Sinclair shook his head. “No, I haven’t been spying on you Kemp. I happened to be on my way home one night when I saw you dealing with a vampyre. It was interesting to watch. You’re quite skilled for one so young. I’ve pretty much assumed, after that, that you must be a dhampir.”
Kemp looked at him, puzzled. “Why didn’t you say something?”
“It’s really none of my business as long as it doesn’t affect the club. But, having seen that, I had to wonder why you were hanging out with Mr. Rikard’s Child because you had to know what he was.”
Springing to his feet Kemp started to grab Sinclair’s arm, barely restraining himself as he said excitedly, “You know Owen? Do you know where he is?”
“Ahh, now we get to meat of your problem I think. No I don’t know him, although I met him once very briefly. I just know that Rikard is the young man’s Sire. As to where Owen is—or Rikard for that matter—I have no idea. I met Rikard a few years ago through a mutual friend. I’ve been known to befriend the occasional vampyre when they’ve needed help or a place to go to ground during the day when they’ve stayed out too long and couldn’t get home before sunrise. And don’t ask why, it’s a long story that I might tell you some other time.” Sinclair paused for a moment before continuing.
“Anyway, as I was saying, I met Rikard and we became if not friends, at least acquaintances. He’d stop in here on occasion or we’d meet for a late supper if he was in the neighborhood. He’s an interesting man, very forceful and very, very slow to trust, for obvious reasons. After a time I saw less and less of him. Then one evening about a year and a half ago I ran into him. He had a young man with him. Your friend Owen. We talked for a bit before he said he had to get going because he was teaching his Child the ways of the vampyre and how to safely feed without calling attention to himself. I took that to mean that Owen was freshly turned.”
Kemp nodded. “He told me when we met that it had only been six months or so. You don’t know where they live?”
“I’m sorry but no I don’t. Rikard was, quite naturally, very closed-mouthed about that. After all, I may have met him through a friend but I am a ‘mere’ human, at least in his eyes. Therefore there were some things he was unwilling to tell me.”
“I don’t suppose this friend of yours would know, would he?”
“He might, but as he’s a vampyre too I’m not all that certain he’d be willing to tell me unless there was a compelling reason to.” Sinclair replied, watching Kemp.
Kemp dropped his eyes, staring at the carpet before looking back at Sinclair. “Would he consider love a good enough reason?”