel in control of something. For a control freak like me, I didn't feel in control of very much lately. But I got out; we closed the doors, locked it, and walked through the Nevada dark to the house of Phoebe Billings, high priestess and witch.