Well, I guess I should get back to writing, so I can afford said new lodging. Cady and O'Neill are impatient mistresses— er, that is, an impatient mistress and master—as you observed earlier. Speaking of which, I haven't forgotten about your copy of The Glasgow Pact. I intended to write something semi-original in it last night, after our nice day together, but the real estate vortex caught me up. My apologies. I'll bring it to you soon. Later, Seth
I reread the letter twice. I felt pretty confident that in the short span I'd known Seth, I'd never heard him utter aloud as many words as he'd just written. Not only that, they were funny words. Entertaining words. Like a mini Cady and O'Neill novel, addressed just to me. A far cry from his halting attitude this morning. If he'd said anything remotely comparable in person, I probably would have passed out.
"Incredible," I muttered to my screen.
Part of me felt mollified by the letter, though another part felt he still could have been a bit more tactful in his earlier treatment, busy or no. The rest of me pointed out that all of these "parts of me" probably should be in therapy, and besides, I really needed to leave and go see Erik about the vampire hunter thing. I quickly sent back a response:
Thanks for the letter. I suppose I'll make it another day without the book. Good luck with the real estate agent, and be sure to wear a condom when you make an offer. Other good places to eat in that area are Han & Sons, the Plum Tomato Cafe, and Lotus Chinese. —Georgina
I left the store, promptly forgetting about Seth, happy there'd be no traffic this early in the day. Driving up to Lake City, I easily found the intersection the girl at Krystal Starz had indicated. Locating the store itself proved more of a challenge. Strip malls and assorted businesses packed the area, and I read through myriad billboards and storefronts in the hopes of finding something promising. Finally, I spotted a small, dark sign tucked away in the corner of a less-frequented cluster of stores, arcana, ltd. That had to be it.
I parked in front, hoping it was actually open. No one had posted hours or anything on the door, but it gave way without resistance when I pushed on it. Sandalwood incense burned in the air around me as I entered, and faint harp music played from a small CD player set up on the counter. I couldn't see anyone else in the room, and so I wandered around, admiring the sights. Real books on mythology and religion—not the flashy fluff Krystal Starz sold—lined the walls, and carefully arranged display cases held handcrafted jewelry I recognized from a few different local artists. Assorted ritual items—candles, incense, and statuary—filled in the nooks and crannies, giving the whole place a sort of jumbled, pleasantly lived-in feel.
"Miss Kincaid. It is an honor to see you again."
I spun around from where I had been admiring a White Tara statue. Erik walked into the room, and I reined in my surprise at his appearance. When had he grown so old? He had been old the last time I saw him—dark skin wrinkled, hair gone gray—but I did not remember the slight stoop in his walk, or the hollowed look around his eyes. I tried to remember the last time we'd talked; I hadn't thought it'd been that long. Five years? Ten? With mortals, it was easy to lose track.
"It's good to see you too. You aren't easy to find anymore. I had to go poking around Krystal Starz to figure out what happened to you."
"Ah. I hope the experience wasn't too... awkward."
"Nothing I couldn't handle. Besides, I'm glad you got out of there." I looked around at the cluttered, dimly lit shop. "I like this new place."
"It's not much—doesn't bring in much either—but it's mine. It's what I've been saving for, where I'll spend my last years."
I grimaced. "Don't turn melodramatic on me now. You aren't that old."
His smile broadened, his expression turning slightly wry. "Neither are you, Miss Kincaid. Indeed, you are as beautiful as the first time I saw you." He gave me a slight bow, bending lower than someone with his back probably should have. "How may I be of service?"
"I need information."
"Of course." He gestured to a small table near the main counter, currently covered with books and an elaborate candle holder. "Sit and have tea with me, and we'll talk. Unless you are in a hurry?"
"No, I have time."
While Erik fetched the tea, I cleared off the table, setting books in neat stacks on the floor. When he returned with the teapot, we made small talk and sipped our drinks for a bit, but my mind really wasn't into it. My restlessness must have come through loud and clear as my fingers danced along the cup's edge and my toe tapped impatiently.
Finally, I broached my topic. "I need to know about vampire hunters."
For most other people, this would have been a weird request, but Erik only nodded expectantly. "What in particular would you like to know?"
"Anything. Their habits, how to recognize them. Whatever you've got."
He leaned back in his chair, holding the cup delicately. "My understanding is that vampire hunters are born, not made. They are 'gifted,' so to speak, with the ability to kill vampires." He proceeded to relate several other details, most of which matched up with what I'd learned from Peter.
Pondering what Cody had said, about the sense of being followed by someone he could not see, I asked, "Do they have any other special abilities that you know of? Can they go invisible?"
"Not that I know of. Some immortal beings can, of course, but not vampire hunters. They're still just mortals, after all, despite their odd talents."
I nodded, being one such creature who could turn invisible, though I rarely used the power. I toyed with the thought that Cody's phantom might have been an invisible immortal, trying to play a trick, but he still should have sensed the telltale signature we all carried. Indeed, he should have sensed a mortal vampire hunter as well. The fact that he had neither seen nor felt anything lent credence to Peter's theory that the stalker had all been in Cody's head.
"Can vampire hunters harm anyone else? Demons... or other immortal creatures?"
"It's very hard to do anything tangible to an immortal," he mused. "Certain denizens of good—powerful priests, for example—can drive off demons, but they can't harm them permanently. Likewise, I've heard of mortals capturing supernatural creatures, but doing much more than that... I'm not saying it's impossible, just that I've never heard of it. To my offhand knowledge, vampire hunters can only harm vampires. Nothing else."
"I value your offhand knowledge more than most confirmed facts."
He eyed me curiously. "But this isn't the answer you were expecting."
"I don't know. It's pretty much what I've already been told. I was just thinking there might be more."
It was entirely possible that Jerome had been telling the truth, that this was merely a case of a rampant vampire hunter and that his warnings to Hugh and me had been simple courtesies to protect us from discomfort. Still, I couldn't shake the feeling that Jerome had held back information, nor did I really believe Cody to be the kind of person who imagined things.
I must have looked perplexed because Erik offered, somewhat hesitantly it seemed, "I could look into this more for you, if you'd like. Just because I've never heard of something capable of harming other immortals doesn't mean it's out of the realm of existence."
I nodded. "I'd appreciate that. Thank you."
"It's a privilege to be of assistance to someone like you. And if you like, I could also make other inquiries into vampire hunters in general." He paused again, choosing his words carefully. "Were such a person to be at large, certain signs would show up in the local occult community. Supplies would be bought, questions asked. Such beings do not go unnoticed."