Killing Nikovage Bloodhunter

Chapter 6

"What do you know about Nikovage Bloodhunter?" he asked.

"I know six months ago, in Boston, he beat me to a pulp and walked away with a dagger and a stake sticking out of his chest. I know that he's one of, if not the, first vampires in America. I know that he started a vampire cult called the Blood Sect. They were popular a few centuries back and reemerged near here in the seventies. And I know for a fact that in 1400, a powerful enchantress performed a very dark, very powerful spell on him while he drank the blood of one hundred victims from the Cup of Life during a complete lunar eclipse. Whatever happened that night...he's not a normal vampire," I said, pulling the last of the papers free.

"And your friends? What do they know?"

"Everything I know with a few bonus insights about Ramsey. His father is Hermes and the Stolls are his half-brothers. His mother is part of the Wizarding World, but he didn't inherit her magic. He's a squib," I said.

"And the Winchesters? What do they bring to the table?"

"Those idiots? They're oblivious. Happened to be in the right place at the right time," I said with a dismissive wave of my hand. "They didn't even know how to solve their own haunting case."

"There were hauntings here?" Kipps asked sharply.

"Sort of. I don't know all the precise details, but I was the idiot that climbed up two houses last night to steal their weathervanes. I think Travis stole the other two. My hands still smell that weird plant that was growing on the trellis."

I'd scrubbed at my hands for a good ten minutes and taken a shower, but the smell still lingered, along with the faintest of waxy residues.

"Weathervanes?"

"Yeah, long story. We think the son killed the father with the materials, melted them down, and finished the father's final metalworking projects," I summarized, standing up to paw through Ramsey's dresser. I found three leather belts. Why one needed that many was beyond me, but they were just what we needed. "But if anyone asks, you don't know that we executed the great weathervane caper of oh-three, okay?"

"Never heard that sentence before," Kipps said. Maybe he did have a sense of humor buried in there somewhere.

We used the belts to tie together stacks of books and started carrying them out to Kipps' car. The trunk was cluttered with a strange collection of weapons. There was a hard-sided case meant for a sniper rifle. It was stacked on another long, plastic case, and draped across the top was a fancy Italian rapier strapped to a belt with a bunch of mysterious pouches.

"What's with the weapons?" I asked.

"The rapier is from my ghost hunting days. I'm quite proficient. The other two are standard issue for Rangers."

"I recognize a gun case when I see it. What's the other one?" I asked.