“You might find yourself in a book someday,” the brunette said. “So watch out.”
“I call it soul stealing,” Duncan said, grinning.
Barbara got a cold shiver at that and decided that she just had to open up and see what she felt from the man. But there was nothing there. She reached out and felt the sort of mixed… grayness she’d come to feel from some people. But Duncan had… nothing. Not a feel of necromancy and not what her instructors had talked about with “shielding” or “cloaking.” This was more like some sort of anti-power shield or even total soullessness. He seemed powerful, and that shield certainly seemed to indicate that he was. But the power seemed oddly… familiar. She couldn’t be sure but she didn’t think he was evil. She wondered just how much he really talked to the saints.
“Well,” Barb said, standing up and smiling. “This has been a fun conversation, but it’s getting late for me so I’m heading in. If I end up in a book, I’d like to at least be informed.”
“I don’t know how to contact you,” Duncan said, widening his eyes and batting his lashes. “And I’m not about to ask for your number, it would probably be to a suicide hotline. But I shall give you a card. If you wish to contact me you may and I will tell you if you’re going to be used as a character. I make no promises about what the character goes through, however.”
“He turned me into a slave girl,” the brunette said, laughing.
“I’ve told you there was a perfectly reasonable explanation,” Duncan said, plaintively.
“Sure there was,” the woman replied, grinning. “I believe you!”
“If you didn’t trust me, why are we sharing a room?” Duncan protested.
“I didn’t say I didn’t trust you,” she replied. “I just said we had to have separate beds.”
“Conditions, conditions,” Duncan sighed, pulling out a card. “I hope to hear from you, Barb. Meeting you has made my evening.”
“It has been… enlightening for me as well,” Barbara said, nodding as she walked away. As she walked up the steps to the door she felt wetness fall on her face. Looking back she could see the snowflakes hanging in the lights of the atrium. She hadn’t seen snow like this in years but as she looked at the beauty she shivered. The snow could hide so much.
Chapter Eleven
As she was on the way upstairs she almost collided with Janea as she ran out the stairway door.
“Where is he?” Janea said, breathlessly.
“What?” Barb asked, looking around for threats. The dancer was clearly chasing someone with bloody intent.
“Skinny kid, wearing black!” Janea said. “Dark hair, pimples!”
“I didn’t see him,” Barbara said, still looking around. “Well, actually, that describes half the kids at the con… You’re sure it’s him?”
“Damn straight,” Janea said. “He manifested right in front of me, bold as brass. As soon as I… Ah hah,” she snapped, hurrying down the corridor at the sound of a door closing.
Barb followed as Janea ran to the far end of the corridor and turned into another stairwell.
“Listen,” Janea said, holding the door open. There was a sound of a door shutting but Barbara couldn’t be sure from which direction, up or down.
“Should we call Greg?” Barb asked, nervously. Wait, why was she nervous? She’d dealt with a demon, what was a necromancer to that?
“I think he went down,” Janea said. “But you go up. Call me if he’s up there.”
“I will,” Barbara said, darting up the stairs. She checked her piece on the landing and then darted up the final steps, throwing open the door at the top. There were three boys just outside the landing, one of them bent over gasping for air.
“She’s been chasing me like a hound,” the boy gasped, breathing in and out heavily. “How the hell can she run that fast in heels?”
“Well, between the three of us, we can take her,” one of the others said. He was taller and a tad older than the youngster who was hyperventilating. All three were dressed in black but the duster the man was wearing had several cabalistic signs on it. “She’s only a second level Hunter.”
“The hell you will,” Barb said, her hand still on her piece. “She’s not who you should be worrying about. Janea! Up here.”
“Gotcha!” Janea yelled from downstairs.
“Just stay still and don’t make any sudden moves,” Barbara said, pulling out her cell phone with her left hand.
“What the hell are you talking about?” the older boy said, looking at her askance.
“Gotcha,” Janea said as she skidded through the door. “Oh, holy shit!”
“Welcome to vampire central, Hunter,” the older boy said, maliciously.
“I’m outta here!” Janea said, turning around.
“Not so fast, Hunter,” the boy said, pulling out a card. “Let’s see your powers.”
“Damn,” Janea said, pulling out her own card. “I’ve built up sixteen defense points.”
“We’re unified in a circle,” the boy said. “That’s a total of twenty-five attack points.” He held up a fist and counted. “One, two, three.”
“Hah!” Janea said, holding two fingers up. “Scissors to your paper!”
“Damn!” snapped the boy who had been gasping. He’d managed to recover and now he looked like he wanted to spit.
“You can escape, Hunter,” the older boy said, putting away his card. “But you’d better keep your face out of sight by night. We know you now, Hunter, and we’ll be looking for you. All of our circle will be hunting you, Hunter.”
“Right, Barb, we’re leaving,” Janea said, taking her arm.
“You were playing a game?” Barbara nearly shouted as the door closed. “I was ready to draw on them!”
“Oh, hell,” Janea said, stopping and looking at her wide-eyed. Then she began to laugh so hard she ended up gasping like the kid who’d been run to ground. Finally she stopped and wiped her eyes, smearing her mascara. “Oh! Oh! God that’s funny.”
“It’s not funny,” Barb said, trying not to grin. “I was all set to call Greg and put the cuffs on him! And if one of them had made a move, they’d have been looking down the barrel of a .45!”
“Okay, so it’s not so funny,” Janea said, still chuckling. “Yeah, we were playing a game. Come on, let’s get over to the Hunter room and I’ll introduce you around.”
The Hunter room was a double just about filled with kids dressed in black.
“I had him dead to rights,” one of them was bemoaning. “I had the cross and the stake and everything. And he won the damned toss! So there I was, dead as a doornail.”
“Tough luck,” the girl he was talking to said. She was about fifteen if she was a day, pretty, overweight, and wearing at least another ten pounds of mascara and fifteen in silver jewelry. She looked like she probably had naturally light brown hair but it was dyed black and her eyes looked like a raccoon’s from all the black makeup. “But you can resurrect tomorrow.”
“I know,” the boy grumped. “But what am I going to do the rest of the night… ?”
“Barb, this is Timson,” Janea said, drawing Barbara over to a young man who was lounging on a chair at the back of the room. “He’s the Hunter leader. Timson, this is my friend Barb.”
“Nice to meet you, Barb,” Timson said, waving. He was tall and very fair, with light blue eyes and hair and a nice smile. If Allison brought him home as a date Barbara would be happy to let him go out with her. When she was a little older. He was dressed in what was apparently the required black, but it was limited to a black button-down shirt that looked vaguely clerical and black jeans. He had a black leather jacket slung over his shoulder. “Are you going to play? We’ve got two more Hunter slots open.”