Both Trisk and Quen turned when the door to the garage was flung open and the kid came out, his eyes wide and round. “Are you okay? I called the cops!”
Quen pinched the bridge of his nose, but worried about Daniel, Trisk held one hand against her sore hip and limped to him. He’d managed to sit up but was still blinking as if in a daze. “Maybe they won’t recognize us,” she said as the thump of a car door echoed. Men were getting out, their hands at their hips as they crept closer, skirting the burning truck.
“Dr. Trisk Cambri?” the biggest officer said, and she winced.
“Or not,” she whispered. Giving Daniel a pat on the shoulder, she rose up beside him. “That’s me,” she said louder, determined to see it through. “And this is Dr. Plank, and Quen Hanson. Did you see those yahoos? They set my truck on fire.”
The cop came closer, weapon unsnapped. “Thanks for the call, Casey,” the gruff man said to the kid. “Go on home now. You know you’re not supposed to be working here alone.”
“Okay, Officer Bob. My mom wants to know if you’re coming over Sunday for dinner.”
Officer Bob grimaced, motioning to his men to check out the building. “You just get home now. I’ll call your mom later.” Putting his hands on his knees, he peered at Daniel as he sat on the ground, head down. “You okay, son? You know where you are? What day it is?”
“I’m okay,” Daniel rasped, squinting through one eye up at them.
“Good, good,” Officer Bob said, and one of his men reached down and helped Daniel to his feet. “If everyone is okay, cuff ’em and stuff ’em.”
“What!” Trisk spun, immediately regretting it as everything began to hurt. “They attacked us! Ask Casey. Hey!” she yelped as someone jerked her arms behind her and cuffed her. “We didn’t do anything!”
There were humans here. A show of magic would be disastrous, and she watched Quen go from tense to pliable as he realized it, too. His face twisted in frustration as they shoved him into one car and Daniel into another. The man propelling Trisk to a third car had a rash, and one of the men at the outskirts was vomiting. They were all human. Every last one. “They attacked us!” Trisk exclaimed as she was pushed into a car. “Why are you arresting us?”
Officer Bob stood beside her open door, making sure her foot was safely inside. “You and Dr. Plank are wanted for arson and questioning in the murder of Rick Rales. We’re arresting your friend until we know who he is.”
“We didn’t start the fire.” Damn it, I hate it when Quen is right. “I was at home packing my stuff. Look, it’s in the truck,” she said, then jumped when the cop car’s door slammed shut.
“Let’s go!” Officer Bob shouted, voice muffled. “José, stay here with the fire trucks.”
Trisk sat forward on the edge of the seat, the need to do something filling her. Her stuff in the truck was still burning, ignored. Slowly she sat back. Being arrested for Rick’s murder was going to put a real crimp in her travel plans, even though if the police hadn’t shown up, the vampires would have killed them.
But as she watched the ailing officers and recognized the earmarks of Daniel’s virus in their flushed faces and lethargic motions, the idea crossed her mind that being stuck in a cell might not be any better.
19
The early-morning news was on in the living room of Kal’s uptown apartment, muted to a pleasant murmur that almost hid the thread of panic stringing the woman’s words together. Kal had felt domestic this morning, and since sleep had eluded him, he had decided to make his own breakfast even before the sun had come up. It was unlikely that Lilly, his housekeeper, would be in today. The instructions on the box of blueberry muffins had said it would make twelve, but he must have done something wrong because he’d filled all the tins and had some batter left over.
Kal came up from the oven, having peeked in at the rising muffins. Throwing the empty box away, he stood in the apartment’s tiny kitchen and watched the woman reporter from across the room. “Muffins from a box. Amazing,” he said as he ate the leftover batter with a spoon.