"Anita Blake, vampire executioner," I said. The announcement would have had a little more oomph if I hadn't been flat on my back, but hey, you do what you can. I did roll onto one side. My mouth had filled with enough blood that I either had to spit or swallow. I spat onto the grass. Even rolling onto my side made the world spin. I wondered for a second or two if I was going to spit up more on the grass than just blood. The nausea passed, leaving me worried about a concussion. I'd had them before, and they usually made me sick to my stomach.
I couldn't see Millie anymore, but I could hear her. "You put up those guns, Billy Wilkes, or I will tan your hide with my cane."
"Now, Miss Millie," the male voice said.
I repeated who I was and said, "I need some help to stand. Can my people help me up, please?"
The male voice, Sheriff Wilkes I presumed, sounded a little uncertain, but said, "They can move."
Jason grabbed the arm that was holding my ID up in the air. He looked down at me and pulled me to my feet. It was too quick and I didn't have to pretend that the world went spinning. When my knees buckled, I didn't fight it. I slid to my knees and Shang-Da took my other arm. Between the two of them, they got me standing and facing the cops.
Sheriff Wilkes was about five foot eight, and he was wearing a pale blue Smokey the Bear hat and a matching uniform. He looked trim and in shape like he worked out and took it seriously. The gun at his side was a ten mil Beretta. It was holstered. The day was looking up.
He stared at me with eyes a dark, solid, trustworthy brown. He took the hat off and wiped sweat from his forehead. His hair was a pale salt and pepper and made me put his age at over forty. "Anita Blake, I've heard of you. What are you doing in our town?"
I spat another mouthful of blood into the grass and managed to stand more than sag between Shang-Da and Jason. Truth was, I could have stood on my own. But all the bad guys were on the ground. Even the one that had kicked me was down for the count. Shang-Da must have stepped in after I went down. I knew Jason couldn't have taken the tall man.
"I came to see a friend in your jail -- Richard Zeeman."
"Friend?" he made it a question.
"Yeah, friend."
There were two deputies behind Wilkes. They were both over six feet tall. One of them had a scar that went from eyebrow to jaw on one side. Jagged; more a broken bottle than a knife. The other deputy had a shotgun in his hands. It wasn't pointed at us, but it was there. Scarface snickered at me. The one with the shotgun just stared with eyes as empty and pitiless as a doll's.
Maiden was standing behind the others, hands in front, one hand clasping his opposite wrist. His face was blank, but there was an edge around his mouth that said he was trying not to smile.
"We've got to run you all in for assault," Wilkes said.
"Great," I said, "I can't wait to press charges."
He looked at me, his eyes just a touch wide. "You're the only ones standing, Ms. Blake. I don't think you have grounds to press charges."
I leaned a little heavier against Jason. A trickle of blood ran from the corner of my mouth. I could feel my eye already starting to swell. I've always been a bleeder if you hit me in the face. I knew I looked pitiful. "They attacked us, and we were forced to defend ourselves." I let my knees slide out from under me. Shang-Da caught me and lifted me easily in his arms. I closed my eyes and curled against his chest.
"Shit," Wilkes said.
"Look at that poor little girl, Billy Wilkes," Millie said. "You going to take her before Judge Henry. What do you think he's going to do to the rest of these hooligans? He's got a daughter about her age."
"Shit," Wilkes said again with more force. "Let's get everybody down to the hospital. We'll sort it out there."
"Ambulance is on its way," Maiden said.
"One won't be enough," Wilkes said.
Maiden laughed low and deep. "There aren't enough ambulances in the county for this many bodies."
"There would have been enough for three," Wilkes said.
I tensed in Shang-Da's arms. He tightened around me, one hand pressed against the side of my head firmly enough that raising up would have hurt my face. I let the breath ease out of my body and concentrated on being still, but I'd remember what Wilkes had said. We'd see who got the ambulance ride next time.
8
It took one ambulance, one pickup truck, two squad cars, Santa's sleigh, and me riding in the van for everyone to get to the hospital. Okay, not Santa's sleigh, but we did look like a parade. Nearly six hours later, we were back in Myerton in the only interrogation room they had. I'd been the only one of the injured that got to leave the hospital.
The guy that Jason had thrown into the truck might have permanent spine damage. They'd know when the swelling went down. Two of the three that Shang-Da had knocked unconscious had regained consciousness. They had concussions but would recover. The third was still out for the count, and the doctors were talking about swelling of the brain and skull fractures. Shang-Da had also done the bad guy with the compound fracture. I only had Mel to my credit, but he was in worse shape than the compound fracture. It takes a hell of a lot of work to heal a joint break. Sometimes you never recover full use of the limb. I felt sort of bad about that, but he had pulled the knife.
Belisarius had been a busy little lawyer. He'd not only arranged bail for Richard, but he'd also been representing us for the last hour or so. Richard was a free man, temporarily. If Belisarius could keep the rest of us out of jail, he was worth the money.
Wilkes didn't want to arrest us, but he wanted to take our fingerprints. I didn't have a problem with that until Shang-Da did. He really didn't want his prints taken, which made both Wilkes and me suspicious. But if Shang-Da wouldn't do it, then none of us would. I told Wilkes if he wanted our prints, he had to charge us with something. He seemed reluctant to do that.
Maybe it was because I'd used my one phone call to contact a cop I knew, who in turn had contacted an FBI agent I knew.
Having a call from the feds made Wilkes jumpy as hell. The bad guys had ambushed us across from the police station. You didn't do a planned attack right next door to the cops unless you were pretty sure they wouldn't spoil the fun. The bad guys had known the police wouldn't help us. They'd said as much during the fight, challenging Millie to call Wilkes, like it wouldn't help. But Wilkes's reaction to the call from the feds sort of clinched it for me. Policemen are very territorial. No federal laws had been broken. The FBI had no business in a simple assault case. Wilkes should have been pissed, and he wasn't. Oh, he made noises like he was angry, and he was, but he should have raised hell, and he didn't. His reaction to everything was just a little bit off -- a little bit less convincing than it should have been.
I was betting he was dirty. I just couldn't prove it yet. Of course, it wasn't my job to prove it. I'd come down here to get Richard out of jail, and we'd done that.
Wilkes finally asked to speak with me alone. Belisarius didn't like it, but he left with the others. I sat at the little table and looked at Wilkes.
It was the cleanest interrogation room I'd ever been in. The table was pale pine and looked handmade. The walls were white and clean. Even the linoleum on the floor was hospital bright. I didn't think Myerton got a lot of use for the room. It'd probably started life as a storage closet. It had been almost too small to hold five of us, but there was room for two.
Wilkes pulled a chair out and sat across from me. He clasped his hands in front of him and looked at me. There was a band around his head where the hair had been pressed flat from the hat. There was a plain gold wedding band on his left hand and one of those watches that joggers use, big and black and utilitarian. Since I had the lady's version of the same watch on my left wrist, it was hard to criticize.
"What?" I said. "You going to give me the silent treatment until I scream for mercy?"
He gave a very small smile. "Made some phone calls about you, Blake. There's a lot of talk that you'll bend the law if you need to. That maybe you've murdered people."
I just looked at him. I could feel my face thinning out, blanking. Once upon a time, every emotion I'd felt had played along my face, but that was a while ago. I'd perfected my blank cop stare, and it showed nothing.
"Is there a point to this conversation?" I asked.
The smile this time was bigger. "I just like to know who I'm dealing with, Blake, that's all."