much about families, I can tell you this: Don't take yours for granted. It might feel like all of them will always be there. But they won't."
She looked down, so that I wouldn't see a tear fall, I guess.
"Talk to her, Karrin."
"You're probably right," she said, nodding. "So I'm not going to kill you for shoving your well-intentioned opinion down my throat in a vulnerable moment. Just this once."
"That's decent of you," I said.
She took a deep breath, flicked a hand at her eyes, and looked up with a more businesslike face. "You're a good friend, putting up with this crap. I'll make it up to you sometime."
"Funny you should say that," I said.
"Why?"
"I'm scouting out a money trail, but the information I'm after is apparently on the Internet. Could you hit a few sites for me, help me get my hands on it?"
"Yes."
"Gracias." I passed her the addresses and gave her a brief rundown of what I was looking for. "I'm going to be out and about. I'll call you in an hour or two?"
She sighed and nodded. "Did you find the vampires?"
"Not yet, but I got some backup."
"Who?" she asked.
"Guy named Kincaid. He's tough."
"A wizard?"
"No. One of those soldier of fortune types. Pretty good vampire slayer."
Murphy arched a brow. "Is he clean?"
"As far as I know," I said. "I should hear from our wheelman tonight. With luck, I'll find the lair and we'll hit them."
"Hey, if it just so happens that we have to go after them on—"
"Saturday," I finished for her. "I know."
I left, and told the pup my theory about familial dementia on the way down the stairs. "It's just a theory, mind you. But it's got the support of a ton of empirical evidence." I felt a quiet pang of sadness as I spoke. Family troubles were something I hadn't ever had. Wouldn't ever have. Murphy's problems with family might have been complicated and unpleasant, but at least they existed.
Every time I thought I had gotten through my orphan baggage, something like this came up. Maybe I didn't want to admit how much it still hurt. Not even to myself.
I scratched the pup's notched ear as I walked out to the Beetle. "My theory is just theoretical," I told him. "Because how the hell should I know?"
Chapter Twelve
I swung past my apartment to grab lunch, a shower, and some clothes without so much blood on them. A beaten-up old Rabbit had lost a game of bumper tag with a Suburban, and traffic was backed up for a mile. As a result, I got back to the set a few minutes late.
A vaguely familiar girl with a clipboard met me at the door. She wasn't old enough to drink, but made up for a lack of maturity with what I could only describe as a gratuitous amount of perkiness. She was pretty, more awkwardly skinny than sleek, and had skin the color of cream. Her dark hair was done up in Princess Leia cinnamon rolls, and she wore jeans, a peasant-style blouse, and clunky-looking sandals. "Hi!" she said.
"Hi, yourself."
She checked her clipboard. "You must be Harry, then. You're the only one left, and you're late."
"I was on time this morning."
"That makes you half as good as a broken watch. You should be proud." She smiled again to let me know she was teasing. "Didn't I see you talking to Justine at Arturo's party?"
"Yeah, I was there. Had to leave before I turned into a pumpkin."
She laughed and stuck out her hand. "I'm Inari. I'm an associate production assistant."
I shook her hand. She wore some light, sweet scent that I liked, something that reminded me of buzzing locusts and lazy summer nights. "Nice to meet you—unless you're stealing my job. You're not a scab, are you?"
Inari grinned, and it transformed her face from moderately attractive to lovely. She had great dimples. "No. As an associate gofer, I'm down the ladder from you. I think your job is safe." She checked a plastic wristwatch. "Oh, God, we need to get moving. Arturo asked me to take you to his office as soon as you got here. This way."
"What's he want?"
"Beats me," Inari said. She started a brisk walk, and I had to lengthen my steps to keep up with her as she led me deeper into the building. She nipped to a second page and took a pen from behind one hair-bun. "Oh, what would you like on your vegetarian pizza?"
"Dead pigs and cows," I said.
She glanced up