“Because she’s wrong. And she’s just such a snob about it. Like she’s all better than me because she’s a werewolf when what she really is is crazy.”

I straightened. “Why does this girl even hang out with you when you’re so mean to her?”

“I’m not mean to her! I’m trying to get her to wake up to reality!”

“To which you’ve applied a narrow definition.”

“And she can’t face up to the fact that I’m a vampire.”

“Huh?”

“The only reason she keeps going on about being a werewolf is because I’m a vampire, and she’s jealous.”

I blinked, my brow furrowed in confusion. My lack of a poker face was another reason I was better off on radio than TV. Which was something else that was going to make Supernatural Insider interesting.

“Wait a minute,” I said. “You’re a vampire? Really?” ’Cause right then I would have laid money that she wasn’t.

“Well…” she said. “I have the soul of a vampire.”

I didn’t know what it was that made people bare their souls and tell me the truth when I had no way of knowing whether they were vampires, lycanthropes, or the Queen of Sheba. Maybe it was that radio was simultaneously so personal and anonymous. They could speak, I could hear them, hear the tears in their voices. But they could stay alone, no one had to see them crying, and as soon as they hung up the phone the confession might never have happened. But I was happy for the confessions, because they made for great entertainment.

“Audra, Audra, Audra,” I said. “You know some people believe that vampires don’t even have souls?”

“But I do, I understand, I have the innate sense of style and superiority! I feel the music of the night!”

Oh no. One of those. “Audra, do you collect dried red roses in your bedroom? In fact, your whole bedroom is done up in black and red, isn’t it? You dress in black and wear a lot of eye makeup? And you listen to a lot of Sarah Brightman?”

“Yes,” she said, tentative.

“Okay. Here’s what I think. I think you’re a bit of a whiner.”

“But you’re not being fair! You’re not even listening to me!”

Well… “I’d like you to try something. I want you to count to ten and exhale slowly. It’s a calming exercise. It works for me every time. Can you try it now? Deep breath, and one, two, three—”

“But I am calm!”

“Just keep up that counting, Audra, and I bet if you tell your friend that you’ll stop making fun of her if she stops making fun of you, you guys’ll get along just great.” Gratefully, I hit the cutoff. “Next call, what have you got?”

“Hi, Kitty. Thanks for taking my call. I want to talk about bounty hunters. Those guys who go out hunting supernatural monsters.”

This night was definitely not going my way. I didn’t want to talk about bounty hunters, but who was I to deny my audience? I knew I wasn’t going to like where this went. I sighed. “What about them?”

“You’ve met a lot of these bounty hunters, right? Why don’t we hear more about them in the news and stuff? I’d have thought they’d want publicity, that they’d want to get some credit for the work they do.”

Looking back on it, I was kind of shocked at how many supernatural bounty hunters I had met. Not by intention, of course. Self-preservation dictated I stay as far away from professional assassins as possible.

“If they started working in public,” I said, “then they’d have to be held accountable for what they do. Right now, when they’re underground, they don’t have to put on a good face for anyone. And when the people they’re hunting are also underground, so that no one misses them when they disappear, there’s no accountability, no due process, and sometimes no justice.”

Except in rare cases, like Cormac’s, when he’d been justified in making the kill—and had been convicted for it anyway. The no-win situation. I wasn’t going to bring that up if I could help it, which was part of why this topic was making me nervous. It was hitting too close to home. Never mind having to talk to listeners who clearly wanted people like me dead. Weren’t they supposed to be fans?

This guy wasn’t buying it. “Let’s face it, people like that have been around for centuries, right? And the freaks haven’t taken over yet, so it must be working. What’s wrong with letting them do their jobs?”

Sometimes I thought my listeners were the smartest people around. Sometimes I despaired for the human race.

I said, “I think the question at hand isn’t whether or not these hunters should go public, but whether they should be regulated by the government. Licensed, trained, paid regular salaries. Made an extension of existing law enforcement. Hell, train existing law enforcement and let them do the same job for supernatural citizens that they do for everyone else. It’s already happening—the police department right here in Denver has a paranatural unit now.”

The guy’s mocking tone was clear. “Oh yeah, that’ll bring a whole lot of protection and justice to the system.”

“Come on, people, have a little faith. You have to start somewhere or you end up with anarchy. You end up with guys claiming to be vampire hunters running around staking whoever they please in a self-proclaimed war against evil. Next call, please. Kansas City, you’re on the air.”

“I’m one of those bounty hunters you’re talking about. And let me tell you, you have no idea what’s out there.” The voice was female, with an edge. She sounded like someone who was under a lot of stress. Someone who was used to fighting—all the time. She went on. “Vampires and werewolves aren’t even the half of it. Demons, incubi, zombies, warlocks—there’s a battle for good and evil out there, and the only thing standing between nice people like your listeners and total chaos are people like me who are willing to sacrifice everything to keep the rest of you safe. And what thanks do we get? Scars and trauma, and not a whole lot else. Naive do-gooders trying to shut us down when you all ought to be on your knees thanking us.”

I stared at the mike, because I could think of only one thing to say, and I knew it was the wrong thing. But I couldn’t help it; I said it anyway.

“I’m sensing a lot of anger here.”