The exception, of course, was when idiots tried to summon demons. It happened every so often, and usually the culprit had no idea what they were messing with.
Once I had watched a coven of witches correctly call a level-one demon. The thing had been loosely trapped, and it was working on breaking free when they finally sent it back. With such little power, it wouldn’t have done much damage, but it surely would’ve ripped through one or two of the casters before it weakened and disintegrated.
I’d had a long day before witnessing their idiocy, but that sort of deed shouldn’t go unpunished—so I’d ducked across the street and hidden among the gravestones. When the witches were ready to leave, I jumped out at them with a snarl and a knife.
“How could you summon my kind and send it back!” I’d yelled, thumping and thrashing at them in turn. “I am the master of this domain. You are insignificant humans. Rawr!”
I only said the word “rawr.” I couldn’t summon the energy to actually growl.
They didn’t notice the lack of effort. Half of them even dropped their witch kits, as I call them, with their sage and their chalk and candles, and ran like hell.
Demons don’t laugh like humans do—they give a dry cackle more than anything—but I couldn’t contain belly chuckles as they sped out of the graveyard. It had almost made the effort worth it.
I softly chuckled to myself, remembering, and leaned further into my chair. Tonight all was quiet. Peaceful.
My thoughts drifted to the elder vampire, and the note he’d left in Captain Lox’s office. Tall, muscular, powerful—he moved like the world was a stage and he was the diva, arrogant as all hell and coated with a thick layer of ego. I bet it was bugging the hell out of him that he didn’t know what I was.
Or maybe he did.
Elder vampires had been around a long time. They’d survived some pretty troubled eras and seen all manner of things. It was quite possible this vampire would be resourceful enough to piece together the clues of my heritage. I was a secluded sort of person, with a strong overhang of mystery, but being that I needed money, I wasn’t a recluse.
I blew out a breath, thinking that possibility over.
It would be pretty hard to get all my details, though. Captain Lox would know some, the agents at the office would know a little, my neighbors would know a few things, and the shifters a bit more, but out of all of those people, only the agents might actually talk to a vampire. I didn’t have any birth records, and something that annoyed the captain to no end, no paperwork, so…
No, he didn’t know about me. He couldn’t.
What about if I was in his lair? Could he sort it out then?
I scratched my chin, thinking through the options.
He could bite me and taste my blood, but would that tell him anything?
I bit my lip, not sure. They were wily, elders, so there was definitely a chance he could figure it out and run straight to the bank, i.e. my father, but a good chance? I wasn’t so sure. The shifters hadn’t been able to, and they’d been sniffing around for a while.
Literally.
“Your eyebrows’ve gone missing again.” Mince, a thick guy who had taken too many punches to the face in his boxing career, and had the nose to show for it, stalled by the steps to my porch.
I fingered the smooth skin where my eyebrows were supposed to be, and then the singed remnants of my bangs. “Yeah. Got too close to an open flame.”
“Looks like you stuck your face in an open flame. How come you never get a burn on your skin?”
“Sunblock. You wouldn’t know, since you have a natural deterrent.”
He frowned at me. “That has got to be the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. Because I’m black, I can’t get burnt? Are you dumb?”
“No, Mr. Sensitive, I’m kidding.”
He huffed and looked away, probably waiting for his flash of annoyance to wear away. I could irritate the most patient of people. Misdirection was my superpower.
“You taking tonight off?” he asked, turning back.
“Don’t know. Just pondering that now.”
“Your boss doesn’t mind your random hours, huh? I got let go for all that.”
“You know that I work for myself. I make my own hours.”
“Ah yeah, that’s right. I get you confused with that white girl down the way.”
I didn’t know how. She was ancient and wrinkly, using a walker for her every outing, while I was twenty-four and scrappy. We were pretty different.
He nodded at the bag by my feet containing my new book. I’d brought it out here to have a look through it, but the issue with the vampires had sidelined my focus. I’d have to come back to it later.
“What’s in that?” he asked
I rose. “Something I stole today. I have to get it checked out.”
“Need any of my contacts?”
“Nope.” I took the paper bag by the flimsy handles. A nicer bag might’ve drawn attention. “The only electrical device I got was a computer, and it didn’t have a password. Unless you know someone who’s knowledgeable about three-hundred-year-old books…” I turned toward the screen door.
“Stealing smart person stuff, huh?” Mince leaned against the weathered railing. “Yeah, I got someone. He ain’t cheap. Charges a consulting fee. He can help you find a buyer, though.”
I froze with the screen door half open and turned back. “You know someone who specializes in really old books?”
He shrugged. “When you ransack a rich man’s house, sometimes you get rare books. Or so I’ve heard.”
I shook my head. “You need to get a real job. You’re going to get pinched someday.”
“Says the girl with a bag full of stolen goods.”
“That’s different. I killed the guy first.”
“Whoa.” He raised his hands and backed away. “I didn’t hear that. I did not hear that. Just let me know if you need my guy, okay? Keep the rest of your business to yourself.” He walked away shaking his head.
Sometimes I forgot how crazy I sounded.