“You don’t understand. Whatever’s down there, it’s a hell of a lot stronger than I am.” His eyes were wide, and retained their red tinge. “What are you going to do, genius? Blow me up in the middle of this crowd? I’m not going in. If you’re smart, neither will you. Call your Porters and have them send in the big guns.”

The Porters had already investigated. Why hadn’t they found the vampire hiding out in the rubble? He had a point, though. I called Pallas again, but received the same message as before. I hung up the phone. “With Gutenberg and his automatons gone and the Porters not answering my calls, we are the big guns.”

Ted snorted. “Just do me one favor. Switch off the countdown on the damn bomb in my head before you go down there.”

“If you’ve lied to me—” I began.

Ted bared his teeth. “Why bother? The truth is likely to get you killed a lot faster than any lie.”

I retrieved the control pad and switched off the countdown. Ted took off the instant the timer stopped. He cut through the bushes beside the sidewalk, which momentarily obscured him from view. A lean dark-furred wolf emerged from the far side. He was just as scraggly-looking in this shape. Like most Stokerus vampires, Ted had the ability to shift his form, though he could only do so at night. He loped away, eliciting shouts and screams from passing students.

I strode toward the gate. A man in a heavy jacket and a fire helmet walked over to meet me. Dark bags under his eyes betrayed his fatigue. He folded his arms, blocking our way.

I flashed my ID badge before he could speak. “We’re here to inspect the scene.”

He hesitated, then jumped back. “Sir . . . on your hip—”

My jacket had caught on Smudge’s cage when I pocketed that book, exposing him to view. “He’s a bomb-sniffing spider.” I did my best to sound officious and impatient, as if this poor fellow was the only one who hadn’t gotten the memo about the spiders. “It’s a new initiative from the feds. Spiders are even more sensitive to chemicals than dogs. He can detect microscopic amounts of explosive residue by touch alone.”

“I . . . yes, sir.” He opened the gate and backed away, giving us a wide berth. “You’ll need to sign in.”

I kept my badge open and waited. He bit his lip, scanned my ID again, and backed down.

“I’ll just make a note myself.” He scribbled something onto a clipboard, then hurried to a small trailer parked just inside the fence to retrieve a pair of hard hats. “We haven’t found any evidence of an explosion. The whole thing just collapsed. We’re thinking the water from the river could have seeped out, softening the ground beneath the library to create a sinkhole.”