"Why can’t the Cazadors handle your problem?" Cazadors were the council’s vampire assassins. They were highly trained, extremely deadly, and they got the job done no matter who or what got in their way.
Uncle Quinn—Riley’s mate, and the half-Aedh who’d taught me how to use my own Aedh skills—had been one many centuries ago. He was also one of the few Cazadors to not only survive the experience, but walk away virtually unscarred. And to me, that only emphasized just how deadly he could be.
"I have no doubt they could handle it—if we had any idea just who or what the problem is."
"Then how do you know it’s a problem?"
"Because we have a councilor who is dying, and the cause seems to be a sudden onset of age."
That surprised me. Vampires didn’t ever age—and when they turned from human to vampire, they stayed at whatever age they’d been when they’d undergone the vampire ceremony. Which meant that if they were twenty when the ceremony was performed, but ninety when they died, they reverted to how they’d looked at twenty. The human population had been trying to uncover the scientific reasons for this switchback for years, but so far with little success.
Of course, there were psychic vampires who could drain the life force of their victims, thereby causing the sudden onset of age or even death, but surely Hunter and the Cazadors would have been able to track one of those without my help. "How would one vampire get that close to another without alerting them to their presence?"
Vampires might not be entirely human, but they were still flesh-and-blood beings with a heart and circulatory system. And all vampires—even the freshly turned—were extremely sensitive to the sound of blood pumping through veins. Which was no surprise given that their survival depended on a regular supply of the stuff.
"It’s not another vampire."
Which also suggested it was something other than a flesh being—hence Hunter’s sudden reappearance in my life. And while there were plenty of mythical creatures who existed by feeding off the energy of the living—whether that feeding consisted of blood, energy, or even souls—we certainly weren’t talking about an ordinary victim here. This was a councilor—although she hadn’t said whether it was the local vampire council or the high council that ruled them all—but you didn’t generally rise to that level without a few hundred years under your belt. Which meant most of them were not only extremely dangerous, but more than a little knowledgeable about the darker things that haunted this world.
"I can’t imagine anyone—human, nonhuman, or even a creature from hell itself—being able to feed from a councilor without him knowing about it."
"You and me both."
She tapped her bright fingernails against the desk, but it was a sign of anger rather than frustration. Those nails were almost long enough to be weapons, and I had an odd feeling she was imagining them ripping through someone’s neck. Possibly mine, if I didn’t come up with an answer.
"Whatever this is," she continued, "it attacked during the day, when Pierre was asleep. It wasn’t a physical attack, as such. He would have been aware of that. This is more abstract. His energy was drained, but he remained unaware."
My frown deepened. As much as I hated to admit it, I was intrigued. Of course, anything game enough to take on a councilor and get away with it wasn’t exactly something I wanted to get involved with.