"Make a story out of it, Ann."

"Charlie, this guy's obviously some moron. If he actually believes what he's saying, he must be off his meds. And don't call me on my cell, you know I hate that." She'd pulled over in order to take the call. Ann never drove while talking on the phone. It was one of her rules. "Anyway, I'm on my way to Port Vincent, remember? You're the one who wanted me to talk to that UFO guy."

"So you'll talk to the UFO guy tomorrow. We haven't had a vampire article in ages."

"He spells it with a capital V, and a y. I'm surprised he didn't throw in a couple of hs and an umlaut while he was at it."

"Just do it." He gave her the address to meet up with her latest interviewee.

A motel room. Of course it would be a motel room. Once more, Ann realized that the greatest weakness of cell phones is that you can't slam them down with any satisfaction.




The room was dim, lit more by the glare of the neon outside the window than the aging lamp in the corner. Why did guys like this always want to meet up in dank, squalid little rooms? Why not a diner or something? At least that would smell better.

"So, how is it you came to be... as you put it... a Soul Vampyre?" Her voice was flat, almost detached. Ann had heard all sorts of stories in the interviews she did for her column. FRINGE made FATE look like THE SKEPTICAL INQUIRER. Guys like this were the reason why.

Lord Maximillian Incarnadine gave her his best indulgent smile. His black lipstick was only slightly smudged.

"I was of course different from birth. In my earliest childhood I could sense it. Others could too. Nobody was comfortable in my presence, even when I was small...." His pause was as calculated as his words, and probably as rehearsed.


Ann noted the powdery white make-up rubbing off on the collar of his black velvet shirt. "When did you start drinking blood?"


"It started small, of course. Licking up the drops of blood that would fall whenever I cut myself. When I was eleven years old I found a bird with a broken wing. I was.... enthralled by the sight of its pulse beating in its small throat. Before I knew it I had bitten into its neck and was sucking out its blood."


"Did you do this often.... kill small animals to drink their blood?" She fought back a yawn.

"Only a few times. I realized, you see, that it wasn't the blood itself I needed, but what it symbolized. The life force, the true inner essence! Once I understood what I truly needed I knew that no animal could give me what I needed." His fingers twitched in his lap. "It had to be human, you see? I got in trouble at school for hanging around the nurse's office. I would steal bloody bandages out of the garbage, you see. Suck on them."


The only sound from Ann was the scratch of her pen on the notebook. She tried to keep the joke about what Dracula uses for teabags out of her head.


"It got easier when I got older. I met some people who understood, you see? Some of them knew more than I did. They told me where to go to meet girls who liked it, liked having their blood sucked. I learned how much stronger the essence is in blood that's given freely." He raised his eyes to meet hers. "I don't do guys. I'm not, I mean... I only bite girls."

Ann wondered if he ever had any trouble with getting mascara on his green contacts. "Do you need a lot of blood? Have you killed many people?"

He rose from his chair and began to pace. "Those are all slanders, misrepresentations. Most blood tests need more blood than I do. It is the life behind it, the act of surrender, that feeds me." He gave her his most enticing grin. "Won't you let me show you?"


Ann peered up at him over the rims of her glasses. "It... you aren't going to hurt me, are you?"

His grin widened as he took a utility knife out of his pocket. "Only a little pinch, sweetheart..." He pushed up the sleeve of her sweater and cut a narrow gash on her bicep.

Fastening his lips around the small wound, his eyes widened, his whole body stiffening. Ann laughed softly at the astonished look on his face. There was power in blood all right. 'Lord Maximillian Incarnadine' just had it the wrong way around.

"Okay, that's enough." Ann pulled her arm away. The inch-long cut had already vanished. No blood remained to stain the sleeve of her yellow sweater. "I'll give you a couple of hours to nap, and once I've tracked down some dinner, you're driving me to Port Vincent. Some damn fool thinks a UFO crashed in his living room."


The voice-activated tape recorder in her pocket had gotten the conversation, of course. Her inscription in the notebook was brief.


BLACK VELVET SHIRT: $39
MATTE WHITE PRESSED POWDER- $6
THE LOOK ON A WANNABE'S FACE WHEN HE MEETS THE REAL THING- Priceless.