Cerulean Sins (15 page)

“Jason,” I said, and the one word was warning enough.

“Fine, be that way, but who else are you going to put in Nathaniel's place while he recovers?”

I sighed. “Damn it.”

“See, you don't know, do you?”

“I can feed on Asher now.”

“Yes, but he's not going to wake up for hours and hours. You need some more day-walking donors, Anita. It doesn't have to be me, but it has to be somebody. Think about it. But today I am your escort, because you can't go out alone, not with the blood loss, and whatever the hell Asher did to you. You could call Micah, but by the time he drove out here, and the two of you drove out to wherever the police want to be, I think your police friends would be having fits.”

“Fine, you've made your point.”

“Have I? It's always so hard to tell with you. Sometimes I think I've won the argument, then you get a second wind and beat me all to hell with it.”

“Just go, Jason, put some bandages on the scrapes.”

“Scrapes hell, if I were human, you'd be taking me to the emergency room. Remember, Anita, you have some of the strength of both a vampire and a werewolf. We can punch our finger through someone's ribs.”

“Are you really hurt?” I asked, all joking aside, I didn't want him hurt.

“Not permanently, but it'll heal almost human slow.”

“I'm sorry, Jason.” I remembered enough to say, “And thanks for taking care of me.”

His grin faded, and something close to a serious look spilled through his eyes, then it was gone, hidden behind another smile. “All in a day's work, ma'am.” He tipped an imaginary hat and started to shut the door. “I'd turn on the lamp before I close the door, it's damn dark without windows.”

I reached over and switched on a small lamp beside the clock, on top of the little refrigerator. The glow seemed unnaturally bright.

“Your cell phone is on the floor on my side of the bed. I dropped it when you started convulsing.”

“I was not convulsing,” I said.

“Oh, sorry, I dropped it when you had your raging, overwhelming, screaming orgasm. Was that better? It sounded better didn't it?”

“Go clean up,” I said, sounding grumpy when I said it.

He was laughing as he closed the door.

I was left alone with the little lamp, the big bed, and no clothes in sight. I was about to debate on whether to try and find some clothes before hunting up my phone, when it rang again. I scrambled across the bed, jerking the sheets off so they wouldn't tangle me. I half slid, half fell to the floor and found my phone by sitting on it.

It was Dolph, and he wasn't happy. While he'd been waiting for me, there had been a second call, to a second crime scene. He was pissed with Jason's antics on the phone, with both crime scenes, and especially, it seemed, with me.

T
HE FIRST CRIME
scene was in Wildwood, that new bastion of money and social climbing. The hot addresses used to be Ladue, Clayton, Creve Coeur, but they've all become passé. Nope, the hot new place to be is Wildwood. The fact that it's in the middle of freaking nowhere doesn't seem to dissuade the nouveau riche, or wanna-be rich. Personally, the only reason I lived in the middle of nowhere, at a much less fashionable address, was the fact that I didn't want to get my neighbors shot up.

By the time Jason had driven through all the windy roads that led to the murder scene, we'd found out several things. First, my eyes were light sensitive, so my sunglasses were my friends. Second, my stomach didn't like the twisting roads. We hadn't had to stop so I could throw up, which was good, since unless we pulled into someone's drive, there was no shoulder to the road. It was bordered by woods, hills, tame wilderness, where real wolves no longer roam and even the black bears have found deeper holes to hide in.

Normally I love a drive through the country. Today all the bright greens meant was that when my vision swirled, it did it in Technicolor green like a frog smeared across my vision, which actually made the nausea worse.

“How can you endure this?” I asked.

“If you'd slept the day away like a normal
pomme de sang
or human servant, you wouldn't be sick at all.”

“Forgive me for having a day job.”

“Also if Asher had taken enough for just a feeding, then you might be a bit sick,” he negotiated a turn, “but I think that whatever Asher did to you
along with taking blood made it worse.” He paused. “Truthfully, you shouldn't be this sick, at all.”

We crested the rise, and the soft hills stretched out for miles, shades of green with a hint of gold here and there.

“At least I'm not nauseous, anymore when I look at the trees.”

“That's good, but I mean it, Anita. After you'd slept, and then gotten up and around, you should have been fine.” He took the next curve carefully, a lot slower than he'd taken the first one.

“So what went wrong?” I asked.

He shrugged, and slowed even further, trying to see the address on a cluster of mailboxes.

“Dolph said the crime scene was on the main road. You won't miss it, Jason.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Trust me.”

He flashed me another grin, his own blue eyes hidden behind mirrored sunglasses. “I do trust you.”

“What went wrong?” I asked again.

“What were you doing when dawn broke?” he asked, speeding back up and taking the next curve a little faster than I would have liked.

“The
ardeur
, Asher was feeding, and . . .” I hesitated only for a second, “having sex.”

“With both of them at once,” he said, voice mock serious, “I am so disappointed in you, Anita.”

“Disappointed why?”

“That I wasn't invited.”

“You are so lucky you're driving right now.”

He grinned, but didn't turn away from the road this time. “Why do you think I said it while I was driving?” He slowed. “I see what you meant about not missing it.”

I turned my attention from Jason's face to the road. Police cars, marked and unmarked, were everywhere. Two emergency vehicles were parked on the edge of the road, which effectively blocked traffic. If we'd been planning to drive farther on, we'd have had to find another way around. But lucky us, we were stopping here.

Jason pulled the Jeep over, driving into the grass in a vain attempt to leave some space for anyone else that might be coming behind us.

A uniformed officer started walking towards us before Jason had turned off the engine. I got my badge out of my suit jacket pocket. I, Anita Blake, vampire executioner, was technically a federal marshal. All vampire hunters that were currently state licensed in the United States had been
grandfathered in to federal status, if they could qualify on a shooting range. I'd qualified, and now I was a fed. They were still arguing in Washington, D.C., about whether they'd be able to give us anything more than the pittance that each state pays us per kill, which is not enough so you could afford to do it as a day job. But then, luckily the vampires haven't gotten so out of hand that any state needed a vampire hunter full time.

I wasn't getting any more money, so why had I wanted the badge? Because it meant I could chase the vampires, or other supernatural bad guys, across state lines, different law enforcement jurisdictions, and not have to ask anyone's permission. I also wouldn't be up on murder charges if I killed a vamp on the wrong side of a state line where I wasn't licensed.

But for me, more than most vampire hunters, there was an extra benefit to having a badge of my very own. I no longer had to rely on policemen friends to get me into crime scenes.

I didn't know the uniformed officer that was about to knock on our Jeep window, but it didn't matter. He couldn't keep me out of the crime scene. I was a federal marshal—I could stick my nose into any preternaturally related crime I wanted to. A real federal marshal could have intruded into any investigation, and technically my badge didn't specify that I was relegated to preternatural crime, but I know my limitations. I know monsters, and monster-related crime. A regular cop I am not. What I'm good at, I'm very good at, but what I don't know shit about, I don't know shit about. Take me away from the monsters and I wasn't sure how much use I'd be.

I was out of the Jeep and flashing my badge before the uniform got to us. He sized me up the way men will do from shoes to face—in that order. Any man who starts at my feet and then goes up has lost pretty much any chance he has to impress me.

I read his name tag, “Officer Jenkins, I'm Anita Blake. Lieutenant Storr is expecting me.”

“Storr isn't here,” he said, arms crossed over his chest.

Great, he didn't recognize my name—so much for being a celebrity—and he was going to play ‘don't want the feds pissing in my pond!'

Jason had gotten out on his side of the Jeep. Maybe I looked a little disreputable in my slightly wrinkled suit, with a run in my hose that went from toe to thigh, but Jason didn't look like a fed, or a cop. He was dressed in blue jeans that had faded through enough washings to be comfortable, a blue T-shirt that almost matched his eyes, still hidden behind the mirrored shades, and white jogging shoes. It had turned out to be one of those unusually warm fall days we get sometimes. Too warm for his leather jacket, so he hadn't bothered with anything else. The white gauze and tape on his forearms were very noticeable.

He leaned on the hood of the Jeep, smiling pleasantly and looking so not like a federal anything.

Officer Jenkins's eyes flicked to Jason, then back to me. “We didn't call the feds in.”

Standing there in my three-inch heels on the slightly uneven road was making me feel light-headed again. I did not have the patience, or the strength, to debate.

“Officer Jenkins, I am a federal marshal, do you know what that means?”

“Nope,” he said, making the word longer than it was.

“It means that I don't need your permission to enter this crime scene. I don't need anybody's permission. So it doesn't matter if the lieutenant is here or not. I told you who alerted me to this crime out of courtesy, but if you don't want to be courteous, officer, then we don't have to be.”

I turned and looked at Jason. Normally, I would have left him at the car, but I wasn't a hundred percent sure I could make it up the rest of the hill without falling over. I genuinely didn't feel well enough to be here. But here I was, and I was going to see this crime scene.

I motioned Jason to me. He came around the Jeep, his smile fading around the edges. Maybe I looked as pale as I felt.

“Let's go.”

“He's not a fed,” Jenkins said.

I'd had enough of Jenkins. If I'd been feeling better I would have bullied our way through, but . . . there were other ways to bully.

I waited until Jason was there to steady me, then I moved my hair to one side showing the white gauze and tape on my own neck. I pulled on one side of the tape until it peeled down, and I could flash the bite at Jenkins. It wasn't a neat puncture wound. Asher had gotten carried away, because the edges of the wounds were torn.

“Shiiit,” Jenkins said.

I let Jason tape the wound back up, while I talked to the other man. “I have had a hard night, Officer Jenkins, and I have the authority to go into any preternaturally related crime scene that I see fit to enter.”

The tape was smoothed back into place, and Jason was standing very close to my left arm, as if he knew how unsteady I was feeling. Jenkins didn't seem to notice.

“It isn't a vampire attack,” Jenkins said.

“Am I not speaking English here, Jenkins? Did I say it had anything to do with vampires?”

“No, sir, I mean . . . no.”

“Then either escort us to the crime scene, officer, or step aside and we'll find our own way.”

Flashing the vampire bite had thrown him, but he still didn't want a fed messing with his crime. Probably his boss wouldn't like it, but that wasn't my problem. I had a federal badge. In theory, I had the right to the crime scene. In actuality, if the local police barred my way there wasn't much I could do. I could go get a court order and force the issue, but that would take time, and I didn't have that kind of time. Dolph was already pissed at me. I didn't want to keep him waiting that long.

Jenkins finally stepped aside. We started walking up the hill. I had to take Jason's arm about halfway up. My goal in life for that moment was not to fall down, throw up, or faint, while Jenkins was still puzzling over whether he'd done the right thing letting us get past him.

M
Y BADGE ON
its little cord around my neck got us past most of the cops. The few that questioned us recognized my name, or had worked with me before. Always good to be known. They questioned Jason's presence. I finally told them that I'd deputized him.

A big statie, with shoulders wider than either of us was tall, said, “I've heard it called a lot of things, but deputy isn't one of 'em.”

I turned on him, slowly, because I couldn't move fast, and the very slowness of the turn helped the menace. It's hard to be menacing to someone when you barely reach their waist, but I have had lots of practice.

Jason must have been afraid of what I'd say, because he said, “You're just jealous.”

The big man shook his head in his Smokey the bear hat. “I like my women bigger.”

“Funny,” I said, “that's what your wife says.”

It took him a minute to get it, then he unfolded those beefy arms and took a step towards us. “Why you . . .”

“Trooper Kennedy,” a voice said from behind us, “don't you have some speeders to go catch?”

I turned to see Zerbrowski walking towards us. He was dressed in his usual—sloppy as hell, as if he'd slept in the brown suit, a yellow shirt with the collar on one side pointing up, and a tie at half-mast, already stained with something, even though he probably hadn't had breakfast. His wife, Katie, was always neat as a pin. I'd never figured out how she let him go out looking like that.

“I'm on my own time here, detective,” Trooper Kennedy said.

“And this is my crime scene, trooper. I don't think we need you here.”

“She says that she deputized him.”

“She's a federal marshal, Kennedy, she can do that.”

The big man looked perplexed. “I didn't mean anything by the comment, sir.”

“I know you didn't, Kennedy, just as Marshall Blake here didn't mean anything by hers. Did you, Anita?”

“I don't know his wife, so no, just pulling your leg, Officer Kennedy, sorry about that.”

Kennedy frowned, thinking harder than was good for him, I think. “No offense taken, and none meant, ma'am.” He couldn't quite bring himself to call me officer, or marshal, which was fine with me. The federal status was so new that I didn't always look up when someone called marshal. I kept forgetting they meant me.

When the big trooper had wandered away to his car, Zerbrowski called over one of the other detectives on the Regional Preternatural Investigation Team, affectionately know as RPIT. If you wanted to piss them off, call them RIP.

“See if you can clear out some of the personnel we don't need.”

“You got it, Sarge,” and the man went to talk with all the nice policemen from all the many jurisdictions.

“Sarge,” I said, “I knew Dolph made lieutenant finally, I didn't hear your news.”

He shrugged, running a hand through his already messy curls. Katie would make him go in for a haircut soon. “When they moved Dolph up, he needed a second whip, I got tapped.”

“They throw you a party yet?”

He adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses. They didn't need adjusting. “Yeah.”

If I'd been a man, I'd have let it go, but I was a girl, and girl's poke at things more than men. “I was invited to Dolph's party for making louie, but not yours?”

“I like Micah, Anita, but Dolph . . . didn't expect you to bring Micah. I don't think he could take seeing him at my shindig, too.”

“He just can't handle the fact that my main squeeze is a shape-shifter.”

Zerbrowski shrugged. “Katie gave me strict orders to invite you and Micah over for dinner the next time I saw you. So here it is, and when can you come over?”

There are points where you stop pushing. I didn't ask if Katie had really told Zerbrowski that, she probably had, but, whatever, he was trying to offer a social peace pipe, and I was going to take it.

“I'll ask Micah what our schedule looks like.”

His eyes flicked to Jason, and he grinned. The grin reminded me so much
of Jason's grin, that it made me wonder what Zerbrowski had been like in college, when Katie and he met. “Unless you've changed guys again?”

“No,” I said, “Jason's just a friend.”

“The friend speech,” Jason clutched his heart with his free hand, the other still wrapped around mine, “it cuts so deep.”

“Yeah, I've been trying to get into her pants for years. She just won't come across.”

“Tell me about it,” Jason said.

“Both of you, stop it, right now,” I said.

They both laughed, and the laughs were so similar that it was kind of unnerving. “I know you have the right to make him a deputy, but I know what Mr. Schulyer here is, and where his primary residence is.” Zerbrowski leaned in close enough to us that no one else would hear. “Dolph would kill me if I let him into the crime scene.”

“You catch me if I pass out, and he can stay out here.”

“Pass out,” Zerbrowski said, “you're joking, right?”

“I wish I was.” I had both hands on Jason's arm now, fighting the urge to totter on my high heels.

“Dolph said that you'd said you were sick. Did he know how sick?”

“He didn't seem to care, just wanted me to get my ass out here.”

Zerbrowski frowned. “If he'd known you were this shaky, he wouldn't have insisted.”

“Pretty to think so,” I said. I could feel the blood draining from my face. I needed to sit down, soon, just for a few minutes.

“I would ask if it's the flu, but I see the bandage on your neck. What did it?”

“Vampire,” I said.

“You want to report a crime?”

“It's been taken care of.”

“You kill his ass?”

I looked at him through the dark lenses of the glasses. “I really need to sit down for a few minutes, Zerbrowski, and you know I wouldn't ask if I didn't need it.”

He offered me his arm. “I'll escort you through, but Schulyer there can't come.” He looked at Jason. “Sorry, man.”

Jason shrugged. “It's okay, I'm really good at entertaining myself.”

“Behave yourself,” I said.

He grinned. “Don't I always?”

I would have stayed there and made sure he promised me how good he would be, but I had only about enough energy to walk into the house and sit down before my legs gave. I'd leave the police officers and emergency crews to Jason's mercy. He wouldn't do anything bad, just irritating.

I stumbled on the steps leading up to the small front porch. If Zerbrowski hadn't caught me, I'd have fallen.

“Jesus, Anita, you should be in bed.”

“That's what I told Dolph.”

He eased me through the door and found me a small straight-backed chair in the hallway. “I'll tell Dolph how sick you are and let the kid take you home.

“No,” I said, though I did lay my forehead on my knees while the world steadied around me.

“Jesus, Anita, you're as stubborn as he is. Dolph won't take
no
for an answer, so you drag your ass out of a sickbed to come down here. I give you an out, where I'll take the heat from Dolph, but nooo, you're going to show Dolph that you're just as stubborn and bullheaded as he is. You planning to faint in his arms? That'll really show him.”

“Shut up, Zerbrowski.”

“Fine, you sit there for a few minutes. I'll come back and check on you, and I'll escort you through the crime scene. But you're being stupid.”

I spoke with my face still in my lap. “If Dolph were sick, he'd still be here.”

“That doesn't prove you're right, Anita, that just proves you're
both
stupid.” With that he walked away, farther into the house. It was good that he left, because for the life of me, I couldn't have argued with him.