8
Al glanced at his Moon. “Did that thing have a pale face to you?”
Paul nodded. “Yes.”
Romero walked over and knelt before the pile of ash. He slipped his hand into the dust and let the gray matter run through his fingers. His fingers found the silver dart that had eliminated the danger, and their chance at finding the truth. “Damn. . .” He pulled out a cell phone and pressed the speed dial number before putting it to his ear.
“Parasquad Headquarters, Sax speaking.”
“This is Romero. I need a cleanup crew for a vampire attack,” Romero told the person on the other line.
“Yes, sir, chief. Where do I send it?”
“The city morgue.” Romero hung up and stood to face the companions. “Did you two get a good look at who fired that dart?”
“Only that he probably wasn’t alive,” Al told
