“How do you prefer to do it?”
Red looked up from the cooler of whole blood packs, passing her a B+ as he selected an AB– Magus for himself. “How do you?”
EB paused before sinking a fang into the pouch, smirking at him through purple locks. “The clubs, where you met me. Some sick fuck is always looking for an easy little thing he can force himself on. In my case, they don’t just bite off more than they can chew. They get bit back.”
Red nodded, holding the pouch in his hands. “I have a contact at Lone Star, he gives me access to death row inmates in Darrington.”
She slurped the last of the pack down. “That must cost you a chunk.”
“Not as bad as all that.”
“At least your conscience is clean, right?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said, “but I always make sure, just in case.”
“What do you mean?”
He took a breath. “Well, there was this one time …”
Buzz. Click. Clatter. The durasteel gate slid open to echo in the long halls. Red followed Sgt. Macnamara past the sealed rows of reinforced doors. Cell after cell of Seattle’s worst, waiting to walk to the chair.
“Forty-four, here we are. Gary Humphreys, multiple homicides. House special for you, I guess?”
“Just open the door and give us some privacy.”
Macnamara shrugged and slid the keycard into the maglock. “Fifteen minutes.”
Red walked into the spartan cell and took in the sole occupant. Humphreys was a short man, middle aged, every indication of being a standard corporate drone. He glanced up at the elf with a mixture of dread and fatigue.
“I’ve still got a week for my lawyer to find proof I didn’t do it. I don’t suppose you’re here to issue a stay of execution?”
Red advanced on him, Humphreys rising to back against the wall, his sudden fear arousing the elf’s hunger. Red pinned him against the wall with a flick of the wrist, telekinetic bonds locking the inmate in place. He leaned close, inhaling and letting the scent of terror extend his canines.
“No…” Humphreys whimpered. “No, no, please…”
“Shhh…” Red placed his hands to each side of Humphreys’ head, silently intoning the blasphemous Latin of his tradition. Their eyes rolled back in synchrony. With a twin gasp, Red broke the connection, taking a step back and appraising the inmate again.
“You didn’t kill them.”
Humphreys slid to the floor, chest heaving from the mind probe. “No … I loved them … how could I kill my own family?”
Red sighed. “Well, dinner’s off.”
“What?”
“Now I have to figure how to get you out of here.”
“So what happened?”
Red ran a hand through the hair that gave him his name and sighed. “I picked up the case where KE left off. Found the real killer. Found a way to give the Star and Macnamara credit so I could pay down future visits. Humphreys got pardoned and moved to Boston.”
“What happened to the real killer?”
Red smiled darkly and opened the blood pack.