Mills Upset

I wake up uncuffed and sitting in a chair. Across from me is a very upset Mills, two armed guards, and some fuzzy blurs in my vision that are tangoing with the lamp. I miss my regeneration powers. “So glad you could join us,” Mills says. I just sag forward and try to adopt my best ‘I just got the shit beaten out of me twice’ expression. It isn’t too hard. “What we have here, Shade, is what we like to call in the police world ‘probable cause’. What that means is there are times when you can take action if a person gives you a reason to do so. An example might be someone…oh, tipping off a group of vampires that they’re about to be busted. Particularly if they did it right…fucking…in front of you. This cause is so probable, in fact, that I’ve hesitated from putting a bullet in your brain on the sheer, barely believable chance that maybe you have an explanation for this,” Mills says. He stands up from his desk and gets a cup of water out of the cooler near him. “Because the thing is Shade, I don’t just need that explanation. I need a couple. I want to know, for example, where my Vampire Falcon is. He vanished and you’re the last person to talk to him. And maybe you could go over what you told those freaks about us inside that warehouse. Or perhaps, you might consi-“ he continues. A guy can only talk so many sarcastic lectures before you’ve just heard them all. Right now my quota was already one over bearable. “What you need to know is if I’ll consider telling you where your Book is before every vampire in the city turns you into dinner,” I say. The look on his face tells me I stole the fifth act right out from under him.