No, but I know you rather well. I've been following you around for weeks.
His voice was cool, without inflection but not unpleasant.
Why would you— I stopped and suddenly realized just who he was. You're the Cazador Madeline Hunter has following me?
I certainly am, ma'am.
I blinked at his politeness, although I wasn't really sure why it surprised me. I had grown up hearing tales about the men and women who formed the ranks of the Cazadors—the high vampire council's own personal hit squad—and I suppose I just expected them all to be fierce and fearsome.
He gave me another slight bow. Markel Sanchez, at your service.
Well, forgive me for saying this, Markel, but you're a pain in my ass and I'd rather not have you following me around, on this plane or in life.
Trust me, ma'am, this is not my desire, either. But it has been ordered and I must obey.
I raised imaginary eyebrows. Meaning even the Cazadors are wary of Hunter?
If they are wise and value their lives, yes.
Which said a lot about Hunter's power. She might be the head honcho at the Directorate of Other Races, but she was also a high-ranking member of the high vampire council and, I suspected, plotting to take it over completely.
I need to speak to a ghost. You're not going to interfere, are you?
I'm here to listen and report. Nothing more, nothing less.
I nodded and turned away from him. A grayish figure stood not far away. He was standing side on, looking ahead rather than at me, and he was a big man with well-groomed hair, a Roman nose, and a sharp chin. Frank Logan.
I imagined myself standing beside him, and suddenly I was. If only it were this easy to travel in Aedh form.