“Let it go, Kitty,” Hardin said. Then, “Sunglasses.”
“What?”
/> “You think sunglasses would work against that hypnotic crap?” She pulled a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of her pocket and went through the ritual of lighting up. Her gestures were manic, determined.
“I don’t know.”
Officer Sawyer handed her a manila folder, which she handed to me. Then she gathered her people around her: four uniformed officers who looked ready for war. I was frankly dumbstruck.
Nodding at the four officers, all men, all tough-looking, she said, “Tell them what you told me. Everything you know about what to expect from the vampires.”
I repeated it all, every bit of vampire lore I knew, everything I had seen with my own eyes. They were strong, they could drop grown men without effort, they could control your will simply by looking into your eyes. They were hard to kill. They had the experience of decades. Arturo had centuries behind him. How could I make them understand that?
The officers stared back at me, just as eager, just as ready. They’d heard what I’d said, but I wasn’t sure they understood it. This must have looked like some kind of video game to them. I was sending them to their doom.
Hardin followed up with instructions. “Don’t get separated. Stick with your partner, keep your eyes on each other. You see someone in trouble, call for backup. I don’t want big heroics on this. We’re dealing with unknowns here.”
We’d go in three cars. Hardin directed one of the patrol cars to stop in front, while hers and another parked in back. No flashing lights or sirens. We’d sneak in.
“They’ll know,” I said. “Before we even get out of the car.”
“Then we’ll be ready for them,” she said, confident.
We’re all gonna die, a voice in me wailed. Not the Wolf. I could tell, because the Wolf was urging me on. We must destroy those who harm us. We must do battle.
I didn’t know which instincts to listen to anymore.
chapter 15
During the drive, I flipped through the file folder containing the information about Mercedes Cook. The police had managed to cull a handful of photos from the hotel’s security cameras—digital images printed out on plain paper. They showed her in the hotel, mostly, interacting with the staff, entertaining visitors, many of them recognizable local celebrities. Some of the pictures were blurry—like the closed-circuit footage from the convenience store robberies. Vampires, not wanting to be seen. Maybe Arturo.
One of them stopped me cold. In it, I recognized the hallway outside Mercedes’s suite at the Brown Palace. A man was entering the room, his head up, his face clear. He held himself with a confidence that showed he belonged there. He knew what he was doing, and he had a plan. The man was deeply tanned, with sun-burnished blond hair and rugged, windblown skin.
It was Dack. I remembered now what he’d said: It’s a good thing, having a vampire owe you a favor. You want to be with the strongest. And he hadn’t answered when I asked if that was Rick. Evidently, he didn’t think so. With a sinking feeling, I realized that we’d found the spy in Rick’s camp. And I had no way to reach Rick to tell him, not if he wasn’t answering his phone. Dack was there, with him now, no doubt preparing to stab him in the back. And Ben was there, too.
The whole thing had fallen apart. I wondered if it was too late to grab Ben and run away.
“You recognize that guy,” Hardin said, glancing over.
“Yeah. I think we’re all screwed.”
“We’ll see about that. He a vampire, too?”
“No. He’s a lycanthrope.”
“Everyone’s got silver bullets this time. I checked.”
“Great. I’ll make sure I’m standing behind you all.”
“Probably a good idea.”
This was insane.
I called Rick again, to tell him about Dack, but he still didn’t answer. Then I called Ben. Who didn’t answer.
Obsidian was in a nicer part of downtown, a street filled with chic restaurants and funky boutiques, halfway between artsy and gentrified. The art gallery was a front; the interesting bit was the basement. Stairs around back led to the heart of Arturo’s empire.
I checked where Rick had told us to park, and Ben’s car wasn’t there. Ben wasn’t there. Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe it was all already over. Maybe they were okay.