I’m not painting or running the store downstairs.”
“But way back then, I mean—”
“I suppose, if the attack came before dawn.”
“I see.”
“And of course some people always feared us, believed we were cursed, the walking dead, and so on. But back to the story. The lord in his castle was probably most typical of his day. Remember, this is the Dark Ages. A man’s worth was measured in how many slaves he had, how many people he killed, how many weapons he owned. And now, he thought about this. ‘A vampire, loose in my forest. I must have it.’”
“Have it?”
“Yes, own him. Like a very expensive hound, or a new kind of war horse, he wanted to own him, control him, keep him, like a domesticated animal. But how? In what way could he be contained?”
“Damn it, I blew it,” Martin growled out loud. He struggled to unlock his door. It was stuck again. He kept trying to remember to oil it. “Damn it.”
“If you are so sure we have something to do with it, then why don’t you let one of us help you?”
“What the?”
It was her. Alexandra. She was standing at the dark end of the hallway. She must have left work early after Irina had one of her people quickly escort him back out. None of them would cooperate now. Or would they?
“I said—”
“Why the hell would any of you want to help me with this?”
She drifted quietly forward out of the darkness, coming uncomfortably close to him and into the light. Her pale blue eyes seemed to almost glow under the brightness of the lamp that hung from the ceiling. He flinched, looked away. It was too eerie to look at, and dangerous, maybe.
“Because I don’t believe it could be any of us, that’s why. I want you to find the real killer, that’s why! Don’t you realize how many people there are, out there, who like to pretend?”
“What the hell do you mean?”
“They play make believe. They want to be like us, some of them even believe it. Sometimes they commit terrible crimes, to prove it to themselves.”
“Wanna talk?” Dear God, I can’t lose it again.
“When?”
“Right now,” damn it. He almost said the words damn it but he shut his mouth. He felt uncomfortable swearing around a woman, and he was especially uncomfortable around her.
Martin went inside and paid the babysitter. He gave her an extra ten dollars because he was late, then went to check on Jennifer. She was soundly asleep with her pink bear. He wanted to come into her room and kiss her but it would wake her up. He shut the door.
Alexandra knocked on his door minutes later and he let her in. He didn’t bother to offer her anything. She sat at the kitchen table across from him.
“So,” he began nervously, “What can you tell me?”
She shrugged. “What do you want to know?”
“I dunno. Tell me about these people, these wanna-be’s.” A decent place to start, he figured. “Know any?”
“Not personally. But I’ve heard about them. How was this person killed?”
“Beaten to death.” He got up to get himself a beer from the fridge.
“So, then why would you think it’s one of us?”
“The poor idiot’s neck was all chewed up, that’s why. Ripped right through the skin, right into the muscle tissue.”
“Why would any of us do that?”
“Oh come on.” He sat down again. “You’re the expert. You tell me.”
“Okay. Suppose, just suppose, one of us did do this. Why chew him up? It is a complete and total waste of time. We just do not chew on people.” She emphasized the word not.
“Huh? So you can tear him up to get in at the blood.”
“But why bother to tear him up? It isn’t necessary. It takes no effort at all to puncture the flesh on the throat, no effort. You just do not realize how razor sharp my teeth are Martin.”
He shivered. She noticed.
“Don’t worry. I won’t prove it to you. Although I could do it on my own wrist just to show you how easy it is, and that it’s mostly painless. But I know you wouldn’t like
“But way back then, I mean—”
“I suppose, if the attack came before dawn.”
“I see.”
“And of course some people always feared us, believed we were cursed, the walking dead, and so on. But back to the story. The lord in his castle was probably most typical of his day. Remember, this is the Dark Ages. A man’s worth was measured in how many slaves he had, how many people he killed, how many weapons he owned. And now, he thought about this. ‘A vampire, loose in my forest. I must have it.’”
“Have it?”
“Yes, own him. Like a very expensive hound, or a new kind of war horse, he wanted to own him, control him, keep him, like a domesticated animal. But how? In what way could he be contained?”
“Damn it, I blew it,” Martin growled out loud. He struggled to unlock his door. It was stuck again. He kept trying to remember to oil it. “Damn it.”
“If you are so sure we have something to do with it, then why don’t you let one of us help you?”
“What the?”
It was her. Alexandra. She was standing at the dark end of the hallway. She must have left work early after Irina had one of her people quickly escort him back out. None of them would cooperate now. Or would they?
“I said—”
“Why the hell would any of you want to help me with this?”
She drifted quietly forward out of the darkness, coming uncomfortably close to him and into the light. Her pale blue eyes seemed to almost glow under the brightness of the lamp that hung from the ceiling. He flinched, looked away. It was too eerie to look at, and dangerous, maybe.
“Because I don’t believe it could be any of us, that’s why. I want you to find the real killer, that’s why! Don’t you realize how many people there are, out there, who like to pretend?”
“What the hell do you mean?”
“They play make believe. They want to be like us, some of them even believe it. Sometimes they commit terrible crimes, to prove it to themselves.”
“Wanna talk?” Dear God, I can’t lose it again.
“When?”
“Right now,” damn it. He almost said the words damn it but he shut his mouth. He felt uncomfortable swearing around a woman, and he was especially uncomfortable around her.
Martin went inside and paid the babysitter. He gave her an extra ten dollars because he was late, then went to check on Jennifer. She was soundly asleep with her pink bear. He wanted to come into her room and kiss her but it would wake her up. He shut the door.
Alexandra knocked on his door minutes later and he let her in. He didn’t bother to offer her anything. She sat at the kitchen table across from him.
“So,” he began nervously, “What can you tell me?”
She shrugged. “What do you want to know?”
“I dunno. Tell me about these people, these wanna-be’s.” A decent place to start, he figured. “Know any?”
“Not personally. But I’ve heard about them. How was this person killed?”
“Beaten to death.” He got up to get himself a beer from the fridge.
“So, then why would you think it’s one of us?”
“The poor idiot’s neck was all chewed up, that’s why. Ripped right through the skin, right into the muscle tissue.”
“Why would any of us do that?”
“Oh come on.” He sat down again. “You’re the expert. You tell me.”
“Okay. Suppose, just suppose, one of us did do this. Why chew him up? It is a complete and total waste of time. We just do not chew on people.” She emphasized the word not.
“Huh? So you can tear him up to get in at the blood.”
“But why bother to tear him up? It isn’t necessary. It takes no effort at all to puncture the flesh on the throat, no effort. You just do not realize how razor sharp my teeth are Martin.”
He shivered. She noticed.
“Don’t worry. I won’t prove it to you. Although I could do it on my own wrist just to show you how easy it is, and that it’s mostly painless. But I know you wouldn’t like
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