The owner of the stall had already fled with the crowd, but he’d left his pots on the butane flames. Anselm avoided knocking them over. As the first Maneater closed on him, he reached up to grab a pot and tossed the hot contents into the creature’s face.

  The contents included boiling oil. It stopped the were in her tracks. A pained, bloodcurdling howl echoed through the street as the were stumbled away, scrabbling at her face. The wounds would heal in minutes.

  Anselm snapped his arm up and punched three silver rounds through the creature’s chest, then finished it with one to the head. No kill like overkill, especially with notoriously difficult-to-end creatures.

  The second was on him before he could shift his aim. A swiping claw crashed into his arm and wrenched his pistol from his hands. Her jaw clamped on his shoulder as they both crashed into the same cart he’d bumped into before. An unpleasant feeling, but Anselm managed to pull free from the creature’s grasp in the entanglement.

  He was running out of weapons, and he didn’t dare take on a werewolf with his bare hands. He knew several ways to grapple with a werewolf, but most required the creature to be in its human form.

  His last resort, then. He reached into his left sleeve and extracted a small tab that drew out a silver-laced wire extending three or four times his body height. Not the most effective weapon for monsters, but a neat trick in close quarters.

  The werewolf tossed the street cart aside as he roughly measured a length of the wire and held the opposite tab with his other hand.

  “No dawdling. Time for one of us to die!”

  His wit was wasted on the creature. She roared at him before she charged. Not as quick as a vampire but with a great deal more power behind it. Vamp fangs were also flimsy and weak. Were teeth and claws could rip through steel if the wolf was pissed enough.

  His body armor fended off the bite, but it felt like a truck had tried to yank his arm off.

  Anselm waited until the last second before tossing his coat into the creature’s face. A move called the “olé,” although no one could agree where the name came from.

  The fun stuff that laced his coat made it difficult for anything but a human to use it. Wolfsbane was probably what the creature felt the most. The allergic reaction to the wolfsbane would all but blind her as well as neuter her sense of smell. Her own roars and howls prevented her from hearing his position.

  He jumped away from a blind swipe and ducked under a second before he swept the wire around the creature’s wrist. It was smooth work to tighten the thin wire and cut into the creature’s skin, slicing through tendons and muscles, opening deep cuts in vital arteries and veins.

  The Maneater’s swift yank tore the wire from his hands, but the damage was done. The wire had cut through flesh and bone, leaving her hand hanging by the barest thread.

  Injured, poisoned, and dying, yet the werewolf was so strong she still posed a threat. Anselm glared at the Maneater as he drew another length of wire.

  “Time to finish you off.”

  He didn’t have much practice against the beasts. They’d tried to kill him a couple of times already, but it was never personal. Always business. He’d learned to mark the difference, although they wouldn’t see it the same way.

  Anselm stepped forward, flicked the wire around the creature’s neck, and caught it on the other side. The monster growled and gargled as the wire cut through her throat and ground against her spine.

  He didn’t have to keep pulling, but the werewolf fought against the wire. It tried to reach back and grab him, but he twisted out of the way and pulled, dragging the werewolf until her spine gave way.

  Weres couldn’t recover from that. Silver or not, headless was dead.

  Anselm sucked in a deep breath and wiped the blood from his hands. A decent kill. Not painless, but he’d taken out two transformed weres on his own.

  He couldn’t take the Guardians, though.

  He heard their sirens whining in the distance. If they asked questions he couldn’t answer, he’d be as fucked as if the werewolves had killed him.

  “Let’s go see a woman about an embed.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Things hadn’t gone to plan. Clare wasn’t happy to see only Rody herding their target into her trap, but it still worked out.

  The woman hadn’t seen the parked semi in front of her, where Clare waited in the cabin. She only had eyes for the angry vampire on her tail. Rody hadn’t offered an answer for why he didn’t stop the delivery vehicle himself and grab the woman, but the bastard got the job done.

  The electromagnets killed the engine and stopped her comms. The trailer was a cage to contain the woman. It also served as the perfect means to transport her through the city without being contested.

  Rody told her Anselm had stayed back to fight the pair of Maneaters who’d been guarding their quarry. From the number of Guardians crawling from the crevices of the city, it looked like he’d made a mess of it.

  Two werewolves seemed like a lot for one human, but she had full faith he could handle it. Or to know he couldn’t handle it and run the fuck away. It wasn’t difficult to escape a rampaging were after they were fully transformed.

  “Why did you leave him to deal with the werewolves?”

  Rody looked up from the scanner and narrowed his eyes. “He told me to. Said it was because of the mission. He’s got a rare mindset, that one. Not many people I know would be so interested in sticking around to fight weres like that.”

  Clare shrugged. “Sounds about right to me. Any word on him yet?”

  “Guardians found the weres’ bodies, so I assume he did well.” Rody had the decency to look surprised. “No human bodies around. One of the weres was missing its head.”

  “Huh. Did Anselm take it?”

  “No. He only cut it off.”

  They both jumped at the sound of the adjudicator’s voice, but Anselm didn’t pause to soak in his success at surprising them. He wore an odd pair of gloves with knuckle caps that seemed made of wood.

  Rody had no time to react before the adjudicator stepped in and hammered his fist across the vampire’s jaw, dropping him to his knees.

  The punch had power behind it, and the gloves were likely designed to fight vampires.

  A burst of rage replaced the look of surprise on Rody’s face. His fangs flashed, but he stopped short of pouncing on Anselm when he saw the pistol pointed at him. The trigger had three pounds off its pull weight, and Rody was seconds from being murdered.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” Clare snapped. “You trying to antagonize all our allies?”

  “I’m curious why he didn’t warn us about the Maneaters.” Anselm’s voice was unsettlingly calm. She’d learned this indicated he was ready to fight. “That seems like something they would know about beforehand.”

  Rody struggled to control himself. Fangs and claws had emerged to tear into Anselm. The bruise on his left cheek wasn’t healing, which indicated the adjudicator’s gauntlet was inlaid with rowan wood.

  “I didn’t know about them.” Rody stood, and the pistol barrel followed him. “I offered to help you deal with them.”

  “You knew we couldn’t give up on Clare getting the embed. Try again.”

  “What do you want, a pinkie swear?” Rody flashed his fangs again as the bruise slowly disappeared. “There’s no such thing as perfect intel. The agent who reported on her location must have missed the two Maneaters following her.”

  “Anselm, that’s enough.” Clare stepped between them, watching as Anselm drew his gun back when she got in the way. “Worst case, there are two fewer psycho-cannibals in the world. Good job. Now we have an embed to interrogate. You can work through your trust issues later.”

  She patted his shoulder, which elicited a wince.

  “Watch it,” he ground out. “Damned Maneater almost took my arm off.”

  “You can’t help but get your ass beat in every fight, huh?”

  “Yeah. It’s like I’m a human going up against inhuman monsters.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Get that armor off, and Florence will check you out. Rody, keep an eye on our prisoner.”

  Anselm looked ready to disagree, but he had to be at the top of his game for an interrogation.

  It didn’t take long. He spent the scanning time watching their prisoner through the bars, wearing a look that said he was trying to work through the mind of the woman they were dealing with.

  The embed watched Rody a lot closer.

  Once Florence was done healing him, Anselm approached the chair she’d been strapped to.

  “I guess this is the part where you interrogate me for information, huh?” she wheezed. “I’m dead already. I’ve betrayed the NAC, so there’s nothing you can threaten me with that’ll—”

  Anselm raised a hand to stop her and leaned in closer. It seemed he’d intentionally invaded her personal space to make her uncomfortable.

  “Yes, you’re going to die.” He spoke matter-of-factly as he sat on the chair facing her. “Nothing can stop that. As much as I’d like to offer a deal, betrayal must be punished by death. The adjudicators hunting you will be encouraged to make a public example, but other spectacles might prove more effective.”

  The woman licked her lips when Anselm leaned close again.

  “Those nanobots in the ring? They’re the preferred method of killing traitors. Adjudicators have admin access to their processes. They do wonders to keep you alive and kicking, but they can be turned to tear you apart from the inside. Intestinal issues will probably come first. Then they’ll attack your central nervous system, keeping you alive as long as possible. Your kidneys will shut down next. You’ll be shitting and puking blood, but I assume after three days of every nerve in your body being shredded to pieces, you won’t care. After the kidneys, it’ll be a crapshoot. The nanobots will keep you alive for as long as possible, but there won’t be much left to keep alive.”

  She inched away from him. Clare didn’t like the way he presented that idea. Did all NAC agents have those nanobots in them? It seemed weird to give anyone admin access to them.

  “I guess you’d have looked into what happened the last few times adjudicators came down to clear our treacherous elements.” He shrugged. “There’ll be enough of your body left to pin somewhere public. Let the world know exactly what happens when you fuck with us.”

  The woman was terrified, but she clenched her jaw and kept her mouth shut. They were in for a long interrogation. If they managed to get anything out of her, there was no telling if it would be actionable intel.

  Anselm was out of his chair in a second. He whipped the back of his hand across the woman’s cheek hard enough to open a cut.

  Oddly enough, Rody stepped in.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” he spat. The vampire showed no obvious reaction to the blood as he produced a handkerchief to dab the spot Anselm had struck.

  The woman’s reaction was equally surprising. She yanked away from him hard enough to knock her chair over. “Get away from me!” she screamed. “If you wanted someone to play the good cop in this little drama, you shouldn’t have picked the fucking bloodsucker.”

  Anselm smirked like he’d been expecting the reaction and motioned for Rody to join him in a momentary retreat from the interrogation.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Rody repeated. He probably hadn’t forgiven Anselm for hitting him.

  “Confirming a hunch. She’s a purist and seems to hate vamps more than she fears me.” Anselm crossed his arms. “Now, torture is known not to work, but the fear and threat of torture do. I think we’ve found something she fears more than the most painful and degrading death imaginable.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “We’ve got a ticking clock here,” Clare reminded the vamp. She understood what Anselm was suggesting. “You probably won’t need to do much more than show your fangs before she caves.”

  “This isn’t a good idea. It’s repulsive.” Rody shook his head. “Turning people who don’t want it… What you’re asking me to do is beyond appalling. It’s practically a sin.”

  Anselm raised an eyebrow. “You’ve got a soft heart for a vamp. Don’t get me wrong, that’s an admirable trait. Our options are for you to threaten to turn her and hope she breaks before she calls our bluff, or I turn her insides to mush and hope she’s willing to talk while she still has the lungs to do so.”

  “Is it true?” Rody asked. “She has nanobots in her that you can use to kill her?”

  “It’s in the paperwork she has to sign before becoming an embed for the NAC,” Anselm told him.

  Clare assumed that meant he’d signed similar paperwork. She leaned in closer. “What’s it going to be? It’s your call, Rody.”

  “Fine.” He flashed his fangs and rolled his eyes.

  “Excellent. You don’t have to say anything. Just show her your fangs.”

  Rody nodded and turned back to the embed, who struggled to get up after having knocked her chair over.

  “You doing okay?” Anselm straightened her. “Shouldn’t be long until those nanobots tear through your body. Got me a vamp on hand. Since you don’t like him, I suspect that’ll add despair to the mix. When the nanobots sense that change in your body, they’ll turn on you immediately. You’ll either turn, or it’ll take you months to finally die. Funny how that works. Rody, are you ready?”

  The transformation Rody had undergone was remarkable. Clare hadn’t seen much of it when they dealt with the feral vamps. They had been in the dark, so most of the details were hidden. Now, she saw that Rody’s eyes had turned black as if his pupils had expanded to fill his eyeballs. His fangs and claws were extended and crackling as he approached the bound embed. Blood dripped from his lips, and Clare realized he’d used his fangs to draw blood from his tongue.

  A means to transfer his condition to the woman.

  She tried to inch away. “You can’t do this,” she moaned. “You have to stop him.”

  “What makes you think I can do that?” Anselm shook his head. “I have no jurisdiction in this place. He’s the get of an elder vampire, more powerful than most.”

  “You can’t do this! It’s immoral!”

  “I guess dropping two people out of the sky in a shuttle wouldn’t fall under that purview?” Anselm cocked his head. “The only way for you to get out of this without turning into a vampire or dying is by telling him what he wants to know.”

  “What?”

  “You’ve turned traitor. You knew the consequences of that when you took on the ring, and you accepted them. This is on your head. Rody, do it.”

  The vampire advanced. For a second, Clare thought he would go through with his threat. He’d objected to it and raised a moral issue with the idea, but he didn’t stop until the woman screamed.

  “I’ll do it!” Her voice was panicked. If Rody’s performance was an act, he’d sold it well. “I’ll do whatever you say, but take that vampire away from me, please. I couldn’t live with being polluted. Oh, God, please. Please don’t, please…”

  Her voice trailed into a series of whimpers and plaintive cries as Rody retreated into the shadows of the room.

  “Very well.” Anselm crossed his arms. “Tell us who told you to kill me and Clare. Remember that I’ll know if you lie. One slip-up and Rody will be back. I doubt I’d be able to stop him the next time he has a hankering for your blood.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  He didn’t like how they’d obtained the results. Their captive couldn’t see it, but Rody showed genuine signs of distress over what he’d been forced to do. Clare seemed confused and angry as their prisoner tried to see where the vamp went.

  He never thought the end justified the means, but he’d bullied a vampire into doing something against his morals and threatened a woman with a fate worse than death to break her.

  He considered the possibility he wasn’t a good person, no matter the reasons for his actions, then dismissed it. What was done was done. It would be a waste to leave progress by the wayside because he felt guilty.

  He focused his gaze on the embed and watched her in silence until her attention returned to him. She had to remember that he was the threat to fear in the room. The vampire was dangerous, but he could kill her if she didn’t do as he told her to.

  “They paid me.” Three words that didn’t reveal anything new. “They said there was more money on the way, and they would protect me and make sure nobody discovered my part in it. All I had to do was make sure Clare Voyhent never arrived in Summerland City.”

  That settled the discussion. Clare was the target. He assumed as much, but he’d made his fair share of enemies in his day.

  Anselm remained silent, pinning her with his gaze until she grew uncomfortable again.

  “I didn’t know why she was so important.” It sounded like she was trying to justify her actions. Not the reply he expected.

  He supposed he should adjust his perception of morality. The woman didn’t think it would be an issue to kill one human among millions.

  “Didn’t know why I was so important?” Clare snapped and stepped forward.

  She stopped when Anselm raised a hand. He didn’t want the embed to know anything since he wasn’t sure what they would do with her after the interrogation.

  “Who is them?” Anselm asked as quietly as he could manage. It was a delicate part of the discussion. She’d mostly shared her involvement. Now, Anselm wanted her to fear him more than she feared those who’d been paying her.

  “Couriers.” Her breath hitched when Anselm narrowed his eyes. “They worked for the ambassador for the Corpus Sanguine.”

  “Why would you work for a vampire?”

  “I’m not working for vampires,” she snapped. “The fang and his staff are middlemen. They’re taking bribes from others. Humans, I swear. People with interests in Summerland and on the surface. They told me the protection from NAC retaliation was supposed to come from a member of the Corpus Sanguini itself. That’s all I know, I swear. If you want to find out more, you’ll need to talk to the CS ambassador.”