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“Irving, being seen with a legal executioner of vampires is not going to endear you to the vamps.”

“They still call you the Executioner?”

“Among other things.”

“Okay, the Gaynor file for going along on your next vampire execution?”

“No,” I said.

“Ah, Anita . . .”

“No.”

He spread his hands wide. “Okay, just an idea. It’d be a great article.”

“I don’t need the publicity, Irving, not that kind anyway.”

He nodded. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll meet you at Dead Dave’s in about two hours.”

“Make it an hour. I’d like to be out of the District before full dark.”

“Is anybody gunning for you down there? I mean I don’t want to endanger you, Blake.” He grinned. “You’ve given me too many lead stories. I wouldn’t want to lose you.”

“Thanks for the concern. No, no one’s after me. Far as I know.”

“You don’t sound real certain.”

I stared at him. I thought about telling him that the new Master of the City had sent me a dozen white roses and an invitation to go dancing. I had turned him down. There had been a message on my machine and an invitation to a black tie affair. I ignored it all. So far the Master was behaving like the courtly gentleman he had been a few centuries back. It couldn’t last. Jean-Claude was not a person who took defeat easily.

I didn’t tell Irving. He didn’t need to know. “I’ll see you at Dead Dave’s in an hour. I’m gonna run home and change.”

“Now that you mention it, I’ve never seen you in a dress before.”

“I had a funeral today.”

“Business or personal?”

“Personal,” I said.

“Then I’m sorry.”

I shrugged. “I’ve got to go if I’m going to have time to change and then meet you. Thanks, Irving.”

“It’s not a favor, Blake. I’ll make you pay for those zombie articles.”

I sighed. I had images of him making me embrace the poor corpse. But the new legislation needed attention. The more people who understood the horror of it, the better chance it had to pass. In truth, Irving was still doing me a favor. No need to let him know that, though.

I walked away into the dimness of the darkened office. I waved over my shoulder without looking back. I wanted to get out of this dress and into something I could hide a gun on. If I was going into Blood Square, I might need it.

12

DEAD DAVE’S IS in the part of St. Louis that has two names. Polite: the Riverfront. Rude: the Blood Quarter. It is our town’s hottest vampire commercial district. Big tourist attraction. Vampires have really put St. Louis on the vacation maps. You’d think that the Ozark Mountains, some of the best fishing in the country, the symphony, Broadway level musicals, or maybe the Botanical Gardens would be enough, but no. I guess it’s hard to compete with the undead. I know I find it difficult.

Dead Dave’s is all dark glass and beer signs in the windows. The afternoon sunlight was fading into twilight. Vamps wouldn’t be out until full dark. I had a little under two hours. Get in, look over the file, get out. Easy. Ri-ight.

I had changed into black shorts, royal-blue polo shirt, black Nikes with a matching blue swish, black and white jogging socks, and a black leather belt. The belt was there so the shoulder holster had something to hang on. My Browning Hi-Power was secure under my left arm. I had thrown on a short-sleeved dress shirt to hide the gun. The dress shirt was in a modest black and royal-blue print. The outfit looked great. Sweat trickled down my spine. Too hot for the shirt, but the Browning gave me thirteen bullets. Fourteen if you’re animal enough to shove the magazine full and carry one in the chamber.

I didn’t think things were that bad, yet. I did have an extra magazine shoved into the pocket of my shorts. I know it picks up pocket lint, but where else was I going to carry it? One of these days I promise to get a deluxe holster with spaces for extra magazines. But all the models I’d seen had to be cut down to my size and made me feel like the Frito Bandito.

I almost never carry an extra clip when I’ve got the Browning. Let’s face it, if you