"So, somebody's been running around killing vampires?"
"Yes. More than one somebody, most likely. We suspect a hit team."
" 'We' being you and Sinclair."
"Yes."
I drank the rest of my tea and got up to fix a fresh cup. The bathroom sparkled like something out of a toilet bowl cleaner commercial; Tina could scrub like a fiend. Did fiends scrub, I wondered idly. Note to self: find out.
"Look, Tina, no offense, but I'm not sure this is necessarily a bad thing."
"No offense taken," she said dryly.
"I just don't think it's my job to protect the city vampires, is all. Shit, I've been protecting the city from them. What is it about upright wood ticks that they have to hurt their food? Huh?"
She stared at her cup and didn't answer.
"I mean, just the other day, I'm minding my own business, when I have to pull a bloodsucker off his lunch. Not only did he rough up his meal, but he tipped over a city cab and scared the shit out of the driver just for the hell of it. Just because he could."
Still, Tina said nothing. I knew her blood donors were one hundred percent willing, but it was still embarrassing to be associated with the bad guys.
I jumped into the silence. "So, I'm betting this hit squad or whatever has a legitimate beef with the undead. Right? Right. Now I have to get involved? What the hell for?"
Tina was silent for a long moment, then finally said, "You're young."
"Oh, sure, throw that in my face again."
But she had a point. Four months ago, I'd been a live nobody. Now I was a dead monarch. But I still remembered what it was like to breathe and eat and run around outside in the daytime. Would I have cared then that someone was killing vampires?
Nope.
To be perfectly honest, most vampires were assholes. I couldn't begin to guess how many people I'd saved from being munched, all because vamps had victim issues. It was like, once they rose from the dead, they spent the rest of the time getting even for being murdered.
"I imagine you feel... torn," Tina said.
"More like annoyed and pissed off."
"But the fact remains, someone is killing your people."
I didn't say anything. Sadly, Tina didn't take the hint. Instead, she continued, "We need to put a stop to it at once."
I sat down across from her with my fresh cup of tea. "Oh, man," I sighed. "Look, let me think about it, okay? I just got a new job, my roommate's sick, my dad's scared of me, my car needs an oil change, we probably have termites, Jessica's house-hunting behind my back, and it's almost the weekend. I'm just so busy right now."
"You have a job?"
"Uh-hum." I tried to look modest. Not everybody could land the job of a lifetime. "Selling shoes at Macy's."
Another long pause. "You'll be working at a mall?"
Tina wasn't as fawning or floored as I expected. Weird. "Not a mall, the Mall, and yeah, so my plate's kind of full right now. Plus, I have to work tomorrow. At Macy's. At the Mall. So maybe we could pick this up later?"
She drummed her fingers on the table and stared at me. "I suppose I could get together all the information we have and bring it over later for you to look at."
"Oh, just sum up. Write me a memo."
"A memo."
"Yup." I stared at my wrist. Forgot to put on my watch again, darnit. "My, my, look at the time! This has been great, but I've got to scoot."
"You're as subtle as a brick to the forehead. I'll be back."
"That's just swell. An undead Terminator, just what I need in my life. Give Sinclair a nice kick in the balls for me."
She sniffed. "No need to be rude."
Of course, she was dead wrong. Where Sinclair was concerned, there were all kinds of need.