like. I will feed there.”
“Deal.”
“You think it’s OK to leave him here?” I asked as we got out of the car. Mattias was snoring away happily, hugging my sweater to his chest.
“Unfortunately, yes,” Kristoff said with a sigh.
I poked him in the side, and then took his hand when he offered it. Despite the chilly air of the evening, I fanned myself as we walked toward the building on the other side of the government offices, secretly delighted. It was shameless of me, I knew, but dammit, if I had to spend the rest of my life bound to this man, I was going to enjoy every minute.
My libido had calmed down enough that I could think coherently by the time we stood at the back of the old stone building. “You’re sure that no one will have contacted the vampires here to warn them we’ll be coming for Kristjana?”
“It’s not likely.” Kristoff examined the back of the building, his gaze going from window to window, upward along a permanent fire escape, and he stepped back so he could look at the top of the four-story building. “Andreas will expect that we’ll be taking the sacristan to the nearest group of reapers, and that is in Rome.”
“Why would he think we wanted to get rid of Mattias?” I asked softly, scooting a little closer to him. The alley we were in wasn’t even remotely dirty, but the large trash bin next to me loomed up with a menacing shadow. “He’s docile as a lamb so long as I keep him light-bound.”
“He knows I will have to feed more frequently than normal for the next few days,” he answered, slipping off his long duster and tucking it behind the garbage bin. “Stay here. I’m going to climb up and see if anyone has alerted them that we’ve escaped with the sacristan.”
“Oh, no,” I said, glancing around at the shadows. “If you’re going, I’m going, too.”
“No, you’re not. I just want to reconnoiter. Until I know if they’re watching for us, you stay here.”
“I could go around front and be a distraction while you snatch Kristjana,” I suggested generously.
“Do you seriously believe she will come with me without screaming down the entire town?” he asked.
“I suppose not. I’ll have to do the light thingie with her, too, I guess.”
“Exactly. Stay here while I see what sort of security the Dark Ones have in place.”
I glanced around at the shadows in the alley. “All right, but don’t take too long. I have the feeling we’re not alone here.”
“Stay hidden,” he ordered before he jumped and caught hold of the bottom of the metal ladder, hauling himself upward.
I have a better idea. I’m going to take a look around this area and see if I can find signs of Ulfur.
He didn’t like that idea much, I could tell. Stay in the shadows as much as you can. I don’t know who here will recognize you.
I didn’t let him feel me rolling my eyes at such a silly statement, but I did stick to the shadows as much as possible as I made a quick tour of the blocks surrounding the building.
Everything OK? I asked after about five minutes of silence from him.
Yes. There is an elaborate security system in place. It’s taking time for me to avoid setting it off.
No problem. I’ll just keep looking around. So far I haven’t found any spirit to ask about Ulfur. I thought he said Reykjavik was crawling with ghosties.
I rounded a corner about two blocks away from Kristoff, pausing as I examined a pedestrian zone. Despite the late hour, a brightly lit neon sign and the faint sounds of jazz were proof that the Icelandic nightlife was alive and kicking. A couple passed me on their way into the club. I gave the small clutch of people standing outside a quick once-over, making sure there was no one I recognized. I was just about to move on when a woman across the square on her way into the club glanced my way, did an obvious double take, then waved as she hurried over.
“Oh, hello! You’re a Zorya, aren’t you?” she said in a breathless voice. “Just who I need!”
I gave the moonstone hanging from my wrist a quick check. She followed my gaze, laughing as she put a hand on my arm, giving me a little squeeze. “Oh, I’m not a ghost! I’m a real person. I’m Siobhan. Siobhan Gullstein.”
I must have looked surprised at her name, because she grinned. “Mummy is an Irish pagan, and Dad is a rabbi from the Bronx. They’re not quite your typical love match, but they’re happy, so who am I to quibble?”
“Er . . . hi. Pia Thomason,” I said, holding out my hand and trying to remember if I’d met her before. She didn’t look familiar, her dark hair and eyes and rather elfin manner reminding me of Demi Moore at her most dewy- eyed. “How did you know I was a Zorya?”
“I’m a vespillo,” Siobhan said matter-of-factly, as if that explained everything.
“Are you, indeed?” I said politely, trying not to look utterly clueless . Boo, what’s a vespillo?
A vespillo? Why do you want to know?
Because I just met one.
I felt his sudden alertness. Who?
She says her name is Siobhan. Why, what is she? I hate to ask. It seems so rude.
His sudden spurt of concern faded away. I do not know her. She is probably no danger to us. A vespillo is an assistant to a necromancer.
Oh, that’s a lot of help.
Do not speak to her, regardless. I am almost into the building .
Siobhan had been eyeing me with amusement while Kristoff and I had the quick conversation. “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but are you new to all this?”
I relaxed a smidgen, giving a wry smile. “I’m afraid so. I know that vespillos are assistants to necromancers, but beyond that I’m a bit fuzzy.”
“Don’t worry. It took me forever to get the terminology down,” she said with another friendly grin, then waved toward the nightclub. “Why don’t we go have a drink, and I’ll tell you all about life as a vespillo.”
“I’m afraid I’m waiting for someone,” I said, hesitating.
“Ah. Gotcha. I’ve got some friends waiting for me inside, but I thought I’d say hi and see if you’re doing anything tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? I’m not sure what we’re doing. We’re probably leaving soon.”
“Really?” Her brow wrinkled. “I thought you were here because of the Ilargi, but I guess I’m wrong. Well, nice meeting you. If you’re still here tomorrow, I’m at the Hotel Reykjavik. Give me a jingle if you’re available to help a poor, overwhelmed vespillo.”
She started to turn away, but I caught her sleeve, stopping her. “Wait a second-you said Ilargi. You don’t mean reapers, do you? The Brotherhood of the Blessed Light?” I wondered if she’d seen Kristjana, although I doubted if the vampires had let her escape their clutches.
“No, Ilargi. You know, the soul suckers?” She squinted a little at me. “You really are new, aren’t you?”
“I think we’d better have that drink,” I said, considering telling Kristoff, but deciding he had enough on his mind trying to determine what was going on with the vampires holding Kristjana.
She grinned. “My kind of girl. We’ll have a quick one at the bar before I join my friends, OK? They’re a good lot, but kind of noisy.”
I followed her into the club and was immediately enveloped in a dark, womblike warmth. Siobhan steered me toward the bar farthest away from the musicians. I ordered a glass of wine, waiting until she returned from checking in with her friends before settling down on a barstool.
“Let’s start at the beginning,” I said, accepting my glass of wine. “What exactly do you do?”
“Well, originally, ‘vespillo’ was the name they gave people who carried out the dead for burying,” she said, sipping a giant stein of beer. “But something like a millennium ago, the name was used by a necromancer’s assistant, and it kind of stuck. Not that we’re mere assistants anymore-we unionized, you see. So now we’re considered sort of a cross between a necromancer and a metal detector.”
“All right,” I said slowly, wondering how I could admit that I was just as much in the dark as ever.
“We find essences of unbound bodies,” she said, evidently noting my lack of understanding. “Hence the metal detector reference.”
“Unbound bodies. Like . . . ghosts?”
“No, not spirits. Everyone has an essence, right?”
