On the way to see Peter’s friend, I tried to trail behind both men—determined not to get too close. Peter glanced around and slowed his pace, unwilling to keep his back to me. I couldn’t help sighing as Carl joined him, both of them surrounding me with the heavy scent of testosterone that made it hard for me to think straight.
Peter kept looking at me as if he were waiting for me to burst into flames. When nothing untoward happened to me in daylight, he moved on to glaring at complete strangers. Suspicion darkened his eyes—everything he thought he knew about vampires had been proven wrong by me, as far as he was concerned.
“I’m the only one who does this,” I said, trying to reassure him. I got a scowl for my trouble. Carl bumped against him, getting between us and making me hide a smile.
“Who is this contact of yours?” I asked Peter, trying to make conversation.
“A businessman,” he said, without looking around. “He knows a lot about... supernatural things. He’s helped me out a few times.”
The bookshop wasn’t too far from my house. I realised I had passed it by before. It was an independent seller with lots of old books, specialising in the occult. The shop had very few customers, yet it seemed to thrive. It had been around for as long as I could remember, but I had never gone inside.
As soon as we stepped through the doorway, I felt the power in the air. It emanated from a man standing at the counter and ran right through me, making me shiver. Peter hadn’t told me the man knew about supernatural things because he was one himself. It surprised me that Peter was comfortable with any supernatural element—he was so intent on hating me.
I didn’t say anything, but I suspected the man was a big player in the supernatural world, and that intrigued me. You wouldn’t have known it to look at him. He was small and wiry, with a crooked nose, ginger hair and lots of freckles. He had huge blue eyes that seemed so earnest, I might have felt safe in his shop—except for the strange cold sensation on my skin.
The shop itself was small; most of the books were old, and the most interesting thing in the place was the owner. To my surprise, Carl took a step behind me and gripped my arm. I wondered if he felt something in the air too, but Peter moved toward his contact with a friendly smile on his face and distracted me from Carl’s reaction.
The man smelled like magic and strength to me, similar to the smoky smell when a lit match is blown out mingled with the sharp, salty tang of the sea. Goose bumps appeared on my arms as the man looked me over. Something seemed to push against my skin, an invisible hand searching for something.
He greeted Peter like an old friend and then looked at me again, this time with a huge grin. My skin warmed up as whatever it was backed away. I smiled back at the man, determined to show I hadn’t noticed a thing. Playing dumb was just about the only card I had.
“This is Eddie Brogan. He might be able to help you,” Peter said, but his voice sounded almost forced.
“Oh, with what?” Eddie asked, his voice lilting pleasantly.
“Eddie, this is Ava. She’s a vampire. She’s here to ask you for help.” Peter really enjoyed delivering that line, and I fidgeted nervously in the silence that followed.
Eddie’s eyes snapped back to me, narrowing as he looked me over once again. “A vampire in daylight, Peter?”
“I know. She isn’t talking.”
Peter scowled in my direction, but Eddie stepped closer to me, his eyes full of curiosity.
“You look too young to have been dead for at least a century,” he remarked.
