Smith looked pale. Zerbrowski grim. But they still had his arms, even with him on the ground.

"I can make this quick, Cooper, or I can make it slow. Your choice." My voice was empty. Nothing showed on my face. I just looked at him and knew that if he struggled I would shoot him by inches, until he was too wounded to get away, and I could let Zerbrowski and Smith move away without risking Cooper getting away.

He struggled, and I shot him again.

Smith let go of the arm. "I can't do this. This isn't right."

"Then get the fuck away from him," I said, and there was anger in my voice now, because I agreed with Smith. "Zerbrowski."

"Yeah." His voice was very careful.

I had the gun on Cooper, and my body had gone quiet, the anger sliding away on the nice white static in my head. "Move."

He moved. Cooper tried to levitate. I figured he would. I put two shots into the center of his body, and he collapsed back to earth. He hadn't been able to fly in the church when he was healthy, I hadn't expected him to get better wounded. He didn't.

I walked up to him, gun in a two-handed grip, aimed on the center of his forehead. "You're enjoying this," he said, and he made a sound in his throat. There was blood on his lips, his blood.

"No," I said, "I'm really not."

"Liar," he said again, and tried to spit blood at my feet, but apparently his jaw hurt too much, and it made him writhe on his knees.

"I don't want to kill you, Cooper, and I don't enjoy it."

He looked up at me, puzzled. "You feel empty inside. I enjoyed killing."

"Bully for you," I said, and I knew I should have pulled the trigger, should have ended it. Never let them talk.

"You really don't enjoy this, do you?" he asked.

"No," I said, looking into those brown eyes.

"Then how do you stay sane?"

I let all the air ease from my body, as the world narrowed down to the center of his forehead. But I could still see his eyes, so alive, so... real. I answered him, "I don't know." I squeezed the trigger, and the impact knocked him backward. He fell on his side, and I moved up on him, gun still held two-handed, because whether he was dead or whether he wasn't, I wasn't done.

He had a smallish hole in the middle of his forehead above his surprised eyes. I fired into his forehead until the top of his head exploded in brains and bone. Decapitation was nice, but spilling the brains all over the grass works, too. I switched my aim to his chest, and fired until my gun emptied. Then I got a second clip from my belt, reloaded and fired into his chest until I could see light through his body. Legally I could not carry my vamp executioner kit in the car unless I had a current warrant. I'd left home without a warrant, so my sawed-off shotgun was at home with my stakes and machete. Handguns will do the job, but it takes longer, and it wastes a hell of a lot of ammo.

The last gun shot echoed into the night. My ears were full of that ringing silence that happens when you've fired that many shots from that close a range without ear protection. I was standing over the body, one foot on its shoulder, pinning it to the ground. I must have kicked him over onto his back sometime during the chest shots. I didn't remember doing it, but shooting into the ground was a hell of a lot safer than shooting out into the night. Not all the bullets would stop in his body, not when you were trying to punch a hole through the person.

The first sound that came back was the sound of my blood in my ears, the pulse of my own body. Then some sound made me turn. Malcolm had brought his flock to watch, or maybe they had come on their own, and he couldn't stop them, so he'd come with them. Whatever, they were there held back by the uniforms. The vampires and the few humans among them stood staring at me. There was a little girl in front, and for a second I thought, what t he fuck are her parents thinking, then I realized she was a vamp. I had trouble concentrating, but she was old. Older than the woman holding her hand and pretending to be her mommy.

I popped the clip in my gun and checked how much ammo I had left. I couldn't remember how many shots I'd fired. I'd only brought two clips with me. Silly me. I needed to load up. I needed my Jeep, or home. I put the clip back in and slammed it home with my hand. Some of the vamps jumped at the small sound it made. Somehow with all of them standing there staring at me, I didn't want to put the gun up. I didn't think they'd really rush us, but it was definitely not a friendly crowd.

Zerbrowski came up to me. "Let's get you out of here," he said, and either he whispered, or my hearing wasn't all the way back. But I didn't argue. I let him take me to his car, and I let Smith and Marconi watch our backs.

I saw Avery in the crowd as we moved. He didn't look happy to see me anymore. Guess the honeymoon was over. Zerbrowski got me into the passenger seat. Movement caught my eye. It was Wicked and Truth. They were by the entrance to the church. They didn't look upset. Truth gave me a nod, and Wicked kissed the tip of one finger in my direction.

I buckled my seat belt, raised a hand in their direction.

"You made some new friends tonight," Zerbrowski said, as he put the car in gear and drove us slowly forward. We had to ease close to the waiting group of vampires. They watched us with blank, empty faces.

"Yeah, I make friends wherever I go."

He gave a small, dry laugh. "Jesus, Anita, did you have to blow a hole clean through his chest?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I did." My voice wasn't the least bit friendly.

"I'd stay away from the church for awhile, if I were you. They're going to remember what you did tonight."

I put my head back against the seat and closed my eyes. "Yeah, me, too."

"You alright with this?"

"No. Did Parker call back yet?"

"Yeah. I told him you were blowing a hole through a vampire's chest. He said you could call him back."

I opened my eyes and looked at him. "Is that really what you told him?"

He grinned at me. "Yeah."

I shook my head. "Give me your damn phone."

He handed it to me. "Just hit this button, it'll ring him back."

I hit the button, and the phone started to ring. I was numb. I felt nothing but a vague shockiness. Parker answered on the second ring, and I started to talk about business. About solving murders, and saving lives. I concentrated on the fact that we were trying to save lives, but my mind kept jumping around. It kept jumping over a vision of Jonah Cooper's eyes, and his question, how do you stay sane? The answer, the real answer, was, you don't.