Page 14 of Seph

“You okay?”

“I... Allergies.” She knew it was a lie.

“You ought to run to Madge’s, or maybe see Farrah Fenclan. They’ll do you up a potion for that.”

“Yeah, I’ll stop by the shop.” Magic shops, herbs, potions, holy water—it was all familiar. Whenever her father moved them, they found the laundromat, the nearest Chinese restaurant, and every magic shop and den of the occult in their new city. Her father had taught her that magic users were neutral, neither friend nor foe, simply a weaponsmith, providing tools to make what they needed to harm the true villains—the werewolves, the vampires, the demons, and whatever other obscure monster lurked nearby.

“How’s your head?”

Emily jumped a little and snatched the ticket out of his hand. “Fine.”

“You sure? You went quiet and far away for a minute.”

“I told you. Allergies.”

“Allergies make you do that? That’s a new one on me, Huntress.”

Damn him. The way he said that name...

“I’m hungry. I was just about to eat when you showed up.”Don’t mention food in front of the vampire, Van Helsing.

But the food she was about to eat had come from a vampire—Jakob Minegold. It was matzo ball soup, and it was one of the few homemade meals she’d ever had.

Two vampires were taking better care of her than her own father had. Crow was probably just keeping in her good graces, but Minegold...

“Minegold made me soup. Probably should throw it out...” Those were her father’s words exiting her mouth.

A low snarl made her whip around, healing body annoyed at the sudden, violent motion.

“Don’t you say a word against Jakob Minegold. That man is the soul of kindness! D’you know he’s a war hero? Well, no, you wouldn’t know because he doesn’t tell anyone, but I found out. He saved an entire train from Warsaw bound for Treblinka. That man became a monster to save his children, his wife, and hundreds of others!”

Simeon’s eyes were shining with hero worship—and maybe tears.

Why? Why would an evil murderer worship something good?“Soul of kindness? Vampires don’t have souls. They have demons.”

Crow flinched. “Not all of us. Some of us have never taken an innocent life. We keep our souls. I mean, they.Theykeep their souls.”

“What? No. I’ve never heard of—”

“You probably wouldn’t. It’s incredibly rare. There are only a few other vampires I personally know of who have their human souls. They all live in this town.”

“And they hang out with you?” Emily crossed her arms.

“Not much, but we know each other. They probably don’t knowofme. Decent vampires don’t travel in the circles I used to, and you know very well the Van Helsings and their monster-hunting brethren made sure vampiric deaths were never publicized, never to be confused with the pedantic human serial killers if they could help it. I imagine your grandfather cleaned up more of my crime scenes than Scotland Yard ever did.”

“Bastard.”

Crow looked away, smug tone gone. “I’m not sure on that score. My father was never around, that’s all I knew.”

“Yeah, well... Mine was, and he wasn’t so great at it. You didn’t miss much.”

“You can talk. You didn’t grow up in a time where a lack of ‘parentage’ could make or break you. You didn’t have to be kept‘humble.’ constantly reminded of your birth, your poor mother, the fact that you oughtn’t to be in a school, in a job, or at a house party among rich yobs and knobs,” Crow suddenly reached for the empty vase on her packing crate shelf. Instead of hurling it, he snatched it up and simply held it, shoulders heaving.

“You break it, you sweep up,” Emily whispered. The only things she had “on display” had come from the people of this town—most of them from Minegold and Crow. If he smashed one of the vases he’d deigned to give her, so be it.

“You can see it still stings, over a century later.” He put the vase down gently.

“No excuse for killing.”

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