In the hallway, my back to the nearest camera, I leaned against the wall to keep my knees from giving way and I gasped, catching up on the oxygen I had depleted in fear. When I could stand without the help of the wall, I texted Alex to tell me where Adrianna and Del were. I got back that the vamp was still with Leo, still in his office, so far as camera footage allowed us to tell, and Del was in her rooms.

I rubbed my arm through the T-shirt, feeling the healing energies press into my flesh, giving me ease before I texted back, Pull up prev. research how Adrianna knew Joses. Check to see if Joses owns property for lairs. Collate with any of Adrianna’s known lairs. Educated guess how Leo plans to use Adrianna re Joses.

Adrianna was, hopefully, brain-dead, but that didn’t make her valueless. If she had planned to pull Joses off the wall, then she had planned where to stash him. If they had a history, then I might be able to use that history to track him.

I stared at his instant reply of agreement. How had I ever lived without texts? How had anyone ever lived without instantaneous communication? How long before we had little chips inserted into our skin or directly into our nervous systems and brains so we could be with people all the time and never have to be alone? How long before the hive mind, integrated with AI computers, was a reality? How long before I screwed up and got everyone I loved killed?

Cell still in hand, I thought about contacting Del to see how she was, have a little girl time before I headed home, but I was too tired to do the whole “He doesn’t love me” scene. Del was a big girl and I had already told one person to pull up his panties tonight. I had the feeling that Del needed something more kind. After careful consideration, I texted Amy Lynn Brown, who had known Del in Asheville. Amy was a fast-healing wonder, a vamp scion who had gone through the entire devoveo in two years, finding sanity in record time. Brown-haired, slender, and unremarkable at first glance, she had a good head on her shoulders, was calm under fire, smart, and once had been able to help a panicked fanghead at a party that went sour. Amy sent word that she was honored to pay the primo a visit.

Communication and good deeds were done, which took some loads off my shoulders and had given my body a chance to get over the shakes—and when did I become the vamps’ therapist? That left only Jodi Richoux, the vamps’ liaison with NOPD, and that could wait until I had some rest. I texted Eli to meet me at the porte cochere where the SUV had been delivered from the dojo, got back a text that simply said K, and I headed down.

Though HQ was now quiet and inactive in reaction to the events of the daytime, I left Protocol Aardvark, Procedure B in place as I left the back of the building. Night had fallen hours past. The air was humid and hot, a storm brewing to the south, over the gulf, and heading our way. Lightning flashed from cloud to cloud, brightening the sky, illuminating the thunderheads.

In the distance, uptown from vamp HQ, blue and red lights lit up the horizon; sirens carried on the wind said it was an accident of some sort. A big one. And not my problem. Thank God.

* * *

As soon as we got home, I put the inert iron discs on my bedside table, showered, and pulled on clean sleep clothes before I climbed up onto the broken rocks in the back garden to commune with my inner Beast. Just as I got settled, the official phone rang from inside the house, the standard ringtone of Latin dance music. Looking abashed, Alex came out the side door and handed up the cell to reveal Jodi Richoux’s name. Jodi was cute, with a blond bob and enough attitude to take down a vamp in a rage. And a badge to back it all up. She’s not in a good mood, he mouthed.

I frowned but took the call. That late, it had to be business, and not the good kind. “Jodi?” I asked.

“I need you at Pauger and Burgundy in Marigny. Now. Park down the street and follow the lights.”

“Okay.” I unfolded my legs and slid across the boulders to the ground, grit scraping my thighs through the pj bottoms. Lights on the horizon uptown. The sound of distant sirens could have been in Marigny, I thought. But no accident. “What do I need to bring?” I pointed Alex to the house and he fell in behind me.

My unquestioning willingness seemed to disarm her, and Jodi said, more quietly, “I’ve got vamp killings, fifty-two humans, all dead where they stood.”

A frisson of fear and shock raced through me like electricity, burning and sharp. I pressed a hand to my middle, thinking I’d misheard. “What?” I whispered. Jodi repeated her words even more softly, but the consonants were cutting and quick with suppressed emotion.

Oh crap. The Son of Darkness . . . Mouth as dry as paper, I asked, “Am I coming as the Enforcer or as a consultant?”

“I’m not sure.” Which didn’t sound like Jodi. She was always sure of my roles in things, even if I wasn’t. “Maybe a little of both.”

So . . . someone important was listening. And this was partly a warning. “I’ll come as Enforcer and if you need me as something else, I can downgrade.”

“Make it fast.”

The call ended and I entered the house to see Eli standing in the foyer, waiting. “Gear up,” I said, my voice hoarse. “Fifty-two humans dead by vamp.”

Eli swore and took the stairs up two at a time. Maybe three. To Alex, just before I closed the door to my room, I said, “Notify HQ. Tell them to notify Leo. Tell him to stay away. Please,” I added. “Tell him to please stay away. And if you still have a backdoor into NOPD, I want to see what they have. But only if you can do it safely.”

Alex nodded, popped the top on a can of energy drink, and went to work, an all-nighter staring him in the face.

I braced my body off the toilet with both arms as I dry heaved. Fifty-two dead humans. It had to be Joses. It had to be. I should have found a way to stop him from leaving HQ. I should have tackled him and stabbed him and staked him and killed him. Some way. Somehow. He was the hand grenade and I should have thrown myself on it.

I had let him get away because I was hurt. Dumb, stupid excuse.

I stood upright, one hand pressed to my middle and the burning there. I should go to Jodi, right this second. I should eat. I should . . . I stopped and tried to order my thoughts. I needed to dress and get to Jodi.

And the fifty-two dead humans.

I threw off my tacky T and the ratty pj’s. There was a time when I’d worn only jeans and boots and attitude, but respect for the dead suggested something more . . . formal, maybe. Like funeral clothes.