Guilty Pleasures By Laurell K. Hamilton

What's on the back of the book:
I don't date vampires. I kill them.
My name is Anita Blake.
Vampires call me the Executioner.
What I call them isn't repeatable.
Ever since the Supreme Court granted the undead equal rights, most people think vampires are just ordinary folks with fangs. I know better. I've seen their victims. I carry the scars.
But now a serial killer is murdering vampires - and the most powerful bloodsucker in town wants me to find the killer.
A piece from the book:
Willie McCoy had been a jerk before he died. His being dead didn't change that. He sat across from me, wearing a loud plaid sport jacket. The polyester pants were primary Crayola green. His short, black hair was slicked back from a thin, triangular face. He had always reminded me of a bit player in a gangster movie. The kind that sells information, runs errands, and is expendable.
Of course now that Willie was a vampire, the expendable part didn't count anymore. But he was still selling information and running errands. No, death hadn't changed him much. But just in case, I avoided looking directly into his eyes. It was standard policy for dealing with vampires. He was a slime bucket, but now he was an undead slime bucket. It was a new category for me.
We sat in the quiet air-conditioned hush of my office. The powder blue walls, which Bert, my boss, thought would be soothing, made the room feel cold.
'Mind if I smoke?' he asked.
'Yes,' I said, 'I do.'
'Damn, you aren't gonna make this easy, are you?'
I looked directly at him for a moment. His eyes were still brown. He caught me looking, and I looked down at my desk.
Willie laughed, a wheezing snicker of a sound. The laugh hadn't changed. 'Geez, I love it. You're afraid of me.'
'Not afraid, just cautious.'
'You don't have to admit it. I can smell the fear on you, almost like somethin' touching my face, my brain. You're afraid of me, 'cause I'm a vampire.'
I shrugged; what could I say? How do you lie to someone who can smell your fear? 'Why are you here, Willie?'
'Geez, I wish I had a smoke.' The skin began to jump at the corner of his mouth.
'I didn't think vampires had nervous twitches.'
His hand went up, almost touched it. He smiled, flashing fangs. 'Some things don't change.'
I wanted to ask him, what does change? How does it feel to be dead? I knew other vampires, but Willie was the first I had known before and after death. It was a peculiar feeling. 'What do you want?'
'Hey, I'm here to give you money. To become a client.'
I glanced up at him, avoiding his eyes. His tie tack caught the overhead lights. Real gold. Willie had never had anything like that before. He was doing all right for a dead man. 'I raise the dead for a living, no pun intended. Why would a vampire need a zombie raised?'
He shook his head, two quick jerks to either side. 'No, no voodoo stuff. I wanna hire you to investigate some murderers.'