"Twenty-four, why?"
I smiled, and it still didn't feel happy. "When I was your age I believed they were monsters, too."
"How old are you?"
"Thirty."
"You're only six years older than me, Blake."
"Cop years are like dog years, Karlton, multiply by seven."
"What?" she asked.
"I may only be six years older than you chronologically, but in dog years I'm forty-two years older."
She frowned at me. "What the hell is that even supposed to mean?"
"It means, how many vampires have you executed?"
"Four," she said, and it was a little defensive.
"Hunted them down and killed them, or morgue stakings where they're chained to a gurney and unconscious while you do it?"
"Morgue, why?"
"Talk to me after you've killed some of them awake, while they're begging for their lives."
"They beg for their lives? I thought they'd just attack."