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Chapter -13- Lucky Thirteen

Monday, August 16 - an hour before sunrise San Francisco, California ...

Reno Nevada pushed open a door and approached a man from behind. "So, Methos. Lance. Whatever." He was followed into the room by Kalen Kincade, but kept his attention on Lance Patterson. "I liked 'Methos' better. Reminds me of the _Highlander_franchise."

Lance turned away from a chalkboard, chalk in hand, and nodded to Kalen first, then Reno. "Who was your favorite MacLeod?"

"Duncan," said Reno without delay. "Conner MacLeod had a great actor, and he's the first one introduced but he doesn't get nearly as much screen time as Duncan. You get to know Duncan over the course of several seasons. What's with all the gibberish and numbers on your blackboard?"

Lance stepped to the left and gestured with his hand towards the chalkboard. "Someone proposed the idea that the game of chess has infinite moves and that if the King, a piece that can only move one space at a time, had its properties changed so that it could move anywhere on the board ... the question becomes: are there now more possible moves, or the same amount as before? I thought it was interesting."

"Go on," said Reno, wondering if it somehow had something to do with a case.

Lance switched the piece of chalk to his other hand. "There are sixty-four squares on a chessboard. There are thirty-two pieces. Each piece has a finite number of possible moves, and movement combinations. So, there are a finite number of pieces and spaces to which one can move, and a finite number of possible moves, albeit a great numerical value, under the condition that the player will never repeat the exact same move twice."

Kalen folded his arms, bemused by the confused look on Reno's face. "Do go on, Mr. Patterson."

Lance grinned at Kalen. "I always liked you. So ... you can bring the queen to E5 on the grid from many other spaces. There are a lot of ways to arrive at E5. From E5, there are many squares the player can take his or her queen. That goes for every square on the playing board for that piece." Lance used the chalk to point to his complicated equation on the blackboard. "A king can only move one space at a time unless castling with a rook."

Kalen nodded in understanding. "There are a lot of combinations to move. I imagine it's somewhere around, oh, tri-googolplex ... to lowball it."

"Again, I've always liked you, Kalen. So, without repeating moves, in other words, moving back and forth with two kings in an unannounced stalemate, thus repeating the same combination of moves over and over, it stands to reason there are, in fact, a finite number of possibilities numbered at a value too great to comprehend. I have not yet arrived at a numerical value, as I've only just started plugging in all of my data sets."

Kalen nodded. "If the amount is too high for the human mind to assign value, do we simply assign the value as 'infinite' in order to move on to another math problem?"

Lance chuckled. "You amuse me. Then again, I have yet to solve P vs NP, myself. I enjoy these problems."

"I guess they're not gonna solve themselves," Reno said with a shrug of indifference. "Why don't you just plug all the variables into a super computer, man? It's a waste of time doing this stuff yourself. I thought maybe this stuff had something to do with our case in one way or another. I didn't realize you were just doing it for fun like Sudoku."

"It keeps the mind sharp. Needless to say, if a problem exists, there will be a man attempting to solve such. Gentlemen?" Lance placed his stick of chalk on the ledge at the bottom of the board. "Where are you in your investigation?"

Kalen frowned. "She's eluding us. We wrote down every detail we could and we have a lot of data for you. I'm not sure if you're going to go with game theory or another equation, but we're hoping you can take what data we have, and somehow plug it in and help us find this attacker. We have data for how she attacks, where and when, how often between attacks, how fast she's increasing her rate of attacks. We have locations of her previous attacks, and..."

Reno cut in. "We wrote down everything we could think of that might help you. Do your math-mojo thing and help us figure out either where she's going to strike next, or where she's sleeping between attacks. We have everything except what she looks like up close. Just general features, like ... she's white and has a feminine appearance."

Patterson frowned. "It might be possible to choose a next target, but without knowing more about her preference of target, there is no way to find a solution to that. Let's see your notes, and I'll plug in the data sets after I determine the best mathematical..."

"Can you find her or not?" Reno paused, and then frowned as if apologizing for his outburst. "Sorry to be pushy but this bitch threw a body at us. She's bold. She's become erratic now that she has our attention. I want to find her."

Lance nodded in understanding. "I will speak to a psychological profiler for the data I'm missing. I will get back to you this evening with a solution. If she's keen to your attention, have you attempted setting a trap for her?"

"Yes!" Reno threw his hands up in frustration. "I thought that would do the job! The crazy bitch didn't bite! She's smart. I caught her tailing us, watching us ... and then she changed up her method. Now we just see evidence she's watching us, but we haven't seen her in a while."

"Evidence?"

Kalen nodded, chiming in. "She's searched through our belongings yesterday. She left no prints. I'm out of options. I've hunted for about fifteen decades, and never had someone as elusive as this girl. The thing is, she's a newly created vampire. She's using evasion tactics that suggest she's had training in such."

"I enjoy a challenge," Lance said. "I will speak to my profiler."

"Is it Steven?" asked Kalen.

"No. I haven't heard from him recently - in over two months. Do either of you have anything with her scent? I could locate a werewolf, or..."

Kalen held his hand up, shaking his head. "She uses a different perfume every time I've detected any sort of scent. I'm nearly as adept as a werewolf, and I have more experience in blood scent. It's not an option."

"I see. Clever foe. Have you analyzed her patterns when she spied on the two of you?"

Kalen shook his head. "She retraces her steps exactly, near as I can tell. She created a grid in the Kincade safe house, where the two of us have been staying. She walked in a grid pattern in each room; I couldn't determine a point of entry because of it."

"Clever." Lance flipped his blackboard over and used an eraser to clear an older equation on the backside. "I hope to meet her before you dispatch her."

Kalen frowned. "She is beyond control."

Reno folded his arms. "She's going to get a foot up her ass when I see her next. Say," he turned to Kalen and asked, "Aren't vampires supposed to be insanely OCD about stuff? Can't we just leave a mess of cards or marbles or something? And can't we just put some garlic wreaths over the outside of the windows to make sure she can only come in through one entrance or something?"

Kalen furrowed his brows. "So far as garlic? No. We have a strong sense of smell, so some vampires are repulsed by it. Not me. I love garlic. Sorry, that wives' tale is inaccurate. So far as the marbles?" Kalen grinned, amused by Reno's lackluster knowledge of the supernatural. "Sometimes vampires develop obsessive behavior to cope with certain aspects of their lives. It takes a while to develop those flaws. It seems she already has an obsessive compulsion unrelated to her age - she takes great care to ensure she remains elusive by taking precautions above and beyond any normal means. It is unlikely she would give a second glance to any mess we leave on the floor."

Lance turned to Reno. "Nathan, you need to realize that myths and wives tales aren't always true. Most aren't. Writers, historically, have a penchant for giving their characters certain flaws and merits so the protagonist can best the antagonist. But a vampire is no more likely to develop an obsessive compulsive behavior than any other human who has been through something traumatic."

"Traumatic?" asked Reno, adding, "We're not in public, so call me Reno."

"Reno is dead. You're Nathanial now. Methos is dead. I'm Lance Patterson now. And to forewarn you, I am considering another change of name again at the end of the year. And yes, Nathan - traumatic."

Reno turned to Kalen, expecting an explanation.

Kalen folded his arms. "You have to die to become a vampire. Your vamperic creator drains you of your mortal blood, ending your life. She then feeds you her own, and gives you enough of her own to cycle through your cardiovascular system."

"That doesn't sound pleasant for either party," said Reno with a look of disgust.

Lance nodded in agreement. "Many vampire parents have lost their own lives by giving too much blood to their progeny during creation. Percentage wise, it is similar to the mortality rate associated with human childbirth. Also, a starving child requires a first meal after creation. It is entirely possible that your suspect devoured her own creator."

"What, seriously?"

Kalen looked from Reno to Lance, then back to Reno with a nod. "He's right, Nevada. If the parent vampire gave too much blood and became weakened, and our unknown subject used her training - the training we assume she has due to her evasion ability - it's possible she could have overpowered her creator during the insanity of the first hunger."

"...Shit."

Kalen continued. "During creation, a parent vampire must first digest nine-to-eleven pints of blood, depending on the size of the vampire-to-be. So there would be blood in the creator's belly, but the blood in their cardiovascular system could still be drained by an insanely hungry child vampire. Our unknown subject could have killed her creator, which would explain why no other vampire has taken accountability for her actions around San Francisco."

Reno grunted in dissatisfaction. "Okay. Methos, get us some results. Call us when you have something. I'm going to check on Karla and her crew."

"It's Lance," said the mathematician. "And you are Nathan. Are we clear?"

"Fine." Reno held his hands up. "God, get pissy about it, why don't you?"

"If that's what it takes to show you the importance of staying beneath the radar. We have enough slow-aging people who don't see the value of changing one's name. It's best to take it seriously. There are groups of fanatics who still carry on the crusades; they stay below the radar, now."

"God, okay. Jesus, I'll be Nathan, okay?"

"Thank you." Lance nodded to Kalen. "Any word from Natalia?'

"No. She still slumbers. We could use her help." Kalen offered up a leather-wrapped notebook with details and notations about the vampire perpetrator.

"Yes. She is deeply missed. Take care, gentlemen." Lance reached for the notebook. "I will return this when I'm finished."

"Thank you." Kalen placed a hand on Reno's shoulder, guiding him towards the door. "Police work is frustrating, Agent Carrington."

"Yeah. You can't let it mess with your head, though. It can be pretty consuming, Kalen. C'mon. Let's go get some food."

"I prefer not to eat what you call food; I dislike throwing it up later."

"Sucks to be you," Reno said with a grin as they left Lance Patterson's study, heading for the back door of the small home. "But y'know what sucks even more? Some poor bastard, the thirteenth victim so far, being thrown over the side of an overpass on Friday the 13th. That wacko is going to pay for throwing a body at my car."

"Mm ... lucky thirteens. So let's get back to work, then."

Reno replied with a nod of agreement. "That's what I'm talking about."

X

X

Monday August 16 - 3pm, PDT Seattle, Washington ...

Rufus Darken thumbed the screen of a cellphone and watched its display for a response. Several moments went by, followed by a text reply from Karla Loupe. It read, 'Something is fishy about this chick. You need to see her face.'

He typed back, 'What's on your mind? I know something is hinky as all Hell, but I can't place anything concrete.'

Karla's reply came back, 'What if she's Nichole Parker? That bitch borrows powers when she's near people. You said this chick is clingy and can't or won't change back to human.'

Rufus sighed, thinking back on the past few days of sexual history with this new woman. He drew in a deep breath and then sighed again. 'What do you suggest?'

Karla's response came quick. 'Bruce Banner needs to be unconscious to switch back from The Hulk. Doc Jekyll would involuntarily switch over to Mr. Hyde when asleep.'

Rufus grimaced. 'She sleeps as a werewolf and wakes up as one.'

A moment later, his phone vibrated again, showing Karla's latest reply. 'Get her drunk, dumbass.'

'It doesn't make a difference to me. I've been drunk as a wolf, and it didn't change me back, but I'll try it for you.'

'Good. Gotta go, RueBear. Btw, you're surprisingly literate in texts. Just saying.'

Rufus pursed his lips together and rolled his eyes. 'I'll take that as a compliment, considering the fact I was illiterate up until the 1970s. What should I do if this chick IS Nichole Parker?'

'Are you fucking her?' Karla's response made Rue's stomach drop.

He thought about what Nikki had been saying to him. He took a deep breath and typed back, 'I want her to trust me, just in case. It's complicated.'

Karla's next response took longer than the others. When it finally came through, it read, 'Awkward. But... that's pretty smart, Rue. It didn't start happening until AFTER us, right? Be honest.'

Rue huffed in frustration. 'Yes, it didn't start happening until after I left California. Christ. I done got to go. I need to stop this shit between her and myself. It wasn't working anyhow. I'm looking for Ulfey. I won't bring this girl back to San Francisco with me, I promise. Okay?'

'Okay. Stay safe. I don't blame you for the sex. We're cool, Rue. I'm cool with you. I'm sorry about the past. I was stupid fifty years ago. Forgive me?'

Rufus stared at the screen for a moment then a slight smile found the corner of his mouth. He thumbed the screen. 'Yeah, Blondie. We're buds. I forgive you. Take care, Karla.' The phone automatically changed her name to 'Carla.' He fixed it back to the proper spelling, sent the message, and slid the phone into his pocket.

Rue sat down on the edge of a hotel mattress and placed his hand on Nikki's shin, beneath the blankets. "You shouldn't sleep all day. You'll be up all night."

Nikki grunted softly and sat up on her elbows. "Hey. Uh, sure. You want to get some dinner or something?"

Rue shrugged a bit. "I was thinking we should get some beers. You drink beer?"

"I uh ... haven't done that, no. Not in a long time, I mean. Never been a big drinker."

"I'll get'cha some wine or somethin'. I just feel like drinkin'."

"Feel free to."

Rufus took a deep breath and sighed through his nose. "Nikki, I don't do the 'beat around the bush' shit all that well, darlin'. Is yer name Nichole Parker or what?"

She swallowed. "So what kind of beer do you want?"

"So everyone thinks you're a bitch. Everyone thinks you're a psycho. Tha' explains why yer lil' ole ass won't change back human. So what's the deal, girl? You tryin' to find out where the last of my kind're shackin' up? You workin' with that prick, Dakota FuckNut?"

She glanced to the left, briefly, "Rufus..."

"So you spread yer legs to get me to trust'cha, huh? Sex is some sacred shit, girl. Use it to connect, use it to get relief. But don't you dare use it to manipulate men. That ain't fuckin' right, Nichole."

"Do you know what I'm capable of? Don't backtalk me."

"Back yer shit up, young lady. This ain't about who's more powerful, or whatever. This is about you disrespectin' me. Get some goddamn clothes on and change back. You ain't deservin' of the were-form. We's an honest folk. You wanna kill me? Fine. You wanna hunt for my people to help Dakota DickPaw? Fine. But you will not fuck wit' my head, and manipulate me ta' get'cher way into the werewolf village. That shit is downright low. And don't you know that boy, Reno Nevada, still loves you? Why you playin' with the emotions of two men? What kind of trifling-ass-bitch are you to do that shit? You wanna fight us? Fight us. Don't play these bullshit games in bed."

She stared at Rufus for a moment then slid off the bed and went for a pile of clothes in the corner. She gathered them in silence, pulled the sweatpants up her legs. She drew the hoodie over her head. After a moment, Nichole dropped the fur. She shook it out of her sleeves and legs and sat on the bed, glaring at Rufus.

"Don't try'n act like you's ashamed. Don't act like you ain't wantin' me to see yer ass, nekkid. Now yer clothes're full of fur. We had sex, Nichole. Suddenly you got enough respect fer yer body to cover it? What - you eat the goddamn Apple of Eden or somethin'?"

"It's fucking complicated, Rufus. I didn't intend to sleep with you. It just ... it happened. And then it kept happening. I'm not in love with you, but I'm not handling this whole situation very well, either. I started with one clear goal. It became muddled and confused."

"I'm not the bad guy here, girl. Why ain't you killed me yet?"

"So, what, I'm the bad guy?"

"Uh, you killin' people. You huntin' my folks. You workin' with Bizarro Tigger. Yeah, that kind'a qualifies you as bad. You kill people fer their powers. That's some bullshit. So let's have it, girl. You wastin' my time. Kill me like you done killed other people. Either that, or go on home."

"I cannot go home right now! I want to, but I can't! I'm trying to be productive while I'm stuck up here. I want Reno back. I want more abilities. I want to get over my addiction for powers. I'm fighting it. I'm fiending for it."

"You'sa mess, girl. Drink some wine or beer. It ain't the best thing for a shit-ass situation, drinkin' alcohol ... but it's better than killin' innocent people for their God-given talents. So..."

"So ... what?"

"Why ain't I dead yet? And don't tell me 'cause the sex.' I ain't made you orgasm one-damn-time."

She looked away, embarrassed. "Yes you did. One time. This morning. But it didn't change anything. I have no need to kill you. You're no threat to me. You can't stop Dr. Falcon's operation - you sure as hell couldn't when you lived amongst us. We figured it out at one point, and kept an eye on you. Now, that succubus you were hanging around ... she and I have business. I'm going to rip her apart. But you? You're not a threat. Why waste my time?"

"You just wanted me to help you find the others?"

"Ulfey Sigvard. She has an artifact called The Sampo. I'm using the hunters to level the village, so I can simply take the artifact without any resistance. It's important."

"Pronounce it right. Úlfey Sigvorðrdóttir. That's how you say that-there Icelandic talk. And you leave that girl alone. Her whole life she protected one oracle or another. She ain't had it easy. You wanna kill her? Well, you gotta kill me first - right here. Right now."

Nichole eyed the man for a moment then narrowed her gaze. "You're in love with her?"

"I only done met'er once."

"You're dodging my question."

"No, I'm sayin' ... how in the hell can I love a woman I only met once?"

"Are you in love with her?"

"She's a special girl, Nichole. I can't explain what I don't understand. But she's special. Being in love with some girl I only met one-damn-time is nonsense kinda' shit. Love ain't work that way. But do I like her? Yeah, I like her. We had a connection - good chemistry. And yeah, I'll fight you to keep Wulfy Sigvard safe. So ... you gotta kill me if you wanna go at her."

"Rufus, you've said more in the last five minutes than you have in several days. Look, I don't remember dating Reno. I don't remember sleeping with him. If I did, that was a different time in my life. A time that is long gone. You're the first man I've had sex with that I can recall. I do _not_want to keep sleeping with you. That is awkward. I don't have feelings for you. It's been extremely awkward doing this nonsense day after day."

"I knew you wasn't into it. Why didn't you just say so?"

"I told you I had my first goddamn orgasm this morning. And, so far as not telling you ... well, I'm saying so now."

Rufus rolled his eyes. "Psht, yeah, after I caught you lyin' to me. So now what? You kill me to protect yer mission or whatever? Why cain't you go home anyhow?"

"That bitch you pal around with - the succubus ... she tagged me with a radioisotope. I'm not allowed home until it wears off. I'm told it will be about a month. It's very frustrating. Vincent should have been able to shorten the half-life of the liquid isotope, but I lost track of him. I think he went to visit Karla and Reno. I went home, I was told to leave for a while. Vincent most likely went home by now, and I cannot get a hold of him to have him reverse the effects. That succubus is a clever bitch, but Falcon was too smart for it to work - your friends can't use me to find the location of New Atlantis."

"That's a dumb name fer that-there city."

"It makes sense, Rufus."

"Why ain't you killed me yet?"

"I told you ... you're harmless. I needed you to lead me to The Sampo."

"It belongs t' me. Ulfey gave it to me. She said it was my responsibility. She took it back when people assumed I died down in that damn dome. I'm goin' to get it back from her."

"I will spare the werewolf village if you surrender it to me."

"How'a 'bout you kill Dakota and his goons instead?"

"You want me to kill a pack of hunters? How is that any different than them killing werewolves?"

"I just wanted ta' see what you'd say." Rufus shrugged. "I wouldn't believe a damn thing you'd say anyhow. You know what the goddamn artifact is? It's a stupid salt shaker. It's all busted up 'n glued back together. Now ya know. Ain't nobody gonna die fer a salt shaker."

She met his gaze. Silence. After a moment, Nichole squinted. "Are you serious?"

"Ayup. Mythology, huh? It ain't about what it can do, it's about symbolism. It ain't nuthin' but a broken lil' bottle that been glued back together. That's it, and that's all, girl. So why you wastin' yer time?"

"Then just give it to me."

"You think Ulfey would appreciate it if I gave away her gift?"

"I will kill you for it," said Nichole.

"Then do it!" Rufus shouted. "Why are you playin' these goddamn mind games, huh? Either kill me or get the fuck outta my hotel room, Nichole. I'm tired of the drama."

She waved her hand with a sneer, sending Rufus across the bed.

He slammed into a dresser and dropped to the floor with a grunt. "You..." he drew in a labored breath, "don't throw as hard as Karla."

"She's better with telekinesis ... for now. Don't talk to me with disrespect, Rufus. I let you do things to me that I am not proud of. Have some respect for me."

"Respect is earned," he said, climbing up onto the bed with a huff. "You manipulated me with yer pussy, Nichole. Now you_demand _my respect? To hell wit' chu, woman."

"Stop reminding me!" She closed her hands into fists. "I feel betrayed by my body for how it reacted this morning. It was never supposed to be anything more than getting you to trust me."

"Aw, quit'cher bitchin'. You either kill me, or you leave. You ain't welcome back east, and now you ain't welcome here, neither. Sounds to me like you's runnin' outta options."

"I need that artifact. If I show up at the dome with it, Dr. Falcon will tell Vincent to remove the radioisotope. I'll be useful again."

"Aw fer Chri'sake, is that the only reason you want it? You need somewhere to belong?"

"Falcon helps me manage a steady flow of growing powers, Rufus! We have a symbiotic..."

"You both using each other!"

"Fine! If you won't help me, I'll help Dakota to hunt for the village without you!" She drew her hand back and thrust it forward.

Rufus launched from the bed, plowed through the motel room wall and disappeared through to the other side.

Nichole stared at the hole for a moment, swallowed down her disgust and stormed out of the motel. "Werewolf asshole," she muttered on her way through the door, leaving it open behind herself. "I don't know if I've been unlucky as of late, or if I've been the target of the fates." She stepped out of the hotel room and paused, looking at the number plate on the door. It read '13' in gold-colored plastic. Nichole sighed. "Christ."

X

X

August 16 - 8:45pm San Francisco, California ...

Reno folded his arms overtop a white v-neck t-shirt. His dress shirt, his tie, and his blazer lay across the back of a nearby chair. He paced the floor between Kalen Kincade and a dry-erase board with photographs of dead victims. "I was a homicide inspector, not a psych profiler for the Bureau. I hope Methos' profiler buddy comes through."

Kalen replied with a slight grin. "But you have to admit, I'm on to something. All these bodies - all male victims. No women. To be honest, though, if we hadn't caught a glimpse of this person, I'd have never guessed we're dealing with a female killer."

Reno shrugged. "This is frustrating. Why is her time table changing? She went from sporadic kills to quite a few in a row. The victims went from sloppy to refined kills."

Kalen nodded in agreement. "Well, we can both agree on why they're going from sloppy to refined."

Reno frowned. "Yeah, she's evolving. She is learning and perfecting her 'craft.' That's obvious. But what's your theory on the time table of her killing?"

"The methodology is the same, all these victims were killed by the same killer," Kalen began. "Or, at least, a vampire fledgling who didn't have someone to teach them the ropes. So my assumption is they started killing out of hunger, and the inability to control their bloodlust. Later, they realized they are a killer, so they came to terms with it and, perhaps, now they are enjoying it."

"Go on. Did they become some sort of supernatural hitman to pay the bills?"

"Actually, that's my theory."

Reno turned away from the board, facing Kalen. He started pacing their small so-called 'field office' in an otherwise abandoned building. He walked to the window and gazed out at the tall buildings of the surrounding downtown area. "You think they started taking jobs - freelancing to combine their new hobby with their need to feed, or something?"

"It's not like she can take a part-time job as a barista to keep electricity on, pay her rent, pay for gas, or anything else she might need."

"I worked homicide division for a few years, Kalen. I've had one serial killer. I've had two contract killers. The hired killers - way different from the one who did it out of compulsion."

"Mm. It's just a theory. I could be wrong."

"No, no ... don't doubt your gut. What you're suggesting is the only thing that makes sense." Nevada paused then said, "If you take away the..."

"Don't quote Holmes, Reno."

Nevada frowned in mid-sentence. "I, uh ... Karla was reading it to me." He sat down in the chair with his dress shirt, tie and blazer. "My feet are killing me."

"You haven't been on them in a long time, Reno."

"Yeah. All the healing in the world doesn't help with foot pain. And it took over a week to get my sense of balance back. Anyway, so let's talk about where we find this chick next."

"She knows we're on to her. Frankly, Reno, I'm surprised she hasn't come after us to tie up what she'd perceive as loose ends."

Reno leaned back in the chair and looked up at the board with a sigh. "Is that what you would do? Go on the offensive? I hate to sound like a bad cop-drama, here, but what if it isn't her? These kills aren't indicative of a male killer."

"Vampires are hunters, Reno. It's in our nature. Our bodies no longer produce testosterone or estrogen. This helps to blur the line between male and female state of mind to some degree."

"So you'd go on the offensive?"

Kalen nodded. "Yes, I would. Especially if I'd been watching you enough to throw a body at your car. Most likely, she's been watching us to the point that she knows we're in this building right now. She knows what office we're in. She knows where you stop to snack, Reno. All she has to do is follow your scent to learn your habits. That's why you haven't seen her as of late. She's learning, adapting."

"And I can't electrocute her."

"You can't stop a heart that only beats when she wills it to do so. You might be able to cause her muscles to cramp up, if you want to subdue her. However, you're better off playing it safe. Forget about getting a confession and putting her into the system. She uses her abilities to kill. The constitutional rights she has? Those apply to mortal men, like the forefathers who wrote those laws. You're working for the EC right now. You have to look at things in a new light."

Reno took a deep breath and tightened his hands into fists then stretched. "If Falcon turned Nichole into some sort of freak, what if we're dealing with Samantha Summers?"

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing. Never mind, man. It would make sense as to why she suddenly showed up in this city, making my life hell."

"If you say so." Kalen shrugged. "I don't know if this vampire cares about you. She didn't throw any bodies at you until after we starting working to find her."

Reno grinned somewhat. "Yeah, you're right, man. So, where'd you learn all this crap?"

"Nathanial Carrington. You two are similar in some respects. But different in others. For example, you always wear a seatbelt. Earlier, you demanded I wear one, too. Nathan never did. For our kind, it's better not to be restricted. I would rather be ejected from a vehicle during a collision because I will survive that better than being trapped and mangled. Alright, so back on track - our biggest question is why hasn't she attacked us?"

"Don't jinx it."

"That's another difference between you and Carrington. He was a no-nonsense man. He didn't believe in things being jinxed. He had better fashion sense, too."

"Yeah, and he lived a long time ago, Kalen. It sounds like you idolized the guy, and I don't see myself living up to ... whatever it is that made this guy so great. So let's focus on our 'unknown subject,' or whatever you called her, earlier. I'd rather not get into another conversation about my powers and my new namesake. I'll never be, nor will I ever live up to the old man."

Kalen replied with a wry grin. "Very well,Agent Carrington."

"You're a trip." Reno nodded towards the photographs on the board. "So why all men?"

"Maybe she blames a man for changing her. Maybe she's sympathizing with her dwindling humanity and waning femininity."

Reno rolled his eyes. "Jesus, do you hear yourself?"

"I'm not a profiler either, Nevada. Sorry."

"If I'm technically part of a Homeland Security investigative agency, don't I have access to their resources? We could talk to a real profiler. It's not that I don't trust Patterson, but it's good to have a second opinion."

"There are no current Esoteric Council sanctioned psycho-analysis or criminal profilers."

"Bullshit." Reno folded his arms.

"You sound like your name-sake - has anyone ever told you that?"

"I probably picked it up from family members or something. You said we're related. Give it a rest already."

"I'm just picking on you, Reno."

Nevada smirked. "Okay, so the vampire bitch ... she's hunting us."

Kalen nodded. "Mm."

Reno continued. "So she leaves a scent, or at least some sort of clue - I'm satisfied to work with any evidence we can get. And she definitely leaves a trail of bodies. How about you and I go on the offensive? We start hunting her, if you ask me."

"You're the boss."

"You have the experience, and you're the vampire. Is it feasible to sniff her out or not, Kalen?"

Kincade nodded. "We need to start canvasing again. I need to go back to the location of the last several victims and see if I can pick up a scent that is distinguished between..."

"I get it. Let's get going. I wanna close this one out."

"In a hurry?"

Reno shrugged. "I heard from Lance on the phone a bit ago. The temporal guy ... time bandit, whatever we're calling him ... he left a new body that was found early this morning."

Kalen sighed and buttoned his sports blazer. "So much for the man having a cooling-off period. Grab your shirt and tie. I'll meet you down at the car."

"Alright." Reno stood up, grabbed his shirt, tie, and blazer, then he stretched and took one last glance at the board of photographs, hoping to see something like cops always did in the movies. Nothing stuck out at him. He slid his arms into each of the sleeves and fished his car keys out of his pants pocket. "God, I hate the slow part of police work." Nevada fastened a clip-tie to his collar. "But at least we don't have to fill out incident reports for every-damn-thing."

Silence.

Reno glared at the board, backing his way out to the door. He stopped in the doorframe and frowned. His eyes zeroed in on the thirteenth photograph - the one that hit his windshield last Friday. He shook his head with a frown. "Lucky number thirteen."

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Next chapter: https://www.sofurry.com/view/753468