My eyebrows rose. "Meaning you have working knowledge of magic?"
"Those of us who have been around a very long time do tend to become proficient in all manner of things."
Not just magic, then. And it did make me wonder what else Hunter had become proficient in. Beside killing and being a coldhearted bitch, that was.
He chuckled softly. "It is a wonder you're still alive if you're having those sorts of thoughts around Hunter. She can be somewhat highly strung when it comes to those who disrespect her."
"Yeah, noticed that," I muttered, then got back to the business at hand. "So there's nothing else you can tell me?"
"I'm afraid not."
Meaning I was at another dead end. Hunter was not going to be pleased. I hesitated, then said, "I don't suppose you could pull a picture of Ms. Summer from your security cameras?"
"If you give us a couple of minutes, Jonathan will have a printout waiting for you at the bar."
"Thanks." I rose. "You've been most helpful."
"But not as helpful as I could be," he said, expression back to being amused. He opened a drawer and drew out another business card. It was a simple card—black background and white writing—and said Harold Stanford, manager, Hallowed Ground, with a cell phone number underneath. "Just in case you change your mind."
I accepted it somewhat reluctantly. "I won't, you know."
He shrugged. "It never hurts to have an escape option, Ms. Jones. That is all I am offering."
"Thanks for your time." I tucked the card in the side pocket of my handbag and headed out. Once I'd collected the printout of our suspect, I walked back outside.
"Well, that was fun," I said, making a beeline for the 7-Eleven several doors down from the club. I needed a Coke and chocolate fix to calm my still-quivering nerves.
Azriel fell in step beside me. "Interesting is more the term I would use."