“Going to a party.”

“What?”

I explained as briefly as I could. After a long silence she said, “That is very freaky.”

I agreed with her. “You keep working your end, I'll try from this side. Maybe we'll meet in the middle.”

“It'd be nice to think so.” Her voice sounded warm, almost angry.

“What's wrong?”

“You're going in without backup, aren't you?” she asked.

“You're alone,” I said.

“But I'm not surrounded by vampires and freakazoids.”

“If you're at HAV headquarters, that last is debatable.”

“Don't be cute. You know what I mean.”

“Yes, Ronnie, I know what you mean. You are the only friend I have who can handle herself.” I shrugged, realized she couldn't see it, and said, “Anybody else would be like Catherine, sheep among wolves, and you know it.”

“What about another animator?”

“Who? Jamison thinks vampires are nifty. Bert talks a good game, but he doesn't endanger his lily white ass. Charles is a good enough corpse-raiser, but he's squeamish, and he's got a four-year-old kid. Manny doesn't hunt vampires anymore. He spent four months in the hospital being put back together after his last hunt.”

“If I remember correctly, you were in the hospital, too,” she said.

“A broken arm and a busted collarbone were my worst injuries, Ronnie. Manny almost died. Besides, he's got a wife and four kids.”

Manny had been the animator who trained me. He taught me how to raise the dead, and how to slay vampires. Though admittedly I had expanded on Manny's teachings. He was a traditionalist, a stake-and-garlic man. He had carried a gun, but as backup, not as a primary tool. If modern technology will allow me to take out a vampire from a distance, rather than straddling its waist and pounding a stake through its heart, heh, why not?

Two years ago, Rosita, Manny's wife, had come to me and begged me not to endanger her husband anymore. Fifty-two was too old to hunt vampires, she had said. What would happen to her and the children? Somehow I had gotten all the blame, like a mother whose favorite child had been led by the neighborhood ruffians. She had made me swear before God that I would never again ask Manny to join me on a hunt. If she hadn't cried, I would have held out, refused. Crying was damned unfair in a fight. Once a person started to cry, you couldn't talk anymore. You suddenly just wanted them to stop crying, stop hurting, stop making you feel like the biggest scum-bucket in the world. Anything to stop the tears.

Ronnie was quiet on the other end of the phone. “All right, but you be careful.”

“Careful as a virgin on her wedding night, I promise.”

She laughed. “You are incorrigible.”

“Everybody tells me that,” I said.

“Watch your back.”

“You do the same.”

“I will.” She hung up. The phone buzzed dead in my hands.

“Good news?” Luther asked.

“Yeah.” Humans Against Vampires had a death squad. Maybe. But maybe was better than what I'd had before. Look, folks, nothing up my sleeves, nothing in my pockets, no idea in hell what I was doing. Just blundering around trying to track down a killer that has taken out two master vampires. If I was on the right track, I'd attract attention soon. Which meant someone might try to kill me. Wouldn't that be fun?

I would need clothes that showed off my vampire scars and allowed me to hide weapons. It would not be an easy combination to find.

I would have to spend the afternoon shopping. I hate to shop. I consider it one of life's necessary evils, like Brussels sprouts and high-heeled shoes. Of course, it beat the heck out of having my life threatened by vampires. But wait; we could go shopping now and be threatened by vampires in the evening. A perfect way to spend a Saturday night.