Trapped

<Well, can’t I stay here and hunt?>

“No, we need you to come along so that we’ll look cool. Without you, we’ll look like stupid foreigners.”

<Oh, yeah, I forgot. Irish wolfhounds are the ultimate accessory for humans.>

“You’ll have plenty of time to hunt when we return. Like, three months.”

Oberon’s tail wagged. <Great lakes of gravy! That sounds like a long time! Is it?>

“It’s longer than I’ve ever given you before.”

<Wow! Wait. What’s the catch?>

“The catch is, if you don’t catch anything you have to eat jerky. It’s either fresh tender meat or dried, tough, and salted.”

<A stark choice! And yet a challenge worthy of the noble wolfhound.>

“Careful with that ego. You could knock somebody over. Let’s go.”

We stopped back at the cave to pick up our packs, now empty and ready to be refilled with additional supplies. Making our way down was much easier with Olympia smoothing the way for us. By the time the trail led us to town, we had no trouble looking like we’d been hiking all day. I placed a call to my attorney, Hal Hauk, and had him wire some money to us from the States. We found a restaurant with dog-friendly patio seating and shoved down some gyros and spanakopita. Oberon approved.

<I like this country. I can eat in the open with you guys, and the meat is good. What’s that white stuff you’re putting on it? It’s not horseradish, is it?>

Tzatziki sauce. It’s a cucumber–yogurt concoction.

<Can I try a little?>

Sure. I slathered a bit on a piece of gyro meat and fed it to him. He ate it noisily, his tongue flapping around as he tried to taste his food instead of inhaling it.

<Eh. It’s not terrible or anything, but it cools down the temperature and mutes the flavors of the meat. I’ll take mine plain.>

We relaxed and spoke of Granuaile’s upcoming binding as the sun set. There was a decent sporting goods store in the small town catering to the many tourists who wished to hike Olympus, and we planned on visiting it shortly before closing time. We extended our supper into something of a feast, reasoning that we wouldn’t have the opportunity to eat like this again for quite some time.

Half an hour before closing time and a bit besotted with a fine bottle of pinot noir, we walked the two blocks to the sporting goods store. Oberon spotted a park nearby full of people walking their dogs, so I cast camouflage on him, gave him my best wishes, and told him to listen for my call.

The store had aisles of cooking pots and meals in silvery pouches, along with plenty of shoes that were designed to look like they could vault boulders without the assistance of feet inside them. And the tents! My goodness, tent architecture has come a long way since the old days. But we were looking for simple materials like wire and wire cutters or, failing that, string and scissors with which to make some snares for squirrels, rabbits, and the like. There would be no problem finding enough branches to hold tension for the springs.

Thanks to the influence of Olympia and perhaps the wine, Granuaile was now in a very good mood, and it was impossible not to love life when she smiled so often.

My own smile evaporated when I saw the pale spooky bastard eyeing her from the next aisle over. He didn’t have enough sun on his skin to qualify as a hiker; what was he doing in here?

I flipped on my faerie specs and suppressed a shudder when I saw the dull gray aura of a vampire about his head, with an ember of red in the center.

Taking a calculated risk that he would be unable to understand Old Irish, I spoke in it to Granuaile. There is no word for vampire in that language, so I said, “Do not look up, but there is a walking dead man in the next aisle, staring at you. He is stalking us. You, actually. Do not look him in the eyes for any reason. Your iron talisman will not prevent you from being charmed.”

“What are you going to do?” she asked in the same language.

“Chat with him. Remain here and keep your eyes down. Say something in a cheerful tone of voice to me now and smile.”

“Okay, just leave me here all alone, then!” she said joyfully. I moved away from her, down the aisle, and then turned around an endcap of handheld beer coolers to walk up the aisle in which the vampire stood. His eyes flicked to me, a shadow of nervous worry in them, but he quickly returned to pretending to look at water purification tablets. I muttered bindings under my breath that would increase my speed and strength for as long as the magic stored in my bear charm lasted.

The vampire was dressed in a white linen shirt over blue jeans and expensive running shoes. I noticed with some amusement that he had stayed away from the aisle where they sold wooden tent stakes.

Stopping a few feet away and facing him squarely, I greeted him in Greek.

“Good evening,” he said, his eyes furtively landing on my face and then whipping back to products he couldn’t possibly want to buy. I continued to stare at him and he said, “I don’t work here, if you have a question.”

“Oh, I have a question, all right. You see, I’m sort of new in town and could use a little help finding someone you might know.”

He stopped pretending to shop and turned to face me. “Do I know you?”

“No, but I’m sure you know the gentleman for whom I’m looking. He’s a vampire who sometimes goes by the name of Theophilus.”

I expected the expression of shock—widened eyes, a droop at the corners of the mouth. The attempt to charm me was also expected. His mouth pressed into a thin line of determination and his eyes narrowed. I grinned at him, protected by my cold iron aura.

“You can’t charm me, sorry. But would you be so kind as to direct me to Theophilus? We need to talk, he and I.”

This was the bit where I expected him to sling a question at me. “Who are you?” was my best bet, but “Why do you want to talk to Theophilus?” would have been reasonable, or even “Did you say something about a vampire a second ago?” What I got instead was an all-out attack, complete with kitty hissing and an attempt to tear out my throat.

Since I’d been braced for it and was already juiced up, I didn’t go down to the ground, but I did back up quite a bit, until I had his arms locked in mine.

I had added a new charm to my necklace in response to my last encounter with a vampire, when I quite nearly died because I couldn’t finish speaking the unbinding. Until now I hadn’t had an opportunity to test it. A mental command would trigger a proxy unbinding of a target vampire. I’d figured that, like all my charms, it would take years to perfect. I triggered it now and was surprised to see the vampire flinch and become afflicted with existential horror—like the moment when you’re sitting in the hot tub with friends, some of whom are amazingly sexy, and a squirming sensation in your bowels means your diarrhea has come back. It wasn’t success, but it was better than nothing. I began to speak the unbinding aloud.

This lad wasn’t as strong as Zdenik, the vampire who’d nearly snuffed me. Zdenik had been nearly as old as I was, and my magic had drained rapidly trying to hold him off. This vampire was probably only a few hundred years old, and I could tell he was beginning to think it would have been far safer to simply talk to me. He abruptly changed tactics and decided to disengage. I held on to him, my fingers digging firmly into his arms. I couldn’t let him get away to prey on humans for a thousand years. He tried to use my strength against me, lunging back in for another attack since I was pulling on his arms, and I did release one arm to block access to my throat. Almost finished. He sank his fangs into the meat of my forearm, thinking perhaps he would simply drain me the slow way, but that was fine—it would be far too slow to do him any good. I stepped back, allowing him to think he had an advantage, and his free arm clutched at me to keep me from escaping. He was hooked now, but I paid a price when I finished the unbinding.

Some vampires sort of melt when they’re unbound and they simply splash on the floor. This guy exploded, showering my immediate vicinity and me in blood and gore. I looked fairly guilty, in other words, of a particularly heinous murder.

“Eww,” Granuaile commented from her vantage point. She was untouched by a single drop of blood. “I ducked,” she explained.

The lone store employee began to curse steadily and hysterically in Greek, his eyes the size of Ping-Pong balls. He had a cell phone out and was shouting into it as he ran from the store, escaping what he clearly thought