“Yeah, Amelia saw markings, there and there.” He pointed to black squiggly marks, one on a corner of the church, another on a nearby tree, and a third on the back of a NO PARKING sign near the street. I’d have figured they were random graffiti tags, if I noticed them at all. But now that he’d pointed them out, they had a pattern—pairs of stylized letters, medieval alchemical or zodiac signs maybe.
I tried to visualize what the candle told us was there in spirit. “Someone cast a protective circle here,” I said. “Protecting against what?”
“That’s the question, isn’t it?” Cormac said. “May be nothing. May be a habit of his.”
“You’re sure it’s Rick’s vampire friend that did it?”
“Because we don’t know any other vampires who are magicians, right?”
My shoulders unconsciously bunched up, an imitation of hackles rising. He was talking about Roman, who’d spent part of his two thousand years as a vampire learning how to work magic. Guy could do it all.
“Are you saying Columban is with Roman?”
“I’m just saying that vampires and magic aren’t mutually exclusive. And that this guy knows how to cover his ass and doesn’t seem to need any help doing it. The symbols are European, medieval—it’s what I’d expect from a vampire working for the Vatican.”
“So he’s a vampire Catholic priest and a magician. I’d have assumed those would all be mutually exclusive.”
“I don’t think we can make any assumptions. Guy’ll do what he needs to do.”
Didn’t really make the situation any better.
Cormac continued, “This is just a defense against a supernatural threat. Won’t stop someone with a stake, if it comes to that.”
“He may have mundane servants for that,” I said. “So no, we’re not staking him. This is Rick’s problem.” For now. I really had to let him know about Hardin’s police sketch.
“We know where he’s most likely staying, now. We can keep an eye on him.”
That would have to be enough. I looked over the building. It probably had a basement or cellar, or at the very least a windowless utility closet, locked and protected. People moved around here all day, never knowing about the vampires lurking here.
We returned to the Jeep. I mulled possibilities. Not knowing what to expect next made planning ahead difficult. Was Columban worried about something specific? Did I need to be worried about it, too? Or was this a general precaution? I asked, “Would a protective circle like that work if the church were still consecrated? Still a church, I mean?”
“If it were still a church you wouldn’t need the circle. But then, the vampire wouldn’t be there.”
Maybe that was why Columban did it, and for no other reason. He couldn’t use a real church, but he could make a facsimile of one.
Cormac asked, “If Rick decides to go with this guy and leave
Denver, what are you going to do?”
I couldn’t imagine such a thing. Rick leaving Denver—Rick was Denver. He’d been around since before there was a Denver. He couldn’t leave Denver. I almost blurted the words, unthinking. But Columban represented something Rick thought he lost centuries ago. I remembered the way he looked that night, as if the universe had rearranged itself around him.
“Try to talk him out of it?” I said. I honestly didn’t know what I’d do if Rick left. Try to be happy for him.
I had a bigger question. We were supposed to be working to oppose Roman together. The only way this whole opposition thing worked is if Rick and I were in it together. If Rick left to become some kind of vampire priest, I’d be on my own. Would vampires like Nasser even listen to me, then?
“You should know,” I said. “Hardin’s looking for this guy, too.”
“I’m not telling her about this,” Cormac said, with the contempt he held for all cops.
“That’s what I thought. I need to hold her off until I can get ahold of Rick.”
“She won’t hear it from me.”
Cormac drove me back to work, waiting until we were in the parking lot at KNOB to ask, “Heard there’s a new werewolf in town.”
I looked at him, startled. “How do you know about him?”
“Keep my eyes open, that’s all.”