“Evanna doesn’t talk much about vampires, except to complain about how you follow her around like dogs.”

Larten scowled at that but said nothing. He headed back inside but Arra blocked his way. “That’s my tent over there.” She nodded at one of the three small tents that stood next to Evanna’s. “If you have no pressing business, I’d like to talk with you and learn more about vampires.”

Larten arched a merry eyebrow.

“When I say talk, I mean talk,” Arra growled, reading his mind. “You tried to kiss me last night.”

“How did you respond?” Larten asked.

Arra smiled. “Let’s just say the next verse of your song began with, Nasty Arra Sails, she has a vicious tongue. ”

Larten managed a laugh, then followed Arra into her tent. Like Evanna’s, it was larger than it looked from the outside, though it was plainly decorated and Arra didn’t have many personal belongings. The pair sat on her bed — Arra making sure there was a discreet distance between them — and Larten spoke for a long time about his life, the clan and Vampire Mountain. Arra listened with silent interest to everything. It was only when he spoke about flitting that she interrupted.

“My mistress can flit too. And she can breathe out a gas to make people faint, although she rarely needs to. Do you think the vampires inherited their magic from Evanna or her father?”

“Have you met Desmond Tiny?” Larten asked.

“No. But I have heard of him through visitors like yourself.”

Larten had always taken the magical talents of the clan for granted, such as their longevity, strength and speed. But now that he thought about it, he realized that such gifts were mysterious. Had their supernatural talents developed naturally, or were they the work of a meddler with more power? Larten made a mental note to ask Seba later, though he had a feeling his master wouldn’t be able to answer the question either.