Fifteen minutes later Sam stood and watched as the responding paramedics lifted the gurney holding Gate’s draped corpse and wheeled him out of the room. She followed them to the hall, where cops from other departments had come to stand in clusters of twos and threes to watch the body being removed.
As Sam walked past them, she heard one of Dwyer’s old buddies mutter, “Another notch for her nightstick.”
“What did you say?” Suddenly Massey was there, in the jackass’s face, and he looked ready to shove the old-timer through the wall.
Sam stopped and tugged at Massey’s arm. “Forget it.” She glanced at the blustering cop. “No marks on your nightstick, huh, Dave? Keeping it stuck up your ass is working.”
As the other cops snickered, Massey backed away with insulting slowness, and then walked with Sam to see the paramedics to the elevator.
“I didn’t know how much shit you put up with. You’ve got to dodge it all the time,” he said as soon as the doors closed. “But you never report it. Why?”
“Dave Kernan has already racked up two internal suspensions since January,” she told him, “and since he’s managed to alienate or lose all the friends he had in the department, he can’t afford a third. He’s only about eighteen months away from retirement.”
“Fuck his retirement,” Massey said promptly. “He’s an asshole.”
“True. He’s also got two mortgages, an old crap Caddy that really needs a transmission job, and a wife on an insulin pump.” She regarded him. “As for his nightstick, he’s shoved it so far up his ass you can see the top of it when he yawns.”
Massey grinned. “Now I get you.”
As they walked back to the squad room, Sam noticed a bucket and mop sitting by the stairwell exit, and stopped. “Your pal the janitor needs to learn how to clean up after himself.”
“Sorry, what janitor?”
She eyed him. “The one you were talking to right before we questioned Gates.”
“I wasn’t talking to anyone. I don’t even know any of the janitors.” His scent radiated truth. “You sure you saw me?”
“You were standing out in the hallway, talking to the guy, right over there.” She strode to the spot where the janitor had been standing, and breathed in deeply. She could smell hot metal, and beneath that a trace of something cold and green. Just as she had another time before, but where?
The hallway dimmed as a voice came into her mind. This is nothing to concern you. You will forget it.
Sam couldn’t move. The thing in her head held her somehow, and she could feel it sifting through her memories even as it erased them. She couldn’t stop it—and in a minute, she suspected, she wouldn’t want to—so she focused on what it was. Are you Kyn?
I am like you. A guardian.
No, you’re not. I don’t freeze people’s bodies or rummage through their brains.
Yet you jail and question your suspects. The voice sounded amused. You know Death so well, Samantha. You have devoted your life to the study of it. Yet you remain blind to the gifts it has given you.
I can see fine, pal.
Then look upon what you never saw.
The hallway outside Homicide shifted into the penthouse suite at the stronghold, where she could see Lucan sitting outside on the balcony. A blanket fell from either side of the oversize rocking chair he occupied, and as she walked to him, she saw the limp bundle he was holding in his arms, and her own white, still face pressed against his chest.
He looked exhausted, his handsome face almost as pale as hers, but he sat and rocked her like a baby as he watched the sun rise.
Burke walked past her, a silver tray with a glass of bloodwine in his hands. “My lord,” he said softly. “Has there been any change?”
“None.” Lucan didn’t even glance at the tray. “I want nothing. You may go.”
Burke bowed and turned to leave.
“Herbert.” When the tresora returned, Lucan looked up at him. “If she dies, I fear my sanity will not survive it. Under such circumstances I expect I will lay waste to anything that steps in my path. Rafael mentioned to me that you are a marksman.”
Burke’s throat moved as he swallowed and nodded.
Lucan handed him a pistol. “I’ve loaded it with copper rounds. One to the head to slow me, and the second to the heart to finish it.” He bent to press his mouth to Sam’s brow and tuck her in closer to him. “If you would, carry the weapon at all times.”
Something glistened in Burke’s eyes. “I will, my lord.”
Samantha tried to reach out to her lover, but the balcony vanished, and she stood again in the hallway, still frozen in place. Why did you show me that?