"I dunno," Karl said. "Let's see if we can avoid finding out."

  Neither of us had drawn our weapons yet – we wanted to talk to the ogre, not kill him. We could take him out if we had to – probably. My Beretta's load included silver bullets, and I knew Karl's Glock held sixteen slugs tipped with cold iron – he doesn't handle silver anymore. Either round will take down an ogre, but you have to get him in a vital spot. It's kind of what hunting rhinos must be like – you know your gun can kill the beast, but you'd better make the first shot count, or you're in for a world of hurt.

  But with a supernatural creature, just as with humans, lethal force is supposed to be the last option, not the first. The badge isn't a license to kill, and that's something I keep in mind. Besides, the paperwork is horrendous.

  I heard a sound from behind me, and saw that the uniforms had brought Leary back inside. They took him over to where I was standing with Karl, about twenty-five feet from the ogre and his new girlfriend. Then they beat it back out the door. "We'll go keep an eye out for the ambulances," one of them said to me. Yeah, yeah.

  "What the hell is he still doing here?" Leary said from behind me. "I thought you guys were supposed to be the big supe experts."

  "We are," I told him, "but even experts need information. Come over here, next to me."

  Leary's on the short side, with flaming red hair that's about half gone, bushy eyebrows, and more attitude than the Irish Republican Army. Some say he's got some leprechaun in him, and they'll get no argument from me.

  I wanted to be able to talk to Leary and keep my eye on the ogre at the same time. Never turn your back on a supe – unless he's your partner, who you'd trust with your life. Or maybe a member of your family.

  Leary was standing a few feet to my left now, so I asked him, "You get many ogres in here?"

  As soon as I said it, I realized my question sounded like the set-up to a supe joke – the dumb kind, like Lacey Brennan is always telling me. Lacey works the Supe Squad over in Wilkes-Barre. She's a good cop, and not bad-looking, either, but it's not like I have a thing for her.

  "Naw, this one's the first. I don't like havin' 'em around, but when something that size comes in and orders a drink, what was I gonna do?"

  "Serve him, I hope," I said.

  "'Course I did. Double shot of tequila. He put away that one, and eight more, in about an hour."

  "Then what?" Karl asked him. "He run out of money?"

  "Naw, I cut him off. He didn't take that too well."

  "You wouldn't sell him any more booze because he was drunk?" I asked.

  "Shit, he had to be. Nine double shots of Jose Cuervo – what would you expect?"

  "Yeah, but was he acting drunk, Leary?" I was starting to get fed up with this little jerk.

  "He was acting big and stupid, just like when he came in. I wanted to get him the fuck outta here before he started cuttin' up and caused some damage."

  I let my gaze wander around what was left of his bar. "Looks like you did a hell of a job," I said. "Leary, did you ever consider how much booze it takes to affect something that size?" It takes a lot more than nine shots of tequila to get an ogre drunk, unless he already had some on board when he came in.

  "I don't give a shit," Leary said. "I just hope the big dummy's been savin' his pennies, because I'm gonna sue him for every single one – once you guys do your job and get him the fuck out of here, that is."

  I shared a disgusted look with Karl, who asked Leary, "The waitress – what's her name?"

  "Why? You plannin' on puttin' a move on her or something? You're gonna have to get lover boy over there to turn her loose, first."

  Karl let a little bit of vamp show in his eyes as he said, "I just wanna know what to call her. Now tell me her name." Guess he was getting impatient, too.

  Leary actually took a step back. "Heather, her name's Heather. Heather Collins."

  "All right, Leary," I said. "That's all we needed. Wait outside while we finish up in here."

  He was at the door before I finished speaking.

  I lowered my voice again before I said to Karl, "Nice job. You're a scary motherfucker, I ever tell you that?"

  "Yeah, too often," Karl murmured. "You know, I might be able to do the same thing to Dumbo over there, if you want me to give it a try."

  "Better not," I said. "We don't want to spook him while he's got Heather in his fist, do we? He might forget what he's holding and squeeze real hard."

  "Yeah, you're right. Shit."

The paramedics showed up a few minutes later and wasted no time loading the three casualties onto the gurneys they'd wheeled in. If the ogre made a move on the ambulance crew, I'd have to shoot him and hope for the best. But he just watched them as they got the three limp forms ready for departure.

  Without turning my head, I asked them, "Those guys still alive?"

  "Yeah, for the time being," one of them said. "Looks like one's got a fractured skull. The other two don't seem too bad, though."

  Then they wheeled the gurneys out of the bar. I hoped that a doctor or nurse with some magical ability was working at the ER tonight. Hospitals try to keep a medical magician on hand 24/7, but people with that particular skill set are hard to find – even in Scranton, which has an awful lot of supes for its size.

  "Whadaya think, Stan?" Karl asked me. "Time to call SWAT?"

  The Sacred Weapons and Tactics unit is trained to deal with supe hostage situations. It was tempting to let them take over, but I wasn't looking forward to sarcastic comments from their team leader, Dooley. He's something of a prick.

  "Not yet," I told Karl. "Let me see what I can do, first."

  It wasn't just my pride involved in the decision – there was a tactical consideration, too. Since ogre was backed into a corner, there was no way to take him by surprise. And once he saw the SWAT guys, in their distinctive black uniforms, the big guy might panic. And panic could be pretty hard on Heather the waitress.