It cannot be, I think to myself and begin to panic, dreading the thought that Steven may have found the girl from last night near death in her apartment this morning. Possible actions run through my head, the easiest and least pleasing being to just pack up and leave the city. I take a hard look at Steven as a woman's voice comes in over the speakers, a different voice than last night.

I have to catch myself as her voice fills the room. She's a much more confident singer than the one from last night, moving fluidly and without hesitation through the song, hitting every note as though the song was written for her voice. Even more than that, the emotion in her voice is palpable. I begin to empathize with her as she sings for her far-away love to remember her, if I could still cry I might have shed a tear. The final bars of the song play out, her voice ringing like liquid silver as she hits the final high note, and the song ends.

I ease myself back into my chair, turn off the stereo, and breathe a heavy sigh. I don't need to read Steven's mind to know he is pleased with himself. My surprised face the final confirmation of his efforts. After a few moments I pull myself back together and get down to business.

"Who is she?" I ask him, now straight-faced.

"She's good isn't she?" He replies.

"That is not what I asked Steven," annunciating each word, "Who is she?"

He snickers to himself a little, "Alright Eddie," I hate when he calls me that but I let it go this time, "calm down. Her name is Isabella Swan; she's a twenty year old girl that just moved here from Arizona not even a month ago."

"Where did she learn to sing like that?" I ask him eagerly.

"I knew you'd like her, apparently she's just a natural. She told me she's been singing in a church choir for as long as she could remember and never had any real formal training." I turn my chair, facing the half-closed windows on the far wall and consider this interesting girl. "So, what do you say?"

I give him a sideways glance, trying to act less excited than I was, and after a long pause I ask him, "When can I meet her?" Steve does a small victory dance and starts rattling off information and possible dates and times we could meet up. Meanwhile, I begin to probe his mind. His surface thoughts are about money and possibilities with his new client, typical for an agent who is about to be signed to a label. I scan his thoughts a little longer and get what I'm looking for; a small glimpse of Isabella Swan.

I pick out a few dates and times that Steve suggested and tell him to compare those with James to see if any of those fit my schedule. He reaches out to shake my hand and I simply tell him to have a pleasant day. As he leaves the office I turn towards the windows again, reflecting on the voice and girl attached to it. Her striking brown hair, soft amber eyes, the light blush to her skin, beauty to match her voice. Just from her voice and the vision of her through Steven's mind, I could taste her, and it made me that much more eager to meet her.

I canceled the rest of my meetings for that day; some thick clouds have rolled in now so I decided to take this chance to retreat to one of my apartments for the rest of the daylight hours. I've been hunting the south side of Chicago for the past few weeks; it was time to change my grounds so I drove into downtown. I do prefer the downtown area; my BMW M6 looks less conspicuous with tall office buildings around. I pull onto the street with my apartment and park in the building's garage.

This is my favorite area for another reason: my apartment is on the very top floor, giving me access to the roof. Since it's above the other residential buildings in the area I can stand on the roof and take in the scents around me much easier and without attracting too much attention. Its dusk now, a few more hours and then I can start hunting, I turn on my stereo and sit in one of my leather chairs facing the windows and watch the sun set.