“A chain?”

“You’re welcome.” About time he decided to make an appearance. “I cut an ox to get the vamp fixed on me. You need to compensate the owner.” The ox was its owner’s livelihood. No reason for him to get hurt because the People couldn’t keep their undead on a proper leash.

“Of course.”

You bet your ass, of course. An ox cost about a grand. A vampire, especially one as old as this one, went for about thirty times that.

The vampire squatted in the snow. “How did you manage to get a chain on her?”

“I have mad skills.” I wanted to sag against something, but showing weakness of any sort in front of Ghastek wasn’t a good idea. I might as well taunt a rabid wolf with a pork roast. My face was hot, my hands were cold. My mouth tasted bitter. The adrenaline rush was wearing off.

“What the hell happened?” I asked.

“One of Rowena’s journeymen fainted,” Ghastek said. “The woman is pregnant. It happens. Needless to say, she’s now barred from navigation.”

The journeymen, Masters of the Dead in training, were perfectly aware that if their control over the undead slipped, the vampire would turn the city into a slaughterhouse. They had nerves like fighter pilots pre-Shift. They didn’t faint. There was more to it, but Ghastek’s tone made it clear that getting any more information out of him would take a team of lawyers and a medieval torture device.

Just as well. The less I interacted with the People, the better. “Did it kill anybody?”

“There were no casualties.”

My pulse finally slowed down.

Several blocks away to my right, a Humvee swung into the street at breakneck speed. Armored like a tank, it carried an M240B, a medium machine gun, mounted on the roof. A PAD First Response Unit. The PAD, part of Atlanta’s Finest, dealt specifically with magic-related issues. The First Response Unit was their version of SWAT. They shot first and sorted through the bloody remains later.