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hospital wing and into Central HQ.
    “Yeah, I hope he’s not faking it.”
    “He’s not. We all scanned him. He’s interested, but not freaked out. Probably why your police chief partnered him with you.”
    “We’ll see, I guess.” I tried not to be hopeful -- interested in the whole undead thing and interested in a relationship with an undead were two different things.
    We reached Central HQ, hopped off the moving sidewalk, and went to the dispatch desk. The Count wasn’t there, of course. He ran dispatch, but he ran it from higher up. He left the mundane portions of dispatch to those Enforcement personnel trained for it. Tonight we had three succubae, two banshees, and a couple of skeletons on duty. However, I wanted the being in charge.
    “Is Clyde around?”
    One of the banshees nodded and shrieked his name. Ralph and I just managed to cover our ears in time, and thankfully, Maurice covered Jack’s. Vampires could mute a banshee’s scream and liches and white worms were immune to it. But it was beyond painful for werewolves and humans.
    “A little warning next time would be nice,” Ralph growled. I didn’t contradict him.
    Clyde lumbered around from the back. He was an older mummy originally from Egypt. Amazingly, not all mummies were -- they were dotted all over the Eastern Hemisphere. But we got a steady migration -- Necropolis was considered newer and more vibrant, the place to go if you really wanted to make it as an undead and set yourself apart from the rest of the deaders. If you could make it here, you could make it anywhere, kind of thing.
    Clyde had come out before it was cool, though. When Necropolis formed, centuries before, he’d volunteered to come and help get things set up, and he’d never left. He and the Count were close friends, which helped. Between the two of them, they knew everything that had gone on in and around Necropolis. H.P. had them guest lecture a lot.
    “Hello, Victoria,” Clyde said slowly. Mummies spoke faster than golem, but neither were speed demons verbally. “Glad to see you back to normal.”
    “Me, too.” I ignored Ralph’s grumbling about how human form wasn’t really normal for a werewolf and forged on. “Has H.P. briefed you or the Count about what we encountered tonight?”
    He nodded. “Yes. Very unusual.”
    “Getting more unusual. Ken and Jack found what we think is residual aura left after some heavy-duty cleanup. We’re heading back to check it out, but do you have anything for us before we go?”
    Clyde was quiet for a few moments. “Take along a hellhound. And a daemon cat.”
    Ralph’s growling got louder. I continued to ignore. “Who’s on duty?”
    Clyde brought one of the banshees over. I covered my ears instinctively. I noted that Jack did the same. He was a fast learner.
    The banshee did her shriek of the dead thing. After the sounds stopped reverberating in my head I heard the sound of toenails clicking on the marble floors. So it wasn’t a surprise to see a big cat and dog skid around the corner and come to an impressive, screeching halt right in front of me. They each put up a paw and saluted, too.
    “Hansel, Gretel, good to see you, and glad you’re here.”
    Jack sidled up to me. “Um, Hansel and Gretel?”
    “Code names,” Hansel’s middle head said. The right and left heads usually let the middle head do the talking -- it stressed other beings out a little less.
    “We were really siblings, in the old days,” Gretel said in the half-snarl, half-purr that was daemon cat speech. She stood up on her hind legs and put her paw on Hansel’s middle head. “What’s the situation, Major?”
    Jack looked around and then stared at me. “Major?
    I shrugged. “Down here, yeah. I’ll try not be insulted by the shocked look on your face.”
    “We use military titles,” Maurice said. “It makes it less confusing when we chat with humans. For example, Amanda and I are both Captains. Ken’s also a Major, because he’s an