Free Blood Bank by Tanya Huff Page A

to be the only way she'd find out what was going on, Vicki dropped down onto a corner of the desk and waited while Madame Luminitsa went back into the rear of the building. Although strange things seemed to be afoot, she'd learned to trust her instincts and she didn't think she was in danger.
    The Romani, as a culture, were more than willing to exploit the greed and/or stupidity of the gadje, or non-Rom, but they were also culturally socialized to avoid violence whenever possible. During the eight years she'd spent on the police force, Vicki had never heard of an incident where one of Toronto's extensive Romani communities had started a fight. Finished a couple, yes, but never started one.
    Still, someone here had named her Nightwalker.
    When the door opened again, the woman framed within it bore a distinct family resemblance to Madame Luminitsa. There were slight differences in height and weight and coloring—a little shorter, a little rounder, a little grayer—but a casual observer would have had difficulty telling them apart. Vicki was not a casual observer, and she slowly stood as the dark gaze swept over her. The Hunger rose in recognition of a challenging power.
    "Good. Now we know who we are, we can put it aside and get on with things." The woman's voice held a faint trace of Eastern Europe. "You'd best come in." She stepped aside, leaving the way to the inner room open.
    Curiosity overcoming her instinctive reaction, Vicki slipped a civilized mask back into place and did as suggested.
    The inner room was a quarter the size of the outer.
    The ceiling had been painted navy blue and sprinkled with day-glo stars. Multicolored curtains fell from the stars to the floor and on each wall an iron bracket supporting a round light fixture thrust through the folds. In the center of the room, taking up most of the available floor space, was a round table draped in red between two painted chairs. Shadows danced in every corner and every fold of fabric.
    "Impressive," Vicki acknowledged. "Definitely sets the mood. But I'm not here to have my fortune told."
    "We'll see." Indicating the second chair, the woman sat down.
    Vicki sat as well. "Your grandson neglected to give me your name."
    "You can call me Madame Luminitsa."
    "Another one?"
    The fortune teller shrugged. "We are all Madame Luminitsa if business is good enough. My sister, our daughters, their daughters..."
    "You?"
    "Not usually."
    "Why not?" Vicki asked dryly. "Your predictions don't come true?"
    "On the contrary." She folded her hands on the table, the colored stones in the rings that decorated six of eight fingers flashing in the light. "Some people can't take a dump without asking advice—Madame Luminitsa gives them a glimpse of the future they want. I give them the future they're going to get."
    Arms crossed, Vicki snorted. "You're telling me you can really see the future?"
    "I saw you, Nightwalker. I saw where you'd be this evening. I sent for you and you came."
    Which was, undeniably, unpleasantly, true. "For all that, you seem pretty calm about what I am."
    "I'm used to seeing what others don't." Her expression darkened again for a moment as though she were gazing at a scene she'd rather not remember, then she shook her head and half-smiled. "If you know your history, Nightwalker—my people and your people have worked together in the past."
    Vicki had a sudden vision of Gypsies filling boxes of dirt to keep their master safe on his trip to England. The memory bore the distinctive stamp of an old Hammer film. She returned the half-smile, another fraction of trust gained. "The one who changed me said that Bram Stoker was a hack."
    "He got a few things right. The Romani were enslaved in that part of the world for many years and we had masters who made Bram Stoker's count seem like a lovely fellow." Her voice held no bitterness at the history. It was over, done; they'd moved on and wouldn't waste the energy necessary to hold a grudge. "I've seen you're no danger to