“He’s here.”

“Is he? Where? Let me see.”

The air moved behind me as Magda hurried over to peer around me. “Are you sure that’s him?”

I nudged aside the heavy blue tweed curtain, creating an infinitesimally small gap between curtain and window that allowed me to eye the man who stood on my front step. “It has to be. Just look at him.”

“I would if you moved your hand . . . Ah.” Magda had what I thought of as an opera singer’s voice, rich in timbre, and with a Spanish accent that managed to be simultaneously charming and sultry. “Well, it’s true he is wearing dark glasses. But lots of people wear those.”

“At night?” I asked.

She pursed her lips. “He doesn’t have long hair like Alec had.”

“No, but he’s got a widow’s peak. That screams vampire. So does the fedora he’s holding.”

“Bah. It’s just a hat.”

I pointed. “That is not just a hat. It’s leather and stylish, and all the vamps I’ve seen have worn something similar.”

“Hrmph. Lots of men wear hats like that. And long dusters.”

“Oh, come on! Who do you know who dresses like something out of a European male model’s agent portfolio, wears dark glasses and a hat, and positively reeks of sexy, smoldering danger?”

“Well . . .” Her face screwed up for a moment while she thought. “I just don’t know. Are you sure that’s the messenger?”

“Positive.”

“Hmm.” Magda’s chin rested on my shoulder as we huddled behind the curtain. “He could be a religious person trying to convert you. Or someone who ran out of gas and needs to use your phone. Or maybe he’s a spirit, and is lost, and needs you to help him find that place the spirits call heaven.”