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guns back, we'd talk about that.
Three broad steps led up to closed doors. Buzz the Vampire was guarding them. It was the worst
vampire name I'd ever heard. It wasn't great if you were human, but Buzz seemed all wrong for a
vampire. It was a great name for a bouncer. He was tall and muscle-bound with a black crew cut. He
seemed to be wearing the same black T-shirt he'd worn in July.
I knew vampires couldn't freeze to death, but I hadn't known they didn't get cold. Most vampires tried
to play human. They wore coats in the winter. Maybe they didn't need them the same way Gretchen
hadn't needed to take the knife from her throat. Maybe it was all pretend.
He smiled, flashing fangs. My reaction seemed to disappoint him. "You missed a set, Stephen. The boss
is pissed."
Stephen sort of shrank in on himself. Buzz seemed to get larger, pleased with himself. "Stephen was
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helping me. I don't think Jean-Claude will mind."
Buzz squinted at me, really seeing my face for the first time. "Shit, what happened to you?"
"If Jean-Claude wants you to know, he'll tell you," I said. I walked past him. There was a large sign on
the door: No Crosses, Crucifixes, or Other Holy Items Allowed Inside. I pushed the doors open and
kept walking, my cross securely around my neck. They could pry it from my cold dead hands if they
wanted it tonight.
Stephen stayed at my heels, almost as if he were afraid of Buzz. Buzz wasn't that old a vampire, less than
twenty years. He still had a sense of "aliveness" to him. That utter stillness that the old ones have hadn't
touched the bouncer yet. So why was a werewolf afraid of a new vampire? Good question.
It was Sunday night and the place was packed. Didn't anyone have work tomorrow? The noise washed
over us like a wave of nearly solid sound. That rich murmurous sound of many people in a small space
determined to have a good time. The lights were as bright as they ever got. The small stage empty. We
were between shows.
A blond woman greeted us at the door. "Do you have any holy items to declare?" She smiled when she
said it. The holy-item check girl.
I smiled when I said, "Nope."
She didn't question me, just smiled and walked away. A male voice said, "Just a moment, Shelia." The
tall vampire that strode towards us was lovely to look at. He had high, sculpted cheekbones, and short
blond hair styled to perfection. He was too masculine to be beautiful, and too perfect to be real. Robert
had been a stripper last time I was here. It looked as though he'd moved up into management.
Shelia waited, looking from Robert to me. "She lied to me?"
Robert nodded. "Hello, Anita."
"Hello. Are you the manager here now?"
He nodded.
I didn't like it, him being manager. He'd failed me once, or rather failed Jean-Claude's orders. Failed to
keep someone safe. That someone had died. Robert hadn't even gotten bloody trying to stop the
monsters. He should at least have gotten hurt trying. I didn't insist he die to keep people safe, but he
should have tried harder. I'd never completely trust him or forgive him.
"You are wearing a holy item, Anita. Unless on police business, you must give it to Shelia."
I glanced up at him. His eyes were blue. I glanced down, then up, and realized I could meet his eyes. He
was over a hundred years old, not nearly as powerful as Gretchen, but I shouldn't have been able to meet
his eyes.
His eyes widened. "You have to give it up. Those are the rules."
Maybe being able to look him in the eyes had given me courage, or maybe I had had enough for one
night. "Is Gretchen here?"
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He looked surprised. "Yes, she's in the back room with Jean-Claude."
"Then you can't have the cross."
"I can't let you in then. Jean-Claude is very clear on that." There was a hint of unease in his voice, almost
fear. Good.
"Take a good look at my face, Bobby-boy. Gretchen did it. If she's here, I keep the cross."
Frown lines formed between his perfect brows. "Jean-Claude said no exceptions." He stepped closer,
and I let him. He lowered his voice as much as he could and be heard above the noise. "He said if I ever
fail him again in anything large or small, he'll punish me."
Normally, I thought statements like that were pitiful or cruel. I agreed with this one.
"Go ask Jean-Claude," I said.
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