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And the comparisons continue once inside.
The elevator opens onto a large, open space filled with desks and populated, even at this early hour, by the league of human psychics whose work funds the operation. Perched on the corner of one of the desks, head bent in conversation with a woman I don't recognize, is someone I do.
"Good morning, Sorrel," I say.
The woman turns and flashes a smile, her calm blue eyes taking their measure of me. She reminds me of Cinderella, tall, wispy, blond. But this Cinderella is dressed to the nines in a Do
Sorrel is blind, though you wouldn't know it to watch her. She's also an empath. "One of these days you're going to have to teach me that trick."
She laughs. “Trick? No. It's a talent. And like most talents, all it takes is practice and concentration." She flutters manicured ringers. "It's all in the air, A
I mimic her fluttering fingers. "So my staying up all night was out there floating in the ether?"
"No, but your weariness is. That's what I feel. I can make it better, you know."
Her gift is to bestow serenity. She tried it on me once. It worked. It also erased the edge I need to do the things I do. For me to survive, that's not an option.
I don't need to explain this to her, she knows and understands.
Sorrel smiles. "It's always nice to see you, A
Even without trying, her gift comes through. Her smile lifts my spirits.
She turns back to the conversation I interrupted and I make my way to the offices that line the rear wall. Williams' door is open and he looks up briefly at my approach and waves me in before returning to his reading.
Williams is seated behind a metal desk, his head bent in concentration. He's tall, lean, looks fiftyish because he has his dark hair professionally streaked with gray. Today he's not wearing cop clothes but jeans, a brown leather bomber jacket, a pair of worn Nikes on his feet and a pink polo shirt.
A pink shirt?
He looks up from the paper he had been studying and touches a hand self-consciously to his chest, frowning. It was a gift from my wife. What's wrong with it?
Williams' wife is human. She knows her husband's true nature and accepts it. There are many in the supernatural community "married" to mortals, a concept I can't quite wrap my head around. Still, it strikes me as amusing that this powerful old vamp is concerned that I'm disparaging his wife over the color of a shirt. Amusing and touching, at the same time.
He reads all this because I let my thoughts project to him. I happen to like pink. His tone is just this side of defensive.
I raise an eyebrow and drop into a chair. It's definitely your color.
His expression softens. "Love," he says, "makes a vampire do strange things." Then he looks at me, really looks at me for the first time. He lets the paper drop onto the desk and frowns at me. "You need to feed. And you've had no sleep for twenty-four hours. I need you sharp, A
The hair on my neck bristles. Does he have a direct line to Sorrel? "I can handle any assignment you throw at me. I think I've proven that."
He holds up a conciliatory hand, but the grim expression remains unchanged. "The rogue I'm sending you after is powerful and crafty. He's attributed with many deaths. He's only been a vampire for ten years but he killed as a human and his taste for it has grown with his power. He is operating in San Diego now and attracting the attention of the Revengers. We need to get to him fast."
The Revengers are a secret organization of human avengers whose sole purpose is to seek out and kill vampires. If this rogue is in their sights, why not let them pull the trigger?
He frowns. That should be obvious, A
He's right. When I had been a vampire only one day, they almost got me.
And there is a second obvious reason: if we are seen as weak and unable to police our own, it strengthens their resolve that they should.
He's glaring at me again. "But this one won't be easy to kill, especially if you're not up to it."
This time I temper my reply. "All right. I admit I haven't had any sleep and I do need to feed. But I can use both to my advantage." I let him read what happened with our skip in San Francisco. "The blood drive is strong in me today."
Williams closes his thoughts to me, studies me with gray green eyes as fathomless as the ocean. You are waiting too long between feedings, he says at last.
I wave a hand. Perhaps. It 't be helped. I went to Beso de la Muerte, but there were no hosts.
He responds with a growl of disapproval. A
It's been three months since I was turned, and it seems like I've heard this same thing every damned day. It grows tiresome. Maybe after a hundred years, I'll be comfortable with the idea that I should keep a human around to feed from once or twice a month like some pet.
Maybe.
But I don't think so. I let my irritation show.
Can we please get back to the job?
I expect another heated torrent about my feeding habits. To my surprise and relief, however, Williams lets it go. An indication how important stopping this rogue must be.
He hands me a piece of paper with a police artist's sketch of a man in his late forties, light skin, dark eyes, gray hair brushed back from a thin face. "Simon Fisher," he says. "Five foot nine, 175 pounds. Wanted in three states. He brought his last two victims to the hidden caves in La Jolla. You know the place?"
I look up from the sketch and nod. "Can I find him there now?"
Williams glances at his watch. "If my sources are correct, he'll be there within the hour. He was spotted leaving his apartment with a female twenty minutes ago. He likes to kill them at dawn."
I fold the paper and shove it into a pocket in my jeans. I'd better go.
Williams rises when I do. Be careful, A
His eyes are serious. He's telling me I can't stake the bastard. I've only had to do this once before and I remember what it was like.
Can you handle it?
I blow out a breath. I know why leaving a body is important. It allows the police to close the case and the victims' grieving families to get closure. But the cost to the vampire who is performing this public service is high. I feel my stomach start to churn.
Still, I nod. I do this to learn to control the beast and to understand the consequences if I should fail.
I'm at the door to the office when my thoughts turn to Max. I look back at Williams. "Do you have any contacts at the DEA?"
"I'm the police chief of a major metropolitan city. I have contacts everywhere."
I think I've offended him. Vampires, especially old ones, seem to be very thin-ski
He doesn't answer, but waves his hand in a "get on with it" gesture.
Quickly, I fill him in on Max and what he's involved in. "I'd like to know more about Martinez. He seems to be eluding both the Feds and the Mexican Federales. Maybe I can do something to help."