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  "We'll let you know what he says when we question him. Since he didn't actually make contact with you, we don't really have a lot to hold him on."

  Seymour sneered. “I wouldn't expect any different from you demon lovers."

  "Oh, God, Dr. Seymour. Tone it down, will you? Your religion is yours—don't beat me over the head with it."

  He stiffened when she took his Lord's name in vain, but didn't say bother to say anything about it. Good thing. He probably would've appreciated it even less when she explained the difference between a name and a title. Something most religious types didn't get. “Fine, then. You know how to contact me."

  * * * *

  An hour later, in TPD interview, Amanda settled in behind the one-way glass as Breed took a seat across the table from Mephistopheles Junior. Ben stood beside her, looking a touch uncomfortable.

  Breed leaned forward, slapping her palms on the table. “Unless I've lost my touch, you're a meta. Which explains why you'd want to attack Dr. Seymour. My only question for you is—what in the hell were you thinking?"

  "He needs to die. He's going to start a war between metas and normals. He's trying to kill us, why shouldn't we try to kill him?"

  Breed leaned back and groaned audibly. “Christ. What did I do to deserve this? What's your name?"

  "Franklin Donner."

  "Well, Frank—"

  "Franklin."

  "Well, Franklin. We're not charging you with anything. You lucked out. By all rights we should be throwing you in a cage right now."

  "Not before reading me my rights,” he snapped back.

  Breed leaned back and crossed her arms over her chest. “Dead point. We're not charging you."

  "Maybe you should. Maybe I want a day in court."

  "Shit, Franklin, you got brain damage?” She sighed. “Listen. I don't like Seymour any more than you do. I don't like him, I don't trust him, and if I had any amount of dirt on him, he'd be sitting in a cage before the ink dried on the warrant.

  "But—no matter if I agree with him or not—he has a right to his opinions, and the right to speak those opinions."

  "Even if he's deliberately trying to spark a fire?"

  "Can you prove that?"

  "Well ... no. But isn't it obvious?"

  * * * *

  Ben took a deep breath, suddenly far too aware of Amanda's mild floral scent. Her shampoo, he decided. Jasmine? Beneath the artificial fragrance he caught the faintest trace of her. It exploded somewhere behind his eyes and he found himself absolutely dazzled.

  "What are you staring at?” she asked him suddenly, and he realized in that instant that he had been staring at her.

  He blushed fiercely, then blushed harder when he realized it. “Sorry,” he murmured. “I guess ... I guess I just like looking at you."

  She blinked up at him in obvious surprise. “You do? Why?"

  Why? What kind of question is that? He tried to pry his tongue from the roof of his mouth. “Uh ... because you're pretty?"

  "Is that a question or a statement?"

  He didn't quite know how to answer that. He stood there, mouth open, waiting for something to come out.

  Amanda had never quite got how any guy could find her attractive. Sure, she was pretty, in a little girl kind of way. That was the kicker. When she looked in the mirror she saw a little girl. A barely pubescent child. She had no breasts to speak of, and instead of curves she had a lot of wiry muscle honed in daily martial arts drills at the Academy.

  She couldn't get past the notion that any guy who looked at her in that way had to be some kind of pervert. A potential child molester.

  She knew, on one level, that the problem was hers—something didn't quite connect correctly in her own head. But it didn't stop her from becoming increasingly uncomfortable in the company of men who showed that side of themselves. The side that saw the tough, savvy, and street smart woman in that seemingly immature body.

  Another scent had risen from her and Ben nearly took a step back. What was she afraid of? Him? He felt a dark gnawing in the pit of his stomach. He was a monster, after all. Why should she even think of him that way? When he got angry he got furry. He no longer smoked pot to control his more predatory urges, but ... he was still no longer quite human.

  He took a long step sideways. “Sorry,” he muttered through clenched teeth. He couldn't really blame her. He remembered when he first found Cory had been turned into a vampire. Ben had tried to kill him. Which directly resulted in him being bitten by a slightly infected wolf-dog and turned into a werewolf.

  Yippee. Now he was one of the monsters. Just what he always wanted.

  Oh, crap. Amanda chewed her upper lip and turned her attention back to the interview room. That hadn't gone too well. Hell, it wasn't as though she didn't think Ben was good looking. Not with that chiseled face, wide shoulders, and perfect butt. Yes, he got furry occasionally. So what? From listening to some of the talk around school and what not, she knew that getting furry was a fairly innocuous thing for a guy to do. At least compared to some things she could name.

  "Get out of here,” Breed was telling Donner. “Before I come up with something to charge you with."

  The devilish-looking man stood and hurriedly exited. Breed stood slowly and made her way around into the viewing room where they waited. “I'm not sure if he's just stupid, or if something else is going on."

  Amanda frowned. “What do you mean?"

  "Something smells like a setup,” Breed answered with a frown of her own. “I don't like it. Sure, the guy's a meta who just happens to look like a devil. I can accept that, weird as it is. But that he chose to go to a rally and attack America's foremost opponent to metahuman rights in front of several hundred people and members of the press.

  "Doesn't that make you a little suspicious?"

  "Well, since you put it that way—” Ben began.

  Amanda cut him off without thinking. “You sound more like a politician than a cop."

  "I'm Chief of Detectives, Amanda. As much as I hate it, I'm as much a politician as I am a cop these days."

  Amanda nodded. “I have to admit, it sounds a little fishy to me, too.” She shot a look at Ben, who seemed to be doing his best not to sulk. “Sorry, Ben. Didn't mean to interrupt you."

  He grinned sheepishly. “'sokay. I was just going to say that I agreed with her, but—hey—what do I know about it, right?"

  "I couldn't begin to guess,” Breed answered briskly. “Haven't known you long enough."

  "Okay,” Amanda cut in, “so let's put this in perspective. We're less than a week away from Election Day. We've got two candidates on more or less opposite sides of the metahuman question. If Baxter wins, he's going to cut the PAC to ribbons and work his to ass off to get congress to approve the meta registration bill. By all reports, he's a huge fan of Dr. Seymour.

  "On the other hand, Vice President Mendoza's brother is a meta. She lands on the exact opposite end of the spectrum. She opposes the bill, though she has said that she'll appoint Seymour to the Commission. Mostly in response to pressure from the far Right."

  Breed nodded. “So—this footage hits the news and maybe pushes a few undecideds into the wrong camp. Wrong for us, I mean. Right for Seymour and Baxter."

  "Shit. Can we have him followed?"

  That sparked a grin. “Already taken care of. One of my men was standing around outside interview when we walked out. We've got a few hand-signals for that sort of thing. He'll shadow him until I tell him otherwise. Or replace him.

  "To be honest, though, this lands square in your court. I'd rather have your people tailing him than mine. If anything screwy goes down, you guys can handle it. My cops are just going to get killed."

  "If it turns deadly, you mean."

  "That's exactly what I mean."

  "You think it could be that dangerous?” Ben wondered.

  "You have to ask?” Amanda said. Where were you three years ago, Ben? She didn't say it though. It was bad enough to think it. He
wasn't in the caverns when they were forced to kill all those people. He was—ostensibly—on guard duty, even though he wasn't anywhere around when the National Guard showed up on the scene. They found him in the car with Rachel Flynn's niece and her best friend. And their dog.

  As far as she knew no one had ever asked him about it. Then again ... his parents had been among those taken by the vampire and pressed into service. They'd died down there. For all she knew, she'd been the one to fire the fatal shots. Guilt, justified or not, was a pretty damn effective silencer.

  * * * *

  Ben met her gaze for a long minute, then shifted his eyes back into the empty interview room. His lack of real experience was showing here. He knew it and both women knew it. He felt like a jackass for spouting off like that. Of course it could be dangerous, Ben, you moron. The PAC and its member agencies were created specifically to deal with the unknown. And the unknown is always potentially dangerous.

  Amanda reached down and tapped her watch. Or, at least, what he'd assumed was a watch. But whatever she did caused it to emit a buzzing sound like the ringing of a phone. A pyramid of light about a foot tall sprang from the watch face, spinning slowly in the air. A woman's face materialized in the middle of the pyramid, obviously some sort of hologram. “Amanda? What is it?"

  She quickly rattled off the situation. Athena listened silently, then, “I'll put someone on him,” she said. “If he looks like a devil he shouldn't be hard to track down."

  "I'm guessing he's not walking around in the open showing his face to the world."

  "Good point. What was the name again?"

  "Franklin Donner."

  Athena's eyes widened. “Judge Franklin Donner?"

  "Judge?"

  "If it's the same guy, yes. He was a superior court judge until he disappeared two months ago. Not even his family had a clue where he went."

  "Well, we still don't know where—but we can guess ‘why.’”

  "Nemesis—hook me up with your man so I can find out where Donner's going."

  She rattled off a phone number. “Get some of your people on him as quickly as possible. I've got a real bad feeling about this."

  "Me too. I'll keep you informed.” The hologram contracted back into the wrist comm.

  "Nothing like immortal phone etiquette,” Breed snorted. “You out of here?"

  "Ain't hanging around here all night. I either need to get some sleep, or get some coffee in me. And I'm not stupid enough to drink the crap you serve here."

  "Hah. You're just saying that because it's true."

  "You bet.” Amanda shook her hand and motioned for Ben to follow as she headed for the elevator.

  * * * *

  "You don't have to put me up forever,” Ben told Amanda out of the blue, as the elevator car slowly descended. “I do have enough money to pay for a motel room for a while. At least until the next session at the Academy opens. You did say I'd be approved for dorm housing there, right?"

  "Yes,” she sighed. “But I don't mind putting you up. I've got an extra bedroom that I never use. You're welcome to it as long as you want it."

  As the doors opened on the ground floor her wrist comm let out a high-pitched beep. She answered the call, choosing to go with a flat viewscreen rather than the holographic mode. It came up with a text display requesting her to report to a crime scene located at the corner of Market and Eleventh. By the transit station, she thought. Dead body—so why did they call me?

  It took them about ten minutes to walk to the scene. Market street was completely cordoned off with yellow crime scene tape. A body lay in the middle of the road. A lone bus sat in one of the nearby slots, clearly stuck there for the duration.

  A city detective met them at the edge of the tape, escorting them past the uniforms on guard. He was a tall, cadaverous fellow of about forty-five, with a handlebar mustache and mutton-chop sideburns. “Bailey,” he said, obviously by way of introduction. He stuck his hand out to Amanda first—something of a surprise, actually. She took it, pleased by his solid yet gentle grasp. “You must be Agent Keening."

  "I must be,” she answered as she let go and turned to survey the scene. “So what's the story here?” Translation—what the hell does this have to do with the PAC?

  He chuckled. “Vic's one of yours. Vampire, unless I miss my guess."

  "Well, hell. That's about the last thing I expected.” Yeah, if any cops anywhere knew about vampires, it would be one of Nemesis's detectives. She wouldn't put them on the street without knowing what they might be facing. “I take it you're the one who answered the call?"

  "Answered the call nothing. I was at the end of the block. I heard the gunshot, saw the vic go down. Called it in. CSU's on the way. Figured you'd want to be in on it, too."

  "Yeah—but we have our own CSU.” Of a sort, at least. “Oh—” she threw in, noticing the self-satisfied look on his face—"you already knew that, didn't you?"

  "You hear things,” he replied with a shrug. “Looks like the vic died from a single gunshot to the right eye. Blew his brains out the back of his skull. Messy, but effective."

  She nodded absently. She knew exactly how effective it was. It wasn't an easy shot to make if the vampire knew you were there. Which meant that the killer had been hidden from view. Obviously. “He have any ID?"

  Bailey shook his head. “Uh-uh. Doesn't have a damn thing on him. Not even a bus pass."

  Somehow Amanda couldn't see a vamp riding the city buses. Not that they didn't—or wouldn't—just that she couldn't see it.

  "That's not all,” Bailey continued. “We've got another body. In the restroom over there."

  "Cause of Death?"

  "You'll love this. Exsanguination."

  "Vamp victim."

  "Yup. He was neat and clean about it though. Snapped the neck when he was done."

  "So ... an educated vampire.” It was a simple way to prevent the victim from rising from the dead. Meant he had a mentor. “Well, shit. Okay."

  She made a quick call to Loki—and got his voice mail. Damn immortals. What's the point of having a cell phone if you don't answer the stupid thing? “Loki. It's Amanda. We've got a DB in the middle of the street just off Market and Eleventh. It's a vampire. There's another one in the transit center bathroom. Looks like a victim. I need you here ASAP. I don't want to have to turn it over to the TPD CSU, but I will if you're not here in the next fifteen."

  She scanned for Ben, found him standing amongst the curious on-lookers who'd gathered at the outer edge of the cordon several feet away. She'd slipped under the tape without thinking, leaving him behind. I wish he'd already been vetted, she thought irritably. I could use his nose on this.

  She couldn't conscript him though. Not this time. She had to play it by the rules. The rules were too new to circumvent without damn good reason. If she started ignoring them this quickly they'd end up meaningless before they had a chance to mean anything in the first place.

  This one was going to get hairy in a hurry, she realized. It was only a matter of time before the press arrived. They get one whiff of our victim in the restroom and the whole vampire thing will hit the streets in minutes.

  And Athena will have my hide tanned and hanging in her office by morning. She smiled grimly. Paranormal investigations 101. How to mislead the media. “Bailey!"

  The detective glanced up from his conversation with the uniform guarding the restroom. He nodded at her and finished up whatever he was saying, then trotted over. “What?"

  "Official cause of death for the vic is now strangulation. It's become an attempted rape gone horribly wrong."

  "As if rape itself isn't horribly wrong,” he snorted. But he nodded his assent. “A little sleight of hand for the press?"

  "You got it. I'm sure Nemesis has explained to you the importance of keeping this all under our collective hat for the time being."

  "The existence of vampires? Not hard to imagine what would happen if it becomes public knowledge."

  "So can you
r uniforms keep a lid on it?"

  "Are you kidding? Nobody wants to piss off Breed. We all know what kind of badass she is."

  Amanda grinned. She knew exactly what he meant. The fact that Breed was superhuman couldn't have been lost on anyone who'd seen her in action. She'd once seen her wade through a whole pack of hopped up gangers without breaking a sweat. She'd voluntarily submitted to meta testing and had, of course, come up clean. Parahumans didn't register on meta tests. It was a different virus altogether. And, since no one actually knew about paras yet, no one was quite sure what to think about it. “Good,” she said. “Do it. In the meantime I'm still waiting for my own CSU specialist. If he doesn't arrive in the next ten minutes, let yours in. We can't afford to wait any longer than that."

  "Will do."

  She left him to handle that end of things and went to pluck Ben out of the crowd.

  "Agent Keening!"

  Crap. Nosey Newsome. She'd recognize that voice anywhere.

  Standing at the very edge of the throng was a pudgy little man in his mid-thirties with a truly awful comb-over. He carried one of those new combination microphone/audio recorder/transcriber devices, and had a cameraman standing a few feet behind him. Before she made it all the way over the camera was already on her and rolling.

  "Newsome. How not surprising to see you here."

  The cocky little reporter grinned at her. She and him actually stood eye to eye, a disconcerting effect that never failed to put her off her game. The vast majority of men, and a good majority of women, stood at least a little taller. She wasn't used to dealing with people her size. “Agent Keening—I understand we have a double homicide here. What can you tell us?"

  "Not a lot yet, Newsome.” Time to tap-dance. “There's a vic in the restroom—we're thinking attempted rape and a murder of frustration. The man we think was the perp was killed walking across the street. It's a little early yet but it's beginning to look like some kind of vigilante killing."

  "That's awfully fast, isn't it? How would the killer know unless he was there for the first murder?"

  Now that's a damn good question, she thought. “We don't know. Like I said, we don't really know anything yet."