him more than how she’d attacked Rider.
Joe remained by the door, unsure of how to begin. She studied his face for a moment. “Guess we have a deal, Doctor.”
He took out his notebook and took a seat. “I want you to tell me whatever you can, without embellishment, pertinent information on your behavior, without the sensationalism of your journal.”
She laughed. “Vampire stories have to be sensational or they aren’t much fun. It’s a full-blown Gothic tale with dark corners and mysterious strangers. I’m afraid it’s the only way I know.”
“Be serious, I’m trying to help you.”
“A girl can’t survive in my racket if she’s too serious. My modus operandi is to amuse. Two things at which I’m very accomplished— one is a witty turn of phrase— the other I’ll leave to the imagination. I know you have an active imagination.”
“Just answer my questions and I won’t bother you any more.”
“But I find you so nice to look at.” The dark eyes gave him the once over, rosebud mouth parting slightly in a smile. “You don’t like when I compliment you?”
A little stab started behind his eyes. “Just call me Joe. If we’re going to work together, we should be on a first name basis. Don’t you think so, Mia?”
The doll’s mask became an evil pixie’s. “You’re right, Youssef. That is your real name?”
“Yes, Maria— that’s your real name?”
“Demons in our past we’d rather forget. Yours hail from Teheran, apparently.”
“I was born there. How did you know?”
She settled in the armchair, drawing her legs under her in a little girl pose, like some centerfold. If this wasn’t a demon from hell what was? All innocence, the prim little flower mouth, and eyes kind of lost and bewildered— it was an illusion. This thing was malignant.
“Dr. Youssef Ansari, creator of The Enigma, a revolutionary new kind of PET scan, the man who holds the key to the soul, so they say. I do my homework. Don’t worry, your secrets are safe with me.”
“I’d like to start with a few simple questions I jotted down in regard to what I read in your notebook.” He removed the notes from his pocket. “You were very badly beaten that night?”
“You would ask.”
“Not personal details— just curious about the healing process of your body. Wounds heal fast?”
She shrugged. “Depends on how severe.”
“What was the most severe injury you’ve sustained?”
“Physically or spiritually?”
“Physically, of course.”
“Took a bullet in the shoulder. Took about a week to heal completely. Blood vessels closed off right away, but the hole was there awhile.”
“Did it hurt?”
She looked at him. “Of course. I feel pain.”
“I see.” He wrote this fact down then looked up again. “So after a severe beating you were able to regain consciousness in a very short time, but it left you struggling and in need of… uh… nourishment?”
“Blood?” She sneered. “Go on, you’re dying to ask. Who was he?”
“I’m not trying to dissect your personal experiences but I did wonder. It wasn’t Kurt?”
“Kurt? No. My master.”
“Master? He changed you?”
“That’s a whole other story.”
Joe abruptly changed subject. “Do you normally feel cold that intensely?”
“Not like mortals— but it was below zero and I’d lost a lot of blood. When he dumped me into that alley he sucked back a lot of what he’d given thirty-six years before. If he’d taken more I wouldn’t have regained consciousness— just lain there until morning and hasta la vista baby. He wanted me to suffer before fate took care of me.”
Joe leaned forward. “Fate?”
“Survival is tricky. Consider the practicalities doctor. It’s vital I have a roof over my head at sunrise. I require clothes on my back. I need real food too— not just blood. So, I need money. Manhattan isn’t cheap. Ever tried to rent an apartment without identification or a bank account? No birth certificate, no driver’s license or social security card. Legally speaking, I didn’t exist. But that’s just the easy stuff. I also require additional nourishment every week to ten days. That’s a lot of corpses to get rid of. I have to dig shallow graves, dump them into rivers or cut them up into little pieces, all without being seen. Wouldn’t do to have New York’s finest snooping around. Still— that’s not the worst of it. Imagine a lone woman in the ancient world, no man to protect her— I’m fair game. I had to deal with my own kind and that’s always a delicate situation.”
“I don’t understand.”
“A girl on her own among that band of perverts and miscreants? Think