out into the night. Vampires couldn't come into the room without permission, but wereanimals could, and bespelled humans could, and . . . I was less than happy with the room, but it was cheap and I'd learned that if you were traveling on the government's dime they pinched their dimes; pennies didn't even figure into the equation.
Her voice came out of the less-than-perfect dark. "Is Gerald Mallory right - are women more likely to be seduced by vampires than men?"
"No."
"Then why are you the only marshal who's living with them?"
"Have you ever been in love?" I asked.
I couldn't see her face, but I felt her go still, and then the sheets rustled. "Yes."
"Did you plan on falling in love with him?"
The sheets moved again, and then she said, "You don't plan love, it just happens."
"Exactly," I said.
Sheets sighed in the dark as she turned over. "I get it. I have seen pictures of your Master of the City; he's pretty if you like white boys." And she laughed.
It made me laugh, too. "I guess so. Good night, Karlton."
"Call me Laila; all the guys call me Karlton. I'd like to hear my name sometimes."
"Okay. Good night, Laila."
"Good night, Anita."
I heard her roll over a couple more times, the sheets stretching and moving with her, and then her breathing evened out and she slept. Edward and I would play by the book until they consolidated the warrants, and then we'd try to take over the hunt; until then, we waited for a warrant to be reassigned. The trouble was, the only way it got reassigned was if one of the other marshals was too injured, or too dead, to finish the hunt. I lay awake in the dark, and thought, Please, God, don't let her get killed.
Chapter Five
THE DREAM CAME as it had most nights for a month. The details changed but the theme didn't. The theme was Haven, not as in a place of rest and peace, but as in the lover I'd killed. Some nights he died in my arms. Some nights we made love and then he bled to death on top of me. Some nights it was like a movie replay of how he'd actually died. Tonight's version was new, but after the other nightmares new didn't seem bad.
I was in a maze formed of black walls. They were slick and almost shiny, almost stone, almost mirrors, so that the ghost of myself wavered in the black surfaces. I had hopes that this was just a regular nightmare until I heard his voice. Haven called me somewhere in the maze: "Anita, I'm coming, Anita." Great, he was hunting me tonight. Sometimes turnabout is so not fair play.
I was dressed in jeans with a belt and buckle, T-shirt, jogging shoes, but no weapons. This just got better and better.
"I can smell you, Anita. I can smell all that sweet skin."
I started moving in the black maze, away from his voice. I thought about needing a weapon. I thought about my Browning BDM and it was in my hand. This was a dream. I could change some of it - normally I could break free of dreams, but something about the ones with Haven seemed to trap me. I think guilt made me stay to see the horrors.
I started moving faster, taking left turns only. All mazes had the same premise: One direction would lead out and one would lead to the center of the maze. I don't know why I chose left; why not? I just prayed that it led out and not deeper into the blackness. But it was a nightmare, and you never really win in nightmares. No, they're all about losing over and over again.
The center of the maze was a huge square space with a fountain in the middle of it. The fountain was all black squares and quietly pulsing water; as the center of a scary night-dark maze it wasn't bad. It could have been worse; and then, of course, worse stepped out of an opening on the other side. Worse was six feet and a little more of slender, muscled handsome. Haven's hair was still short, gelled into spikes on top of his head, all of it done in shades of blue as if some artful hairdresser had pretended that blue could be a real hair color and have highlights. The hair made his pale blue eyes look more blue than they actually were, I think; it was hard to tell since