If you needed additional proof of ogre outrage, there were always the three guys strewn across on the floor, who looked like they'd tried to wrestle a locomotive and come off second best. They were either unconscious, comatose, or dead.
Then there was the girl – a barmaid, judging by her outfit. She looked to be scared about half out of her mind, and I didn't blame her, since the pissed-off ogre, back against the wall, was holding her with one massive paw wrapped around her waist, like a kid playing with a Barbie doll – and not playing real gently, either.
A couple of uniforms were standing just inside the door, what they thought was a safe distance away. I looked over my shoulder and called to them, "Get Leary in here, will you? And find out what's keeping those damn ambulances."
It was quiet inside what was left of the barroom. The only sounds came from the ogre, whose breathing sounded like midnight in a TB ward, and the waitress, who was crying softly.
Keeping my voice low, I asked my partner, "Can you use Influence on him, get him calmed down?"
"I doubt it," Karl said. "I'm not real good at that stuff yet. Anyway, there's not much of a mind there to work with, haina?"
Karl's been my partner for just over a year and a half now, and a vampire for about three months. He's a good kid, even with the fangs.
I nodded. My luck never runs that good, but it'd been worth a try. "You're a lot stronger than you used to be," I said. "If it comes to a rumble, can you take him?"
Karl looked the ogre up and down. It took a while, since the guy was over seven foot from head to toe. You can find some NBA players that tall, but the ogre wasn't lean and quick, the way those guys are. He was built more along the lines of the Great Wall of China.
"I dunno," Karl said. "Let's see if we can avoid finding out."
Neither of us had drawn our weapons yet – we wanted to talk to the ogre, not kill him. We could take him out if we had to – probably. My Beretta's load included silver bullets, and I knew Karl's Glock held sixteen slugs tipped with cold iron – he doesn't handle silver anymore. Either round will take down an ogre, but you have to get him in a vital spot. It's kind of what hunting rhinos must be like – you know your gun can kill the beast, but you'd better make the first shot count, or you're in for a world of hurt.
But with a supernatural creature, just as with humans, lethal force is supposed to be the last option, not the first. The badge isn't a license to kill, and that's something I keep in mind. Besides, the paperwork is horrendous.
I heard a sound from behind me, and saw that the uniforms had brought Leary back inside. They took him over to where I was standing with Karl, about twenty-five feet from the ogre and his new girlfriend. Then they beat it back out the door. "We'll go keep an eye out for the ambulances," one of them said to me. Yeah, yeah.
"What the hell is he still doing here?" Leary said from behind me. "I thought you guys were supposed to be the big supe experts."
"We are," I told him, "but even experts need information. Come over here, next to me."
Leary's on the short side, with flaming red hair that's about half gone, bushy eyebrows, and more attitude than the Irish Republican Army. Some say he's got some leprechaun in him, and they'll get no argument from me.
I wanted to be able to talk to Leary and keep my eye on the ogre at the same time. Never turn your back on a supe – unless he's your partner, who you'd trust with your life. Or maybe a member of your family.
Leary was standing a few feet to my left now, so I asked him, "You get many ogres in here?"
As soon as I said it, I realized my question sounded like the set-up to a supe joke – the dumb kind, like Lacey Brennan is always telling me. Lacey works the Supe Squad over in Wilkes-Barre. She's a good cop, and not bad-looking, either, but it's not like I have a thing for her.
"Naw, this one's the first. I don't like havin' 'em around, but when something that size comes in and orders a drink, what was I gonna do?"
"Serve him, I hope," I said.
"'Course I did. Double shot of tequila. He put away that one, and eight more, in about an hour."
"Then what?" Karl asked him. "He run out of money?"
"Naw, I cut him off. He didn't take that too well."
"You wouldn't sell him any more booze because he was drunk?" I asked.
"Shit, he had to be. Nine double shots of Jose Cuervo – what would you expect?"
"Yeah, but was he acting drunk, Leary?" I was starting to get fed up with this little jerk.
"He was acting big and stupid, just like when he came in. I wanted to get him the fuck outta here before he started cuttin' up and caused some damage."
I let my gaze wander around what was left of his bar. "Looks like you did a hell of a job," I said. "Leary, did you ever consider how much booze it takes to affect something that size?" It takes a lot more than nine shots of tequila to get an ogre drunk, unless he already had some on board when he came in.
"I don't give a shit," Leary said. "I just hope the big dummy's been savin' his pennies, because I'm gonna sue him for every single one – once you guys do your job and get him the fuck out of here, that is."
I shared a disgusted look with Karl, who asked Leary, "The waitress – what's her name?"
"Why? You plannin' on puttin' a move on her or something? You're gonna have to get lover boy over there to turn her loose, first."
Karl let a little bit of vamp show in his eyes as he said, "I just wanna know what to call her. Now tell me her name." Guess he was getting impatient, too.
Leary actually took a step back. "Heather, her name's Heather. Heather Collins."
"All right, Leary," I said. "That's all we needed. Wait outside while we finish up in here."
He was at the door before I finished speaking.
I lowered my voice again before I said to Karl, "Nice job. You're a scary motherfucker, I ever tell you that?"
"Yeah, too often," Karl murmured. "You know, I might be able to do the same thing to Dumbo over there, if you want me to give it a try."