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I hesitated, fingers touching the gun. “And if I do?”

“I’ll shoot you. You know I’ll do it.” His voice was that soft, sure predatory sound. I’d seen him use flamethrowers when his voice sounded like that. Smooth and calm as the road to Hell.

I eased away from my gun. Edward would shoot me if I forced him to. Better not to force it, not yet. Not yet.

I clasped my hands on top of my head without waiting for him to tell me. Maybe I’d get brownie points for being a cooperative prisoner. Naw.

Edward stepped out of the darkness like a blond ghost. He was dressed all in black except for his short hair and pale face. His black-gloved hands held a Beretta 9mm pointed very steadily at my chest.

“New gun?” I asked.

The ghost of a smile curled his lips. “Yes, like it?”

“Beretta’s a nice gun, but you know me.”

“A Browning fan,” he said.

I smiled at him. Just two ol’ buddies talking shop.

He pressed the gun barrel against my body while he took the Browning from me. “Lean and spread it.”

I leaned on the back of the couch while he patted me down. There was nothing to find, but Edward didn’t know that. He was never careless. That was one of the reasons he was still alive. That, and the fact that he was very, very good.

“You said you couldn’t pick my lock,” I said.

“I brought better tools,” he said.

“So it’s not burglarproof.”

“It would be to most people.”

“But not to you.”

He stared at me, his eyes as empty and dead as winter’s sky. “I am not most people.”

I had to smile. “You can say that again.”

He frowned at me. “Give me the master’s name, and we don’t have to do this.” The gun never wavered. My Browning stuck out of the front of his belt. I hoped he’d remembered the safety. Or maybe I didn’t.

I opened my mouth, closed it, and just looked at him. I couldn’t give Jean-Claude over to Edward. I was the Executioner, but the vampires called Edward Death. He’d earned the name.

“I thought you’d be following me tonight.”

“I went home after watching you raise the zombie. Guess I should have stayed around. Who bloodied your mouth?”

“I’m not going to tell you a bloody thing. You know that.”

“Everyone breaks, Anita, everyone.”

“Even you?”

That ghost of a smile was back again. “Even me.”

“Someone got the better of Death? Tell, tell.”

The smile widened. “Some other time.”

“Nice to know there’ll be another time,” I said.

“I’m not here to kill you.”

“Just to frighten or torture me into revealing the master’s name, right?”

“Right,” he said, voice soft and low.

“I was hoping you’d say wrong.”

He almost shrugged. “Give me the Master of the City, Anita, and I’ll go away.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

“I know you have to, or it’s going to be a very long night.”

“Then it’s going to be a long night, because I’m not going to give you shit.”

“You won’t be bullied,” he said.

“Nope.”

He shook his head. “Turn around, lean your waist up against the couch, and put your hands behind your back.”

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

“So you can tie my hands?”

“Do it, now.”

“I don’t think so.”

The frown was back. “Do you want me to shoot you?”

“No, but I’m not going to just stand here while you tie me up, either.”

“The tying up doesn’t hurt.”

“It’s what comes after that I’m worried about.”

“You knew what I’d do if you didn’t help me.”

“Then do it,” I said.

“You’re not cooperating.”

“So sorry.”

“Anita.”

“I just don’t believe in helping people who are going to torture me. Though I don’t see any bamboo slivers. How can you possibly torture someone without bamboo slivers?”

“Stop it.” He sounded angry.

“Stop what?” I widened my eyes and tried to look innocent and harmless, me and Kermit the Frog.

Edward laughed, a soft chuckle that rolled and expanded until he squatted on the floor, gun loose in his hands, staring up at me. His eyes were shiny.

“How can I torture you when you keep making me laugh?”

“You can’t; that was the plan.”

He shook his head. “No, it wasn’t. You were just being a smartass. You’re always a smartass.”

“Nice of you to notice.”

He held up his hand. “No more, please.