The Drinker of Blood

Chapter Two

My confession earned me a laugh, one far more charming and musical than I'd anticipated. I felt something stir inside me, a familiar thing that I had to tamp back down—maybe candor wasn't such a good idea. But I'd been on this particular vendetta for decades. Why not try a little happiness? Life had to be about more than retribution. Otherwise, was it truly life?

In fact, this could be fun, especially since Freya's laughter was followed by a theatric craning of her neck as she looked skyward. "You have an awfully good tan for a vampire."

"Just one of the many lies storytellers feed us," I replied. "We don't burst into flames in the sun, or anything even close. In fact, I love the sun."

"I can tell." She flicked her gaze down the length of my bare right arm. A faint huskiness entered her voice. "You have the most flawless skin."

"Freya," I said in feigned disbelief, "you shameless coquette."

It was a thing I'd had many years to ponder, but for me this was the best thing about being a woman, even a tall gawky thing such as myself. Women never saw another woman as a physical threat. If I were of a mind, I could feast on women's blood forever and a day, and never a one would see me coming. But, then again, men saw me as even less of a threat than women did. Poor things.

"I'm not hitting on you," she said with a smile. And she added, as if to change the subject, "You just don't look like a vampire."

"You mean I don't sparkle or look like a goth girl?"

She barked an inelegant laugh, one that she made sound sweet. "Well, no. But aren't you all pale and hungry looking?"

"Most of us are a bit on the pale side," I admitted. "My kind are terrified to be out-and-about in daylight."

"Oh, stop. You just said ...." She clearly was enjoying what she thought to be a grand joke on my part. I continued.

"The sun doesn't harm us. Not at all. But during daylight, we're just like normal folks ... more or less. Most vampires are scared pissless to walk around like a normal person in the daylight."

It was true. With the rarest of exception, others of my kind locked themselves up during the day, often behind high walls and armed guards, as scared of the daylight as some ancient villager might be of the bogies in the night. What creature could live such a contemptible life?

"Okay," she said, her smile widening. By that time, some drinks I'd ordered had arrived, and she lay down her pencil and took a sip of the tall cocktail before her. "What happens at night?"

"Oh, chaos," I said with mock severity. "Let loose the dogs of war."

"Stop teasing," she squawked.

"No. I get stronger as the sun sets. It comes so sudden that it sometimes takes my breath away. That's when I'm at my most dangerous. Because it's when my hunger hits its peak."

"Your lust for blood?" She really was being a good sport. "I always wondered. How many humans does a vampire need to survive? ... I mean, a sample population."

"Not a one," I said.

"What? You mean ... you're a vampire who doesn't ...."

"No, I do drink human blood. Just not often. And I don't need it. None of us do."

She pulled her sketch pad to her chest, obviously caught up in my story. "Wait, wait, wait. If vampires don't drink blood. How do they get their powers? And what are your powers?"

"You mean, can I turn into a bat?"

She smiled her answer.

"No."