It had been two weeks since Frost died.
Adam's appearance on TV had cemented (if it needed cementing) his reputation as a hero and a pillar of all that was good and civil. It was a fortunate thing that no one had gotten a picture of him tearing into Frost's body. Tony assured me that the police were satisfied with the abbreviated story Adam and Agent Armstrong had given them.
Kyle forgave me the shirt I'd destroyed, and he'd helped us look for his car without a word of complaint. He was, I think, happy we hadn't found it that night and covered his buttery leather upholstery with soot and blood.
Warren told me, as we drove through nameless dirt roads through seemingly endless vineyards and orchards, that Adam had just suddenly gotten out of the chair he'd been sitting in at Kyle's office and sprinted out the door, leaving the rest of them to soothe the reporter who'd lingered to get a few more details.
Adam had taken off in Kyle's Jaguar and left the rest of them to call a taxi to get home.
Adam had explained, a little sheepishly, that all he knew was that I was at the winery with the vampires - but he hadn't been really certain how to get there. He could feel me, but the roads kept turning the wrong way. Finally, he'd abandoned the car and taken off on four feet.
It took us three days to find the Jaguar - and then only because someone called the police and reported an abandoned car in their vineyard.
I gave the sword back to Tad as soon as I saw him again, a couple of days after our adventure.
"What did you do to it?" he asked me. "It feels ..."
"Frightened?" I suggested.
He grimaced. "Subdued."
"Wulfe - you know the crazy vampire? Wulfe used it to kill another vampire."
He grimaced. "That would do it. You should ask Dad about Wulfe sometime. It'll give you nightmares."
Tad was living at his father's house still, but he quit being a hermit. He's helping me at the shop again. I hadn't realized how much I'd missed working with someone I liked. I might still have to close down the shop eventually, but not for a while.
Peter's funeral, held as soon as we could manage, had taken place in sunshine, though it was still cold. The pack mourned, as was fitting. It was a quiet affair without the usual speeches because Honey didn't want them. I agreed with her; speeches weren't necessary. We all knew what we had lost.