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“The first one was more isolated, harder to get to, and still make your deadline. Or there could be a local celebrity involved here, or it’s just better copy.”

“Better copy?” he asked.

“More sensational.” In my own head, I wondered how you could get much more sensational than having someone nailed to their living room wall, but of course, those kinds of details weren’t released to the media, not if it could be kept under wraps.

I undid my seat belt and put a hand on the door handle. “Getting through the press is going to be the first hurdle here. I’m something of a local celebrity now, myself, whether I like it or not.”

“The Master of the City’s lady love,” Jason said, smiling.

“I don’t think anyone’s been that polite,” I said, “but, yeah. Though today they’ll be more interested in the murder. They’ll be asking me questions about that, not Jean-Claude.”

“You seem to be feeling some better,” Jason said.

“I am, not sure why.”

“Maybe whatever caused the bad reaction is fading.”

I nodded. “Maybe.”

“Are we going to get out of the car, or are we going to watch from here?”

I sighed. “Getting out, getting out.”

Jason opened his door and was around to my side before I could get more than one foot on the ground. Today I let him help me. I was feeling better, but I still wasn’t at my best. I’d hate to refuse help and then fall flat on my face. I was really trying to tone down the machismo today. Mine, not Jason’s.

I put my hand on Jason’s arm, and we started down the sidewalk towards the crowd. There were lots of people, and most of them weren’t reporters. The first murder scene had been isolated, no neighbors close enough to walk out their doors and see the show. But this neighborhood was thick with houses, so we had a crowd.

I had my badge around my neck on its little cord, I hadn’t taken it off from the last scene. Now that I was feeling better, it occurred to me that Jason’s arm was in the way if I had to go for the gun under my left arm. I didn’t want him on my right side, because that was my gun hand, but even on my left he was in the way, a little at least.

I was feeling better if I could be worrying this much over my gun. Good to know. Feeling bad sucks, and nausea is one of the great evils of the universe.

I think because I had Jason on my arm it took the reporters longer to realize who I was, and that we weren’t just part of the growing crowd of gawkers. We were actually working our way through the crowd, almost to the yellow tape before one of the reporters spotted me.

The tape recorder was shoved at me, “Ms. Blake, why are you here, was the murdered woman a vampire victim?”

Fuck, if I just said, no comment, they’d be printing possible vampire kill all over this one. “I’m called in on a lot of preternaturally related crime, Mr. Miller, isn’t it? Not just vampires.”

He was happy I’d remembered his name. Most people love to have you remember their names. “So it wasn’t a vampire kill.”

Shit. “I haven’t been up to the crime scene yet, Mr. Miller, I don’t know anymore than you do.”

The reporters closed like a fist around me. There was a big shoulder cam on us now. We’d make the noon news if nothing more exciting happened.

The questions came from all directions, “Is it a vampire kill? What kind of monster is it? Do you think they’ll be more victims?” One woman got in so close that only a death grip on Jason’s hand kept us from being separated. “Anita, is this your new boyfriend? Have you dumped Jean-Claude?”

That a reporter would ask that question with a fresh body only yards away said just how bad the media interest in Jean-Claude’s personal life had gotten.

Once the question was raised, several more asked similar questions. I did not understand why my personal life was more interesting, or even as interesting, as a murder. It made no sense to me.

If I said Jason was a friend, they’d misconstrue it. If I said he was a bodyguard, they’d plaster the fact that I needed a bodyguard all over the papers. I finally stopped trying to answer questions and held my badge up so the