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me. I gave him an envelope with a gift certificate in it. A certificate to a furniture store. He can decorate the basement as his room until we can have an apartment built over the garage for him. We had a basement-cleaning party one night; Nathaniel’s idea. Basically invite a lot of friends over and make them do grunt work, then feed them pizza afterward. Well, okay, the wereleopards, werewolves, wererats, and humans got pizza. The vampires got something a little less solid. No, Jean-Claude did not come help clean up the basement, but surprisingly, Asher did. So did Richard. He behaved himself all the way up to refreshments, then he couldn’t stand me opening a vein for Asher. He didn’t argue, he just left. He’s trying.

We’re all trying. I’m trying to remember what I thought I was doing when I started hunting vampires and helping the police. I used to think I was doing something noble. That there was a reason and a purpose to it. I used to know that I was the good guy. But lately, it feels like I’m just shoveling one pile of shit, so another one can takes its place. Like the bad guys are an avalanche, and I’m trying to stay ahead of it, by shoveling. Maybe I’m just tired, or maybe I’m wondering if Mendez was right. Maybe you can’t be one of the good guys, if you spend most of your time shooting people to death. I don’t know what bothers me more, that I can shoot someone in the face who’s begging for their life, or that legally there’s no other option. I don’t mind killing to defend my life and the lives of others. I don’t mind killing if the person has truly earned it. I’d cap Vittorio in a heartbeat. But what if the girl in the condo had told the truth? What if because her master told her to do something, she had no choice? What if away from the bad guy, she’s not a bad guy? Oh, hell, I don’t know. The only thing I know for certain is that it isn’t my job to worry about how the poor bastard turned into a killer. It’s my job to make sure they never kill anyone else again. That’s what I do. I am the executioner. Murder someone in my town, and I’m the one that you get to see. Once.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Micah

A Jove Book / published by arrangement with the author

All rights reserved.

Copyright © 2006 by Laurell K. Hamilton

This book may not be reproduced in whole or part, by mimeograph or any other means, without permission. Making or distributing electronic copies of this book constitutes copyright infringement and could subject the infringer to criminal and civil liability.

For information address:

The Berkley Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Putnam Inc.,

375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

The Penguin Putnam Inc. World Wide Web site address is

http://us.penguingroup.com

ISBN: 1-101-14675-3

A JOVE BOOK®

Jove Books first published by The Jove Publishing Group, a member of Penguin Putnam Inc.,

375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

JOVEand the “J” design are trademarks belonging to Penguin Putnam Inc.

Electronic edition: February, 2006

My idea of love is

not everyone’s ideal.

Some have broken

under the strain

of it. This one’s for

Jon, who sees love

not as a burden,

but as a gift.

Acknowledgments

To all the people that help keep my life running smoothly: Darla Cook, Sherry Ganey, Lauretta Allen, Mary Schuermann, and Richard Nichols (no relation to the character).

To my writing group: Tom Drennan, Debbie Millitello, Rett MacPherson, Marella Sands, Sharon Shinn and Mark Summer. Nill illigitamus carborundum.

Contents

Acknowledgments

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER

1

It was half past dawn when the phone rang. It shattered the first dream of the night into a thousand pieces so that