“More than that. The guy is claiming he was robbed, but he can’t give a coherent description of who lifted his wallet and ring or of who bit him. We’re serving another search warrant on Ike. The Daytona cops are waking a judge now, and we’re planning to hit them right about the time they close at four.”
I stepped out of his arms. “If you’re raiding Hot Blooded while Ike and his nest are awake, I’m coming with you.”
“Cesca, I’ll have a squad of city cops there.”
I shook my head and headed for the bedroom. “Not good enough. Somebody there bit a man, and I might be able to tell who it was. Plus, I can do my energy-draining trick if the natives get obnoxious.”
“No way. I can’t have a civilian at a possible crime scene. Besides, weren’t you going surfing with Neil this morning?”
I paused at the bedroom door. Actually, I’d forgotten about the date with Neil, and this was far more important.
“Surfing can wait, and you can deputize me or something so I won’t be a civilian.”
He frowned but didn’t have a comeback, so I pressed my case.
“I’ll follow you in my car and leave as soon as I know everyone will be safe. I’m going to tail you anyway, so you might as well give in.”
By the time he had his sneakers laced up, I was dressed in blue jeans and a tank top, and ready to kick fang. SIX
007
We sped south on A1A, Saber with his light and siren bubble stabbing the night, me streaking behind in my SSR. I’d never been to Daytona but had heard the drive took an hour or more at normal speed and in normal traffic. I’d bet both fangs we’d be there in thirty-five minutes.
Enough time for my bravado to wane, but not my resolve.
Not that I wanted to confront the Daytona Beach vamps. Been there, survived that. Ike’s rich voice oozes over a body like a controlled oil spill, but he’s a quiet flavor of scary next to Laurel. Vampzilla is bossy, bitchy, and wears human bones in her cornrowed hair. The other two vamps I’d met in March were Ike’s muscle. Tower and Zena are very tall, very built, and very loyal to Ike.
Ike had left me alone since our meeting five months ago. Would he take my turning up on his turf with Saber and the Daytona cops as a declaration of war?
If so, I’d just have to talk him down out of the boughs. A vamp had chomped on a human, and that simply wasn’t kosher. Of course, there was the off chance—way off—that the biting had been consensual. In March, I’d also met four blood bunnies that hung out with Ike, and I’d later asked Saber about their bite marks. He’d explained that biting could be consented to during sex. Not an encouraged practice, but the VPA overlooked love bites just as it ignored small nests. Sometimes, bureaucracy bites. Consensual or not, a vampire should never leave a bitee to wander around under a partial thrall. The effect was like turning a drunk loose. Without the upchucking.
Saber killed his light and siren and turned into a parking lot behind a two-story cinder-block building painted Caribbean blue. Not the color choice I pictured for a place called Hot Blooded, but I imagined City Hall controlled the colors of buildings. St. Augustine’s city government did the same.
The parking lot teemed with official vehicles and uniformed men and women from the Daytona Beach police force. I joined Saber, and we headed for a tall, rangy black man wearing a Daytona Beach cop uniform and a scowl.
“Captain Jackson,” Saber said, “this is Cesca Marinelli.”
“I know who she is,” Jackson snarled. “What the hell is she doing here?”
That’s me. Making instant friends wherever I go.
“I’ve deputized her on the good chance she can ID the biter, and we can get out of here fast.”
“How is she gonna do that?”
I smiled, being perfectly pleasant. “I have a sharp sense of smell for blood, Captain Jackson.”
“Just stay out of my way.” He turned the full weight of his gaze on Saber. “Are you clear that this is our operation? You’re here as a consultant for now.”
“You mean until you throw your hands up and dump the mess in my lap?”
“That was Hake’s style. It’s not mine.”
“Then your way will be a nice change,” Saber said.
Jackson blinked, then nodded and handed Saber a photo of a man with ragged, bloody bite marks on one side of his neck.
“Since you know the head vamp, you can assist me in questioning him while my teams conduct the search.”
Saber murmured his agreement.
“We round up all the vamps and any humans still in there and put them at opposite sides of the room. I’ve assigned people with silver ammo to guard the vamps.”
“Good plan.”
Mollified that Saber wasn’t here to upstage him, Jackson seemed to stand down.
“Fine. So you question Ike, and she”—he pointed to my quiet, respectful self—“can do her bloodhound thing.”
“Arf,” I muttered too softly for Jackson to hear.