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"I owe you more than a cheap beer. Now, this Cortez, it's Lucas, right? The youngest? Doesn't work for the family?"
"That's right."
"Well, that's good, because someone was trying to tell me it was the next older one. You don't wanna get mixed up with those Cabal guys. But, now, Cassandra said she wanted to talk about a Cabal situation, and since you're here, I'm assuming you're involved. But if you're with Lucas, and he doesn't work for the Cabals..."
"Let's go sit with Cassandra and I'll explain."
I told Aaron the story. When I finished, he leaned back and shook his head.
"Fucking unbelievable. We need that kinda trouble like we need a stake through the heart. You find this loser, you make sure the Cabals know the rest of us had nothing to do with it." He took a gulp of beer. "I guess you want to know whether I have any idea who might be behind it. I'm also guessing you've already checked out John and his gang."
"John?" I said.
"John, Hans, whatever he's calling himself today. You know who I mean, Cass."
"Oh," Cassandra said, lip curling. "Him."
"Well, you've told Paige about him, right? His little anti-Cabal crusade?"
My head snapped up. "Anti-Cabal crusade?"
She frowned. "When did he start this?"
"Oh, only about a decade or so ago."
"This is the first I've heard of it."
Aaron shook his head. "No, it's just the first time you've heard it and paid attention."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
Aaron turned to me. "Guy's name is John, but he calls himself Hans; thinks 'John' isn't a proper name for a vampire. He's one of the New Orleans vamps."
"Oh."
Aaron grinned. "That explains everything, doesn't it? John's got this burr about Cabals. It goes with the whole mentality of those guys. They're vampires, so they're 'special' and they should rule the frigging supernatural world. If it wasn't for that damned writer...It's gone straight to their heads. I wouldn't be surprised if they were behind this."
"Any idea where we can find them?" I asked.
"I can get John's address but it might take a day or two. He's not exactly on my Christmas card list. But if you're in a hurry, his posse hangs out at the Rampart in New Orleans." He looked at Cassandra. "But you check it out for her, Cass. Don't be taking Paige in there."
"Vamps only?" I said.
"Nah, just not a very nice place. I'll put out some feelers, too, see if I can pick up any rumors."
I pulled out my notepad to give him my number.
"Hold on," he said, and took out his cell phone. "Safer this way. Every damned piece of paper I stuff into my pockets winds up in the washing machine. I can tell you where I was when I heard Lincoln had been shot, but do you think I can ever remember to empty my pockets before doing laundry? Not a chance."
I dictated my phone number and Lucas's, and Aaron entered them into his cell directory. Then he returned the phone to his jacket, lounged back in his seat, and cracked his knuckles.
Cassandra sighed. "What is it, Aaron?"
"Hmmm?"
"Whenever you do that"--she waved at his hands--"it means there's something on your mind. What is it?"
He paused, then looked over at me. "The Rampart. It's a problem, and it's been a problem for a while, which brings up something else. The interracial council. I know you have Cass, but maybe you'd consider taking another vamp--"
