A shaft of sunlight through the trees made my eyes water. Obviously I was spending way too much time in the dark. I pulled a pair of sunglasses out of my black shoulder bag and shoved them on my nose. Better.
Cordelia’s building was one of the old brick ones built in the early part of the 20th century that lined the north side of Park Blocks next door to the Portland Art Museum with its artistic water features and creative lighting. Its Art Deco style was very funky and a bit bohemian. Not to mention ridiculously expensive. Having a view of the Park added a hefty chunk of change onto the monthly rent. Crystal balls must pay well.
Personally, I preferred my own house in the Hawthorne District. For the same amount of money, I got my own four walls and a garden. Not that I gardened much, but it was a nice place to have a barbecue and it gave Kabita a place to grow herbs for her spells since she didn’t have a garden.
I pressed the button on the intercom and waited until Cordelia’s unforgettable voice chimed out. She remembered me though, granted it’s hard to forget the hair, and buzzed me in.
The lobby smelled vaguely of an odd combination of mildew and new carpet. No amount of refurbishment ever completely covered the scent of age in these old buildings. I wrinkled my nose and desperately resisted a sneeze. It got the better of me.
I skipped the elevator and took the stairs. I used to live in one of these old buildings and knew from experience their elevators were in no way to be trusted despite their cool Perry Mason vibe. I rapped on Cordelia’s door which swung open a minute later.
I had to admit to some relief at the absence of flowing Chinese robes and chopsticks in her hair. Instead, she was wearing jeans which showed off her slender frame, a pretty blue sweater, and bare feet. Her hair was up in a ponytail and she had reading glasses perched on the end of her nose. She looked so … normal.
“Welcome, Morgan. What a pleasant surprise! Come in, come in! Living room’s that way.”
“Hi, Cordelia. Thanks.”
I followed her pointed finger down a narrow hall lined with bookshelves. The shelves were full to overflowing with all manner of books and knickknacks. It was vaguely claustrophobic, but in a nice way. Not unlike those really old book shops like Cameron’s that had been cramming books into every nook and cranny since 1972 so you had to step over piles of vintage copies of National Geographic to get at the poetry section.
The hall emptied into a living room that was, if possible, even more jammed with stuff than the hall had been. I was only slightly startled to see a pair of golden cat eyes glaring at me from under a mound of multicolored pillows. I hadn’t known cats liked to burrow. Apparently this one did. It closed its eyes in a haughty manner and went back to sleep. Obviously, I was beneath its notice.
Cordelia waved me to the couch half lost under pillows, throws and books. I shoved a few things aside. The cat eyes opened and glared at me some more, before drifting closed again. I noticed there were already two cups and a teapot steaming away on the coffee table.
I raised an eyebrow. “Expecting someone?”
She laughed, that bright music spilling its way up and down the scales. “Of course. You.”
“You said it was a pleasant surprise.”
“Well, of course I did. And it was. Until about ten minutes ago.”
Ten minutes. Just about the time I decided to go see her. I’d heard of the talent, but it was rare. “So that’s how your gift works. You can’t actually see anything until somebody makes a decision that sets them on a particular course. Then you can see the outcome of that decision.” If she was really talented, she might be able to see possible outcomes of other decisions, as well, but her gift was rare enough as it was.
She flashed me a brilliant smile. “Yes exactly!” I forced a smile back. I was used to Inigo’s gift, of course, but this was a whole new ball of wax for me. “The minute you made the decision to visit me, I knew it was time to put the kettle on. You’re worried about the Sunwalker.” It was a statement, not a question.
I blinked at the abrupt change of subject. Creepy how she did that, read my mind or whatever it was she did. “Well,” I hesitated, “not about him so much as how to find him. I’m not really sure what I should be doing. I feel like I should be doing something, but I just can’t come up with anything clever. I think I’m a little lost.” That was the understatement of the century.
She poured a cup of tea and dropped in two lumps of raw sugar and a splash of milk, just as I liked it. She handed it to me and poured another for herself. “You seem quite capable to me.”
I laughed wryly. “Well, sure. I mean, vampires are pretty straightforward, you know. They’ve got patterns. They’re not exactly subtle.”