shoulders, her fingers toying with the key to her cab. "Okay, I guess," she replied blandly.
"You disappeared the other night. I was worried."
Another shrug of the shoulders. "I just needed to be alone. That's all."
I touched her lightly on the shoulder. She trembled slightly at my touch. "If you need to talk - "
"No." Her voice rose, then fell. "No. That's okay. I'm fine. Really." Animation returned to her face. "We're on for Saturday?"
"If you so desire."
She nodded vigorously and smiled, much as she usually did, but her expression was just the slightest bit crooked, a tiny fissure shattering her veneer, revealing that something - something undeterminable - lurked underneath.
We parted, then quickly I was assigned a call at the Glenway Golf Course, a mere stone's throw from the cemetery. The man in unmatched plaid, with golf shoes slung over his shoulder, was a perspiring mess of impatience.
"What the hell took you so long? I've been waiting for forty-five minutes."
"I was at a funeral." And that was all I said. No apologies, no explanations. And not anything resembling a pleasant tone in my voice.
****
"I want to watch you feed." Those were Nicole's first words when I had arrived to pick her up Saturday. None of the normal platitudes or greetings, just this strange request, a slight agitation tainting her enthusiasm.
"You cannot be serious." But it seemed quite apparent by the sly smile on her face that she was, and it also seemed quite obvious that resistance would be futile; I simply could refuse her nothing, and surely she knew this.
Nicole took my hand and squeezed it as we walked to my car. Saturday night and we had not yet decided how to spend our evening. Would it be a movie? Or a long walk? Anything of her deciding would be satisfactory to me.
"I'm serious, Al," Nicole said. "I want to know more about you. I want to watch you feed."
We leaned against myToyota , the steel skin cool and damp from the condensation of this warm May evening. The stench of rank, decaying aquatic vegetation hung in the air, wafting fromLakeMendota across the street.
"But you have seen me feed."
She slapped me lightly on the arm. "Yeah, but that's not the same. I've seen Al Farkus, vampire lover, but I want to see Al Farkus, heartless, vicious, savage predator. I want to see you as you really are, not the guise you wear when you pretend to be human."
Her hyperbole drew laughter from me. "What I am is many things, sometimes savage, sometimes sublime."
"But always humble." She slapped my arm again, then gently rubbed my shoulder and kissed my cheek. "Please. You're not getting all the food you need from me. I know you're feeding somewhere else. Let me watch."
I groaned inwardly. My taking of sustenance is a deeply personal matter. Even though my trust for her ran quite strongly, even though she had done much to earn my trust, the request simply felt remarkably bizarre. However, it seemed there was little choice in this particular matter, despite my protests that this was dangerous, especially considering the heightened tension all over the city, which had only become worse since Truck's murder. People did indeed leave their abodes, but not alone or even in pairs. All over the downtown and campus areas, the citizenry seemed to travel in packs.
Instead of discussing the matter further, I walked around to the passenger side, opened the door and ushered her inside. "State Streeton a Saturday night is always a fertile hunting ground." Better to get this over with, it seemed, or else I would never hear the end of it.
"I'll bet." Nicole smiled broadly as we drove uptown.
We parked onFrances Street , right offUniversity Avenue , in front of the Red Shed and around the corner from the 602 Club. Together, we cut through the alley between the two bars.
"This is the 604 Club," Nicole said.
"Excuse me."
She laughed quietly. "An informal annex of the 602. As Tate, the bartender puts it, this is where people go to smoke 'them left-handed cigarettes.'"
"Marijuana?" I whispered.
She nodded as the alley opened to a small, wooded lot, with the back door of Genna's Lounge on one side and the loading dock for Pizza Pit on the other. Beyond the lot, lay a sidewalk running fromUniversity Avenue toState Street , between two parking ramps.
"Wait here," I said, pointing toward the interior of the Frances Street Ramp. "Stay out of sight. This will take none but a moment."