have your advantage. He didn't have a gun. As a matter of fact, there were no guns in those days." I pause and my eyes must be so big to him. Bigger than moons that burn with primordial volcanoes. "Do you know what he said as my fingers went around his throat?"
Gary, trembling, cocks the hammer on his revolver. "You are evil," he whispers.
"Close." Lashing out with my left foot, I kick the gun out of his hand. Much to his dismay it goes skidding down the block. I continue in a sweet voice, "What he said was, 'You are a witch.' You see, they believed in witches in those days." Slowly, deliberate?ly, I reach over and grab my pale white victim by the collar and pull him toward me. "Do you believe in witches, Gary?"
He is a mask of fear, a bodysuit of twitches. "No," he mumbles.
I grin and lick his throat. "Do you believe in vampires?"
Incredibly he starts to cry. "No."
"There, there," I say as I stroke his head. "You must believe in something scary or you wouldn't be so upset Tell me, what kind of monster do you think I am?"
"Please let me go."
I shake my head sadly. "I'm afraid I can't do that, even though you did say please. Your fellow cops are just around the block. If I let you go, you'll run to them and tell them that I'm a prostitute who carries a concealed weapon. By the way, that wasn't a very flattering description. No one has ever paid me for sex, at least not with money." I choke him a little. "But they have paid me with their blood." His tears are a river. "Oh, God." I nod. "You go right ahead and pray to God. This might surprise you, but I met him once. He probably wouldn't approve of the torture I'm putting you through, but since he let me live, he must have known I would eventually meet you and kill you. Anyway, since he just killed my lover, I don't know if I care what he thinks." I scratch Gary with my thumbnail, and he begins to bleed. The red liquid sinks into his clean starched shirt collar like a line of angry graffiti. Leaning toward his neck, I open my mouth. "I am going to enjoy this," I mutter.
He clenches his eyes shut and cries, "I have a girlfriend!"
I pause. "Gary," I say patiently. "The line is 'I have a wife and two children.' Sometimes I listen to such pleas. Sometimes not The French nobleman had ten kids, but since he had three wives at the same time, I was not inclined to be lenient" His blood smells good, especially after my hard day and night, but something holds me at bay. "How long have you known this girl?" I ask.
"Six months."
"Do you love her?"
"Yes."
"What's her name?"
He opens his eyes and peers at me. "Lori."
I smile. "Does she believe in vampires?"
"Lori believes in everything."
I have to laugh. "Then you must make such a pair! Listen, Gary, this is your lucky night. I am going to drink some of your blood, just until you pass out, but I promise you that I won't let you die. How does that sound?"
He doesn't exactly relax. I suppose he's had better offers in his days. "Are you really a vampire?" he asks.
"Yes. But you don't want to go telling your fellow cops that. You'll lose your job-and maybe your girlfriend, too. Just tell them some punk stole your car when you weren't watching. That's what I'm going to do as soon as you black out. Trust me, I need it." I squeeze him a little just to let him know I am still a strong little bitch. "Does this sound fair?"
He begins to see he has no choice in the matter. "Will it hurt?"
"Yes, but it will be a good hurt, Gary."
With that I open his veins farther and close my hungry lips over his flesh. I am, after all, in a terrible hurry. But only as I drink do I realize that his having a girlfriend has nothing to do with my letting him live. For the first time in my life the blood does not satisfy me. Just the feel of it in my mouth, the smell of it in my nostrils, revolts me. I do not kill him because I am tired of killing-finally. My prattle with the cops was a diversion for myself. The weight of knowing that