He arched a brow at her question. “You lived in New Orleans and you don’t know?”
“Never saw one…other than cosplayers and those who identified as vampires.”
“Then be grateful. Daimons and vampires love to steal souls. Though it’s more a Daimon thing than a vampire one, and the body was dumped in daylight. Back in the day, that would have precluded Daimons, too…now, maybe not. A lot of them have converted so that they can walk in daylight again. But it definitely takes vampires off the list. They hate daytime almost as much as I do.” He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and texted someone.
“Law enforcement?” she asked.
He shook his head, then rocked his head side to side as if reconsidering the no. “I guess he could be considered law enforcement, just not for humans.”
“Like us, then?”
“No. Dark-Hunter.”
Chapter
Six
Sorcha was still confused by who he was texting. What was a Dark-Hunter? “Are they similar to ghost hunters?”
He gave her an irritated glower. “Not even. They’re immortal warriors who sell their souls to a Greek goddess for a single act of vengeance…rather a cheap sale if you ask me. Personally, I’d demand more, but that’s what happens when you don’t realize your worth… Anyway, after they give up their souls, they serve the goddess Artemis so that they can keep Daimons from stealing human souls. It’s definitely a thing in their world.”
Wow. She wasn’t sure how to even begin processing that. “You know, there are so many things I wish I wasn’t learning on this job. And these Daimons are in New Orleans, you said?”
“They’re all over.”
“So, there’s a Dark-Hunter here?” she asked.
“Three actually. But Kieran MacAllister is the one I talk to most.”
His phone rang.
“Speak of the devil.” Luke answered it and put it on speaker. “MacAllister…how you doing?”
“Sitting here with me baffies, tassie and box. Couldn’t be better. You, mate?”
That was one impressive Scottish accent on that man. She could barely understand what he was talking about.
Luke didn’t seem to have any problems translating. “Sounds like fun.”
“I know that’s not why you’re calling. So what’s it, then?” Kieran asked.
“We have a dead college student. Something took her soul. Was wondering if it could be Daimon related.”
“Ah dinnae ken. What did the body look like?”
“Bloody. Torn to pieces.”
MacAllister sucked his breath in through his teeth. “Not one of ours, then, mate. Daimons don’t waste time on that sort of laldy. Too feared of getting caught.”
“How many Daimons are in the city?” she asked.
“Hello, there…didn’t tell me we had company. Is she tidy?”
Luke laughed. “For a toonser, aye.”
Sorcha shoved playfully at Luke. “Would you two stop speaking in code? I’d like to follow this conversation.”
Luke wrinkled his nose at her. “With the name Sorcha O’Malley, I’d think you could follow it.”
