'Why ask it like that, Anita? You know I have.'

I looked at him, just looked at him.

He looked past me to Domino. The look was angry, and eloquent, and seemed to be saying, How could you be this stupid? with a slight eyebrow raise and a tiny tilt to his head.

Domino's power flared again. 'I said nothing.'

Socrates' look didn't believe him, and neither did the rest of Socrates.

'Did you really think I'd never figure it out?' I asked.

He looked at me then and said, 'I don't know what you think you've figured out, so I can't speak to it.'

'Don't you lie to me, Socrates, not anymore.'

Gonzales started walking this way. My watching him made Socrates glance back, too. We had the attention of all the cops. I was letting my emotions get in the way of business, oh, hell, in the way of common sense. Cops are a curious lot, especially about anyone they may have to trust their lives to, so us arguing among ourselves wasn't going to reassure any of them.

'Is there a problem, Anita?' he asked.

If I said no, he'd know it was a lie, but ... 'No,' I said, and the no was very firm, very certain. I'd actually made a waitress cry once by saying no. Gonzales didn't cry he was made of sterner stuff than that but he understood that it was an absolutely unmovable negative. Sometimes I spoke too forcefully and made waitresses cry by accident, but sometimes it was exactly the amount of force needed to stop people from asking me anything.

Gonzales looked at me, then looked from one to the other of the men. 'Okay, how are you feeling? You looked a little green.'

'Let's just say I'm wishing I'd stuck to something more liquid for lunch.'

He gave a little chuckle, but his eyes stayed wary and he did another glance around at all the men. His gaze came back to me and he showed me those suspicious cop eyes that said clearly I was full of shit and he didn't believe me. Didn't believe what, you might ask? He was a ten-year-plus veteran police officer; he didn't believe a damn thing that anyone told him.

A man called out from down the hallway. 'I thought you were tough, Blake. I hear you just tossed your lunch for no reason whatsoever.' It was Travers come to give moral support to Sheriff Callahan, and to continue to be a pain in my ass.

'What's your problem, Travers?' I asked, and it was a little loud just like his comment had been, because we were at the ends of the hallway from each other.

'You, you and your ... men are my problem.' He was walking toward us.

I moved around Gonzales and started moving to meet Travers.

'Anita,' Socrates said, 'don't ...'

I turned, pointed a finger at him, and just said, 'Don't even.'

Nicky caught up with me. 'What are you going to do?'

I realized that Travers was looking for a fight and so was I. I stopped walking and said, 'Fuck.'

He smiled at me.

But Travers didn't have any voice of reason with him; he was just this big, angry guy waiting for someone to take the first swing so he could swing back. His body language screamed, Give me an excuse.

'What are you smiling at?' Travers asked.

I realized he was asking Nicky, who turned and looked at him. Travers wasn't a rookie, he should have understood what that look meant, but he bristled, hands going into fists. Nicky planted one foot so he'd be able to pivot into his swing. I took a step ahead of him.

'Anita,' Nicky said.

'It's okay, Nicky.'

'It's not okay, Nicky,' Travers said, doing a bad and unflattering imitation of me.

'Travers, we are not going to let you use us to pick your fight.'

'They'll fight back, Blake, they can't help it. You kick a dog, it'll bite you.'

'They aren't dogs, Travers, nothing that domesticated.'

'No, not domesticated, pussy-whipped.'

'What is with everyone here and that phrase?' I asked.

Travers was right in front of us now. His hands were still fists; his arms were actually vibrating with anger. He wanted, almost needed, to hit something. 'You always hide behind your girlfriend, Nicky?'

'No,' Nicky said, and his no, like mine, was very firm, very sure of itself, and left no room for anything but the negative. He started to move closer to Travers, but I stepped between them.

I let down some of my shields, not all, not even all the way down, but enough so that when I touched Travers's arm I could draw on his anger. Being able to feed on sex was Jean-Claude's power, but I could also feed on anger and that was my power, my special little talent slice. I'd practiced until I could take the edge off someone's anger, like skimming off the anger, rage-filled cream, leaving bland but healthier milk behind.

I didn't so much feed on his anger, because that could cause confusion and get noticed by the other police. I sort of licked away a little bit of his anger, like taking the cherry off a milkshake.

Travers frowned, and looked lost for a second, and then he jerked back, holding his arm as if it hurt where I'd touched him. 'What did you do to me?'

'Why were you angry at us?' I asked quietly.

He shook his head, rubbing his arm. 'Do me a favor, Blake; next time I'm about to die don't save me, and don't have any of your damn vampires save me either.'

'You'd rather have rotted to death in excruciating pain than had Truth suck the corruption out of you?'

He looked at me, and there was real pain in his eyes. He whispered, 'Yes.' Looking into his eyes from touching distance, I knew he meant it. Something about Truth feeding on him had disturbed him so badly that he had decided dying was preferable.

I don't know what my expression was, but Travers suddenly turned around and walked fast for the elevators. He was still holding his arm.

Gonzales said, 'What did you do to him just now?'

'Just calmed his anger a little, I swear.'

'Do we care what happens to Travers?' Nicky asked.

'Care in what way?' I asked.

'Care if he lives or dies?'

'Truth risked his own life to save Travers, so yeah, alive would be good.'