He looked sullen and arrogant. “You can’t do that; no one can.”

“Are you sure?” I asked, and my voice dropped a little lower.

“You’re a U.S. Marshal, you’re not allowed to do magic on me.”

“It’s not magic, Barney. It goes under psychic skills, and law enforcement officers are allowed to use psychic abilities in the performance of their duties if they think that is the only way to prevent further loss of life.”

He frowned, rubbing one pale hand across his face. He sniffed loudly, and I pushed the box of Kleenex toward him. He took one, used it, and then gave me angry eyes. It was probably his hard look, but as hard looks go, it wasn’t. “I have rights. The new laws won’t let you hurt me without a warrant of execution.”

“And a minute ago, you were worried I’d kill you. Barney, you need to make up your mind.” I raised a hand and spread it flat in the air as if I were holding something he should have been able to see. “Am I a danger to you, or”-and I held up my other hand-“not able to hurt you at all?”

His anger sputtered down to sullenness. “Not sure.”

“The girl that Benjamin and the others took is only fifteen. She can’t legally agree to become a vampire.”

“We didn’t take her,” Barney said, indignant, slamming his hand on the table.

“Legally, she’s a minor, so it’s kidnapping, regardless of whether she went willingly or not. It’s kidnapping and attempted murder right now; if we find her too late, it’s murder, and I’ll get that court order of execution for you and Benjamin, and every other vampire that may have touched her.”

A nervous tic started under his eye, and he swallowed so hard that it was loud in the quiet room. “I don’t know where they took her.”

“Time for lies is past, Barney; when Sergeant Zerbrowski comes back through that door with an order of execution, I’ll be able to legally blow your head and heart into bloody ribbons.”