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By Root 6849 0

legally hunt down and execute the vampire, or vampires, responsible for—I read the names of the victims. It helped me focus. Helped me remember why I was doing this kind of work—and any other murder victims that might follow. I was empowered to use any force necessary to find and stop the murderers of these people. I was further empowered to do anything within my abilities to execute this warrant with all due haste. The bearer of this warrant is allowed to enter any and all buildings in pursuit of the suspects. Any person, or persons, human or otherwise that stand in the way of the lawful execution of my duty, forfeit their rights under the Constitution of these United States and the State of Missouri. There was other legalese, but what it all boiled down to was that I could have turned back to Avery, put a gun to his head, pulled the trigger, and not only would the police not stop me, but legally, they had to help me carry out my duty.

The entire idea of warrants of execution was drafted when vampires had first gotten legal rights, and you couldn’t kill them on sight just for being vampires. The warrant had seemed like a step up once, now I looked at it, and thought, Huh. What if Avery hadn’t done it? What if he was innocent?

I looked at Zerbrowski, and he knew me well enough to frown. “I don’t the like that look. It always means you’re about to complicate my job.”

I smiled at him and nodded. “Sorry, but I’d like to make sure that I’m serving the warrant on the right vampires.”

Malcolm came forward. “I would like to see that warrant, if it concerns my church and my followers.”

I fished it out, flung it open, but held on to it.

His eyes flicked down the page, and he shook his head. “And you call us monsters.”

“Don’t take it personally, Malcolm, some of my best friends are monsters.” I folded the warrant up and tucked it away.

“How can you make jokes, when you have come here to kill one of us?”

The congregation stirred and started to stand. There were hundreds of them and only a handful of us. This could get out of hand, and I didn’t want that. Legally, if anyone interfered, then I could kill them, too. The last thing I wanted on my hands was a church full of martyrs.

It was as if Malcolm read my mind, or I read his, because he moved toward the door. Marconi stopped him with a hand up, not quite touching.

“We don’t want any trouble,” Zerbrowski said, “and you don’t either, Malcolm.”

“Am I supposed to simply let you escort one of my congregation out of here, knowing that you could make him kneel in the parking lot and execute him? What kind of person would I be to simply stand by and let that happen?”

Shit, I thought.

“Who are you here for?” Avery said, and his voice was like the rest of him—soft, uncertain. Was it an act?

“You for starters,” I said.

His brown eyes went wide. “Why?”

“If you try to take him, we will stand in front of the door. You will have to climb over our bodies to take him with you.”

I glanced at Malcolm, and I knew that he didn’t mean it. He was gambling. Gambling that we wouldn’t be willing to climb over the bodies of church members to execute this warrant here and now. Gambling that we’d go away and get Avery some other time. Usually I like having the warrant fast, but tonight it would have worked better to get it later, and not in front of the undead Billy Graham and his flock.

Zerbrowski looked at me. “You’re the vampire hunter, Anita, it has to be your call.”

“Thanks,” I said, but I had an idea. I could still taste Avery. He hit my radar as innocent, could I find out? Malcolm had tried to pull specific knowledge from me, and I’d turned it back on him. I’d gained knowledge from his vampires. I’d gotten very specific images about how they fed, and lived. Could I concentrate and get something even more specific? It felt like I could. It felt like, if I touched Avery, I could know anything in his head, his body, his soul. That if I touched him, he’d be mine, mine in a way that until tonight I hadn’t wanted. Suddenly it wasn’t such a bad thought.

I leaned into Zerbrowski and whispered,