The Night Beat

of victory.”
    I looked at the bag on the seat. “They need what we’re carrying.”
    Ralph nosed through the bag. He jerked back, growling -- and not the sexy let’s-go-my-puppy-mamma growling, either.
    “What is it?”
    “No idea what’s important about the other stuff,” Ralph said, still growling. “But that figurine is the worst kind of bad news.”
    “The little statue? Yeah, it gave me the creeps every time I looked at it.”
    “It should. It’s a representation of Adlet. I think it’s the representation of Adlet.”
    “What is it with the Prince and minion names beginning with ‘A’? Couldn’t the supreme evil being get attached to any other letters?”
    Ralph sighed. I got the impression our new relationship was going to involve a lot of sighing on his part. “Did you take any classes on undead history? Any at all?”
    “I took the fun ones. And the ones that dealt with killing off minions. The Count said my scores were so good that I didn’t have to take any courses I didn’t want to in order to get onto Enforcement.”
    “Must be nice to be everyone’s favorite.”
    “It doesn’t suck. But that statue thing does. Who’s Adlet?”
    “Every species, living or undead, has its originators, and the good and bad sides always exist.”
    “Right. That’s in the orientation class, Ralph. Everyone takes that one.”
    “But I have no proof you ever paid attention. Adlet was the eldest son of the first werewolves. He turned to the Prince before he was ten, but he married and mated before anyone realized it. Supposedly some of Adlet’s blood runs in the veins of every werewolf. Which is technically true, since we all have the blood of the originals in us, and their blood created Adlet.”
    “I saw that statue. We don’t look a thing like that.” It looked like an inverted creature with a lot of its insides on the outside, loaded with claws and fangs. On my worst fur day, I didn’t look like that.
    “We don’t, but the werewolves in Hell do. You just haven’t seen too many.”
    “Have you?”
    “A few. Our kind doesn’t seem to survive well in the Depths. No idea why.”
    “Let’s hope whatever the reason for that is, that it affects Jack.”
    Ralph jerked. “He was trying to mate with you.” He was back to angry growling.
    “I call that rape, Ralph. You know, me saying ‘no’ and him trying anyway? What you saved me from? I wasn’t mating, I was trying to escape.”
    “I know. But the position he had you in, what he was saying, you were both in wolf form -- he must have been about to start when I showed up.” Ralph sounded angrier than I’d ever heard. “He’d have raped and impregnated you. That’s what they were waiting for, what they still want.” His voice was shaking. I risked a fast look. His whole body was shaking -- from rage, I was pretty sure, at least based on his expression.
    I reached out and stroked his head. “It’s okay. You saved me, he didn’t get what they wanted. And he never will.”
    “I’ll dust before I let him touch you again.”
    My throat was tight. “I know. But…Ralph?”
    “Yeah?”
    “I don’t want you to dust.” I swallowed. “I don’t want you to leave me. Every werewolf I’ve ever cared about has…dusted.” I managed to keep the tears from falling. “Because of me.”
    “No. Because of the Prince. Never let someone give you that guilt, Vic, not even me. Especially not me. I swore over two hundred years ago that I’d never let the Prince’s side take you from us, and I meant it.”
    I wanted to stop the car and cuddle more than anything else. But we had more than one big SUV following us, we’d given Monty what I hoped was enough time, and we were too near to the Estates to try to confuse our followers any more.
    Instead, I focused back on the job. “What did you mean by the statue being the representation of Adlet, heavy emphasis on ‘the’?”
    “You think that ring of fire’s real Hellfire this time?” Ralph asked, a little nervously.
    “No idea. Into living dangerously right now.”
    “I’m not big on going out in a blaze of glory, just for the record. Job description aside, I’m sort of hoping for the vast ancient age, surrounded by sobbing loved ones exit.”
    “Noted. Look at this option as wildly romantic and just go with it.” We plowed through, no problems. Nice to know the illusion was still going on. Probably more than one illusion, I reminded myself.
    “I don’t find death romantic.