He nods.

My frown deepens. “If you were able to video him, why haven’t you caught him? Unless that wasn’t the purpose?”

“We were following him. He is hiding something important.”

“Somethingor someone?”

His eyes narrow. “Someone.”

“Pan?”

He falls silent as his shoulders tense.

“My turn,” I say, even though I have no idea if it is. “How old are you?”

His lips tip up. “Thirty-four.”

Yeah, right. And my ass isn’t bruised from being slammed on it several times in the last few days. I don’t go cliché and spout the famous vampire question,“How long have you been thirty-four?”

Instead, I try, “How old is your soul?” He adopts a neutral expression; I’ve asked the right question, as he evades it.

“Old enough to have lost too many people I care for, and hardened enough to no longer care.” Not sure what to make of that, I go back to the case.

“Who’s Pan?”

His face darkens. “You’ve read my files?” I nod, before he continues. “Someone dangerous. Don’t go looking for them, Natia—you will get hurt.”

He should know by now that I don’t do as I’m told. “What’s the name of the object you’re looking for?” I ask.

He pauses before answering, considering me. “The Jar.”

“The Jar? That’s it?” He doesn’t quantify this any further. “So you’re looking for the Jar, and Khalkaroth is looking for the Jar while also hiding Pan. What’s so important about this Jar?”

“It will help us locate Pan.”

I drag my bottom lip between my teeth; he follows the motion. “That’s all? It will help you locate someone?”

His eyes bore into mine. “No, that’s not all. It’s part of a much bigger problem. If it falls into the wrong hands, there could be serious consequences.”

“For you?”

He shakes his head. “For the world.”

You can hear a pin drop in the silence that follows. Even the grill from the kitchen seems to have paused. If it’s as important as he says, we need to find it before Khalkaroth. Last question—I sense I’ve gotten what I can out of him regarding the Jar and Pan, so I opt for something different. “What are you?”

He glances out the window. “An ancient. Damnation to some, salvation to others.” I’m about to ask what the hell an ancient is, when he cuts me off. “My turn, last round. What are you?”

“Taurus.”

He levels me with his stare. I huff, answering the question with honesty. “I’m a protector of sorts. I dedicate my life to killing those who harm innocent people, specifically those of supernatural origin.”

“You’re evading the question.”

I frown. “I’ve just told you what I do.”

He narrows his eyes. “Exactly. You’ve told me what you do. Not what you are.”

I roll my eyes. “Human.”