We watched Zerbrowski drive the vampire into the far corner with the light of his faith, because a holy object doesn’t shine unless the holder believes, or the object has been blessed by someone holy enough to make it stick. There were a few priests that I wouldn’t let bless my holy water, because I’d had it not glow for me at critical moments. The Church actually surveyed the vampire executioners around the country asking what priests had failed that test of faith. I’d felt like I was tattling.

The vampire curled into the corner, trying to make himself as tiny as possible, his face hidden between his arms. He was yelling, “Please, stop it! It hurts! It hurts!”

Zerbrowski’s voice came out of the shining light. “I’ll put it away after you’re cuffed.”

A uniform had brought in some of the new cuff-and-shackle sets that were designed specifically for the preternatural suspects. They were expensive, so even RPIT didn’t have a lot of them. Barney was a new vampire; we didn’t think he was dangerous enough to need them. We’d been wrong. I looked at the one uniform still lying against the wall. Someone was checking his pulse, and he moved, groaning, as if something hurt a lot; he was alive, but not because of anything I’d done. I’d been stupid and arrogant and others were hurt because of it. I hated it when it was my fault. Hated it, fucking hated it.

The uniform had wide eyes but he went toward the vampire. Dolph and I both reached out at the same time to take the cuff set with its single solid bar connecting the hands and ankle shackles. We looked at each other.

“I was the one who took off his cuffs to play friendly cop.”

He studied my face. His dark hair, cut short and neat, was actually just long enough on top that it was mussed from the fight. He smoothed the hair in place, while he gave me serious eyes.