Lopez pleaded with Hardin, "What the hell is going on?"

"I don't know. Follow Kitty's lead, keep your eyes open."

Propped against the wall, safe in a shadow, lay Violet. A glistening trail streaked the front of her black shirt—blood, streaming from a gash in her neck. Something had ripped half her throat out—vertebrae were visible. The shredded wound wasn't bleeding anymore—all the blood had drained out. Lopez turned away, a hand covering his mouth.

Her eyes were closed; she didn't move. I couldn't tell if she was dead. More dead. All vampires smelled dead. It looked like all the blood she'd borrowed—that was why vampires drank, to replace the blood they'd lost when they were turned—had spilled out, and maybe she was gone forever this time.

Charlie knelt by her and tenderly cradled her in his lap. "Violet, Violet baby, I brought help. Stay with me now, okay?" He stroked her cheeks, her hair, clutched her hand, and she didn't respond. "Kitty's going to help, okay? Hang on for me, baby."

"What can I do?" I murmured, my heart breaking over the scene.

Charlie looked at me. "She needs blood so she can heal. Strong blood."

Of course she did. She didn't even need much, a mouthful or so. I'd seen how this worked.

"Do I have to?" I said, wincing.

"Please. Just a little." I'd never seen such a look of pleading on anyone's face, much less a vampire's.

I nodded. "Detective Hardin, do you have a jackknife or something?"

She stared. "You can't be serious."

"Yes, please," I said softly. "And you might want to pay attention. This gets pretty interesting."

She didn't have one, but Lopez did, a thin penknife on a keychain. It would have to do.

I knelt by Violet, pulled open the blade, and before I could flinch or change my mind, I drew it across my left forearm. It cut deep. I didn't look at it. Almost, it didn't hurt—until my blood hit the air. Then it stung viciously. I gritted my teeth and held my arm over her lips.

Charlie tilted Violet's head back, holding her jaw in order to ease open her mouth. The first drops that fell from the wound hit her cheek, drizzling a scarlet line to her jaw. But by the time the dripping blood became a steady stream, it fell straight into her mouth. Like giving water to someone dying of thirst.

Because of my rapid healing, the stream of blood didn't last long before clotting, and the cut scabbed over as we watched. But Violet didn't need much. After the first few drops, she closed her mouth by herself. Her throat moved, swallowing. We could see the exposed muscles and tendons of her neck working. Then, her throat started healing. I healed quickly, but this was faster, skin creeping, stretching to cover flesh and blood that now glowed with life. Hardin murmured an expletive.

Violet licked her lips, catching the stray drops, straining forward for more. She winced in pain, then leaned back, settling into Charlie's lap.

"Charlie?" Her voice was small, childlike.

"Yeah, baby?"

"It hurts."

"It won't, in a minute."

Her skin flushed, gaining some color as my blood took effect. Her fingers moved, then her hands, then she stretched her arms to grip Charlie.

He helped her sit up, and all at once she seemed like she'd only been sick, maybe hungover, not drained of blood and near death—or what meant death to vampires.

"Shit," she muttered. She picked at the blood on her clothing and grimaced. "All this good stuff gone to waste."

"Feeling better?" Charlie said.

Her answer sounded tired. "Yeah."

"You're welcome," I said, rubbing the newly healed cuton my arm. it had already turned to a closed, pink scab.

I noticed two stretched-out piles of ash on the concrete nearby. The ones who got Violet, I was guessing. Charlie hadn't let them survive.

So. Had we gotten them all?

"How many more are there?" I said.

"I don't know," Charlie said. "Three, maybe four. Maybe more downstairs. Rick wanted them all alive. He wanted everyone alive."

"Kitty, are these good guys or what?" Hardin demanded.

Violet purred, "Ooh, I wouldn't say good guys."

Hardin opened her mouth for a retort, but then narrowed her eyes. "Do I know you two? Have I seen you before?"

Charlie and Violet glanced at each other, then back at her.

"I don't think so," Charlie said. Violet giggled. Right, so Bonnie and Clyde were back to normal.

I wanted to grab them both by their necks and shake them. "Is Rick downstairs?"

"Yeah."

"What about Ben? And Dack, we have to find Dack, he's working for Mercedes."

Charlie's smile fell. "Shit."

"We have to tell Rick."

Hardin pointed at Lopez. "You two, call for backup, check on Kramer out back."

"Where's Sawyer?" Lopez asked. Hardin just shook her head.

"There's another one of those things down out back, keep an eye on her." She fired off the patter of instructions.

"Things?" Charlie said. "She calls us things?"

Then Violet jumped to her feet and braced, preparing for a fight. "They're still out there."

I didn't see anything but shadows, and they were everywhere.

Charlie grabbed my arm. "Go downstairs. Tell Rick what's happening. Go!" He shoved me on my way.

Hardin and I ran to the back, passing Lopez, who was talking into his radio. Calling for backup. Lopez's partner had a crossbow trained on Stella, but she was doubled over and croaking. Hardin led with the crossbow, moving cautiously along the wall. The basement door still stood open. I couldn't hear anything from inside. Slowly, Hardin leaned around the doorway for a look, then slipped into the hallway. I followed.

The hall was carpeted with a dark-colored berber. The lighting was muted, atmospheric even.

Two figures lay shoved up against the wall, appearing dead. The two side doors stood open; the rooms inside were dark.

"More vampires?" Hardin said. I nodded. An unconscious vampire might as well have been a body—pale, waxen, not breathing.

And once again, how the hell did you knock a vampire unconscious? I'd have to talk to Rick about that later.

We hurried down the hallway. Hardin kept the weapon trained on the bodies the whole time.