Teag and I took turns recounting the helicopter crash and the explosion, as well as the aftermath in the rear yard and our hurried departure. Sorren listened quietly as Teag filled him in on what he had learned online, and I supplied what the news organizations were saying.
“They’re wrong and right at the same time,” Sorren replied, leaning back against the couch as if his strength was nearly spent. “It is a terrorist attack – but a magical one. But it’s not Charleston the bomber is after. It’s me. I’m certain of it now. As certain as I am that somehow, Sariel survived.”
“More attacks?” I asked.
“There have been attacks on three of my other stores, in addition to the Boston incident and the other attacks I told you about,” Sorren replied. “And the bomb at Trifles and Folly. That can’t be a coincidence.”
“We’ve had lots of supernatural stuff try to kill us,” Teag said. “What makes you think it’s different this time?”
Sorren was quiet for a minute, as if he was trying to decide how to answer and how much to tell us. “It started a month ago with threats – emails, letters, packages. Nothing dangerous, but each one a warning that someone was watching me, someone knew how to find me. No hint why or who.” He gave a mirthless chuckle. “Over the centuries, I’ve made my share of enemies. It’s not a short list, even among the immortals.” Sorren paused. “It’s the Nephilim angle that has me puzzled. Nephilmancy isn’t a common type of magic. The last time I ran into a nephilmancer, it was more than a hundred years ago. Sariel. I killed his son and until now, I was certain that I had destroyed Sariel, too.”
“No other nephilmancers since then?” I asked.
Sorren gave a dispirited shrug. “Not that I’ve heard of, but I’ve been asking all my contacts to see what they can find. A nephilmancer is bad enough, but the vendetta angle… that’s the real puzzle. The only way I can make sense of it is if Sariel is still alive – and wants revenge.” He shook his head. “It would explain the ramped-up ghost activity here in Charleston, if Sariel was calling Reapers to do his bidding.”
“Would being dead stop Sariel?” Teag asked. “It’s not exactly a deal breaker in our business.”
Sorren raised an eyebrow. “His son was completely destroyed. I saw Sariel disappear into a fireball. When the fire was gone, there was no trace of him and no further problems – until now.”
“How about someone who might have a grudge on Sariel’s behalf?” I asked. “Since it’s not just a nephilmancer we’re up against, it’s one who seems to be stalking you in particular.”
“I’ll see what I can find on the Darke Web,” Teag volunteered.
“And I will tap my resources as well,” Sorren said. “Although if Sariel did somehow survive and he’s come back for vengeance, he’s managed to keep a low profile. The Alliance would have noted his return, if he made it public.”
“We might have a thread to start tying things together,” Teag said. “What do you know about a man named Josiah Winfield?”
“JOSIAH WINFIELD?” SORREN frowned. “I haven’t heard that name in a very long time.”
“Back up,” Teag said. “Who was Josiah Winfield? Was he with the Alliance?”
Sorren leaned back in his chair and stared off into the distance for a moment. I imagine that after nearly six hundred years, it takes time to remember things. “Josiah Winfield worked with the Alliance on occasion when it suited his purposes, but he wasn’t part of it,” Sorren said quietly. “He was a supernatural bounty hunter.”
Teag raised an eyebrow. “Who pays the bounty?”
“Creatures who have existed for a long time tend to have acquired many enemies,” Sorren replied. “There’s always someone who wants to even a score.”
“I didn’t touch the pistols, but just from running my hand above them, I got an image of a fight that didn’t look like it went well for Josiah,” I said.
Sorren nodded. “He fought a lot of battles, but he died during a duel. That was a loss. Josiah was more principled than many Hunters, the best of a dangerous bunch.”
“Hunter? You mean like Daniel Hunter?” I asked. “And what happened to Winfield?”
Sorren was quiet for a moment, and I had the feeling that his thoughts were far away. “Yes, ‘Hunter’ like Daniel,” he said finally. “It’s a job description, not a surname. As for Josiah Winfield, he was