his eyes, thinned his lips to a tight line. "You are lying to me."
I widened my eyes. "Would I do that?"
He whirled and slammed his hand into the top of my dresser, hard enough that the mirror thudded against the wall. The glass shivered, and for a second I thought it might shatter. It didn't, but the door opened and Zerbrowski stuck his head in the door. "Everything alright in here?"
Dolph glared at him, but Zerbrowski didn't flinch. "Maybe I should finish questioning Anita."
Dolph shook his head. "Get out, Zerbrowski."
Brave man that he was, he looked at me. "You okay with that, Anita?
I nodded, but Dolph was already yelling, "Get the fuck out!"
Zerbrowski gave us both a last look and closed the door, saying, "Yell if you need anything." The door closed, and in the sudden silence I could hear Dolph's breathing, heavy, labored. I could smell the sweat on his skin, faint, not unpleasant, but a sure sign that he was in distress. What was going on?
"Dolph?" I made his name a question.
He spoke without turning around. "I am taking a lot of heat for you, Anita."
"Not on this you're not," I said. "Everybody that you took out of this house won't be human. The laws may cover shapeshifters as human, but I know how it works. What's one more dead monster?"
He turned then, leaning his big body against the dresser, arms crossed. "I thought that shapeshifters changed back to human form when they died."
"They do," I said.
"The snake things didn't."
"No, they didn't."
We looked at each other. "You're saying they weren't shapeshifters?"
"No, I'm saying I don't know what the hell they are. There are snake men in a lot of different mythologies. Hindu, vaudun. They could be something that was never human to begin with."
"You mean like the naga you pulled out of the river two years ago?" he said.
"The naga was truly immortal. These things, whatever they are, couldn't stand up to silver bullets."
He closed his eyes for a second, and when he looked at me again, I saw how tired he was. Not a physical tiredness, but a tiredness of the heart, as if he'd been carrying some emotional burden around a little too long.
"What's wrong, Dolph? What's got you so ... riled up?"
He gave a small smile. "Riled up." He shook his head and pushed away from the dresser. He sat on the edge of the bed, and I turned in the chair, so I was straddling the back of it and could see him better.
"You asked what woman in my life was sleeping with the undead."
"I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry."
He shook his head. "No, I was being a bastard." His eyes were fierce again. "I don't understand how you can let that ... thing touch you." His revulsion was so strong that I could almost feel it against my skin.
"We've had this discussion before. You're not my father."
"But I am Darrin's father."
I gave him wide eyes. "Your oldest, the lawyer?" I asked.
He nodded.
I watched his face, tried to catch a clue, afraid to say anything. Afraid I'd misunderstood him. "What about Darrin?"
"He's engaged."
I watched the terrible seriousness of his face. "Why do I get the idea that congratulations aren't in order?"
"She's a vampire, Anita, a fucking vampire."
I blinked at him. I didn't know what to say.
Those angry eyes glared at me. "Say something."
"I don't know what you want me to say, Dolph. Darrin's older than I am. He's a big boy. He has the right to be with whoever he wants to be with."
"She's a corpse, Anita. She is a walking corpse."
I nodded. "Yeah."
He stood, pacing the room in long angry strides. "She's dead, Anita, she's fucking dead, and you can't get grandchildren from a corpse."
I almost laughed at that, but my sense of self-preservation is stronger than that. I finally said, "I'm sorry, Dolph, I ... it's true that, as far as I know, female vamps can't carry a baby to term. But your youngest, Paul, the engineer, he's married."
Dolph shook his head. "They can't have kids."
I watched him pace the room, back and forth, back and forth. "I didn't know, I'm sorry."
He sat back down on the bed, broad shoulders slumping suddenly. "No grandchildren, Anita."
I didn't know what to say, again. I couldn't remember Dolph ever sharing this much of his personal life with me, or anyone for that matter. I was both flattered and almost panicked. I am not a natural caregiver, and I just didn't know what to do.