and being forced to pack up and leave.
Being an empath, and therefore “supernatural,” often made her an unwelcome neighbor. In that regard, her life with the Roma had taught her well. She learned to keep to herself.
But she had spent more time in this city than any other to date. She rather liked it here. Luckily, Boston residents were private creatures. She rarely talked to the people who owned the houses around hers, even though their walls touched. It was remarkable how secluded a person could be when they wished. And how easy it was to disappear into the cracks of a city.
The larger the city, the smaller the person within it became. She was simply another face, another name, in a sea of thousands. In a village, every life is important, every event part of the story of the town. Here, she could simply blend in.
That was how she preferred it.
Her business fared better in the city, regardless. There were more clients for her to see, and more work for her to take on. More curious aristocrats who wished her to divine some forgotten truth or to speak to a “ghost.” She could not summon the dead. Ghosts rarely followed the living about like invisible dogs. She was merely relaying to them what she saw in the memories she summoned from their personal effects. Telling her client what she saw was more than enough “magic” to please them and ensure she had a long list of valuable clients.
The city had its benefits. It also had its drawbacks. The noise. The congestion. Or an ancient King of Vampires came to call with wrack and ruin as his gifts.
The knock on the door disturbed her pacing, and she was almost glad for the arrival of the three hunters. She greeted them and showed them up to the dining room. Eddie wasted not a single moment before heaping food onto his plate.
“Another long night?” she asked.
“They are always long nights when a vampire lord is afoot, and we face the King of them all.” Bella let out a long, exhausted sigh and slumped into a chair. Alfonzo had a slight limp, favoring his left leg, although he was doing his absolute best to hide it.
“Let me get the whiskey,” Maxine muttered as she walked out of the room. When she returned, she placed a glass in front of Alfonzo and poured him a double.
“You are a saint.” The older hunter chuckled. “Thank you.”
“Where are you all staying? Or do you simply not sleep at all?” Maxine realized how little she knew about her new “friends.” They had simply not had much time to talk about such details. There was a war brewing, after all. And it was the hunters’ jobs to stop it.
“A hostel somewhere near the seaport.” Eddie wrinkled his nose. “It smells like puke and fish.”
Maxine chuckled and shook her head. “You should stay here with me. I have five bedrooms in this place, and I only use one of them. I have running water and flushing toilets. Probably more than what your hostel has.”
“Why would you invite us in?” Alfonzo furrowed his brow, confused. “We are…you do not know us.”
“You are in my city to try to save it. You will likely give up your lives doing so. And I am certainly not likely to survive any of this. If I die, feel free to sell off anything I own, assuming any of you live.” She sat in a chair and poured herself a glass of whiskey. “Although you may not wish to join me here.” She picked up the note that was slipped under her door from where she had left it on the table, folded as she had discovered it, and handed it to Alfonzo.
He opened it and scanned it. “When did you get this?”
“This morning. It was slipped under my front door. He knows where I live.”
“Then why has he not simply come in here and killed you already?” Bella asked, blissfully unaware of the casual violence she was suggesting.
“I thought vampires could only enter domains to which they were invited?”
“Sadly, that is a myth.” Bella poured herself a glass of water.
“Some nutjob vampire somewhere probably convinced himself that he couldn’t enter homes without an invitation, and it got added to the legend.” Eddie plucked up the bottle of whiskey and joined the rest of them in a stronger beverage. “Vampires are usually insane. Immortality seems to do that. The counting thing? Myth. Running water? Myth.