Philadelphia fight it out with the UN, if
you think they’ll even bother.’
Charlotte shuddered in disgust. ‘Enough with the dick-waving contest,’ she said, turning to the cop. ‘You lose. Right now you’re just trying to find a way to save face.
Well there isn’t one. Fucking get over it.’
The cop glared at her for a second, and then laughed. It wasn’t a derisive laugh, more an appreciative chuckle. He put his hands up in surrender.
‘All right, Commander. You and your team can take your ferocious vampire upstairs.’
The cops made way, letting them through, and aside from a cold bit of courtesy from Metzger, they were all silent as they waited for the elevator. Charlotte kept glancing around at their faces,
but none of them looked back at her until they were on board, ascending toward the seventh floor.
‘What the hell was that?’ she said.
Metzger watched the numbers light up. The others ignored her as the elevator passed the fifth floor with a ding. Finally she turned to Barbieri.
‘They didn’t believe you were a vampire,’ he said. ‘Young, pretty, mouth like a street kid.’
‘I should eat his face,’ Charlotte said, knitting her brow.
‘You should,’ Galleti muttered.
Metzger shot her a withering glance that caused Galleti to stare straight ahead at the elevator doors.
‘Sorry, sir,’ Galleti said. ‘I didn’t mean literally.’
Charlotte threw up her hands. ‘For fuck’s sake, neither did I!’
Both Song and Galleti smiled at that. Sergeant Omondi remained stoic as ever. When the elevator dinged to a stop on Seven and the doors slid open, Metzger was the first one off and the others
all followed in his wake. Barbieri made a flourishing bow and gestured for Charlotte to precede him.
‘It’s going to be an interesting day,’ he said.
Half a dozen other cops were in the corridor, either carrying crime scene equipment, taking statements at the doors of other guests’ rooms, or standing guard at the entrance of one room.
When Metzger and his team approached, the sentries just muttered a greeting and waved him through, and Charlotte figured the asshole downstairs had radioed up with a warning.
The minute she walked into the hotel room, all of the trivial politics and posturing of the authorities was forgotten. She had smelled the blood as soon as they got off the elevator, but now the
smell filled up her head, rich and powerful. Metzger had called ahead for a volunteer – someone to give her blood – but nobody had shown up for the job as yet. The Philadelphia police
would have some on hand, as would any hospital, but she didn’t think she was going to get any handouts here in the City of Brotherly Love. The hungry animal inside of her stirred in its sleep
and she licked her lips and swallowed drily. This was a problem that needed solving, but not yet.
A couple of plainclothes detectives stood inside the hotel room, which seemed crowded to Charlotte even before she heard Barbieri start bitching.
‘What the hell is this?’ the forensics expert asked, pushing ahead so he was just behind Metzger. ‘You’ve had the Macy’s parade in here. How am I supposed to
–’
‘Whoa, hold up,’ one of the detectives said. ‘The job is done, pal. CSU has been here and gone already. They just took away the last of their equipment. The scene’s
already been processed. Only thing still here that shouldn’t be is the . . .’
He was about to say ‘victim’. They all knew it, could feel it, but he faltered and just let the sentence hang there unfinished. When the detectives turned to glance awkwardly back
into the room, they could all see why.
Peter Octavian lay on the bed, fully clothed, beside the body of Nikki Wydra, the woman he loved. He had stripped the sheet from the bed and swaddled her in it, wrapped her as if he’d been
preparing some Egyptian pharaoh for burial. He lay there beside her cocoon, studying her face with a longing that broke Charlotte’s
you think they’ll even bother.’
Charlotte shuddered in disgust. ‘Enough with the dick-waving contest,’ she said, turning to the cop. ‘You lose. Right now you’re just trying to find a way to save face.
Well there isn’t one. Fucking get over it.’
The cop glared at her for a second, and then laughed. It wasn’t a derisive laugh, more an appreciative chuckle. He put his hands up in surrender.
‘All right, Commander. You and your team can take your ferocious vampire upstairs.’
The cops made way, letting them through, and aside from a cold bit of courtesy from Metzger, they were all silent as they waited for the elevator. Charlotte kept glancing around at their faces,
but none of them looked back at her until they were on board, ascending toward the seventh floor.
‘What the hell was that?’ she said.
Metzger watched the numbers light up. The others ignored her as the elevator passed the fifth floor with a ding. Finally she turned to Barbieri.
‘They didn’t believe you were a vampire,’ he said. ‘Young, pretty, mouth like a street kid.’
‘I should eat his face,’ Charlotte said, knitting her brow.
‘You should,’ Galleti muttered.
Metzger shot her a withering glance that caused Galleti to stare straight ahead at the elevator doors.
‘Sorry, sir,’ Galleti said. ‘I didn’t mean literally.’
Charlotte threw up her hands. ‘For fuck’s sake, neither did I!’
Both Song and Galleti smiled at that. Sergeant Omondi remained stoic as ever. When the elevator dinged to a stop on Seven and the doors slid open, Metzger was the first one off and the others
all followed in his wake. Barbieri made a flourishing bow and gestured for Charlotte to precede him.
‘It’s going to be an interesting day,’ he said.
Half a dozen other cops were in the corridor, either carrying crime scene equipment, taking statements at the doors of other guests’ rooms, or standing guard at the entrance of one room.
When Metzger and his team approached, the sentries just muttered a greeting and waved him through, and Charlotte figured the asshole downstairs had radioed up with a warning.
The minute she walked into the hotel room, all of the trivial politics and posturing of the authorities was forgotten. She had smelled the blood as soon as they got off the elevator, but now the
smell filled up her head, rich and powerful. Metzger had called ahead for a volunteer – someone to give her blood – but nobody had shown up for the job as yet. The Philadelphia police
would have some on hand, as would any hospital, but she didn’t think she was going to get any handouts here in the City of Brotherly Love. The hungry animal inside of her stirred in its sleep
and she licked her lips and swallowed drily. This was a problem that needed solving, but not yet.
A couple of plainclothes detectives stood inside the hotel room, which seemed crowded to Charlotte even before she heard Barbieri start bitching.
‘What the hell is this?’ the forensics expert asked, pushing ahead so he was just behind Metzger. ‘You’ve had the Macy’s parade in here. How am I supposed to
–’
‘Whoa, hold up,’ one of the detectives said. ‘The job is done, pal. CSU has been here and gone already. They just took away the last of their equipment. The scene’s
already been processed. Only thing still here that shouldn’t be is the . . .’
He was about to say ‘victim’. They all knew it, could feel it, but he faltered and just let the sentence hang there unfinished. When the detectives turned to glance awkwardly back
into the room, they could all see why.
Peter Octavian lay on the bed, fully clothed, beside the body of Nikki Wydra, the woman he loved. He had stripped the sheet from the bed and swaddled her in it, wrapped her as if he’d been
preparing some Egyptian pharaoh for burial. He lay there beside her cocoon, studying her face with a longing that broke Charlotte’s
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