The Last of the Red-Hot Vampires

"Very." I struggled with the impossibility that was the Hashmallim, aware that as it had before, its very presence seemed to fill the surroundings with despair.

"We seek answers that only you can give us," Theo said, his voice steady. My awe and appreciation of him went up another few notches. "We would like information about the virtue Hope."

The Hashmallim's shape seemed to shimmer for a moment, then moved to the side to look at me, if such a thing was possible. Sarah gasped, and hid behind me. I knew just how she felt—at that moment, I would have just about given anything to close my eyes and hide from the Hashmallim. "What do you seek, Portia Harding?"

I swallowed down my fear, pulling strength from the comfort Theo silently offered me. "We seek the name of the murderer of Hope. I don't suppose your investigations have led you to a conclusion about that?"

The Hashmallim seemed to swell, blotting out the night sky around us.

"I think I'm going to be sick," Sarah muttered, and ran for the grassy verge beyond the parking lot. I fought down the bile that rose in my own throat, struggling to keep control of my emotions.

"That of which you speak does not exist," the Hashmallim said, its form twisting and turning upon itself in an endless dance of horror.

"Are there any suspects?" I asked, trying desperately to remember the list of questions we'd agreed to ask.

"Portia Harding."

"Other than me," I said, clinging to Theo, drinking in the warmth of his body.

"That which you seek does not exist."

That's the second time he's said that. What does it mean? I asked Theo.

It means something is up, he answered slowly, his mind busily sorting through ideas. I gave him full marks for being able to think while confronting the abomination before us.

I mentally girded my loins, and ventured another question. "Exactly when was she killed?"

"That which you seek does not exist."

If I wasn't at the point where I could quite possibly die of fear, I'd be annoyed at that.

Hmm. Interesting. Theo's words were thoughtful. "Do you mean that Hope was not murdered, that she died from other causes?"

The Hashmallim continued to face me, violating every rule of physics, its flat nothingness sucking the gaze in and holding it. "That which you seek does not exist."

An idea bloomed in my head. I could tell by the dawning enlightenment in Theo's face that it occurred to him, as well.

I cleared my throat. "Are you saying, then, that Hope has not died?"

"Confirmation," the Hashmallim said.

She's not dead, I said in stunned disbelief. Why does everyone think she's dead if she's not?

I don't know, but I intend to find out.

"Where is the virtue known as Hope?" Theo asked the Hashmallim.

"The answer you seek does not exist. The summoning is at an end." In front of Theo, the portal sparked to life again. The Hashmallim drifted toward it, clearly intending on returning to wherever it had originated.

"Wait a second," I said, moving around in front of Theo. The resulting wave of revolting nausea left me staggering against him. "You can't just leave like that. You're the Court police! There has to be something you can tell us about Hope."

The Hashmallim flickered for a moment at the edge of the portal. "In order to succeed, you must first destroy."

Both the Hashmallim and the portal disappeared without any further ado.

"What in the name of Stephen Hawking is that supposed to mean?" I asked Theo.

"I have no idea. This Hashmallim wasn't particularly inclined to give answers, it appears."

Slowly, the horror within me began to fade. Anger quickly replaced it.

"Sweet mother of sanity," I swore, looking at the spot the Hashmallim had occupied. "So help me, once I have your soul back, and this thing with Hope is cleared up, if I ever want to get involved in anything to do with the Court, you have my full permission to beat me senseless."

Chapter 17

"This is downright creepy."

"Meh." I made a half-hearted shrugging motion to accompany the word, trudging along behind the group of people who chattered in excited whispers, occasional startled gasps punctuating their conversation.

Sarah stopped to give me a gimlet eye. "Meh? Meh! This is not in the least bit meh!"

"You're talking to someone who has been to hell itself, and had a chat with the man in charge, not to mention facing down a gauntlet of Hashmallim, which in my humble opinion is a thousand times worse than the aforementioned demon lord. Something so simple as a haunted house holds no fear to the likes of me."

"I almost liked you better when you were a pigheaded skeptic," she answered, making a face.