The Mammoth Book of Paranormal Romance

dialling, shooting me a look that called me an incompetent idiot.
    “Yes, I’d like to report an emergency,” she said into the phone.
    She went through the process — explaining the situation, checking for a pulse, giving an address. But as hard as I strained to hear the operator on the other end, I couldn’t.
    As I walked to Tiffany, I brushed against the woman. She glared and pulled away, but not before I felt what I’d feared -cool skin against mine.
    “They’ll be here in ten minutes,” she said as she hung up. “In the meantime, I’d suggest we—”
    “No one’s coming,” I said, backing away slowly, like a postal worker facing a Doberman. “There wasn’t anyone on the other end.”
    She frowned. Then, without even a ripple to her perfect composure, she nodded. “So your friend isn’t the only half-demon. Auris or Exaudio? I suppose it hardly matters, though it does make this easier. My name is Cassandra DuCharme, and I’m a delegate—”
    At a noise from down the alley, my chin jerked up and she stopped talking, her gaze following mine. Agent Carter stepped from a side alley. Seeing me, he pulled up short.
    “Melanie?”
    Cassandra smiled at him. “Ah, so you couldn’t resist the bait after all. Excellent. This just keeps getting easier. Aaron?”
    “Adrian” swung from a recessed doorway behind Carter, grabbed him and slammed him into the wall. Blood spurted. Aaron yanked Carter back, head lolling, nose streaming blood.
    “Shit,” Aaron said. “He’s not—”
    I bolted before he could finish. I reached the Vamp Tramp back exit. Closed. No handle. I was putting on the brakes, about to find another way, when the door opened and my shy admirer from earlier stuck his head out.
    Seeing me, he smiled. “I thought you went out this way.”
    I wheeled in, shoving him back inside so hard he stumbled. As I quickly explained that my friend was hurt, I yanked the door shut and made sure it would stay that way.
    I pulled out my cell phone. A drunken couple lurched into the hall, screaming the lyrics to “Sympathy for the Devil”. My admirer pushed open the nearest door and motioned me into the supply closet, away from the noise.
    I stepped in, my gaze fixed on the display screen on my phone. Full signal. Thank God. I started to dial. Then I heard the soft rustle of fabric right behind me. I turned to see my admirer in mid-pounce. I staggered back. He snarled, flashing razor-sharp canines.
    I spun out of the way and slammed my elbow into his nose. A great self-defence move . . . if you aren’t fighting a vampire. He only reeled back, then shook his head and lunged again. I feinted to the side, and grabbed an inventory pencil. I aimed for his eye. I missed, but rammed the pencil into his cheek with such force it broke when it hit bone and I was left holding a stub.
    And the vampire? He just reached up, and plucked out the pencil. By the time it clattered to the floor, the bloodless wound was already closing.
    I remembered Aaron throwing Carter against the wall, his oath of surprise at seeing blood streaming from his broken nose . . . because Carter wasn’t a vampire, and that’s what they’d expected.
    The woman had introduced herself as Cassandra DuCharme. A delegate, she’d said. I now knew what she’d been about to say before I cut her short: delegate to the interracial council, a law-enforcement body for supernaturals. They’d been hunting one of their own — a killer. And I’d been the one to find him. Lucky me.
    I’d taken enough self-defence classes to ward this monster off, but that was all I could do, considering the guy was impervious to injury.
    My best bet was getting to the door. He knew that, which is why he stayed between it and me. Finally, he got tired of the dance and pounced. I waited until the last second, then spun out of the way. When he tried to check his charge and lost his balance, I grabbed him by the hair and slammed his face into a wooden crate. I did it again and again, until the wood cracked and split. Still he kept fighting.
    I tried backing towards the door, but he grabbed my dress, holding me still. I was about to lunge, praying that the dress would rip, when the door flew open and a voice said, “I’ll take that for you.”
    Aaron grabbed the vampire. I didn’t wait to see what he did with him. I raced outside to check on Tiffany and Carter.
    They were fine. Sedated, as it turned out. That’s what a vampire’s first bite does, as Cassandra