Bloodsucking fiends: a love story

"We're fucked, you know? We have to let them go."
    Rivera unlocked the handcuffs and got out of the car. He stood next to Cavuto, not sure what to do next.
    Jody stuck her head out the back window of the cruiser. "Come on, Tommy, you drive."
    Tommy turned to the Emperor, who nodded for him to go, then to the Animals. "You guys, get that stuff off the dock. In Troy's car. Get out of here. I'll call you at the store tomorrow."
    Tommy shrugged, got in the car, and started it. "What now?"
    "To the loft, Tommy. He needs a dark place to heal."
    "I'm not comfortable with this, Jody. I want you to know that. I'd like to know what your relationship is to this guy."
    The vampire moaned.
    "Drive," she said.
    They pulled off the dock, leaving the Animals scrambling around collecting the art and the two policemen staring at them in amazement.
    She said, "I love you, Tommy, but I need someone who's like me. Someone who understands. You know how that is, right?"
    "So you run off with the first rich older guy that comes along?"
    "He's the only one, Tommy." She stroked the vampire's burned hair. "I don't have any choice. I hate being alone. And if he died, then I'd never know about what I am."
    "So you two are going away? You're leaving me?"
    "I wish I could think of some other way. I'm sorry."
    "I knew you'd break my heart."

Chapter 35 – Sculptures
    Sunset cast a warm orange across the great Pyramid, while below, the Emperor enjoyed a cappuccino on a concrete bench and Bummer and Lazarus battled for the remains of a three-pound porterhouse.
    "Men, would that I could let you, like Cincinnatus, retire like gentlemen soldiers to the country, but the City is still in need. The fiend is vanquished, but not the despair of my people. Our responsibility is legion."
    A family of tourists passed the Emperor, hurrying to get to the cable-car stop at California Street before dark, and the Emperor tipped his cup in salute. The father, a balding fat man in an Alcatraz sweatshirt, took the Emperor's gesture as a request for spare change and said, "Why don't you get a job?"
    The Emperor smiled. "Good sir, I have a job. I am Emperor of San Francisco and Protector of Mexico."
    The tourist scrunched his face in disgust. "Look at you. Look at your clothes. You stink. You need a bath. You're nothing but a bum."
    The Emperor looked down at the fraying cuffs of his dirty wool overcoat, his rib-worn gray corduroys, stained with splatters of vampire blood, the holes in his filthy sneakers. He raised an arm and took a sniff, then hung his head.
    The tourists walked away.
    Cavuto and Rivera sat in leather wingback chairs in front of the fireplace in Cavuto's Cow Hollow apartment. The fireplace was burning, the fire crackling and dancing as it fought off the damp chill of the bay. The room was furnished with rugged oak antiques, the bookshelves filled with detective novels, the walls hung with guns and posters from Bogart movies. Rivera drank cognac; Cavuto, Scotch. On the coffee table between them stood a three-foot-high bronze statue of a ballerina.
    "So what do we do with it?" Cavuto asked. "It's probably stolen."
    "Maybe not," Rivera said. "He might have bought it from Degas himself."
    "The black kid says it's worth millions. You think he's right?"
    Rivera lit a cigarette. "If it's authentic, yeah. So what do we do with it?"
    "I've only got a couple of years before I retire. I've always wanted to own a rare-book shop."
    Rivera smiled at the thought. "The wife wants to see Europe. I wouldn't mind having a little business of my own. Maybe learn to play golf."
    "We could turn it in and just finish our time. They're going to move us out of homicide after this, you know that? We're too old for narcotics. Probably vice – night after night of screaming hookers."
    Rivera sighed. "I'll miss homicide."
    "Yeah, it was quiet."
    "I've always wanted to learn about rare books," Rivera said.
    "No golf," Cavuto said. "Golf is for pussies."
    Tommy moved the futon so he could sit facing the two statues, then sat down to admire his handiwork. He'd worked all day in the foundry below, covering Jody and the vampire with the thin coat of conductive paint and putting them into the bronzing vats. The two biker sculptors had been more than happy to help, especialy when Tommy pulled a handful of cash out of the grocery bag that the Emperor had delivered.
    The statues looked very lifelike. They should, they were still alive under the bronze coating, except for Zelda, who stood