"I live with my brother," I say.
"The guy back at the bar?"
"Yeah."
"He doesn't look like your brother." There is a bite to his remark. For some reason, Seymour is still very much on this guy's mind. Why?
"We had different fathers," I say, and my own hand brushes against the knife I wear in my belt beneath my black leather coat. Nowadays, I can kill a man at better than a mile with my trusty blade. Even good old Eddie Fender, a psychopath if ever there was one, would be useless against my new and improved reflexes.
Dan snorts. "I never knew my father."
That is one truth in a string of lies.
There is a warehouse at the end of the block, a shabby affair built to house dirty equipment and sweaty workers. Using a key, he opens the door and we go inside. The warehouse is chock full of shelves of metal gear, the nuts and bolts of larger pieces of machinery. There is a pronounced smell of diesel fuel. The yellow lights, coated in grime, are few and far away. The shadows seem to shift as Dan turns toward me. If he reaches for his weapon, I will put a foot in his heart. Already, I think, I should kill him. Yet I want to know why he has brought me to this place, who the other is. Even though I reach out with my mind, I sense no one else in the building. He studies me in the poor light.
"Are you really an artist?" he asks. His curiosity is genuine, as is his continuing fear. He wants the other to arrive soon, so he can return to the streets.
"No," I say, "I lied."
My remark unsettles him. He thinks about his weaponthe small something in his coat pocket. He shifts uneasily.
"What are you then?" he asks.
"A vampire," I say.
He smiles, a lopsided affair. "No shit."
"Yeah. It's true." Still staring at him, I begin to move around him. He feels my eyesIlet the fire enter them, sparks of pressure. Sweat appears on his forehead and I continue. "I am a five-thousand-year-old vampire. And you are a murderer."
His upper lip twists. "What are you talking about?"
"You, Dan, your private occupation. Because I'm a vampire, I can read your mind. I know about the two girls you killed, how you strangled them and then ate a big red steak afterward. Killing makes you hungrythat's one of the reasons you do it. That's opposite of me. I kill to satisfy my hunger." I reach out and finger the sleeve of his shirt. "I'm thinking of killing you."
He brushes my hand away. Yet he doesn't go for his gun. Someone has warned him that could be fatal. "You're insane," he says angrily.
I laugh softly. "You don't mean that, Dan. Someone told you I was different so you're not completely surprised by what I say. I want to know about that someone. If you tell me now, tell me everything you know, I might let you live." Once more I reach out. This time I touch his left ear, but before he can swat my hand away, I pinch it. Rather hard, I think. He is in pain. "Talk," I say softly.
"Stop," he pleads, as I force him to bend over.
"Just a slight tug of my hand," I say, "and your ear will separate from your head. I am very strong. So talk to me, while you still can. Who is to meet me here?"
"I don't know." He squeals as I twist his ear. "I don't know!"
"Tell me what you do know."
He gasps for air. "She is just someone I know. She came to me after I killed the first girl. She said I could work for her. She gave me money. Please, you're hurting me. Let me go!"
I shake him hard. "What is so special about her? Why didn't you just kill her and take her money?"
Red appears on the left side of his head. His ear is coming loose. He tries to straighten up and I force him back down.
"Her eyes," he cries. "She has strange eyes."
I pause, and then let him go. He is bleeding badly now.
"What is strange about her eyes?" I ask quietly.
He holds his hand to his ear, panting. "They're like yours," he says bitterly.
"Is she a vampire?" I ask.
He shakes his aching head. "I don't know what she is." He takes his hand away; it is soaked in blood. "Oh God."
I frown. "Does she have exceptional strength?"
The blood continuesto drip from his ear onto his blue shirt. "I don't know. She never hurt me like you just did."
"When is she coming here?" I demand.
"She should be here now."
There is a sound off to my right, deeper in the warehouse. As I whirl to confront it, I also reach into Dan's coat pocket and remove his weapon. It is not something I can use to protect myself, not without study. It is a small rectangle of metal, with buttons on the side. Really, it looks like some sci-fi creation to defeat alien monsters.