Iago nodded in agreement. “He was trying to build buzz. And now that you’ve been identified, he’s really upset.”
My ire rose several notches with each word out of their mouths. “Do you have the name of the guy that I’m going to have to kill?”
They all gaped, believing me.
Tristan snapped out of it first. “Just his online name. He goes by SpectorySam.”
Motherfucker. Again. He was e-mailing Amber trying to get an interview with me? No. No way. If he knew so much about me, he knew exactly how and where to find me. He was e-mailing Amber for inside information. Probably tricking her into saying this or that. I’d have to get on top of it and fast. He could try to meet with her.
“So, let me get this straight. You guys are here to make money off me, too?”
Their eyes went so wide, it was almost comical.
“No,” Isaac said. “Never.”
Tristan leaned toward me, wanting me to understand. “We’re more like urban explorers. We don’t change anything. We don’t do anything that will affect the future.”
“I don’t get it,” I said. “What’s your angle, then?”
Tristan laughed softly. “Burning curiosity.”
“But most are hunters,” Iago said. “Not explorers. They aren’t like us.” His gaze darted to the table of the other hunters I’d spotted earlier. “Most are in it for the money and the glory.”
“Mostly the glory,” Tristan said. “There’s not a lot of money in this, unless you have a great subject.” He dropped his gaze, embarrassed he’d said such a thing. I felt it burn through him.
“Look, what makes you think I’m the real deal? That guy is lying. I guarantee it.”
“You put out an electromagnetic field,” Tristan said.
I played it off with a laugh. “Doesn’t everyone?”
All three shook their heads as though they’d choreographed it.
“Oh.”
“We won’t tell.”
“Um, thanks? But you can’t follow me around, okay?”
“We weren’t—”
I stabbed them with my best glare of skepticism. Their faces fell, but they nodded, disappointed.
“Just be careful,” Tristan said. “The other team members aren’t professionals like we are.”
He was a doll. I didn’t have the heart to tell him he had a tail. A shadow. A departed who’d taken it upon himself to follow the guy around. The entire time we’d been talking, the departed man, who was in a straitjacket no less, stood behind Tristan, staring down at him, his face full of rage. But he didn’t say anything, and I didn’t want to strike up a conversation just then.
“Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself.”
“Yeah, I’ve seen the tape.”
I figured I should say good-bye. Reyes had glanced out the kitchen door several times, wondering what was going on, so I wished them my best and decided to pay the second team a visit while I was at it.
Unfortunately, they didn’t have the sense to be worried when I stopped at their table. They had a completely different feel entirely. They were polished, clean cut, with expensive haircuts and even more expensive gadgets, especially in comparison to Tristan’s team.
I stopped at their booth. Looked them over. Found them lacking in spirit and character.
Tristan and the brothers were passionate about what they were doing.
These guys, on the other hand, all four of them, were privileged. Expectant. And in it for the money. I could see the hunger of the hunt in their eyes. They wanted to catch me doing something so bad they could taste it. Then what? Sell it to the local news station? Who would even pay for something like that? Something that would make them look like idiots?
They weren’t the least bit surprised that I’d stopped, but I was. The more I looked, the more surprised I became.
“You’re SpectorySam,” I said to the one sitting closest to me.
He’d been hiding underneath a baseball cap. He took it off and let me see his face. My jaw dropped. It all made sense now.
“You douche,” I said to him.
One of the team members immediately took out a small camera to film our interaction. I narrowed my lashes, and he put the camera down, but I wasn’t stupid. He’d already hit RECORD and was angling it just enough to capture anything I did or said.
“Douche?” he asked, his French accent still as thick as I remembered. I wondered if they were all French. Sam was the only one I recognized. But back then I knew him as Samuel. “That’s not very nice.”
My temper rose so quick and so fast, Reyes stepped out of the kitchen. I saw him in my periphery. He was wiping his hands on a towel, assessing the situation before him with what looked like only a slight interest. In reality, he was on guard. Completely alert. His muscles tense and ready to move should the need arise.
I forced myself to calm, then leveled my best glare on Samuel. “You recorded that video.”
During my stint in the Peace Corps, we often encountered teams from other countries or even visitors who flew to the region once a year to help in any way they could. Samuel was on one such team. His parents had made him join. I remembered him talking about it. He talked about a lot of things when I was around, certain I couldn’t understand him.
“I did,” he said, quite pleased with himself.
“Why? Why would you even follow me?”
“You were … how do you say?” He lifted his napkin and touched the sides of his mouth before he continued. “Unique. I knew you were different from the moment I saw you.”
“I’m just like any other girl, Samuel. I told you that then, and I’m repeating it now.”
“And I knew better, cheri. I followed you often. Watched you talk to no one. Saw you drop to your knees when they came close.”
“Myself. I was talking to myself. Crazy people do that.”
“You were talking to apparitions. To those who have passed and still wander the earth. And when they come close to you, it is like ecstasy.”
“I guess I’m not the only crazy one in the room.”
“I have it on camera. You were talking to nothing and then you told the—” He leaned into his friend and asked him for the English equivalent of elders. His friend answered, and Samuel came back with, “Ancestors of town.”