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Under normal circumstances the man’s body would have been in the vampire room, and there would have been no problem, but I had promised them that he was safe. I was their expert, the one they called to stake the dead. If I said a body was safe, they believed me. And I’d been wrong. God help me, I’d been wrong.
Chapter 16
St. Louis City Hospital sat like a stubby brick giant in the middle of a combat zone. Walk a few blocks south and you could see Tony Award-wi
Broken windows decorated the ground like shattered teeth.
The hospital, like a lot of i
The room had been designed in the early 1900s when people still thought they could find a cure for vampirism. Lock a vampire in the vault, watch it rise and try to “cure” it. A lot of vamps cooperated because they wanted to be cured. Dr. Henry Mulligan had pioneered the search for a cure. The program was discontinued when one of the patients ate Dr. Mulligan’s face.
So much for helping the poor misunderstood vampire.
But the vault room was still used for most vampire victims. Mostly as a precaution, because these days when a vamp rose there was a vampire counsellor waiting to guide the newly risen to civilized vampirehood.
I had forgotten about the vampire counsellor. It was a pioneer program that’d only been in effect a little over a month. Would an older vampire be able to control an animalistic vampire, or would it take a master vampire to control it? I didn’t know. I just didn’t know.
Dolph had his gun out and ready. Without silver-plated bullets, it was better than spitting at the monster, but barely. Zerbrowski held the shotgun like he knew how to use it. There were four uniformed officers at my back. All with guns, all ready to blast undead ass. So why wasn’t I comforted? Because nobody else had any freaking silver bullets, except me.
The double glass doors swooshed open automatically. Seven guns were trained on the door as it moved. My fingers were all cramped up trying not to shoot the damn door.
One of the uniforms swallowed a laugh. Nervous, who us?
“All right,” Dolph said, “there are civilians in here. Don’t shoot any of them.”
One of the uniforms was blond. His partner was black and much older. The other two uniforms were in their twenties: one ski
Each policeman had a cross-shaped tie tack. They were the latest style and standard issue for the St. Louis police. The crosses would help, maybe even keep them alive.
I hadn’t had time to get my crucifix’s chain replaced. I was wearing a charm bracelet that dangled with tiny crosses. I was also wearing an anklet chain, not just because it matched the bracelet, but if anything unusual happened tonight, I wanted to have a backup.
It’s sort of a tossup which I’d least like to live without, cross or gun. Better to have both.
“You got any suggestions about how we should do this, Anita?” Dolph asked.
It wasn’t too long ago that the police wouldn’t have been called in at all. The good ol’ days when vampires were left to a handful of dedicated experts. Back when you could just stake a vamp and be done with it. I had been one of the few, the proud, the brave, the Executioner.
“We could form a circle, guns pointing out. It would up our chances of not getting snuck up on.”
The blond cop said, “Won’t we hear it coming?”
“The undead make no noise,” I said.
His eyes widened.
“I’m kidding, officer,” I said.
“Hey,” he said softly. He sounded offended. I guess I didn’t blame him.
“Sorry,” I said.
Dolph frowned at me.
“I said I was sorry.”
“Don’t tease the rookies,” Zerbrowski said. “I bet this is his first vampire.”
The black cop made a sound between a laugh and a snort. “His first day, period.”
“Jesus,” I said. “Can he wait out in the car?”
“I can handle myself,” the blond said.
“It’s not that,” I said, “but isn’t there some kind of union rule against vampires on the first day?”
“I can take it,” he said.
I shook my head. His first fucking day. He should have been out directing traffic somewhere, not playing tag with the walking dead.
“I’ll take point,” Dolph said. “Anita to my right.” He pointed two fingers at the black cop and the blond. “You two on my left.” He pointed at the last two uniforms. “Behind Ms. Blake. Zerbrowski, take the back.”
“Gee, thanks, Sarge,” he muttered.
I almost let it go, but I couldn’t. “I’m the only one with silver ammo. I should have point,” I said.
“You’re a civvie, Anita,” Dolph said.
“I haven’t been a civvie for years and you know it.”
He looked at me for a long second, then nodded. “Take point, but if you get killed, my ass is grass.”
I smiled. “I’ll try to remember that.”
I stepped out in front, a little ahead of the others. They formed a rough circle behind me. Zerbrowski gave me a thumbs-up sign. It made me smile. Dolph gave the barest of nods. It was time to go inside. Time to stalk the monster.
Chapter 17
The walls were two-tone green. Dark khaki on the bottom, puke green on top. Institutional green, as charming as a sore tooth. Huge steam pipes, higher than my head, covered the walls. The pipes were painted green, too. They narrowed the hallway to a thin passageway.
Electrical conduit pipes were a thi
The walls were lumpy where they’d been painted over without being scraped first. If you dug at the walls, layer after layer of different color would come up, like the strata in an archaeological dig. Each color had its own history, its own memories of pain.
It was like being in the belly of a great ship. Except instead of the roar of engines, you had the beat of nearly perfect silence. There are some places where silence hangs in heavy folds. St. Louis City Hospital was one of those places.
If I’d been superstitious, which I am not, I would have said the hospital was the perfect place for ghosts. There are different kinds of ghosts. The regular kind are spirits of the dead left behind when they should have gone to Heaven or Hell. Theologians had been arguing over what the existence of ghosts meant for God and the church for centuries. I don’t think God is particularly bothered by it, but the church is.
Enough people had died in this place to make it thick with real ghosts, but I’d never seen any personally. Until a ghost wraps its cold arms around me, I’d just as soon not believe in it.
But there is another kind of ghost. Psychic impressions, strong emotions, soak into the walls and floors of a building. It’s like an emotional tape recorder. Sometimes with video images, sometimes just sound, sometimes just a shiver down your spine when you walk over a certain spot.
The old hospital was thick with shivery places. I personally had never seen or heard anything, but walking down the hallway you knew somewhere, near at hand, there was something. Something waiting just out of sight, just out of hearing, just out of reach. Tonight it was probably a vampire.
The only sounds were the scrape of feet, the brush of cloth, us moving. There was no other sound. When it’s really quiet you start hearing things even if it’s just the buzz of your own blood pounding in your ears.
The first corner loomed before me. I was point. I’d volunteered to be point. I had to go around the corner first. Whatever lay around the bend, it was mine. I hate it when I play hero.