"I know. But witches are human, Sam. We live and die and make babies."
"I can make other vampires. Does that count?"
"Nope."
"Well, I can die, too."
"I know, Sam. But your death is... different."
I nodded. "There are some who say we cease to exist."
"By some, do you mean Fang?"
"Fang knows his stuff."
"Fang's a little too creepy for me."
"So says the witch who melted the rubber off the crunch machine."
"You had that coming, missy. Be glad I didn't melt off the tip of your nose, too."
"You're kinda badass for someone so needy."
"Jesus, will you quit saying I'm needy. I like you, dammit. And I like being your friend. Is that so needy?"
"Maybe I never had a friend like you."
"Well, friends can be needy. Get used to it."
"Am I needy?" I asked.
"Not often. But you will be, someday. And if so, I will be there for you."
"Jesus, are you trying to make me cry?" I said.
"Did it work?"
"No."
"Dammit."
"Back to the dying thing," I said. "Can you make heads or tails of it? I mean, why wouldn't I go to heaven, or even hell? Why would I cease to exist if, as they say, the soul is immortal?"
"I don't know, Sam. Is there someone you can ask?"
I thought about that. I doubted any of my mortal or immortal friends would have the answers. Ishmael, my one-time fallen angel, might have a clue. Then again, there was always-
"Automatic writing," Allison and I said together.
The juice bar was tucked away down a side hall, which gave us some privacy. I'd already commanded the juice bar girl to forget anything she might overhear between Allison and me.
"You know that would be a great title: The Ghost in the Hallway."
"That was random," I said.
"I was thinking about your case. Hey, maybe I should write it. Do you think I would be a good writer?"
"Yes."
"Really?"
"Probably not."
"Such a bitch."
I chuckled at that. Truth was, one never knew who might be a writer... much less a good one. I would never have pegged Charlie Reed to be one of the better ones, and yet his book had been so rich, so beautiful, so alive...
"Oh, I want to read this book!" said Allison.
"Join the club. It's not finished. I'm not finished with it either. Still have a few hundred pages to read."
"And it's a fantasy?"
"Yup."
"Like a sex fantasy?"
I shook my head. "Sword and sorcery."
"I'm not really into that."
"You like Game of Thrones?"
"I love Game of Thrones-oh wait."
"Bingo," I said.
"It's like that?" she asked.
"Better."
"Okay, now I really have to read this book!"
"Get in line, sister. Meanwhile-"
"Meanwhile, you want my impressions of the ghost, too."
"I do, yes. And why are you smiling?"
"I just love when you need me."
"Oh, brother."
Allison grinned and closed her eyes, no doubt probing the crap out of my mind. Her own mind was permanently closed to mine, as one of the witches in her triad considered me-or, rather, vampires-to be their enemy. And she might have a point. The demon bitch inside me was very much their enemy. She was, quite, frankly, everyone's enemy, which is why I did all I could to bottle her up, especially since Elizabeth herself could hear and see everything I could hear and see. She was dangerous if ever let loose. And each day, while I slept, she was let loose, slipping out of my physical form to join her fellow dark masters... somewhere. Where, exactly, I didn't know. But it was another world, I think. A parallel world, perhaps.
"Your mind is busy, Sam."
"Ya think?"
"Okay, I found her. Yes, she is beautiful. Wow. And that nightgown. It's old, Sam. Real old."
"How old?"
"Medieval maybe. Either way, her dress isn't from around here. And probably not from this time, either."
"Maybe she was killed at a renaissance faire or something?" I asked.
"Maybe."
"But that doesn't really explain her unreal appearance."
"Jealous much, Sam?"
"I'm not jealous. Did you have a look at her eyes, her mouth, those long legs?"
"I did, Sam, and she's beautiful."
"Don't you think they are just, I dunno, a smidge off?"
"Maybe. Maybe not. I am only getting, at best, a now slightly blurry memory from you. Hell, even you are beginning to doubt your own memory of her."