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“Only to someone who’s been alive as long as I have.” He takes a sip from his spiked coffee. “I recognize the signs. The way you look at him. The way you gravitate toward him, even when you’re trying not to.”

“Maybe he’s just good in bed,” I tell him

He smiles and shrugs. “He’s a vampire. Of course he knows how to fuck you properly. But it’s more than that and I think you know it.”

“It doesn’t matter. He’s not ready. May never be.”

“Give him time. The transition is difficult enough when you’ve been raised knowing what to expect. For him?” Valtu shakes his head. “Poor bastard. It must be like waking up in a foreign country where you don’t speak the tongue. Imagine discovering your entire identity was a lie?”

“I know that,” I say, frustration edging my voice. “But what if we don’t have time?”

Valtu makes a scoffing noise and pulls me to a stop. “Time? We have nothing but time.” He puts a strong hand on my shoulder, peering down at me. “Lena. What I said the other day is true. You’re young. For a vampire, you’re very, very young. You don’t yet realize what immortality is. You haven’t felt the way time stretches between your fingers, like dough, never breaking. You haven’t seen your loved ones die, time and time again, while you soldier on, cursed to keep going.”

While Valtu’s voice remains smooth, neutral, there’s something in his brown eyes than make them seem darker than ever, like a deep-rooted pain.

“Cursed?” I repeat. “You see this as a curse?”

He grimaces. “If you’re unlucky enough to fall in love with a human, then yes, it’s a curse.”

“This person you lost…” I begin.

“They…she…is irrelevant right now,” he says. “We’re talking about you, darling. If you fall in love with this Callahan, then don’t resist it. Hang onto it. He will come around eventually, if he’s not already there. Who knows, you might be the key in bringing his two halves together. And if takes time, so be it. You both have all the time in the world.”

We walk further down the beach, away from the house, the fog thickening again as we near a rocky outcropping.

“But others don’t,” I eventually say. “If the Ivanovs are behind the murders, then they’ll strike again.”

He casts me a furtive glance. “This sounds like a problem for humans, not for us.”

“Betty was my friend,” I tell him sharply. “It became my problem when one of my friends was murdered.”

His mouth twitches in sympathy. “Perhaps I misspoke. It’s not a problem for us anymore. I’m sorry they killed your friend. But we are not involved. This is between them, not us.”

“But if the Ivanovs did it, they are us. They’re vampires. I know the rules. I know that we all abide by them so that we don’t cause problems, so that we stay out of trouble, so that we don’t draw attention to ourselves. But they’re breaking the rules, clearly. They’re serial killers. They’re making the whole world look our way. And for what? For what reason?”

“I have my theories.”

“Which are?”

“The Ivanovs are old blood,” he says thoughtfully. “Russian nobility that have been around since the first age of Skarde, mingling between the worlds. Once they were fully expelled from the Red Realm, they fled to Europe, then to New York. Then here. They brought arcane knowledge with them, practices that blended vampire abilities with something darker.”

“The magic you and Abe were talking about.”

“Of a sort. Certain vampire bloodlines maintained connections to pagan practices, rituals that could amplify our natural abilities.” He pauses, looking out at the misty horizon. “I’ve encountered the Ivanovs before, you know, centuries ago. We ran in the same circles, as ones does when you’re all vampires from the same area.”

“And were they the type to start murdering random women in a horrible, ritualistic fashion?”

He gives me a cold smile. “Oh yes. But make no mistake, there’s nothing random about the murders. Each one was chosen for a reason. And whether the Ivanovs did it for some sacrificial reason, or it was simply a deranged human, we need to figure out what that reason is.” He pauses. “It’s a good thing Callahan is already on the case. Seems like the type to get things done.”

“He is,” I say.

But that doesn’t make me worry any less.

“Would you be able drive me back to my apartment?” I ask Valtu.

“Now?”

I nod. “I want to get my stuff, while we still have daylight. Feels like I won’t be ambushed with the world out and about.” Even though that didn’t stop Cohen’s thugs from throwing acid in my face in a busy hotel bar.