Free Zen and the Art of Vampires by Katie MacAlister

worrisome.
    As I entered the café, I saw Karl and Marta in the corner, huddled together. They stood at the sight of me, but I waved them back and squeezed myself into a chair at a tiny table. The sailor ghost was nowhere to be seen.
    â€œCoffee?” I asked the woman as she pulled out a mirror and checked her reflection.
    â€œ Non. Wine!”
    â€œI like how you think,” I said, smiling, and asked the waiter for two glasses of the house white wine.
    â€œYou must think I am very forward, but I assure you, it is most important that I speak to you.”
    â€œAs a matter of fact, I was looking for you, too.”
    â€œYou were?” she interrupted, taking the glass of wine the waiter offered. She took a small sip of it. “But you do not know why I sought you?”
    â€œOh, I think I do,” I said, smiling as I held up a copy of the Regency paperback. “Dancing people.”
    She sagged in relief, reaching for it. “You did find it. I thought that you must have when I asked the book man and he said that an English lady with curly blond hair had just bought it.”
    â€œYou have no idea of the evening I’ve had because of that thing,” I said, dropping it into her hand. “I don’t think you know just quite what you’re getting into, though. I assume you’re the Zorya?”
    Her eyes widened. “You are of the light?”
    â€œNo.” I shook my head. “But I had an introduction to the folks around here who subscribe to that religion, and I feel it only right to warn you about them.”
    â€œWarn me?” She surprised me by laughing. “Warn me about the Brotherhood of the Blessed Light?”
    â€œThey’re the Ilargi, aren’t they?”
    Her smile faded. “No. Not anymore. It has been a millennium since that name was applied to us. We prefer the name Brotherhood.”
    â€œThen who, exactly, are the Ilargi? Every time I mention the name people start looking wary or scared.”
    She toyed with the stem of her glass for a few moments, her gaze avoiding mine. “The Ilargi were once brothers to my people. They were not of the light, but they served a purpose nonetheless. But they were corrupted and driven out, and now there are only a handful left. They have become tainted, you understand. They eat souls.”
    â€œThat sounds pretty nasty,” I said, the hairs on my arms standing on end. “No wonder everyone gets a bit weird when they’re mentioned.”
    â€œMy people are trying to track down those Ilargi who remain, but it is not easy. They are cunning, you know? And they hide in the mundane world. But the Brotherhood is strong, so they pose us no threat.”
    â€œWell, I don’t know about that,” I said slowly, picking my words with care so as to avoid insulting her. “I just know that the people I met tonight seemed to be under the impression that I was you, and that I was going to marry an Icelander named Mattias.”
    â€œThe sacristan?” Her smile was back, albeit with a wry cast. “I have not met him, but yes, we are to marry. It was supposed to be tonight, but”—she glanced at her watch—“it is too late now. The ceremony will have to take place tomorrow instead. Oh, but here I am talking and talking and I have not even introduced myself. I am Anniki. You are . . . ?”
    â€œPia Thomason. And can I just say how glad I am that you found me? If I had to explain to any more people tonight that I’m not the Zorya, I think I’d probably need locking up in a padded room. The ghosts will be thrilled to see you, too, although one of them is apparently wandering around looking for rum. I understand they need help going somewhere.”
    â€œSpirits? You have seen some? Ah, but that is to be expected.” She set down her glass of wine, her smile fading. “It is one of the jobs of a Zorya, you understand. We shine the light that illuminates