Hunted (The Iron Druid Chronicles, Book Six)

send the snipers?”
    “No, but he approved it. The idea came from one of his allies who rather concerns me—an Austrian fellow named Werner Drasche. You may have the misfortune to meet him shortly. He bankrolled the mercenaries and has the wherewithal to continue such activity. It is his opinion that modern military force would be most effective in bringing you down.”
    He was right about that. I noted that Granuaile fumed silently at this news, and I felt a bit sorry for Herr Drasche. He was now irrevocably on her shit list. “Interesting,” I said. “Why would I meet him shortly?”
    “Theophilus has sent him here with the same basic information I was given—namely, that you would be in Calais tonight. He is probably searching for you even now, as I would be had I not heard from a hireling about your call to Hal.”
    “A hireling?” Granuaile said. “Who talks like that?”
    “A contracted employee,” Leif amended, which was not much better.
    “Why should I be worried about this guy? Is he a vampire?”
    Leif shook his head once, curtly. “No. He is human,or at least he once was. You cannot simply unbind him. Think of him as a vampire without the common disadvantages. He is not dead; he can walk in the daylight; wood is no more dangerous to him than any other substance. And yet he enjoys many of our advantages—superior strength, long life, extraordinary recuperative powers, and an ability to hide his feeding so that no one notices.”
    “What is he, then?”
    “I cannot say with certainty. A horror born of madness, perhaps. I have only recently met him, and my investigations have yet to bear fruit. But if you ask him, he will say that he is an arcane lifeleech.”
    “An arcane lifeleech?”
    Leif winced. “He does have a penchant for melodrama. And cravats.”
    “Oh.” I dipped my chin at his throat. “So that thing on your neck wasn’t your idea?”
    “It was my idea to flatter him into thinking he influences my personal tastes. But it is not my idea that cravats are attractive.”
    “I’m relieved. So what does Herr Drasche do, latch on to his victims and drain their life?”
    “He does nothing physically. He can do it from a distance. Hence his use of the word
arcane
.”
    I frowned. “How great a distance?”
    “I cannot provide an accurate measurement, but within his sight, certainly. He cannot hide in Sri Lanka and drain a victim in the Seychelles. But he could stand at the door to this establishment, for example, and leech the very life from your cells. A little from you, a little from Granuaile, and a little from everyone else.” He swept his hand around to include the entire restaurant. “You may not feel anything at all, except perhaps a mild fatigue. He is the perfect parasite. He thrives entirely onthe energy of others now and has no need to ingest food—only water.”
    “So he can just drain a little at a time?”
    “Oh, no, he can drain people completely. He refrains, however, because it is unnecessary. Imagine, Atticus: He can walk abroad in daylight and sample from everyone in public. He is sustained and kept youthful wherever he goes.”
    “This only works on people?”
    “No. Plants and animals too. He can live until the end of days if he so chooses and have minimal impact on his surroundings. Yet if he needs unnatural strength, it is at his fingertips. He can grow stronger by draining the life of everything around him.”
    “Gods below, what a monster.” Given enough time, he could snuff an elemental.
    “Indeed. But apart from some odd cosmetic decisions, he does not look the part of a monster. Instead, he cultivates the aspect of a dandy.”
    I snorted. “Nobody calls people dandies anymore, Leif. We call them douche bags now.”
    “In sooth?”
    “Verily. And in case you were wondering, you’re dressed like a dandy.”
    “Alas! It is the least of my faults, I imagine.”
    Truer words were never spoken. I could never forgive his betrayal, but somehow I had slipped into bantering with him like old times. I looked down at my plate and realized I had yet to touch my food. Granuaile hadn’t sampled hers either and became aware of this at the same time I did.
    Leif noticed our gazes and said, “Please, eat.”
    The monkfish in algae shirts looked tasty, but I was no longer hungry. “I’ve kind of lost my appetite.”
    “Me too,” Granuaile said.
    Oberon spoke up. Granuaile picked up a fork, scooped a bite