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Zerbrowski walked me through the squad room in silence. A man turned as we entered the room. He was tall, dark-haired, with gray starting at the temples. The clean, strong lines of his face were beginning to soften around the edges, but it was still a handsome face in a manly man, Marlboro sort of way. He looked vaguely familiar. But it wasn’t until he turned his head, exposing the claw scars on the side of his neck, that I recognized him. Orlando King had been one of the premiere bounty hunters in the country until a rogue shapeshifter had nearly killed him. The stories could never agree on what animal did it; some said wolf, others bear or leopard. The story had grown in the telling until I doubt anyone but King himself knew the truth. King and the shapeshifters that had nearly killed him, if they hadn’t all died in the attempt, that is. He had a rep that he never lost a bounty, never stopped until his creature was dead. He earned good money lecturing across the country and in other countries. For his finale he’d take his shirt off and show his scars. It smacked a little too much of circus sideshow for my taste, but, hey, it wasn’t my body. He also did some consulting with the police.

“Anita Blake, this is Orlando King,” Zerbrowski said. “We brought him in to help convict Count Dracula of your murder.”

I glared at Zerbrowski, who only smiled wider. He’d keep calling Jean-Claude by his pet names until it stopped getting a rise out of me. The quicker I ignored it the better.

“Ms. Blake,” Orlando King said in the deep rolling voice that I remembered from his lectures, “so good to see you alive.”

“It’s good to be alive, Mr. King. Last I heard you were lecturing on the West Coast. I hope you didn’t interrupt your tour to come solve my murder.”

He shrugged, and there was something about the way he moved his shoulders that made him seem taller, broader than he was. “There are so few of us that truly pit ourselves against the monsters, how could I not come?”

“I’m flattered,” I said. “I’ve heard you lecture.”

“You came up and spoke to me afterwards,” he said.

“I’m flattered again. You must meet thousands of people a year.”

He smiled and touched my left arm, ever so lightly. “But not many with scars to rival mine. And none half so pretty in this line of business.”

“Thanks.” He was at least two generations removed from me, so I figured his complimenting me wasn’t so much flirting as habit.

Zerbrowski was grinning at me, and his grin said he didn’t think King was simply being polite. I shrugged and ignored it. I’ve found that if you pretend not to notice that a man is flirting with you, most of them will eventually grow tired and stop.

“It’s good to meet you again, Ms. Blake. Especially alive. But I know that you must be in a hurry if you’re going to rescue your vampire boyfriend before dawn.” There was the faintest hesitation before the word boyfriend. I studied his face and found it neutral. There was no condemnation, nothing but a smile and goodwill. After Dolph’s little fit, it was kind of nice.

“Thank you for understanding.”

“I’d love a chance to talk to you before I leave town,” he said.

Again, I wondered if he was flirting, and I said the only thing I could think of. “Compare notes, you mean?”

“Exactly,” he said.

I just did not understand my effect on men. I wasn’t that attractive—or maybe I just couldn’t see it. We shook hands, and he didn’t hold my hand any longer than necessary, didn’t squeeze it, or any of those funky things men do when they’re interested. Maybe I was just getting paranoid where men were concerned.

Zerbrowski led me through the sea of desks to fetch Nathaniel. The police woman, Detective Jessica Arnet, one of the newest members of the squad, was still entertaining Nathaniel at her desk. She was gazing into his lilac eyes as if there was some hypnotic power in them. There wasn’t, but Nathaniel was a good listener. That’s rare enough in men for it to be a bigger selling point than an attractive body.

“Come on, Nathaniel, we’ve got to go.”

He stood instantly but tossed a smile