The room still pulled off that leather and manly den theme, without being obnoxious about it. The sun was a bloody strip of red against the western sky when Zerbrowski and I got out of his car to question the first witness. Requiem's hand convulsed in my hair, and his hand gripped my shoulder, dug nails into me, and I felt his body jerking, rocking with us. He hugged himself, held himself tight.
I don't explain the news, I just report it. His eyes were so wide they flashed white, and he was gulping at the air as if he was having trouble breathing it down. Because if these vampires were left up there as sacrificial lambs, then they used me to kill them. No, that wasn't it.
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