Anita Blake 20bis - Beauty: An Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter Outtake (4 page)

The kick drove the vampire stumbling away from Dolph, a hand going to his ribs, as he leapt for me still on the table on my side. I kicked him again, this time aiming for the sternum, aiming to take the breath out of him, as if he’d been human and needed to breathe all the time. In a fight, you fall back on training, no matter what you’re fighting.

My foot caught him square in the chest, my stiletto sank into his sternum, and the force of the kick drove my heel upward toward his heart. I had a moment to feel the heel sink home, a second to wonder if three inches of stiletto would hit his heart, and then he reacted to the stab, and I realized there was a strap on my shoe, and my heel was stuck in his chest, because he moved away, and my foot went with him, and the rest of me slid off the table. I was short enough that I had to put my hands on the floor to keep from just dangling from his chest. There was nothing I could do to protect myself, or to keep my skirt from inching down. I had a moment of modesty fail as the thigh-highs and thong were exposed to the room. Shit! But if my modesty took the worst of it, I could live with that.

A bright white light began to fill the room. The vampire hissed and backed up. I had to hand-walk as he dragged me across the room. My heel began to slide out of his chest, my body weight finally too much for it. My foot slid all the way out as someone walked into the room with a holy object blazing white, strangely cool, as if the cold light of stars could be held in your hand. I’d never seen a holy object glow this bright when I didn’t have my own glowing along with it. It was even more impressive as I lay on the floor, tugging my skirt down, and watched Zerbrowski walk past me, hand held high, most of his body lost in the bright glow of his cross. I had afterimages of the cross in my eyes when I blinked, as if I needed a welder’s helmet. It never seemed this bright when my own cross was shining alone, but we were allowed holy objects in the interrogation room only if the vampire was under arrest for assault or murder. Then we could say we needed the protection of something that couldn’t be taken away from us like a weapon could.

Dolph offered me a hand, and I took it. There’d been a time when I wouldn’t have, but I understood that from Dolph it was a sign of respect and camaraderie, not sexism. He’d have offered Zerbrowski a hand, too.

We watched Zerbrowski drive the vampire into the far corner with the light of his faith, because a holy object doesn’t shine unless the holder believes, or the object has been blessed by someone holy enough to make it stick. There were a few priests that I wouldn’t let bless my holy water, because I’d had it not glow for me at critical moments. The Church actually surveyed the vampire executioners around the country, asking what priests had failed that test of faith. I’d felt like I was tattling.

The vampire curled into the corner, trying to make himself as tiny as possible, his face hidden between his arms. He was yelling, “Please, stop it! It hurts! It hurts!”

Zerbrowski’s voice came out of the shining light. “I’ll put it away after you’re cuffed.”

A uniform had brought in some of the new cuff-and-shackle sets that were designed specifically for the preternatural suspects. They were expensive so even RPIT didn’t have a lot of them. Barney was a new vampire; we didn’t think he was dangerous enough to need them. We’d been wrong. I looked at the one uniform still lying against the wall. Someone was checking his pulse, and he moved, groaning, as if something hurt a lot; he was alive, but not because of anything I’d done. I’d been stupid and arrogant and others were hurt because of it. I hated it when it was my fault. Hated it, fucking hated it.

The uniform had wide eyes but he went toward the vampire. Dolph and I both reached out at the same time to take the cuff set with its single solid bar connecting the hands and ankle shackles. We looked at each other.

“I was the one who took off his cuffs to play friendly cop.”

He studied my face. His dark hair, cut short and neat, was actually just long enough on top that it was mussed from the fight. He smoothed the hair in place, while he gave me serious eyes.

“Besides, the captain shouldn’t be wrestling suspects even if he’s the biggest guy here,” I said with a smile.

He nodded, and let me go first. Once he would have protected me and gone first, but he knew that I was harder to hurt than anyone in the room except the vampire. I could take a beating and keep on ticking, and he also understood without having to say anything else that I was blaming myself for it all getting out of hand. Protocol was that you left vampires completely shackled. I’d taken his cuffs off so he would talk to me. I’d been convinced I could handle a baby vampire like Barney with his hands free. We were lucky no one was dead.

Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter Novels

by Laurell K. Hamilton

Guilty Pleasures

The Laughing Corpse

Circus of the Damned

The Lunatic Café

Bloody Bones

The Killing Dance

Burnt Offerings

Blue Moon

Obsidian Butterfly

Narcissus in Chains

Cerulean Sins

Incubus Dreams

Micah

Danse Macabre

The Harlequin

Blood Noir

Skin Trade

Flirt

Bullet

Hit List

Strange Candy

eSpecials

Beauty

Laurell K. Hamilton
is a full-time writer. She lives in a suburb of St. Louis with her family.

Visit her official website at www.laurellkhamilton.org.