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was discontinued when one of the patients ate Dr. Mulligan's face.
So much for helping the poor misunderstood vampire.
But the vault room was still used for most vampire victims. Mostly as a precaution, because these days
when a vamp rose there was a vampire counsellor waiting to guide the newly risen to civilized
vampirehood.
I had forgotten about the vampire counsellor. It was a pioneer program that'd only been in effect a little
over a month. Would an older vampire be able to control an animalistic vampire, or would it take a
master vampire to control it? I didn't know. I just didn't know.
Dolph had his gun out and ready. Without silver-plated bullets, it was better than spitting at the monster,
but barely. Zerbrowski held the shotgun like he knew how to use it. There were four uniformed officers
at my back. All with guns, all ready to blast undead ass. So why wasn't I comforted? Because nobody
else had any freaking silver bullets, except me.
The double glass doors swooshed open automatically. Seven guns were trained on the door as it moved.
My fingers were all cramped up trying not to shoot the damn door.
One of the uniforms swallowed a laugh. Nervous, who us?
"All right," Dolph said, "there are civilians in here. Don't shoot any of them."
One of the uniforms was blond. His partner was black and much older. The other two uniforms were in
their twenties: one skinny and tall with a prominent Adam's apple, the other short with pale skin and eyes
nearly glassy with fear.
Each policeman had a cross-shaped tie tack. They were the latest style and standard issue for the St.
Louis police. The crosses would help, maybe even keep them alive.
I hadn't had time to get my crucifix's chain replaced. I was wearing a charm bracelet that dangled with
tiny crosses. I was also wearing an anklet chain, not just because it matched the bracelet, but if anything
unusual happened tonight, I wanted to have a backup.
It's sort of a tossup which I'd least like to live without, cross or gun. Better to have both.
"You got any suggestions about how we should do this, Anita?" Dolph asked.
It wasn't too long ago that the police wouldn't have been called in at all. The good ol' days when
vampires were left to a handful of dedicated experts. Back when you could just stake a vamp and be
done with it. I had been one of the few, the proud, the brave, the Executioner.
"We could form a circle, guns pointing out. It would up our chances of not getting snuck up on."
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The blond cop said, "Won't we hear it coming?"
"The undead make no noise," I said.
His eyes widened.
"I'm kidding, officer," I said.
"Hey," he said softly. He sounded offended. I guess I didn't blame him.
"Sorry," I said.
Dolph frowned at me.
"I said I was sorry."
"Don't tease the rookies," Zerbrowski said. "I bet this is his first vampire."
The black cop made a sound between a laugh and a snort. "His first day, period."
"Jesus," I said. "Can he wait out in the car?"
"I can handle myself," the blond said.
"It's not that," I said, "but isn't there some kind of union rule against vampires on the first day?"
"I can take it," he said.
I shook my head. His first fucking day. He should have been out directing traffic somewhere, not playing
tag with the walking dead.
"I'll take point," Dolph said. "Anita to my right." He pointed two fingers at the black cop and the blond.
"You two on my left." He pointed at the last two uniforms. "Behind Ms. Blake. Zerbrowski, take the
back."
"Gee, thanks, Sarge," he muttered.
I almost let it go, but I couldn't. "I'm the only one with silver ammo. I should have point," I said.
"You're a civvie, Anita," Dolph said.
"I haven't been a civvie for years and you know it."
He looked at me for a long second, then nodded. "Take point, but if you get killed, my ass is grass."
I smiled. "I'll try to remember that."
I stepped out in front, a little ahead of the others. They formed a rough circle behind me. Zerbrowski
gave me a thumbs-up sign. It made me smile. Dolph gave the barest of nods. It was time to go inside.
Time to stalk the monster.
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17
The walls were two-tone green. Dark khaki on the bottom, puke green on top. Institutional green, as
charming as a sore tooth. Huge steam pipes, higher than my head, covered the walls. The pipes were
painted green, too. They narrowed the hallway to a thin passageway.
Electrical conduit pipes were a thinner silver shadow to the steam pipes. Hard to put electricity in a
building never designed for it.
The walls were lumpy where they'd been painted over without being scraped first. If you dug at the
walls, layer after layer of different color would come up, like the strata in an archaeological dig. Each
color had its own history, its own memories of pain.
It was like being in the belly of a great ship. Except instead of the roar of engines, you had the beat of
nearly perfect silence. There are some places where silence hangs in heavy folds. St. Louis City Hospital
was one of those places.
If I'd been superstitious, which I am not, I would have said the hospital was the perfect place for ghosts.
There are different kinds of ghosts. The regular kind are spirits of the dead left behind when they should
have gone to Heaven or Hell. Theologians had been arguing over what the existence of ghosts meant for
God and the church for centuries. I don't think God is particularly bothered by it, but the church is.
Enough people had died in this place to make it thick with real ghosts, but I'd never seen any personally.
Until a ghost wraps its cold arms around me, I'd just as soon not believe in it.
But there is another kind of ghost. Psychic impressions, strong emotions, soak into the walls and floors
of a building. It's like an emotional tape recorder. Sometimes with video images, sometimes just sound,
sometimes just a shiver down your spine when you walk over a certain spot.
The old hospital was thick with shivery places. I personally had never seen or heard anything, but
walking down the hallway you knew somewhere, near at hand, there was something. Something waiting
just out of sight, just out of hearing, just out of reach. Tonight it was probably a vampire.
The only sounds were the scrape of feet, the brush of cloth, us moving. There was no other sound.
When it's really quiet you start hearing things even if it's just the buzz of your own blood pounding in your
ears.
The first corner loomed before me. I was point. I'd volunteered to be point. I had to go around the
corner first. Whatever lay around the bend, it was mine. I hate it when I play hero.
I went down on one knee, gun held in both hands, pointing up. It didn't do any good to stick my gun
around the corner first. I couldn't shoot what I couldn't see. There are a variety of ways to go around
blind corners, none of them foolproof. It mostly matters whether you're more afraid of getting shot or
getting grabbed. Since this was a vampire I was more worried about being grabbed and having my throat
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ripped out.
I pressed my right shoulder against the wall, took a deep breath, and threw myself forward. I didn't do a
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