Magic Graves

number."
    "Thirty seven."
    I zeroed in on the fridge. No telling when the next attack would come and I was starving. You can do without sleep or without food, but not without both and sleep wasn't an option.
    Saiman trailed me, taking the seat on the outer side of the counter. "Do you prefer women?"
    "No."
    He frowned, belting the robe. "It's the stomach, isn't it?"
    I raided the fridge. He had enough deli meat to feed an army. I spread it out on the bar's counter. "What do you do for a living, Saimain?"
    "I collect information and use it to further my interests."
    "It seems to pay well." I nodded to indicate the apartment.
    "It does. I also possess an exhaustive knowledge of various magic phenomena. I consult various parties. My fee varies between thirty-six and thirty-nine hundred dollars, depending on the job and the client."
    "Thirty six hundred per job?" I bit into my sandwich. Mmm, salami.
    "Per hour."
    I choked on my food. He looked at me with obvious amusement.
    "The term 'highway robbery' comes to mind," I managed finally.
    "Oh, but I'm exceptionally good at what I do. Besides, the victims of highway robbery have no choice in the matter. I assure you, I don't coerce my clients, Kate."
    "I'm sure. How did we even get to this point? The stratospheric fee ruined my train of thought."
    "You stated that you prefer men to women."
    I nodded. "Suppose you get a particularly sensitive piece of information. Let's say a business tip. If you act on the tip, you could make some money. If you sell it, you could make more money. If both you and your buyer act on the tip, you both would make money, but the return for each of you would be significantly diminished. Your move?"
    "Either sell the information or act on it. Not both."
    "Why?"
    Saiman shrugged. "The value of the information increases with its exclusivity. A client buying such knowledge has an expectation of such exclusivity. It would be unethical to undermine it."
    "It would be unethical for me to respond to your sexual overtures. For the duration of the job, you're a collection of arms and legs which I have to keep safe. I'm most effective if I'm not emotionally involved with you on any level. To be blunt, I'm doing my best to regard you as a precious piece of porcelain I have to keep out of harm's way."
    "But you do find this shape sexually attractive?"
    "I'm not going to answer this question. If you pester me, I will chain you back to the bed."
    Saiman raised his arm, flexing a spectacular biceps. "This shape has a lot of muscle mass."
    I nodded. "In a bench pressing contest you would probably win. But we're not bench pressing. You might be stronger, but I'm well trained. If you do want to try me, you're welcome to it. Just as long as we agree that once your battered body is chained safely in your bed, I get to say, 'I told you so.'"
    Saiman arched his eyebrows. "Try it?"
    "And stop that."
    "Stop what?"
    "Stop mimicking my gestures."
    He laughed. "You're a most peculiar person, Kate. I find myself oddly fascinated. You have obvious skill." He indicated the budding forest in his living room. "And knowledge to back it up. Why aren't you among the Guild's top performers?"
    Because being in top anything means greater risk of discovery. I was hiding in plain sight and doing a fairly good job of it. But he didn't need to know that. "I don't spend much time in Atlanta. My territory is in the Lowcountry. Nothing much happens there, except for an occasional sea serpent eating shrimp out of the fishing nets."
    Saiman's sharp eyes narrowed. "So why not move up to the city? Better jobs, better money, more recognition?"
    "I like my house where it is."
    Something bumped behind the front door. I swiped Slayer off the counter. "Bedroom. Now."
    "Can I watch?"
    I pointed with the sword to the bedroom.
    Saiman gave an exaggerated sigh. "Very well."
    He went to the bedroom. I padded to the door and leaned against it, listening.
    Quiet.
    I waited, sword raised. Something waited out there in the hallway. I couldn't hear it, but I sensed it. It was there.
    A quiet whimper filtered through the steel of the door. A sad, lost, feminine whimper, like an old woman crying quietly in mourning.
    I held very still. The apartment felt stifling and crowded in. I would've given anything for a gulp of fresh air right about now.
    Something scratched at the door. A low mutter floated through, whispered words unintelligible.
    God, what was it with the air in this place? The place was stale and