The Night Beat

are coming to join us, to fight the eternal fight alongside all our other warriors. You had no control over their souls. Neither did the Prince. That they were the only two worthy of an unlife was neither your loss nor your victory.” She looked back at the graves. “Remember this -- when it comes down to it, it’s always you alone against the Prince. No matter if there are thousands standing with you, each of you fights him alone.”
    The others joined us now, so I wasn’t able to question Miriam further. Seven bodies floated in the air above their graves. They didn’t look good, but they hadn’t looked good prior to Slimy’s attack, either.
    I examined them. I didn’t really know them. They were vaguely familiar faces, people I’d looked at to make sure they weren’t committing crimes in front of me. Then I’d looked away from them. Like everyone else had.
    Jack was next to me. “Monty said we had limited time. What do you want to ask them?”
    All seven were staring at us, their expressions a mixture of fear, truculence and insolence. Just like we’d brought them into the station for questioning. This was truly a routine round-up.
    Things being what they were, I decided to go for broke. “What did you all see, right before, and most importantly, right after you died?”
    There was the dead version of foot shuffling and averted eyes. The hookers stuck their chests out and tried to distract that way. The bums muttered. The junkies laughed. I decided to focus on them. They were, as we’d all told Jack, much closer to the Prince.
    “You,” I pointed to the nearest junkie. “Why didn’t the Prince take you with him?”
    He was young, no more than twenty-two. He just grinned at me. “That’s Jerry,” someone said in a quiet voice from behind me. I looked over my shoulder to see Freddy the new zombie standing there. “He don’t like authority. His daddy’s a preacher.”
    “Who’s the other junkie?”
    “Bobby. Used to be on the corporate ladder, wife, kids.” Freddy sounded sad.
    I looked back at the resurrected. “Bobby, why didn’t the Prince take you?” Bobby looked away. “You know, if the Prince is here, he’ll take your family. Even if you’re no good to him, I’ll bet your wife and kids will be just what he’s after.”
    Bobby’s head swiveled back. “I don’t have a family any more.”
    “You may have deserted them for addiction, but you’re still connected to them. Forever. But…maybe you don’t care about them now any more than you did when you started using.”
    “You know nothing about me,” Bobby said angrily.
    “Your wife came to try to get you into rehab last year,” Sexy Cindy said derisively. “You shoved her away and she fell. I had to help her up and get her back to her car. She cried the whole way.”
    One of the bums nodded. “You showed me pictures of your kids, when you first come to live with us.”
    The others added in. Clearly, Bobby had clung to the idea of his family, even if he’d gone to living death on the streets. But he still wouldn’t give us anything. I tried Jerry again. “What if the Prince goes after your father?”
    Jerry grinned. “Him? He says he’s protected from the devil. My mom, too.”
    “You have any sisters or brothers?” Jack asked, sounding bored.
    “Nope.” Jerry laughed. “Just me. Just me to put all their damned hopes and dreams on. Like I wanted to be what they wanted.”
    “What was that?” I kept my voice mild.
    “Respectable.” Jerry snorted. “Be good, grow up right, serve the Lord, don’t have any fun, don’t ever get into trouble. Or you’ll embarrass us.”
    Sexy Cindy sighed. “Your mamma came to see you every damn week, you whiney little weakling. Only reason you’re still alive, ‘cause she brought you food and water.”
    Jerry laughed. “And money. Money for Tony Tomio. I miss him. He was good people.”
    “He’s still alive,” I mentioned with a touch of sarcasm.
    Jerry looked right at me. This was a rarity in a junkie, and I didn’t get the feeling he was doing it accidentally. “So you say…bitch.” His eyes widened then quickly narrowed. He smiled slyly. “I bet you like to do it doggy-style, get the back of your neck bit. How many cops do you do a night, huh? All of ‘em, or just a few?”
    I could smell everyone’s anger. Jack’s, in particular. But he didn’t react. We’d been cops too long -- we both recognized when a perp had slipped up and was trying to cover by