“The fact that he would have had to find an inconspicuous way of feeding them.” Jackson brought up the inspector’s number, then hit the CALL button. “There were a hell of a lot of bones and bodies in that sewer tunnel, remember. He couldn’t feed multiple locations without someone realizing the neighborhood was missing not only all of its animal life, but many of its homeless, too.”

I didn’t reply as he began speaking to the inspector. Instead, I turned and made my way back to the people I’d saved. The wall of fire I’d created would have disappeared the minute my strength failed, but the couple I’d rescued was still there, crouched down in the shadows of the large old doors. Relief crossed both their faces when they saw me. The man rose, one hand tucked under his companion’s elbow to help her up. “It is done? Are we safe?”

I nodded. “We’ve called in medics. They’ll be here in—” I hesitated and glanced at Jackson. Though he wasn’t looking at me, he nevertheless held up a hand, fingers spread. “Five minutes.”

Which was damn fast. But maybe the inspector had ordered units on standby, just in case we needed help. And she’d undoubtedly want to contain this situation as fast as possible.

“Are our friends . . . ?” The woman’s voice trailed off.

I glanced over at them. That pool of blood was even bigger than before, but at least one of them still appeared to be breathing.

“I’m a doctor,” the man said. “I might be able to help them.”

I hesitated, and then nodded. In truth, there was nothing he could do to save them now, even if he did manage to keep them alive. The cloaks that had infected them were the mad kind, and that meant that, whether they lived or died, the three would become one of them. Death of the victim didn’t stop the progress of the virus, because the virus had been born out of experiments to uncover what made vampires all but immortal. They might not have uncovered that, but they’d obviously come close enough since the Crimson Death virus turned its victims in much the same manner as sharing the blood of a master vampire made mortals turn into vampires upon death.

But that was news PIT could break to them.

I stood beside the woman, comforting her as best I could as the doctor did his utmost to save his remaining companion.

PIT operatives appeared a few minutes later. One of them—a tall, slightly chubby-looking man with dark hair—approached me, and recognition stirred. He’d been one of the two men the inspector had sent to collect Jackson’s blood sample.

“Brad Harvey,” he said, saving me the embarrassment of not remembering his name. “Nice to see you again, Ms. Pearson. Shame it couldn’t be under better circumstances.”