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That's the famous vampire Helgarson you're riding with, isn't it? Is he fond of lattes?"
"I don't know." I looked over at Leif, who was grinning-he was hearing both sides of the conversation, of course-and said, "Malina wants to know if you like lattes, and I want to know if you're famous."
"No to both," he said, as we screamed onto the 202 on-ramp.
"Sorry, Malina," I said to the phone. "He's not famous."
"Perhaps it would be better to call infamous. It is irrelevant at this point. What is relevant is that my sisters and I are not great warriors. Were the odds even and they did not cheat with modern weapons, I would say, yes, we could walk in and win a magical battle against most opponents. But we are outnumbered more than three to one."
"How many are there?"
"Twenty-two. Some of them have firearms, but they are not great warriors either. And while they may be expecting you, Mr. O'Sullivan, they will not be expecting Mr. Helgarson to get involved. I imagine the two of you together will be quite formidable."
"She's complimenting our martial prowess, Leif," I said to him.
"I feel more manly already," He said. The short distance on the 202 was already covered and we were merging onto the southbound 101.
"Hey, Malina, tell me how much you want to see us play with our swords.
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