Sucker Punch (Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter 27)

“Brunette would be dark enough,” he said, still smiling at her.

She wiggled her eyebrows at him, which meant she was teasing, but enjoying it anyway. I looked into her gray-blue eyes and knew that as long as she stayed away from colored contacts, she was still safe from Olaf’s darker intentions. It helped me fight the tension that was trying to build in my shoulders.

Apparently, I wasn’t the only one who wanted to change the conversation. “You know how to fight, Blake,” Livingston said.

“Thanks. Just part of the job,” I said.

“No, it’s not,” Newman said. “We’re not supposed to get that up close with any of the supernaturals.”

I looked up at him and nodded. “True, but then I don’t think I’ve ever been on a lycanthrope—Therianthrope—case where we managed to get the rogue in a cage. Usually we’re hunting them and they’re hunting us, so we shoot them before they get that close.”

“So, you don’t learn serious hand-to-hand fighting for the job?” Kaitlin asked.

“Not in official training,” I said.

“Where’d you learn it?” she asked.

“Ted started teaching me, um, Marshal Ted Forrester. He was one of my mentors back when I first started.”

“You were one of the first, weren’t you?” Livingston said.

“Vampire executioners?” I asked.

“Is that what they called you at first?”

“No, we were just vampire hunters. The job title didn’t change until after the law changed and made vampires legal citizens with rights. You can’t hunt citizens like animals, so they started calling us executioners.”

“Wikipedia says that the vampires nicknamed you the Executioner. Is that true?” Livingston asked.

I nodded.

A waitress with long dark hair pulled back in a ponytail came up to fill our water glasses and hand out menus.

“Hi, I’m Hazel, and I’ll be serving you today.”

I looked at her name tag, and it did read HAZEL, which was an unusual enough name that she had to be the waitress Carmichael, the Marchands’ handyman, was dating. We hadn’t been waiting so long because of slow service; we’d been waiting for our potential witness to be free to wait on us. Brownie points to Livingston. Dating the manager hadn’t just gotten us a table; it had gotten us another person of interest.

Knowing who the waitress was made me notice her more. Hazel had hazel eyes that had more gray in the brown than green, as if the original color had faded. I wondered if her parents had known ahead of time that Hazel’s eye color would fade, or if she’d been born with her eyes that way. Was that even possible? Something had etched harsh lines at the corners of her eyes and the edges of her mouth like unhappy parentheses, but even with that, I put her on the young side of thirty-five. She seemed hard-lived rather than old. I caught a faint whiff of cigarettes as she moved around the table. Ah, a smoker; that will age the face and skin. She probably couldn’t even smell the bitter scent of it on herself anymore, but a nonsmoker like me, I couldn’t not smell it.

I’d have started interrogating her, but Livingston ordered his food, which meant the rest of us had to look at our menus ASAP. For future reference, I hate to be rushed when choosing food, especially at new restaurants. I ended up ordering pancakes, because pancakes are like coffee. They’re all good; it’s just a matter of how good. A side order of extra-crispy bacon, orange juice, a regular Coke, and coffee and I was set.

“Think you ordered enough caffeine?” Kaitlin said, smiling.

“Probably not,” I said.

That made her laugh. I was beginning to wonder whether she was just that cheerful or she was flirting with me. I wasn’t always able to tell when women aimed at me. The fact that women were included in my poly group at home still caught me by surprise sometimes. I was beginning to think that if I hadn’t been metaphysically connected to Jean-Claude and a half dozen other people who preferred women, I might not have ever found the same sex attractive. But then again, maybe I was just a late bloomer.

Olaf ordered an omelet with mostly meat in it, a side of fruit, and coffee. I wondered if he’d have ordered differently if we’d had more time to look the menu over. I know I probably would have.

When Hazel left with our orders in hand, Livingston took up the conversation as if we’d never stopped. “So, you’re the Executioner to the vampires.”

“Among other pet names, yeah,” I said, and sipped my water. Nathaniel was starting to pester me about not drinking enough water.

“Doesn’t that make marrying their king sort of awkward?”

“I thought it would, but it turns out that they’re used to being afraid of their rulers, so me being their bogeyman and their queen will probably seem like business as usual to them.”