Kate sipped at her coffee as she flipped through pages, catching up on what she'd missed. The usual assortment of parking and speeding offenses, failures to signal or stop. Some drunk and disorderlies and solicitation charges near a few bars. A couple fights bad enough that police had been called in. A car broken into, with the stereo stolen. A few minor robberies from apartments. "It all looks pretty normal. Nothing about monsters or zombies, or magic spells making people act crazy."
"It turns out that the car that lost the stereo belongs to a lizard person. And they have a two headed pet poodle," grumbled Officer Camden.
"One of the fights was a guy convinced that his girlfriend was cheating on him with someone with green skin covered with little blue spikes," added Officer Keller.
"Close enough to normal," Kate declared.
"Why a two headed poodle?" O'Rourke asked.
"Apparently Chihuahuas are too tasty to keep around," Officer Camden shuddered.
For a moment, Kate pondered that idea before deciding, "There are some things that it's best not to think too much about. The comparative taste of dogs is probably one of them."
"True, very true," agreed Officer Tarrant.
"On a note far from dining habits, I'm glad that we don't have the museum in our precinct. It was robbed last night," Officer Porter shook his head. "I don't have the details, but half the stuff in there is bulky and hard to miss someone moving. The other half is valuable stuff that gets half the value form the history and the other half from being made of expensive stuff."
"Black market collectors?" Suggested Officer Camden.
"That would be better than crooks just planning to melt it down and sell the component parts," shuddered Officer Tarrant.
"Tarrant's father is a history professor," murmured Tashir, not quite hovering beside Kate's elbow.
"Ahhhh," Kate nodded. "Will the local Universities be trying to pressure the appropriate precinct for a swift recovery?"
"There's a good chance," he agreed.
"Do we know what area of the museum was robbed?" Kate asked.
"South and Central American artifacts. Aztec, I think. Maybe some other old-tec," Officer Porter explained. "And I only know that much because it was supposed to be a very impressive display, lots of historical significance - valuable stuff. Also rare, on account of the Spanish explorers."
Kate frowned, her mind flashing back to that very strange dream of wandering up to an altar with the man in paint and feathers. Had he been Aztec? She doubted that she'd be able to pick out Aztec from any other South or Central American native people, though she was aware that there had been many more tribes than just the Aztec and Inca. The man had held a very sharp looking knife, and he'd wanted a vampire. Had it been more than just a dream? Did it have some sort of… some weird meaning?
Shaking her head, she tried not to think about it. There was no reason for her to be dreaming about Aztec priests, or any other old-tec priests. She didn't care what some dream-priest wanted with a vampire. They were all trouble, even Angel who probably didn't want to kill her. Even if there was something there – which there wouldn't be – what could she do about it anyhow?
"Were the Aztecs the ones who used glass knives?" Kate asked, looking towards Officer Tarrant.
"Obsidian, which is volcanic glass. The area is naturally poor in metals that would hold a good edge, so they had to improvise," he gave a small shrug. "Obsidian is rather brittle, but it holds a very sharp edge. Sharper than steel."
Kate nodded, a part of her remembering the smoky glassy knife from her dream, and another part remembering that Aztecs were described as the blood-thirsty savages that carved out their enemies' hearts to offer to their gods. A very sharp knife would make that much easier… Angel had once said that removing a vampire's heart would be just as fatal as removing a human's heart. But how would you hold a vampire down long enough…
Morbid thoughts. Morbid images.
Kate turned her attention back to the lists of bar fights and prostitutes and the car stereo. Normal things. She found herself hoping that tonight would be a normal night. No freaky weird stuff – no removed hearts, no glass knives, no Aztec priests.
"I'm just glad that the university and museum people won't be complaining to us," Officer Camden muttered.
"I want Camden, Whittmore, O'Reilly, Douglas, and Parker. There's a sting tonight and you're going to be assisting. Keller, you're still on light duty, so go help process in that new equipment. As for the rest of you, enough chit-chatting, go out and do some work!" growled the captain.
In a flurry of sir's and rustling papers, the various police officers moved from the desks. Camden, Whittmore, O'Reilly, Douglas and Parker went to learn the details for the sting operation. Keller limped off towards Supply. The rest of them headed away to find suitable things to do.
Kate found herself murmuring, "Just one normal night? Please…"
Perhaps most wouldn't consider a night full of fights, illegally concealed and improvised weapons, attempted auto theft, theft of car stereos – the thief helpfully identified by the multiple bites from the two-headed poodle – loitering, attempted vandalism – though that turned out to be a group of teens with spray paint – and disorderly conduct as 'a normal night'. In some ways, it wasn't, quite. One of the people with 'concealed weapons' turned out to be a demon with talons, who had a weak glamor that left people thinking he had a knife instead – it also left them thinking that he was a rather large human with a bunch of tattoos instead of a brawny looking demon with multi-colored scales. One case of 'disorderly conduct' turned out to be nothing more than a very hot date by Fyarl standards, resulting in three very embarrassed police officers requesting that such things be kept a bit less public, thank you very much, enjoy yourselves behind closed doors. They let the teens finish painting the warning-tag that vampires frequented one specific club.
It had to be about three in the morning when they saw the pink-orange lightning bolts reaching upwards that could only be the Ghostbusters proton packs.
"Did you see that?" O'Rourke asked.
"I suggest that we didn't, and neither did you," Tashir countered.
"Is there any solid reason to go ask questions if nobody calls us?" Kate mused.
O'Rourke paused, before slowly stating, "They are an independent business. Most of the time they don't need us for anything, and the property owners can file their own insurance claims."
"Consensus reached, we keep going as we were," Kate smiled. "I suggest coffee… maybe a mocha…"
"You've been craving those all night," O'Rourke grumbled. "What's wrong with a simple cup of coffee?"
"I…" Kate paused, cutting off her protest that it was just a simple craving, and what difference did it make anyhow? "I'm not really sure. They just sound very good. But regular coffee should be just fine."
Kate thought about things for a while, and whispered to herself, "of course regular coffee is just fine. It's always been just fine."
As they headed towards an all-night coffee shop, Kate found herself thinking once again about that dream, and the painted man with the glass knife. About him asking for the next vampire. Wondering just what he'd do with one anyhow.
End part 11.