Crimson Death
Page 61

   “Hey, I’ve totally been won over to my smartphone, and it’s a little computer.”
   Edward chuckled. “Fair enough.”
   “I wanted to refresh myself on some of what I remembered after I talked to you the first time. Some of the Irish believe that the great potato famine and the British occupation not only lost them artists and writers, but their native-born psychics and witches, so they’re pretty welcoming to anyone who’s talented, except necromancers, apparently. Back when they let writers out of income tax, they did the same thing for anyone with a demonstrable psychic or magical ability.”
   “That last is news to me.”
   “It wasn’t pertinent to you, personally, and except for me I’m not sure you even work with people who are gifted enough to care.”
   “True.”
   “Marshal Kirkland raises the dead, too,” Nathaniel said.
   “Larry and I are two of the very few with any demonstrable psychic talent.”
   “I know your gifts help you survive and be better at your job. How do the rest survive without any psychic gifts?” Nathaniel asked.
   “We manage,” Edward said dryly.
   “I didn’t mean you. You’re Edward.”
   I actually understood what he meant by that. “You know he’s right; you are Edward and that’s better than magic any day.”
   “I just always assumed that Edward was just bad-ass enough not to need magic, but that everyone else had some.”
   “Nope,” I said, “there’s me, Larry, and Denis-Luc St. John, Manny before he retired, a couple on the West Coast and one on the East Coast, but everyone else is psychic free.”
   “Seems like it should be the other way around,” Nathaniel said.
   “People didn’t trust psychics when the business started,” Edward said. “It was too close to being a witch, and a lot of the old-time vampire hunters hunted witches, too.”
   “We had a coven that went rogue a few years back here in St. Louis. They didn’t have an order of execution on them, but the police called me in to consult anyway.”
   “When the preternatural citizens go off the reservation, who you gonna call?” Edward asked.
   “Us.”
   “Us,” he said.
   “So the Irish want us to bring preternaturals over so they can see if they want to integrate them into their new homegrown unit—is that it?”
   “Something like that,” he said. I would remember later how he said it, and that I didn’t question it at the time.
   “This seems almost too good to be true, Edward. It gets us around the no-guns rule, the badges being American. Are they really going to let us bring in a bunch of nonpolice armed for big bad vampires?”
   “That’s the deal, though I did have to promise them we wouldn’t make too big of a public mess.”
   “If it goes well, no one will know we were there,” I said.
   “That’s what I told them.”
   “You said you had some contacts in Ireland. This is a hell of a lot more than just ‘some contacts,’ Edward.”
   “I told you, we got lucky. One of the men in charge of putting the new unit together owed me a favor.”
   I had a moment to think about what it took to owe Edward a favor. I’d owed him one once upon a time, and he’d called me to New Mexico to hunt a monster that was doing worse than just killing people. He and I had both almost died that time.
   “What kind of favor did he owe you?”
   “You know I won’t answer that.”
   “If it’s just because I’m standing here, I can put my fingers in my ears and hum,” Nathaniel said.
   “It’s not because you’re standing there,” Edward said.
   “He’s not going to tell me,” I said.
   “If you knew that, why did you ask?” Nathaniel asked.
   “I keep hoping he’ll get chatty.”
   “When have I ever been chatty?” Edward said.
   “Did the man who owed you a favor know you in the military, or after you got out?”
   “No comment.”
   “Okay, I know you keep a secret better than almost any human being I know.”
   “Almost?” He made it a question.
   I smiled, though he couldn’t see it. “Okay, you are the human champ of secret keeping.”
   “Just human?”
   “Vampires keep secrets better than anyone I know.”
   “Is tall, not so dark, and handsome hiding things from you while you plan the wedding?”
   “He’s over six hundred years old, Edward. I’ll never know all his secrets, but no, I wasn’t thinking of Jean-Claude, just vamps in general.”
   “And I’ll let that go, because you’ve told me all you’re going to tell me,” he said.
   I laughed. “Hey, I learned from the best how to keep a secret.”
   “So I’m getting my own back—is that it?”
   “Yeah.”
   “We got lucky, but we also have something that our Irish counterparts need.”
   “What exactly is that?”
   “A mixed group of preternaturals who have worked with the police, or been police before.”
   “How much does your old friend know about me and my people?”
   “He’s not my friend, more a work acquaintance.”
   “Okay, so you didn’t tell him much.”
   “The minimum.”
   “Which would be what?”
   “You know how there’s a certain group of military and covert operations that knows more about you than either of us is comfortable with?”
   “You mean Van Cleef.”
   “Did you really want to say that name in front of Nathaniel?”
   “I’ve heard the name before,” he said.
   “Donna doesn’t know that name,” Edward said.
   “Nathaniel was with us in Colorado when the name came up last.”
   “When you told the story it was just you and Micah in the room when his father dropped the name.”
   “Micah and I thought it would be safer if Nathaniel knew the name.”
   “I haven’t told Peter either.”