I called Dolph's home phone number. I don't know why it couldn't wait until morning, but I had almost died tonight. If I did die, I wanted someone to hunt Zachary down.
Dolph answered on the sixth ring. His voice sounded gruff with sleep. "Yes."
"This is Anita Blake, Dolph."
"What's wrong?" His voice sounded almost alert.
"I know who the murderer is."
"Tell me."
I told him. He took notes and asked questions. The biggest question came at the end. "Can you prove any of this?"
"I can prove he wears a gris-gris. I can testify that he confessed to me. He tried to kill me; that I witnessed personally."
"It's going to be a tough sell to a jury or a judge."
"I know."
"I'll see what I can find out."
"We've almost got a solid case on him, Dolph."
"True, but it all hinges on you being alive to testify."
"Yeah, I'll be careful."
"You come down tomorrow and get all this information recorded officially."
"I will."
"Good work."
"Thanks," I said.
"Good night, Anita."
"Good night, Dolph."
I eased back into the car. "We have a meeting with the wererats in forty-five minutes."
"Why is it so important?" he asked.
"Because I think they can show us a back way into Nikolaos's lair. If we come in the front door, we'll never make it." I started the car and pulled out into the road.
"Who else did you call?" he asked.
So he had been paying attention. "The police."
"What?"
Edward never likes dealing with the police. Fancy that. "If Zachary manages to kill me, I want someone else to be looking into it."
He was silent for a little while. Then he asked, "Tell me about Nikolaos."
I shrugged. "She's a sadistic monster, and she's over a thousand years old."
"I look forward to meeting her."
"Don't," I said.
"We've killed master vampires before, Anita. She's just one more."
"No. Nikolaos is at least a thousand years old. I don't think I've ever been so frightened of anything in my life."
He was silent, face unreadable.
"What are you thinking?" I asked.
"That I love a challenge." Then he smiled, a beautiful, spreading smile. Shit. Death had seen his ultimate goal. The biggest catch of all. He wasn't afraid of her, and he should have been.
There aren't that many places open at one-thirty A.M., but Denny's is. There was something wrong with meeting wererats in Denny's over coffee and donuts. Shouldn't we have been meeting in some dark alley? I wasn't complaining, mind you. It just struck me as...funny.
Edward went in first to make sure it wasn't another setup. If he took a table, it was safe. If he came back out, it wasn't safe. Simple. No one knew what he looked like yet. As long as he wasn't with me, he could go anywhere and no one would try to kill him. Amazing. I was beginning to feel like Typhoid Mary.
Edward took a table. Safe. I walked into the bright lights and artificial comfort of the restaurant. The waitress had dark circles under her eyes, cleverly disguised by thick base, which made the circles look sort of pinkish. I looked past her. A man was motioning to me. Hand straight up, finger crooked like he was calling the waitress, or some other subservient.
"I see my party, now. Thanks anyway," I said.
The restaurant was mostly empty in the wee hours of Monday, or rather Tuesday morning. Two men sat at a table in front of the first man. They looked normal enough, but there was a sense of contained energy that seemed to spark in the air around them. Lycanthropes. I would have bet my life on it, and maybe I was.
There was a couple, male and female, sitting catty-corner from the first two. I would have bet money they were lycanthropes, too.
Edward had taken a table near them, but not too near. He had hunted lycanthropes before; he knew what to look for as well.
As I passed the table, one of the men looked up. Pure brown eyes, so dark they were almost black, stared into mine. His face was square, body slender, small build, muscles worked in his arms as he folded his hands under his chin and looked at me. I stared back; then I was past him and to the booth where the Rat King sat.
He was tall, at least six feet, dark brown skin, with thick, shortcut black hair, brown eyes. His face was thin, arrogant, lips almost too soft for the haughty expression he gave me. He was darkly handsome, strongly Mexican, and his suspicion rode the air like lightning.
I eased into the booth. I took a deep, steadying breath and looked across the counter at him.
"I got your message. What do you want?" His voice was soft but deep, without a trace of accent.
"I want you to lead myself and at least one man into the tunnels beneath the Circus of the Damned."
His frown deepened, forming faint wrinkles between his eyes. "Why should I do this for you?"
"Do you want your people free of the master's influence?"
He nodded. Still frowning.
I was really winning him over. "Guide us in through the dungeon entrance, and I'll take care of it"
He clasped his hands together on the table. "How can I trust you?"
"I am not a bounty hunter. I have never harmed a lycanthrope."
"We cannot fight beside you if you go against her. Even I cannot fight her. She calls to me. I don't answer, but I feel it. I can keep the small rats and my people from helping her against you, but that is all."
"Just get us inside. We'll do the rest."
"Are you so confident?"
"I'm willing to bet my life on it," I said.
He steepled his fingers against his lips, elbows on the table. The burn scar in his forearm was still there even in human form, a rough, four-pointed crown. "I'll get you inside," he said.
I smiled. "Thank you."
He stared at me. "When you come back out alive, then you can thank me."
"It's a deal." I held my hand out. After a moment's hesitation, he took it. We shook on it.
"You wish to wait a few days?" he asked.
"No," I said. "I want to go in tomorrow."
He cocked his head to one side. "Are you sure?"
"Why? Is that a problem?"
"You are hurt. I thought you might wish to heal."
I was a little bruised, and my throat hurt, but. . . "How did you know?"
"You smell like death has brushed you close tonight"
I stared at him. Irving never does this to me, the supernatural powers bit. I'm not saying he can't, but he works hard at being human. This man did not.
I took a deep breath. "That is my business."
He nodded. "We will call you and give you the place and time."
I stood up. He remained sitting. There didn't seem to be anything else to say, so I left.
About ten minutes later Edward got into the car with me. "What now?" he asked.
"You mentioned your hotel room. I'm going to sleep while I can."
"And tomorrow?"
"You take me out and show me how the shotgun works."
"Then?" he asked.
"Then we go after Nikolaos," I said.
He gave a shaky breath, almost a laugh. "Oh, boy."
Oh, boy? "Glad to see someone is enjoying all this."
He grinned at me. "I love my work," he said.
I had to smile. Truth was, I loved my work, too.
Chapter 45
During the day I learned how to use a shotgun. That night I went caving with wererats.
The cave was dark. I stood in absolute blackness, gripping my flashlight. I touched my hand to my forehead and couldn't see a damn thing but the funny white images your eyes make when there is no light. I was wearing a hard hat with a light on it, turned off at present. The wererats had insisted on it. All around me were sounds. Cries, moans, the popping of bone, a curious sliding sound like a knife drawing out of flesh. The wererats were changing from human to animal. It sounded like it hurt - a lot. They had made me swear not to turn on a light until they told me to.
I had never wanted to see so badly in my life. It couldn't be so horrible. Could it? But a promise is a promise. I sounded like Horton the Elephant. "A person is a person no matter how small." What the hell was I doing standing in the middle of a cave, in the dark, surrounded by wererats, quoting Dr. Seuss, and trying to kill a one-thousand-year-old vampire?