I leapt onto the falling figure. A face turned to mine-a woman’s face, pocked and red. Rose.

“Thought you were done with Rose, didn’t you?” she cackled.

My surprise threw me off. She lunged at me, fingers hooked into claws, aiming for my eyes. An uppercut stopped her hands before they got within a foot of my face. As she fell back, I grabbed her by the throat and slammed her into the wall. Her face twisted, then went slack, and when I let her go, her body slid to the floor and started to crumble.

“Easy to kill,” I muttered. “Problem is keeping them that way.”

At a noise from the corner, I whirled, hands going up. Clay raced around.

“I heard-”

“Got her,” I said. “Again. It was Rose. I could have sworn it was a man-”

“It was.” He grabbed my arm and pulled me back toward the main hall. “The same guy I killed at the truck stop.”

“Did you-?”

“Started to,” he said, now moving at a jog and pulling me along. “Then I heard you and mine got away. Jeremy went after him.”

“Let’s go,” I said, and we started off.

The bowler-hatted man had taken the first exit. We crested the top of the escalator just as Jeremy was stepping onto the down side. He backed off it and led us outside before speaking.

“He crossed the road and I lost the scent in traffic,” he said. “Are you both all right?”

“Just another encounter with not-so-sweet-smelling Rose,” I said.

Jeremy tensed. “Rose?”

“The zombie we-”

“Yes, I know. You didn’t-Did you touch her?”

“Sure,” I said. “I had to. She attacked me. But if you’re worried about the syphilis, I swear I didn’t have sex with her.”

Jeremy didn’t smile. “Did you touch her lips or any of the sores near her mouth?”

“I don’t think so, but-”

His fingers clamped around my elbow. “There’s a coffee shop across the road. You need to go into the bathroom and scrub your hands and arms.”

He didn’t even wait for the light to change, just led me across between cars.

“Jer?” Clay said, jogging up beside us. “I thought you said syphilis was easily treated.”

“It is. But it’s particularly dangerous to pregnant mothers.”

He caught my look and slowed, grip relaxing on my arm. “You’ll be fine.” A small smile. “I’m overreacting, as usual. The only danger is if you came in contact with the sores around her mouth and ingest the bacterium or transfer it through broken skin. A thorough scrubbing will do the trick. I should have mentioned something last night but…”

“Rose was already dead, or so we thought. So what’s happening-”

“First, scrub up,” he said, stopping outside the coffee shop doors. “Then we can discuss it.”

I scrubbed my hands and arms until my skin was red, then washed my face and neck, cleaning off every bit of exposed skin, even parts I knew hadn’t touched Rose.

When I went outside, we returned to the escalator leading down to the PATH walkways, and I found the bowler-hatted man’s scent there, but lost it at the street. Between the exhaust fumes and the smog and the stink of a thousand daily passersby, our target’s scent had disappeared.

I watched the steady stream of traffic going by. “If we wait a few hours and I Change, it would probably be safe.”

Jeremy shook his head. “It’s not worth the risk. Killing them doesn’t seem to help.”

“Either we have an army of zombie clones, or the undead aren’t staying dead. Remember yesterday, when Robert was talking about the difference between controlled zombies raised by a necromancer and those created by a sorcerer’s portal? He said both kinds are tough to kill. Necromancer ones just won’t die, but dimensional ones…” I frowned. “Did he say what happened with them?”

“No,” Jeremy said. “Because that shouldn’t have been relevant. This portal was created over a hundred years ago, meaning any ‘controller’ should be dead.”

“Should be,” Clay muttered. “But there’s always a catch.”

Jeremy nodded. “Time to talk to Jaime and Robert again. And let’s see if we can contact that vampire thief tonight. I’ll go back to the hotel to make the calls while you two track down Zoe Takano.”

Clay opened his mouth, but Jeremy cut him off. “Yes, I know you don’t like that idea, but it’s the best use of our limited resources. Even if that zombie did circle back and find me, presuming I’d know where the letter is too, they’ve hardly been difficult to kill so far.”

“Rose didn’t even have a weapon,” I said. “And unless my nose is wrong, they’re coming back a little the worse for wear. Deteriorating.”

Clay hesitated.

“You can walk me to the hotel and lock me in, if it makes you feel better,” Jeremy said. “After tonight, we won’t have this problem with dividing our resources. I’m calling Antonio, and asking him and Nick to come. He still hasn’t forgiven me for not summoning them back from Europe when Elena was taken. I don’t have an excuse for not bothering them this time.”

Clay nodded, and we walked Jeremy back to the hotel.

Zoe

FROM THE OUTSIDE, MILLER’S WASN’T THE SORT OF PLACE I’d wander into in search of a drink. The term “hole in the wall” has never been more apt. The place had an entrance accessible only by a door leading from the alley. The flickering neon Miller’s Ale sign made me think that, if the owner had found a Labatt’s sign in the curbside trash instead, the bar would have a different name.

There was a single reinforced window beside the door. As I slipped up for a closer look, I realized the window wasn’t just reinforced, it was plastered over from the inside.

A shower of gravel rained down. Clay had reached the second-story fire escape landing, but the window overlooking it was barred, which I’m sure would be much appreciated by anyone trapped inside during a fire. The bars were old, though, and Clay snapped them with a sharp wrench. Then he stripped off his shirt and wrapped his hand in it to muffle the noise as he broke the window. No alarms sounded. A place like this, rusted bars were all you got.

Clay looked down through the slats of the fire escape.

“You gonna be okay?” he said.

“Even knocked up, I think I can take on a vampire.”

I waited while Clay slipped inside. A moment later, he stuck his head out and gave me the all clear-he’d found a place to watch over me from upstairs.

In the movies, vampires and werewolves are often portrayed as mortal enemies. Not true. There’s no gut-level antipathy, no centuries-old feud. I’m just not…keen on vampires. Chalk it up to a bad experience.

The first vampire I met tried to befriend me. Nothing wrong with that. I was flattered; who wouldn’t be? Then I’d been taken captive by supernatural-collecting psychotic humans. Her response? What a tragedy…but, as long as Elena’s gone, I might as well help myself to her boyfriend. Clay had told her where to stick it. When I’d escaped, she thought we could pick up where we left off. The lesson I learned from that? Compared to vampires, Clay is downright empathetic.

I shouldn’t tar all vampires with Cassandra’s brush, but later encounters taught me that with few exceptions, vampires are self-absorbed egomaniacs. Paige says it’s self-preservation, because they live so long and watch everyone around them grow old and die. They learn not to form attachments. I can see that. But there’s a big difference between understanding a type of person and wanting to hang out with them. When I walked into that bar to meet Zoe Takano, I knew this encounter would take some serious acting skills.

A wave of cigarette smoke rolled over me when I opened the door. Someone was giving a big middle finger to the city’s antismoking laws. A glance around, and I knew the owner wasn’t in danger of being reported. The kind of people who cared about secondhand smoke issues didn’t come here.