Must Love Hellhounds

I didn’t do anything.”
    “Hey.” Sara reached out and, ignoring his flinch, patted him on the shoulder. “I’m interested in collecting my retrieval fee. I only get half if you’re dead, so it doesn’t make sense for me to kill you.”
    Rodney looked at her with hope a shiny gem in his eyes. “Really?”
    “Yep.”
    “What about—” Lowering his voice, he pointed at the arm around his neck.
    Deacon spoke for the first time. “I’m her boyfriend. I do what she says.”
    She stared at him, but Rodney apparently found the claim highly reassuring. “Yeah, you’re the boss,” he said to Sara. “I can tell. My Mindy, she likes to be the boss, too. She told me I should run away and you know, we could go on like a cruise.”
    Sara pressed a her finger over his lips. “Focus, Rodney. Tell me about the hunter who cut you.”
    “He said all you hunters hate vampires.” Rodney’s voice got very small. “I didn’t know that. I know it’s your job to track us, but I didn’t think you hated us.”
    “We don’t.” Sara wanted to pat him on the head. Jesus. “He was just being mean.”
    “You think so?”
    “I know so. What else did he say?”
    “That vampires were the scum of the earth, and that the angels were being polluted by our presence.” He made a face. “I don’t know how that could be true since the angels Make us.”
    Sara was so surprised by the sudden burst of sense that it took her a second to process it. “Yeah, that’s right. So he was lying. He say anything else?”
    “No, he just got out his sword—”
    Sword?
    “—and tried to cut off my head.” He sat back, recital finished.
    “What did he look like?” Deacon asked.
    Rodney jumped, as if he’d forgotten the danger at his back. “I couldn’t see. He was wearing a black mask, and black everything. But he was tall. And strong.”
    That included half the hunters in the Guild. Sara tried to get more out of Rodney, but it was a bust. Neckleting him again, she drove to Lacarre’s, very aware of Deacon following on a big monster of a bike. He remained outside the gates while she went in to deliver Rodney.
    Rodney’s master was waiting for him in the sitting area of his palatial home. “Go,” he ordered.
    Sara removed the necklet and put it on the table for Lacarre to return to the Guild as Rodney shuffled off like a penitent schoolboy. Snapping his cream-colored wings shut in anger, the angel picked up an envelope from the table. “A receipt confirming payment. I sent it through as soon as you called to say you had Rodney.”
    Checking it quickly, she slid it into a pocket. “Thank you.”
    “Ms. Haziz,” he said, scowling, “I’ll be frank with you. I never expected Rodney to attempt an escape. I’m not sure how to punish him.”
    Sara wasn’t used to talking to angels for longer than it took to get the assignment. In most cases, she didn’t even see them then—they were way too important to consort with mere mortals. That’s what vampires were for. “You know a Mindy?”
    Lacarre stilled. “Yes. She’s one of my most senior vampires.”
    “Jealous type?”
    “Hmm, I see.” A nod. “I’ve been spending extra time with Rodney—he’s a child and I’m afraid he’ll get eaten up if I don’t teach him some skills.”
    Sara wasn’t even going to ask how Rodney had gotten through the Candidate selection process. So many people wanted to be Made that it was anything but a slam dunk. “He’s no mastermind,” she said. “I think if you punish him too harshly, he’ll break.”
    Mr. Lacarre nodded. “Very well, Guild Hunter. Thank you.” It was a dismissal.
    Leaving Rodney with a master who was still irritated, albeit no longer furious, felt vaguely wrong. But the vampire had made his choice when he asked to be Made. Now he’d be somebody’s slave for the next ninety-seven years. As she walked out, her path crossed with that of a slender redhead. The woman was dressed in a daring scarlet suit that molded to her body like second skin. It made a statement.
    She would’ve kept going but the redhead stopped her. “You brought Rodney back.”
    Mindy. “It’s my job.”
    The older vampire—much older from the sheer ease with which she faked humanity—all but gritted her teeth. “I didn’t expect him to survive this long—he can barely tie his shoe-laces.”
    “How did he get Made?” Sara asked, unable to swallow her curiosity any longer.
    Mindy waved a hand. “He was fine bef—” She