Disclaimer: I
do not own anything in the Anitaverse.
Plain and simple..
Author’s
Note: This fanfic takes place after my
other story, Relapse. Both of these happen after Obsidian
Butterfly.
Rating: PG-13, just to be on
the safe side. Some language, some
violence. This is Anita Blake we’re talking about.
Summary: Less
than a month ago, Anita Blake ran away from the man she realized she
loved. Now she has to ask him for
help…and runs into more trouble than she expected…
Chapter
One: Anita
I
sat in the driver’s seat of my Jeep for a long time. It had been a normal night in the cemetery with five
raisings. I was not tired by that—hell,
I’d raised entire graveyards before.
No, my exhaustion came from lack of sleep. And the lack of sleep came from the murders.
Three
murders, three nights. Head and heart
removed, typical vampire execution technique.
Dolph had called me in for the first scene, although there was nothing
to really point towards a preternatural murder. In fact, I wasn’t even sure why he had been at the
scene. Instead, I realized that he had
called me in to see if I would reveal anything. You see, the victim was one of the public Humans First leaders;
she had only last week confronted me at a restaurant where Ronnie and I were
enjoying a night away from our guys.
The woman slapped me across the face and accused me of being a
“bloodsucker whore.”
I
had no substantial alibi. I had been at
home, alone, watching TV. Nathaniel,
Cherry, and Zane had bought the new television set when they realized I would
not. All three of them had been out for
the evening of the murder. I had been
watching some legal drama that was about a fictional Brewster’s Law. It was actually rather interesting. But that’s not the point. The point is, I was a suspect. I still am.
Two
nights ago, another human was found dead.
This one had been a customer at Animator’s, Inc. He and I had argued earlier that day—he
wanted a three-century-old corpse raised and immediately offered to supply the
“white goat”. I guess when this man had
spoken to my boss, Bert neglected to inform him that I did not need the human
sacrifice. I refused the job, and the
angry man threatened to go to the police with information that would get me
executed for magical malfeasance. When
the police came to investigate after his body was found, the office personnel
mentioned his loud threats. No one had
heard his genial offer of a human sacrifice, although I made certain the police
knew about that when they questioned me.
This time, I had been working, but I only raised three corpses. I know the police believe that I could have
murdered the man in between jobs.
Guess
who is still the primary suspect? Yeah,
me.
Last
night was a drunken man, found in an alley behind Dead Dave’s. I visited the undead ex-cop that same night,
trying to see if he knew anything regarding the murders. If I didn’t clear my name quickly, I could
end up in jail. The only reason I
wasn’t already in jail was because I was considered a valuable asset to the
Regional Preternatural Investigative Team (RPIT), and I guess the police was
willing to give me the benefit of the doubt while they tried to figure this
out. Dave had nothing constructive to
tell me, except that I should probably spend all my time with someone else, a
witness to confirm my alibi. One of the
drunks in the bar had tried to hit on me when I was leaving the bar. I turned him down. He persisted. The entire
bar had gone quiet. I told him, for the
last time, to leave me the hell alone.
The patrons of Dead Dave’s remained silent until I left.
Dolph
phoned me this morning to tell me that the drunk had been found in the
alley. His head was discovered in
another street, but like the other victims, his heart was removed, and not
found.
I
dreaded another phone call this morning.
This time, though, I had numerous witnesses to testify to my locations
throughout the night. I had my five
clients and all the court personnel and lawyers they brought with them. Also, Larry rode in the car with me. It was his night off, but he offered to come
with me in case anything happened. I
just finished dropping the other animator off at his apartment.
Who
knew what the police would think if another corpse showed up? How many people thought that I had finally
snapped, that I had crossed the black line?
I
finally gathered the courage to drive home.
I wish I hadn’t. This time the
police wouldn’t call me. It would be
the other way around.
It
was a werewolf. I recognized her from
her disconnected head. Her head was
sitting on the sidewalk, like some grotesque out-of-season jack o’
lantern. One I had fought over a month
ago, but whom Richard had forbidden me from killing. With the exception of the decapitation, and the bloody mess her
chest was now, she looked almost normal, propped against my front door.
I
had the worst feeling that I was out of my league as I stared at the cooling
body. It was a feeling I did not like
at all. There was only one suspect,
only one person to tie all these bodies together, and that was me.
The
police had been suspicious of me for a while now; that not everything I had
done was on the right side of the law.
I wasn’t one hundred percent sure that they would work all that hard to
exonerate me. It’s sad to say, but
true. If they began to dig, the y would
find many more “missing person” cases that pointed towards foul play in my
direction. No hard evidence, but maybe
enough suspicion to perhaps have me executed on grounds of magical malfeasance.
I
toyed with the idea of trying to find a way to hide the body. I didn’t want the police to see another
murder that would have benefited me. I
didn’t want them to have any more doubts regarding this case. But what if I did find a way to hide
the body, but someone had already seen it?
One of my neighbors, perhaps?
What if the police were already on their way? Then I would look even guiltier.
As
I dialed Dolph’s cell phone number, I realized I had little choice.
I
only knew of one person who could help me in this situation. Yes, there was always Jean-Claude, but he
had been useless up to now. Besides,
his loyalty, above all, was to the city, and what could he do?
I
had to bring Edward in on this.
Edward,
the very man I had run away from just a month ago. I had saved his life after he relapsed, and it was during that
weekend that I realized I loved him.
The Executioner loved Death.
Don’t laugh—it isn’t funny!
I
glanced back at the body, wondering who would be able to kill a werewolf and
held a grudge against me. Instead, the
memory of a human came to mind.
<<I
WOULD HUNT YOUR VICTIMS BECAUSE I KNOW YOU WILL NOT HUNT MINE.>>
Oh,
God. Olaf.
Edward
had warned me about him, but would the huge German be capable of executing a
werewolf? If so, I was in deep
trouble. I promised myself that after
the police left, I would go to a pay phone and call Edward, and then go to a
hotel.
(Copyright 2003. This
story belongs to me, Casey. Don’t use
without my permission! [email protected])