6

Night robbed the Tea Garden of the color Garreth remembered from walks here with Marti. However, even reduced to the grays of his night vision, and a liming of silver from the setting half moon, the garden retained its elegance and serenity. Scents remained, too, an assault of floral, plant, and water odors filling the night. Slipping along a bamboo railed path, Garreth realized this was the first time he had visited the garden since Marti died. Perhaps it was just as well he had come by night, when it looked so different from what he remembered.

He shifted the carrying strap on his thermos to the other shoulder, wondering if he should have taken time to fill it on the way here. Except there might still be people around the stables.

The last of the moonlight vanished, leaving only his night vision to see by.

"So," said a voice at his elbow. "There was garlic in male prostitute's apartment. Why is that something we need to discuss?"

Garreth jumped. How did she keep sneaking up on him, especially since he had been watching since he left the house for anyone following him? Her dark slacks and sweater left her invisible to the human eye, but he should have seen or heard her. What if she had been the killer? Irritation at himself sharpened his voice. "Because it means some human, not a vampire, killed your friend Holle and the others."

She reached out to run her fingers across a great stone lantern. "Of course. Such became obvious to me once I knew you weren't guilty."

"How?"

"Nichevo. Never Mind." She turned away, moving down the path ahead of him to an arched bridge, where she leaned on the rail and stared down at goldfish moving in gray flashes through the reflecting pool below. "Is not your concern."

He exploded. "The hell it isn't! Look, honey, you may know I didn't kill anyone but there are plenty of other people, some of them cops, who still think I did! And they're going to go on suspecting me until they find someone better. So if you know anything, I'd sure as hell appreciate being told what it is."

She hesitated, then still staring down into the water, sighed and shook her head. "I'm sorry. Is impossible. Is too dangerous."

He frowned. "I've dealt with vicious and dangerous killers before. This one can't be any worse. He's still only human. You point me in his direction. Harry and I will arrest him and the law will take care of him."

Irina turned, frowning, but a moment later, to Garreth's irritation and discomfort, the scowl dissolved into laughter. She swallowed the whoop almost immediately with an appology. "I'm sorry." Was she? Amusement still lingered in her voice and gleamed in her eyes. "Such innocence." She reached up to touch his cheek, then withdrew the hand as he backed away angrily. "Please, I'm sorry. I don't mean to offend. Is just that I never cease being astonished by this age's blind belief in law as an instrument of justice. For of course this matter is one beyond your 'law'."

His gut knotted. Echoes of Lane rang in her words. "No," he said. "There's law or there's only anarchy. Everyone must be responsible for their actions and answerable to other people for them."

The experienced eyes looked up at him from the smooth, adolescent face. "Oh, I agree, but they cannot always answer in a court of law. The danger is not so much to you personally, Garreth, as to both of us. To all of the blood. Even as young as you are in this life, can't you see what we have? This killer knows we exist and stalks us, and our friends. He broke Leonard's neck, not only to prevent him rising again in case he carried the virus, but from hatred of one who would befriend us."

"So he's a vampire hunter," Garreth said. "He's still just a man."

She hissed. "Just? No. Holy Mother, no. In the past year three friends of the blood have been murdered in this same manner in Europe, and all three were intelligent, experienced, alert people who survived times when people actively believed in and hunted us. Dominic escaped the arena in Rome, the Spanish Inquisition, and innumerable witch hunts. Yet this hunter managed to destroy him. Now do you see why I want you away from here? You're too . . . naive to fight him. And what if you should succeed in capturing him? Punishing him through your legal system will only make public why and what he kills, and you will have helped him destroy us all. Garreth, leave hunter to me."

Cold ran through him and sat in icy lumps in his gut. "I can't. The law you don't believe in won't let me leave. So you might as well use my help. Who knows? My training might even come in handy. Tell me about the killings. Is there clue at all to who's doing them?"

She glanced around. "Let's walk. We've stood in one place too long."

They walked, following the paths winding through the garden. Irina said nothing more for nearly five minutes, then with a sigh: "I talked to people who knew my friends. They could tell me little, but they did say that shortly before each death, my friend had talked to a tall, fairhaired man. One had mentioned to a companion that man asked for a red-haired woman who traveled with Irina Rodek in years just before Second World War. It was obviously Mada, or Lane, as she calls herself here. That is why I came to San Francisco, to warn her, and to warn our friends against talking to anyone asking for Mada."

Garreth felt as though a fist sunk in his stomach. "Was the man an Englishman?"

She whirled to stare up at him. "I don't know. No one I talked to had spoken with him personally." Her eyes narrowed. "There is an Englishman Leonard said is working with your police friends, the one who came with you to Foundation offices yesterday afternoon."

"Julian Fowler." Quickly, he told her everything about the writer. "But . . . I don't know that any of it means anything. There's no obvious motive for him killing anyone, and certainly no proof against him."

Irina pursed her lips. "If he were a hunter, hatred of us would be sufficient motive, but this man has a specific quarry."

"Madelaine Bieber," Garreth said. "He's very open about it. Would he be if he wanted her for more than the book he claims to be researching?"

Irina smiled thinly. "If he's clever. Hunter who killed my friends has shown himself very clever." She paused. "I think we need to know something about this Englishman."

Garreth nodded. "The library should have entries on him in books like Contemporary Authors."

Irina pursed her lips. "I know better source which will not raise our killer's suspicions if he manages to follow us. Come. My car is parked by Stow Lake."