We'd spent the last several hours at the emergency room. The ambulance attendants insisted I see a doctor, and Larry needed three small stitches in his forehead. His orangey hair fell forward and hid the wound. His first scar. The first of many if he stayed in this business and hung around me.
"You've been on the job, what, fourteen hours? What do you think so far?" I asked.
He glanced at me sideways, then back to the road. He smiled, but it didn't look funny. "I don't know."
"Do you want to be an animator when you graduate?"
"I thought I did," he said.
Honesty; a rare talent. "Not sure now?"
"Not really."
I let it rest there. My instinct was to talk him out of it. To tell him to go into some sane, normal business. But I knew that raising the dead wasn't just a job choice. If your "talent" was strong enough, you had to raise the dead or risk the power coming out at odd moments. Does the term roadkill mean anything to you? It meant something to my stepmother Judith. Of course, she wasn't pleased with my job. She thought it was gruesome. What could I say? She was right.
"There are other job choices for a preternatural biology degree."
"What? A zoo, exterminator?"
"Teacher," I said, "park ranger, naturalist, field biologist, researcher."
"And which of those jobs can make you this kind of money?" he asked.
"Is money the only reason you want to be an animator?" I was disappointed.
"I want to do something to help people. What better than using my specialized skills to rid the world of dangerous undead?"
I stared at him. All I could see was his profile in the darkened car, face underlit from the dashboard. "You want to be a vampire executioner, not an animator." I didn't try to keep the surprise out of my voice.
"My ultimate goal, yes."
"Why?"
"Why do you do it?"
I shook my head. "Answer the question, Larry."
"I want to help people."
"Then be a policeman; they need people on the force who know preternatural creatures."
"I thought I did pretty good tonight."
"You did."
"Then what's wrong?"
I tried to think how to phrase it in fifty convincing words or less. "What happened tonight was awful, but it gets worse."
"Olive's coming up; which way do I turn?"
"Left."
The car took the exit and slid into the turning lane. We sat at the light with the turn signal blinking in the dark.
"You don't know what you're getting into," I said.
"Then tell me," he said.
"I'll do better than that. I'll show you."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Turn right at the third light."
We rolled into the parking lot. "First building on the right."
Larry slid into the only open space he could find. My parking space. My poor little Nova wouldn't be coming back to it.
I took off my jacket in the darkness of the car. "Hit the overhead light," I said.
He did as he was told. He was better at following orders than I was. Which, since he'd be following my orders, was fine.
I showed him the scars on my arms. "The cross-shaped burn is from human servants who thought it was funny. The mound of scar tissue at the bend of my arm is where a vampire tore my arm to pieces. Physical therapist says it's a miracle that I got full use of my arm back. Fourteen stitches from a human servant, and that's just my arms."
"There's more?" His face looked pale and strange in the dome light.
"A vampire shoved the broken end of a stake in my back."
He winced.
"And my collarbone was broken at the same time my arm got chewed up."
"You're trying to scare me."
"You bet," I said.
"I won't be scared off."
Tonight should have scared him off without my showing him my scars. But it hadn't. Dammit, he'd stick, if he didn't get killed first. "All right, you're staying for the rest of the semester, great, but promise me you won't go hunting vampires without me."
"But Mr. Burke..."
"He helps execute vampires, but he doesn't hunt them alone."
"What's the difference between an execution and a hunt?"
"An execution just means a body that needs staking, or a vampire that's all nice and chained up waiting for the final stroke."
"Then what's a hunt?" he asked.
"When I go back out after the vampires that nearly killed us tonight, that's a hunt."
"And you don't trust Mr. Burke to teach me to hunt?"
"I don't trust Mr. Burke to keep you alive."
Larry's eyes widened.
"I don't mean he'd deliberately hurt you. I mean I don't trust anybody but me with your life."
"You think it'll come down to that?"
"It damn near did."
He was quiet for a handful of minutes. He stared down at his hands that were smoothing back and forth over the steering wheel. "I promise not to go vampire hunting with anybody but you." He stared at me, blue, blue eyes studying my face. "Not even Mr. Rodriguez? Mr. Vaughn said he taught you."
"Manny did teach me, but he doesn't hunt vampires anymore."
"Why not?"
I met his true-blue eyes and said, "His wife's too afraid, and he's got four kids."
"You and Mr. Burke aren't married and don't have kids."
"That's right."
"Neither do I," he said.
I had to smile. Had I ever been this eager? Naw. "No one likes a smart alec, Larry."
He grinned, and it made him look about thirteen. Jesus, why wasn't he running for cover after tonight? Why wasn't I? No answers, at least none that made sense. Why did I do it? Because I was good at it, came the answer. Maybe Larry could be good at it, too. Maybe, or maybe he'd just get dead.
I got out of the car and leaned back in the open door. "Go straight home, and if you don't have an extra cross, buy one tomorrow."
"Okay," he said.
I shut the door on his solemn, earnest face. I walked up the stairs and didn't look back. I didn't watch him drive away, still alive, still eager after his first brush with the monsters. I was only four years older than he was. Four years. It felt like centuries. I had never been that green. My mother's death when I was eight saw to that. It takes the edge off the shiny brightness to lose a parent early.
I was still going to try to talk Larry out of being a vampire executioner, but if all else failed, I'd work with him. There are only two kinds of vampire hunters: good ones and dead ones. Maybe I could make Larry one of the good ones. It beat the hell out of the alternative.
Chapter 26
It was 3:34, Friday morning. It had been a long week. Of course, when hadn't it been a long week this year? I had told Bert to hire more help. He hired Larry. Why didn't that make me happy? Because Larry was just another victim waiting for the right monster. Please keep him safe, God, please. I'd had about as many innocents die on me as I thought I could handle.
The hallway had that middle-of-the-night feel to it. The only sounds were the hush of the heating vents, the muffled sound of my Nike Airs on the carpeting. It was too late for my day-living neighbors to stay up, and too early for them to get up. Two hours before dawn, you get privacy.
I opened my brand-new burglarproof lock and stepped into the darkness of my apartment. I hit the lights and flooded the white walls, carpet, couch, and chair with bright light. No matter how good your night vision is, everyone likes light. We're creatures of the daylight, no matter what we do for a living.
I threw my jacket on the kitchen counter. It was too dirty to toss on the white couch. I had mud and bits of weed plastered all over me. But very little blood; the night had turned out all right.
I was slipping out of the shoulder holster when I felt it. The air currents had moved, as if something had moved through them. Just like that I knew I wasn't alone.
My hand was on the gun butt when Edward's voice came out of the darkness of my bedroom. "Don't, Anita."
I hesitated, fingers touching the gun. "And if I do?"
"I'll shoot you. You know I'll do it." His voice was that soft, sure predatory sound. I'd seen him use flamethrowers when his voice sounded like that. Smooth and calm as the road to Hell.
I eased away from my gun. Edward would shoot me if I forced him to. Better not to force it, not yet. Not yet.