Sneaking a look around the corner, I could see the two officers, back to back, weapons out—one had a gun, the other a crossbow. Both of them looked wild-eyed and on the verge of panic, waiting for an imminent attack.
“I don’t know!” Lopez, the one with the gun, called back. “There were three—”
“—four,” the other cop said. “Four of them.”
“I don’t know, three or four of them, I thought we were finished. But they just disappeared.”
I still hated when vampires did that. Reflexively, I looked behind, up, all around, waiting for another shadow to move and strike.
“They won’t have gone far,” Hardin said. “Keep watching.”
Again, I turned my nose to the air. I had other ways of watching. They were here. I could smell them, even differentiate individuals. They had different flavors to their scents, but I couldn’t quite identify them. Part of it was the nature of the place—it all belonged to vampires. We could get rid of them all, bulldoze the building and plant a garden, and some of that undeadness would still linger.
We stayed like that, stalled in place, waiting for shadows to strike.
Finally, Hardin said, “Well? We scare them off or what?” She smelled of nervous sweat, but her manner was calm. Lopez and his partner didn’t believe it—they remained back-to-back, tense and ready.
I wasn’t willing to make any guesses. The street was quiet. Nothing could possibly happen on a street this quiet.
“I’m going to go back to check on Kramer,” Hardin said. “Call me—”
Lopez fired another shot.
“Would you stop doing that!” And there was Charlie, yelling at the officer and rubbing at a smoking bullet hole in his T-shirt. He came around the corner and dropped a body—vampiric, male, built like a fighter—in front of us. He looked me up and down. “What are you doing here?”
Hardin’s cops trailed after him, still tense to the point of quivering.
“Where’s Rick?” I shot back. “Where’s Ben? Ben was coming to help but I don’t see his car—”
“Rick’s downstairs. I need your help, Violet’s hurt.”
“Wait a minute, is this another vampire or what?” Hardin said.
“He’s one of the good guys.” I think. “Charlie, Detective Hardin, Detective, Charlie. So is that guy dead or what?” A dead vampire decomposed. This one hadn’t, so what was he, knocked out?
How do you knock out a vampire?
But Charlie didn’t answer. He grabbed my shoulder and pulled me around the opposite corner.
Lopez pleaded with Hardin, “What the hell is going on?”
“I don’t know. Follow Kitty’s lead, keep your eyes open.”
Propped against the wall, safe in a shadow, lay Violet. A glistening trail streaked the front of her black shirt—blood, streaming from a gash in her neck. Something had ripped half her throat out—vertebrae were visible. The shredded wound wasn’t bleeding anymore—all the blood had drained out. Lopez turned away, a hand covering his mouth.
Her eyes were closed; she didn’t move. I couldn’t tell if she was dead. More dead. All vampires smelled dead. It looked like all the blood she’d borrowed—that was why vampires drank, to replace the blood they’d lost when they were turned—had spilled out, and maybe she was gone forever this time.
Charlie knelt by her and tenderly cradled her in his lap. “Violet, Violet baby, I brought help. Stay with me now, okay?” He stroked her cheeks, her hair, clutched her hand, and she didn’t respond. “Kitty’s going to help, okay? Hang on for me, baby.”
“What can I do?” I murmured, my heart breaking over the scene.
Charlie looked at me. “She needs blood so she can heal. Strong blood.”
Of course she did. She didn’t even need much, a mouthful or so. I’d seen how this worked.
“Do I have to?” I said, wincing.
“Please. Just a little.” I’d never seen such a look of pleading on anyone’s face, much less a vampire’s.