Assassins Bite by Mary Hughes

him even the short time I had, of course he’d been counting.
    His back was to me, watching the last Lestat disappear into the night. I expected him to whirl and attack me with his deadly skill but he just stood there, not moving in any way.
    Finally he drew breath. Still without turning he said, “What for?”
    â€œUm…did you pay your ticket?”
    â€œI have ten days, remember?”
    â€œYou’re a criminal.”
    â€œNot for nine more days.”
    â€œI’m pretty sure intent means something.”
    â€œI’m pretty sure only action counts.”
    â€œWell…” I glanced at the broken bodies. “Assault, then. With a deadly weapon.”
    â€œThey’re vampires. They’ll be fine.”
    I lowered the gun with a sigh. “I know.”
    He turned at last, slowly. He was frowning. “You’re not supposed to know that. Haven’t you been connected with Iowa yet?”
    â€œNo. Why?”
    He didn’t answer directly. “Talk with any bass-voiced men lately?”
    â€œLook, while the enigmatic stuff is sexy, it’s also annoying as hell.” I had questions about vampires, about him— and tonight I had my cuffs. I holstered my weapon with an irritated snick and stalked to him, collecting my restraints on the way, fastening one bracelet on my wrist using the thud of my shoes to cover the click. “You’re coming with me to Interview.”
    â€œI don’t think so.” He gazed down on me in cool amusement.
    â€œI do think so.” I glared up. That amusement was so annoying. With him I forgot avoidance and politeness and even the nuclear option and went straight to a shrieking mess. “You are coming with me and I’m going to interrogate you so hard you’ll scream for mercy.” My face heated as other reasons to scream occurred to me. To cover it, I slapped the open cuff on him, tethering our wrists. “So there.”
    He looked down at where we were joined and almost smiled. He rattled his wrist. “Handfasting? How sweet. But you should have asked first.”
    My cheeks burned but I spat, “Arrest.” I spun and resolutely stalked off.
    So my arm nearly yanked out of its socket when he refused to budge, steady as a rock.
    I half-turned, grabbed my own arm and gave it a good tug. “We’re going to the station and that’s the end of it—hey!” I nearly fell on my keister. My cuff had somehow become attached to nothing but air. Ninja rock.
    I flailed and would have fallen but he swooped in and swept me off my feet. “We’ll go to the station, all right. But I’m not staying. You are.”
    We were over the bridge before I’d drawn a full breath. “I’m not—”
    â€œYou are.” We were outside the cop shop. Damn, he was fast. “There are bad guys out here, extraordinarily hard to stop, and you know both too much about them and not enough.” He set me down. “Do me a favor. Go inside and don’t come out until dawn.” He turned, about to disappear yet again.
    â€œYou’re not the boss of me.” Besides, he’d seen me handle them. Shooting out that vampire’s heart, turning vampy chest into a mass of meat but I kept shooting. And shooting. And shooting…
    The dark side of me laughed. Five-three plus a gun was seven feet tall. Shooting again and again, and heaven help anyone who got in my way…
    I shuddered. Maybe, just for once, he was right.
    Blackthorne disappeared into the night. I didn’t try to call him back, wondering who the real threat was.
    Chicago wilderness, early 1800s
    The boy had a name, but no one used it. To the clan elders he was Young Chief, always leading around bands of children. To those children he was First Friend. To his mother he was simply Beautiful Son.
    To his father he was Halfbreed.
    He paid attention to none of it. Those were the golden days, drenched in sun and