“Wonderful.” Then I paused. “How are you feeling?”
My own question startled me. Had I ever asked anyone that before?
It was just making nice to soothe him, I told myself. I didn’t actually care how he felt.
Did I?
“Mostly okay.” He shot me a shy look, some of the hypnosis seeming to wear off. “You said you’d walk me home?”
“Yes, of course,” I replied, feeling shaken. “After all, there are dangerous creatures roaming these streets.”
* * *
“Damn it, Cole,” Harris said an hour later, just as I settled down into bed. His voice sounded small and far away through the phone’s speaker. “I need you!”
“Calm down, detective. You know it embarrasses both of us when you gush like this. I know that I’m delightful, but—”
“There’s been a fucking murder. Asshole.”
“This is Los Angeles. There are murders all the time. Why are you calling me?”
“It was a vampire,” Harris said flatly.
I went silent for a long moment. That was unlikely, wasn’t it? The sorts of vampires who murdered their victims on a regular basis weren’t the sort who lasted long in big cities. They tended to hunt in rural areas, in out-of-the-way places. In cities, even ones without much of a vampire presence, there’s always a king or queen. They tend to frown upon murder—mostly because it makes life messy and inconvenient for them.
“Are you certain?”
“The victim has two fucking holes in his neck, Cole. And all his blood has been drained out of his body. What do you think?”
Unease tightened through me. “I’m on my way.”
* * *
The body had been dumped in a public park a few blocks off Sunset Strip. Less than a mile from my home. Was that a coincidence—or a message?
“You got here quick,” Harris remarked when I showed up less than five minutes later. I didn’t bother showing any of the forensic workers or officers credentials. Months back, I had hypnotized everyone on the police force to always welcome my presence at crime scenes—and never question why. I ducked under the yellow tape and joined Harris.
He was crouched next to the victim, a bearded man in his late thirties wearing a leather jacket and jeans. Though appearances could be deceiving, he looked like he’d been a nice enough guy.
I felt a flicker of… something.
Pity?
Impossible. People lived and they died. We were all just flesh in the end—circle of life and all that. I hadn’t felt pity for anyone in eight centuries.
Still, it unsettled me, seeing the man’s body splayed out on the ground. He’d fallen at a strange angle, his right arm bent beneath his back. The position would have been intolerably uncomfortable. Even dying, he would have moved—which meant he’d been dead before he hit the ground.
I reached forward to rotate the man’s torso, to lay him out as though he could have been sleeping. But halfway through the motion, I froze.
What was I doing?
Harris noticed, his gaze snapping up to meet mine. “Did you know this man, Cole?”
I shook my head. “No. I’ve never seen him before.”
He let out a breath that hissed between his teeth. “Fuck. I was kind of hoping he was one of yours.”
“He’s not.”
