"For a vamp, you mean."
"For anybody. So, okay, assume she shows, what then?"
I shrugged. "I'll find out if she knows anything about Sligo. Then I'll tell her what I find out, which doesn't amount to a hell of a lot. Suggest she move her daytime resting place, just as a precaution. Remind her to watch her back. Stuff like that. Just... fatherly advice." My voice might have gotten a little funny as I said those last two words.
Fatherly advice? I haven't talked about Christine that way since she was changed. Since I had her changed.
"Think she'll believe you?"
"I've got no reason to lie," I said. "She'll understand that."
"Okay, sure. But what if she doesn't show at sundown?"
"I'm still working on that part of the plan."
We'd kept McGuire informed by radio of where we were and what we were up to, but I wanted to fill him in on some of the details before Karl and I hit the streets again.
As we walked into the squad's tiny reception area, I asked Louise the Tease if there'd been any word from Vollman.
She shook her head, the blonde curls bouncing a little. "Not a peep since last week."
To look at the hair and that body of hers, you'd never guess that she's a member of Mensa, but I knew she had been for years. She's also deadly at Scrabble, I hear – plays in tournaments, and stuff.
"If he calls when I'm away from the squad," I said, "give him my cell phone number, patch him through on the radio, or do whatever else it takes. I have got to talk to that creepy old bastard, and the sooner the better."
"Will do," she said. Then she glanced toward the squad room door and said, "Those two witch sniffers are in with the lieutenant."
An icy finger traced its slow way down my spine. "They haven't found Rachel, have they?"
Louise shook her head. "I'm pretty sure not. I think that's what they're in there bitching about."
"Okay, good."
I turned to Karl. "Let's go in, sit down, and catch up on paperwork or something." We still call it paperwork, although most of that crap is digital now. "Once those two bozos leave, we can talk to McGuire."
"Works for me."
I went into the squad room and could see, through the glass panels in McGuire's office, the two witchfinders in there with him. They were standing, and the older one, Ferris, was gesturing the way people do when they are seriously pissed off. The other guy, Crane, didn't look real cheerful, either, and that was fine with me. The unhappier those assholes were, the better I liked it. Or so I thought.
Aquilina and Sefchik were at their desks, the ongoing argument apparently suspended for the time being while they each worked at their computers. They looked up as Karl and I came in, nodded "Hi," and went back to work.
Any hope I had of doing the same was crushed when McGuire appeared in his office door, pointed at me, and made a summoning motion. Guess I wouldn't have to wait to see the boss, after all.
As I walked through the door, McGuire said, "The reverends here have filed a complaint about the lack of cooperation they say they've received from the department as a whole, and our unit in particular. Therefore, Sergeant Markowski, I'm appointing you liaison, so that – what's the matter?"
Ferris and Crane were looking at me as if I'd come in covered in shit. A kind of horrified fascination was in their stares; they recoiled as if I might get it all over them, and even the way they were sniffing gave some credence to the metaphor.
"Anathema," breathed Crane, the younger one, who then said it again, louder: "Anathema!"
"Cursed of God," Ferris said slowly, nodding, then he pointed an index finger at me like it was a loaded gun and he was getting ready to open fire. "Abomination!"
I looked at McGuire if he knew what the fuck was going on, but he seemed as baffled as I was. I opened my mouth to demand some answers, but before I could speak, Ferris turned to McGuire and said, "This man" – still pointing at me – "reeks of accursed black magic. He has been consorting with the minions of the Evil One, and I demand to know why you have allowed such a person to remain not just in this city, but on the police force, for the love of Almighty God!"
I noticed that Crane was nervously touching something through his suit coat. It appeared to be underneath the material, near his right hip.
He's packing? There's metal detectors at every door to the building, the best ones they make – no way could he get in here with a gun.
Or could he?
"All right," McGuire said, "let's everybody just calm down." I assume he meant the reverends, since I hadn't had the chance to get a word in yet.
Once Ferris and Crane had stopped acting like nuns at a strip club, McGuire said to me, "Stan, you got any idea what these... gentlemen are talking about?"
"That's what I came back here to tell you about, boss," I said. "I was approached by Rachel Proctor today – or, rather, Rachel's body with that bastard Kulick in chage."
Crane made one of those snorts that means "Likely story," but at least he didn't start yelling again.
"I'd like to hear about it now," McGuire said. Looking toward the witchfinders, he went on, "without interruption."
They didn't like that, but at least the two of them kept their mouths shut while I ran down my encounter with Rachel/Kulick. As far as I was concerned, I was reporting to McGuire; the witchfinding assholes could listen if they wanted to.
When I'd finished, McGuire asked, "Got that amulet on you?"
"It's half an amulet," I said, "but yeah."
"Let me take a look."
I dug it out and handed it over. McGuire rubbed the metal gently between his fingers, as if he was expecting a genie to appear. "So Kulick gave you his true name, along with this little trinket."
"Had to," I said. "The spell wouldn't work, otherwise."
"You're supposed to hold this, say the name five times, and poof he appears?"
"I don't know if there's a poof involved, but that's about the size of it. Except he'll still be in Rachel's body when he shows up."