Sucker Punch (Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter #27) - Laurell K. Hamilton Page 0,96

to serve warrants on known preternatural citizens,” Livingston said.

“Only after the marshal goes through extra training closer to our Special Operations Group, SOG. Once you pass that, you can be picked to accompany local SWAT on regular police warrants to known or suspected supernatural citizens.”

“You sound like you’re quoting,” Livingston said.

“I am.”

“Have you gone out with SWAT?” Kaitlin asked.

“No,” Newman said.

“Yes,” I said.

“Yes,” Olaf said.

“Sounds like a good idea to send the supernatural experts out with SWAT on warrants like that,” Livingston said.

“It is. It’s a great idea,” said Newman, “except we’re supposed to be protecting SWAT in case the supernatural citizen goes completely rogue and tries to kill them, but most of the newer marshals are greener than me. They think like cops, and that’s not what a SWAT unit needs if the monster tries to eat them.”

“What do they need from the marshals?” Livingston asked.

“They need them to kill the monster, not contain it, not handcuff it, not put it in a cage or into the back of a cruiser. This job isn’t police work at all. It’s closer to special operations units like SEALs or Delta Force. Or maybe it isn’t even that. Maybe we’re just assassins with badges, like Blake says, but whatever we are, it’s not police. When they nicknamed Blake War, they were being honest about what the preternatural branch does. It’s war. It’s deep, dark, behind-enemy-lines shit that our government is allowing us to do right here on American soil. But you have to want to be a SEAL, and you have to know what one is and what one does. Same for any of the other special operations units. You don’t end up on one of them by accident. They don’t recruit you for regular service and then throw you out into the dark with Delta Force and expect you to be okay.” When Newman finished talking he was not looking at any of us but staring off into space, and whatever he was seeing inside his head wasn’t anything good.

I looked at the side of Newman’s face. I wanted to touch his arm, to let him know he was all right, but it would have been a lie. I caught Livingston looking at him, too. Our eyes met for a second, and I think we both thought the same thing: Newman needed a new job.

“Newman, Win, you can go back to being regular police or transfer to the other side of the Marshals Service,” I said.

“You said ‘back to’ like it’s a step backward, lesser.”

I opened my mouth, closed it, and tried to think of something to say. “I’m an assassin with a badge, Newman. I couldn’t be a regular cop. I don’t have the temperament or training for it.”

“And I don’t have what it takes to be an assassin with a badge,” he said, and looked at me. His eyes were shiny, and if it had been allowed, I’d have said he was nearly in tears. But I pretended I couldn’t see them, and he pretended they weren’t there. Even if the tears started, we’d all pretend we couldn’t see them unless Newman let us know it was okay to acknowledge them.

He excused himself for the bathroom. Olaf and I would have moved, but Kaitlin started the scoot-out first, so we let Livingston and her clear the way for Newman. I watched him walk away until he turned a corner and was lost to sight.

I don’t know what we would have said out loud, because the juice and the food all came at once. The bacon was perfectly crisp, like a hard look would make it fall apart, and Kaitlin was right. The pancakes were great. We all ate as if Newman hadn’t bared his soul moments before. One, we were all hungry and the food was that good. Two, how would it have changed anything to talk about it?

When Newman came back to the table with his face damp but clear, he sat down to his food as if nothing had happened. That was our cue to do the same. We talked about the food and made harmless small talk until the food was gone and Hazel came back to the table to ask if there was anything else we needed. Why, yes, there was. Let’s talk murder.

32

HAZEL DIDN’T WANT to sit down with us. “I have tables to wait on.”

“You know what Kaitlin and I do for a living, Hazel?” Livingston asked.

“Yeah,” she said, and the one word