“Okay. When you say it’s not alone, what else are you seeing?” I looked over at the house, failing to see anything on my own. I needed to talk to Amy about seeing if she could set up magic that I could power with whatever power source the Artificer aspect of myself could tap into.

I tried using it here as I had back at the parking garage and got the same result—nothing—which meant that I needed to give up on the idea of seeing the supernatural with whatever I could now do or recognize that I needed training. Worse, I might need time to get to the point where I could generate enough power for it to be useful.

“V4?” Mateo stared at me, “I don’t know what you’re doing but it’s distracting.”

I stopped, “Sorry.”

He eyed me and nodded. “You were radiating something almost like a fog or a haze. Anyway, I don’t know what else I’m seeing. I’m not an expert in vampires, but what I’m seeing is almost the same, but a little off. My guess is that I’m seeing vampires, but two, maybe three different kinds.”

I looked over at the bungalow again. It didn’t look like the lair of different kinds of vampires. It even had a vegetable garden in the backyard, which wasn’t something I associated with vampires or businesses.

Turning away from the house, I said, “Do you happen to have some holy water?”

He raised an eyebrow, “Do you think priests carry holy water everywhere?”

I began to reply, but stopped as he continued talking, “I don’t normally, but since we might be facing vampires, I thought I’d bring some along.”

He pulled a couple of glass vials out of a pouch on his belt, showed them to me, and put them back. “Why?”

“Bloodmaiden wanted to know if holy water worked on them. I’m assuming it doesn’t work on all vampires and she’s familiar with the ones where it doesn’t work? She told me once that vampires from her world were different than ours. I’m assuming that’s one of the ways.”

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Mateo frowned. “I’m hoping we’re not facing them then. Holy water and holy symbols are our major advantages over them. Are hers immune to sunlight, too?”

I shrugged. “Don’t know. She just asked me to watch for that single detail.”

As we stood there, standing in the church’s parking lot and looking at the house, a white police car pulled into the driveway, stopping next to our motorcycles. The car door opened and a woman stepped out wearing a navy blue police uniform with badges indicating she was an officer in the Farmington, Michigan Police Department, and showing that her name was Helen White.

She had pale white skin and light brown hair in a ponytail and came up to my chin. “Hi. How are the two of you?”

Mateo nodded at her, “We’re doing fine, and how are you?”

She smiled, “Doing great, but the department got a call asking why you were here, and since we didn’t know, they sent me out to ask.”

“Vampires,” I said. “Maybe.”

Mateo gave me a look and said to her, “Athletica and Nanosecond were out here last night for the same reason. They saw one. We think the same vampire appeared in a couple of places in Detroit before coming here.”

Officer White frowned. “If anyone told us, it didn’t make it down to me or anybody back at the station.”

She shook her head, “Do you need anything? We’re not equipped to fight vampires. I know they have in Detroit, but they take care of it before it gets out here.”

Mateo smiled, “I don’t think so, but do you know anything about Downtown Marketing, the business over there? They don’t look open right now. They might have closed early, but their website says they’re supposed to be open.”

Officer White looked past him toward the house. “We haven’t gotten a call about them and we haven’t gotten any missing person reports today that I know of.”

Then she turned back toward her car. “If you give me a second to call in and check a couple of things, I’ll know for sure.”

With a grin, Mateo said, “That would help. Thanks.”

She stepped back inside her car and started typing on the computer on her dashboard.

I turned to look at the house. Now that I was looking harder at it, I realized that all the shades and curtains were drawn. If someone were trying to make sure that no light got inside, that would be the way to do it.

I looked over at Mateo, “Did you notice the shades?”

“Yes.” He opened his mouth, starting to say more, but the police car’s door opened again.

Officer White stepped out, “Here’s what we have. The owner of the business, Bret Eastman, worked from home today. His secretary, Paula Hart, was supposed to be in, but he hasn’t been able to reach her since just after eight in the morning. He got nervous enough to call the department thirty minutes ago. The business is supposed to be open.”

Mateo and I looked at each other. By now she was probably dead or worse, turned, but she might be alive.