I saw his father like an older clone of Richard himself, and most of his brothers, sitting at the table, passing a blue bowl. I noticed you were doing fingertip push-ups looking at the body. Jean-Claude's voice was in my head. Oh, hell, I hadn't even looked up.
Tried to crawl away and leave my body to die. He laughed, but there was something in his eyes that was more serious than laughter. I felt him come back into himself as if a switch had been thrown. How the hell do we catch a vampire and hold him for questioning without getting anyone else killed? He's only two years dead, Zerbrowski.
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