"Could be worse."
"Could it?" I wondered archly. I'd never seen any immortal sustain so much injury.
"Sure. First, I could be dead, and I'm not. Second, I heal just like you do. You should have seen me this afternoon when they brought me in. The trick now will be to get me out of here before someone notices just how fast I'm recovering."
"Does Jerome know about this?"
"Of course. I called him earlier, but he'd already felt it. I expect him to show up any time now. Did he call you?"
"Not exactly," I admitted, hesitant to bring up the note quite yet. "What happened? When you were attacked?"
"I don't remember a lot of details." Hugh shrugged slightly, an awkward maneuver for one lying down. I suspected he'd already gone through this story with a number of others. "I stepped out for coffee. I was the only one in the parking lot, and while coming back to my car, this... person, I guess, just jumped out and attacked me. No warning."
"You guess?"
He frowned. "I never really got a good look. He was big, though, I could peg that much. And strong—really strong. A lot stronger than I would have thought."
Hugh himself was no weakling. True, he didn't work out or do much with his body, but he had a big frame and a lot of density to fill that frame out.
"Why did he stop?" I asked. "Did someone find you guys?"
"Nah, I don't know why he quit. It was all beating and slashing one minute; the next, he's gone. Took about fifteen minutes before someone else came along and helped me."
"You keep saying 'he.' You think it was a guy?"
He attempted another shrug. "I don't really know. Just an impression I got. Could have been a hot blonde for all I know."
"Yeah? Should I question Samantha?"
"You shouldn't be questioning anyone, according to Jerome. Did you ever talk to Erik?"
"Yeah... he's looking into some things for me. He also reaffirmed that vampire hunters can't kill you or me, nor has he ever heard of anything that can."
Hugh turned thoughtful. "This person didn't kill me."
"Do you think he was trying?"
"He was certainly trying to do something. Seems like if he could have killed me, he would have."
"But he couldn't," a voice behind me pointed out, "because, as I've said, vampire hunters can only inconvenience you, not kill you."
I turned, startled at hearing Jerome's voice. It startled me further to see Carter with him.
"Leave it to Jerome to play devil's advocate," joked the angel.
"What are you doing here, Georgina?" demanded the demon icily.
My mouth gaped, and it took me a moment to speak. "How... how did you do that?"
Carter stood there dressed as disreputably as ever. Whereas Doug and Bruce looked like they were in a grunge band, the angel looked like the band had kicked him out. He gave me a lopsided grin. "Do what? Come up with a clever pun referencing Jerome's demonic status? The truth is, I usually keep a stash of them on hand and—"
"No. Not that. I can't feel you... can't sense you..." I could see Carter with my eyes, but I could not feel that powerful signature, aura, or whatever, that normally radiated from an immortal. Turning to Jerome suddenly, I realized he was the same. "Or you. I can't sense either of you. I couldn't the other night either."
Angel and demon exchanged glances over my head. "We can mask it," said Carter at last.
"What, like a light switch or something? You can turn it on and off?"
"It's a bit more complicated than that."
"Well, this is news to me. Can we do it? Hugh and I?"
"No," both Jerome and Carter answered together. Jerome elaborated, "Only higher immortals can do it."
Hugh weakly attempted to sit up. "Why... are you doing it?"
"You never answered my question, Georgie," Jerome pointed out, obviously avoiding the subject. He glanced at the imp. "I told you not to contact the others."
"I didn't. She just came."
Jerome turned his gaze back on me, and I fished the mysterious note out of my purse. I handed it to him, and the demon read it expressionlessly before handing it over to Carter. When the angel finished, he and Jerome looked at each other again in that annoying way of theirs. Jerome deposited the note into an inner pocket of his suit jacket.
"Hey, that's mine."
"Not anymore."
"Don't tell me you're going to stick to your party line about this being a vampire hunter," I shot back.
Jerome's dark eyes narrowed shrewdly at me. "Why wouldn't I? This person mistook Hugh for a vampire, but as you've already observed, Nancy Drew, Hugh could not be killed."
"I think this person knew Hugh wasn't a vampire."
"Oh? Why do you say that?"
"The note. The person who wrote it mentions my shape-shifting. He knows I'm a succubus. He probably knows Hugh's an imp."
"His knowing you're a succubus explains why he didn't attack you. He knew he couldn't kill you. He wasn't sure about Hugh, however, so he took his chances."
"With a knife." Again, I remembered: How do you know if a demon is lying? His lips are moving. "I thought the story was that this was some amateur vampire hunter arbitrarily going after people with a stake because he didn't know any better. Instead, this person somehow knows about me and took on Hugh with a knife."
Carter stifled a yawn and joined in on Jerome's game. "Maybe this person's learning. You know, expanding their choice of weapons. After all, no one stays an amateur for long. Even new vampire hunters wise up eventually."
I jumped on the one detail here no one had addressed yet. "And even children know that vampires don't come out in daylight. What time were you attacked, Hugh?"
A strange look crossed the imp's face. "Late this afternoon. When the sun was up."
I looked exultantly at Jerome. "This person knew Hugh wasn't a vampire."
Jerome leaned against a wall, appearing unfazed as he picked nonexistent pieces of lint from his slacks. He looked more like John Cusack than ever today. "So? Mortals get delusions of grandeur. He kills one vampire and decides to do his part against the rest of the evil forces inhabiting this city. That changes nothing."
"I don't think it was a mortal."
Both Jerome and Carter, looking at other things in the room, now snapped their heads toward me. "Oh?"
I swallowed, slightly flustered under that scrutiny. "I mean... you guys prove higher immortals can go around without being sensed, and no one's been able to sense anything from this guy. Plus, look at Hugh's damage. Erik said mortals can't really do substantial—" I bit off my words, realizing my error.
Carter laughed softly.
"Damn it, Georgie." Jerome straightened like a whip. "I told you to let us handle this. Who else have you talked to?"
Whatever cloaking Jerome had been doing vanished, and I suddenly became aware of the power crackling around him. It reminded me of one of those sci-fi movies when a door opens into outer space, and all the debris gets sucked out as a result of the vacuum. Everything in the room seemed to be drawn into Jerome, toward his swelling power and might. To my immortal perceptions, he became a glowing bonfire of terror and energy.
I cringed against Hugh's bed, resisting the urge to shade my eyes. The imp put a hand on my arm, though whether it was for my comfort or his own, I didn't know. "No one. I swear it, no one else. I just asked Erik some questions..."
Carter took a step toward the furious demon, face angelically calm. "Easy there. You're sending up a beacon to any immortal in a ten-mile radius."
Jerome's eyes stayed fixed on me, and I felt true fear for the first time in centuries in the focus of all that intensity. Then, like the light switch I'd joked about earlier, it all vanished. Just like that, Jerome stood before me completely incognito for all arcane intents and purposes. Like a mortal. He exhaled heavily and rubbed a spot between his eyes.