And yeah, like Boyd wasn't prepared for that part.

What he wasn't prepared for was that Brian's remains had been found in his house. And outside of it. And in the neighbor's yard. And in the trees.

There was no way in hell there could ever be an open casket ceremony for Brian Freemont.

And O'Neill was letting them know he wasn't happy. He let them know for almost an hour before he was done. Boyd was thinking he might need hearing aids in the near future.

O'Neill gave them written warnings and told them to get the fuck out of his face for the next month or so.

"What I should do is have your sorry asses booked on suspicion just to make you sweat." He must have been practicing his mean face in the mirror. It was almost working like he wanted it to.

"Are we done here?" Boyd sat in his chair like a good boy, his arms crossed over his chest to avoid giving the captain a proper ass-kicking.

"No, Boyd, we're not done by half."

"Are you firing us, Captain O'Neill?"

"No."

"Are you arresting us?"

"No." The man didn't like where the questions were going. Boyd could tell.

"Are you giving us formal reprimands?"

"Yes."

"Fine. Give them over and shut the fuck up. I got work to do and I'm already behind."

"How dare you?"

"It's easy, you're a bitch. You wanna fire me, I'll always find another job. You wanna have me arrested? Go ahead. I'll own your little ass for an ashtray by the time the lawyers are done. You wanna reprimand me, do your stuff. It's within your rights. You wanna yell at someone? Go marry a weak-willed little woman, because I ain't got the time for you or any of your bullshit."

Boyd stood there with his hand out waiting for the reprimand until the captain handed it over. He signed where he was supposed to, made a rude comment where he was asked for his side of the situation on paper, and then took his copy. Danny took his and did the same thing, but without as many foul words.

Boyd waited until they were out of the building before he called his partner a suck-up.

"I think he'd have fired us if he had anyone lined up to take over the cases." Danny was sounding all philosophical now.

"I think he needs to fuck off and die slowly."

"We did lose a perp . . ."

"No, Danny, he was stolen."

"Yeah. By flying girls."

"How is it our fault if some missing persons show up and start flying around?"

"Well, we were supposed to find them."

"And we did. We saw them. They're found. Six fucken cases closed, just like that."

"What did you write on your reply?"

"That if O'Neill could lick his own dick he'd have a marketable skill."

"You're lying." Danny was grinning again.

"I only lie to suspects, Danny. Otherwise it's just an omission of the facts as they may or may not pertain to the case."

"Your girlfriend stuck up for you."

"She's not my girlfriend and so did Longwood."

"He's your ex-partner. He's supposed to."

"Fuck off."

"You only curse when I'm right, Richie."

"What a load of shit! I'm always cursing!"

"That's because I'm always right."

"I think I know how to resolve this."

"What *this'?"

"You and your Whalen fixation."

"Oh? I'm fixated?"

"Yeah, you are." Boyd shot Danny a murderous look.

"Okay, so what if I am. How are you going to resolve this?"

"I'm either gonna sleep with her-which is doubtful-or more likely I'm gonna tell her all the things you've been saying."

"You think she'll kick my ass?"

"Her, or her husband."

"Is he really that big?"

"No. He's bigger. Scariest motherfucker I've ever met in my life."

"No shit?"

"Completely serious."

"Where are we going?"

"We're gonna play it by ear this time, Danny. We're gonna listen to the radio, and see what happens."

"Are you serious?"

"Of course not, dickhead." He rolled his eyes.

"Well, I thought maybe because it was Halloween you were getting all soft and sentimental."

"Never gonna happen. No, we're off to see Jason Soulis."

"Again, Bullwinkle? That trick never works." Danny did a pretty good Rocky the Flying Squirrel. Sometimes it was unsettling.

The radio was blaring nice and loud as soon as they started the Mercedes. Something was going wrong at the Cliff Walks.

Boyd put on the flashers and pulled on his seatbelt. He had to let Danny drive, because it was Danny's car. Unfortunately, Danny drove at speeds that were just this side of physically impossible.

"Slow down, Danny."

"Quit being such a sissy."

Boyd lit another cigar, and Danny got the message.

He slowed down to under the speed of sound when they reached the fog. The headlights were damned near useless, but the car came with all sorts of extras, including a set of fog lights that turned the road yellow. It stopped them from running into the first of the bodies.

Danny slammed on the brakes and Boyd got out of the car. "What the fuck is this . . ." His voice was strained.

Danny stood right next to him and looked at the little kid's corpse. He was maybe five, dressed as a devil, and some sick fuck had cut his throat apart.

Boyd crouched, careful not to touch anything, and looked closer.

"Somebody bit him in the neck." He didn't recognize his voice anymore. He sounded completely alien to himself.

"Call it in, Danny. Do it now."

Boyd drew his piece and looked around. The fog was heavy and the silence was ruined only by the gentle idling of the Mercedes's engine.

Danny talked quickly and sedately into the radio. He came back a minute later with his usual smile gone. "Every fuckin' car is busy and no one has heard from Whalen and Longwood. They aren't answering their radio."

Boyd held up a hand and motioned Danny to be quiet. Both of them listened. Closer to the Cliff Walk, they could hear screams echoing.

"Open the trunk, Danny."

"You got it."

Rules and regulations made it clear that officers had to carry their service firearms. Technically, there was nothing about not carrying a few extras with you for emergency situations.

Danny liked his guns. He got out the spares. Nothing illegal, technically, just bigger than the usual .38. The shotgun was a big comfort sometimes.

They left the boy where he was and kept the flashers going. Later they could feel guilty. For now, they had other things to worry about.

Chapter 21.

I.

Maggie enjoyed herself. She didn't think she would, but she was having a blast. There was definitely something to be said for anonymity and wearing the sort of clothes where no one was trying to see down her shirt or up her skirt. At least for tonight.

The dance floor was crowded and, with his costume on, Ben was more relaxed than usual. He was dancing, and she figured under most circumstances that was about as likely as him working as call girl.

No, that was her job.

She pushed the ugly thought away and grabbed Ben's arm as a slower song started up. That was when he started getting antsy.

She should have expected it. He wasn't exactly an aggressive man. Maggie leaned in closer and put her arms around his neck. It was a little awkward due to the wardrobes, but she managed to pull him in tightly and smile at him.

"Thank you, Ben Kirby."

"What for?"

"Making me go out."

He smiled and shook his head. "You needed a day off."

"Yeah, I did. Thanks for noticing."

He looked her over and a grin split the makeup on his face. "Hard not to. Your hair's a fright and your makeup isn't up to your normal standards."

She turned her head as they swayed to the soft music, and managed to kiss his mouth without either of them getting their clown noses knocked off.

It was not a passionate kiss, but it was heartfelt. He closed his eyes and she watched the shiver run through him. She might have been worried about it being a tremor of fear, after all she had done and he had seen, but his lips kissed back and his hands slid to her waist.

And when the kiss was done, he released a trembling breath and looked into her eyes and saw something there that he liked.

He amazed her.

The door to O'Malley's slammed open before she could say so.

Ben turned his head sharply and Maggie looked over his shoulder as ten figures in black costumes entered the place. A few people were making appreciative comments about their makeup. Maggie was not among them. While she had never seen a vampire-as opposed to an Undead, according to Jason-she knew immediately what they were. How could she not? They were all boys from the frat house.

And they had all looked better. To the very last, they had wounds that she had inflicted on them. Fatal wounds in some cases, disfiguring in others. According to Jason, they would heal given enough time.