said.
“Just as
well,” Blackwell said. “They are terrible for you. That is of less importance
to me, of course.”
“Vampires
don’t get cancer?” That question had never occurred to Oliver before. Nor had
it occurred to any rational person, ever, he thought.
“Of
course not,” Blackwell said, looking at Oliver like he was an idiot.
“Yeah,”
Oliver nodded, sipping his wine. It really was excellent. He wondered if
Blackwell would offer him another glass.
“So,”
the other man said. “Tell me, Mr. Jones, why do the lizards want you dead?”
Oliver
didn’t know where to start. “I really don’t know,” he finally admitted. “This
has been the craziest day of my life.”
“You
must have done something to upset them, did you not?”
“I’d
never even seen one of them before tonight,” Oliver said. “A…a Kalatari .
I’d never even heard that word before. This time yesterday I wouldn’t have
believed they even existed.”
“That
must be frustrating for you,” Blackwell noted sympathetically.
“I’m
just a regular guy,” Oliver said. “I’m a stock analyst. I look at spreadsheets.
I write reports. The truth is I’m incredibly boring.”
“I
don’t think that’s boring,” Blackwell said. “Analysis paid for everything you
see in this house.” Oliver saw Maria smirk. “Well,” Blackwell said, catching
her eye, “analysis, and just a bit of ruthlessness.”
Oliver
drank more of his wine, wanting to ask an obvious question but not wanting to
sound foolish again. “You’re a vampire,” he finally said.
“Had we
not established that already?” Blackwell asked.
“But
that’s wine you’re drinking, isn’t it?”
Blackwell
peered at his glass curiously. “Why, I do believe it is,” he said, as if he
were realizing that for the first time.
“Shouldn’t
you be drinking…you know.”
Blackwell
raised his eyebrows. “Blood?”
“Yes.”
“I do drink blood,” Blackwell said, as if he were talking to a child. “I must do,
don’t I? Tell me, Mr. Jones, do you drink water?”
“Of
course.”
“Must
you not drink water in order to live?”
“Yes.”
“Do you
drink only water?”
“No.”
Blackwell
raised his glass to Oliver. “Cheers.” He took a drink.
Oliver
wasn’t sure that analogy would hold up to much scrutiny, but he got the point.
“So this is…” he looked at Maria. “All these people are your vampire family, or
something?”
“Or
something,” Blackwell replied. “We are not the Munsters . A few of the
staff here were already vampires who chose to serve me. The others were humans that
I turned myself. As such, they are my subjects, and I am their master. Isn’t
that right, Maria?”
“Ever
yours, my master,” Maria said, tilting her head at him in an odd sideways nod.
Oliver
was beginning to feel a bit tipsy. Had he had too much wine already? He really
was a lightweight. “I find it safer to surround myself with those I know to be
loyal,” Blackwell continued. “Take Maria, here. She has been with me for…”
“One
hundred ninety-eight years, my master.” She seemed to be beaming, Oliver
thought. He suspected her feelings for Blackwell went far beyond simple loyalty.
“Ah,
yes.” Blackwell swirled the wine in his glass, then drained it. “We will have
to do something special for your two hundredth birthday,” he said to her.
“Think it over and let me know what you’d like.”
What did
vampires get for their birthdays, Oliver wondered. A victim with an unusual
blood type? He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
“You
really have no idea why the lizards want you?” Blackwell asked Oliver. He
sounded disappointed.
“None.
Really.”
“Hmm.
Well, they are despicable creatures. No sense of class at all. They really
can’t die out fast enough, if you ask me.”
“Sally
said something about that. They had a civil war?”
“Religious
divisions would be a better way to put it. I don’t know what they argue
“Just as
well,” Blackwell said. “They are terrible for you. That is of less importance
to me, of course.”
“Vampires
don’t get cancer?” That question had never occurred to Oliver before. Nor had
it occurred to any rational person, ever, he thought.
“Of
course not,” Blackwell said, looking at Oliver like he was an idiot.
“Yeah,”
Oliver nodded, sipping his wine. It really was excellent. He wondered if
Blackwell would offer him another glass.
“So,”
the other man said. “Tell me, Mr. Jones, why do the lizards want you dead?”
Oliver
didn’t know where to start. “I really don’t know,” he finally admitted. “This
has been the craziest day of my life.”
“You
must have done something to upset them, did you not?”
“I’d
never even seen one of them before tonight,” Oliver said. “A…a Kalatari .
I’d never even heard that word before. This time yesterday I wouldn’t have
believed they even existed.”
“That
must be frustrating for you,” Blackwell noted sympathetically.
“I’m
just a regular guy,” Oliver said. “I’m a stock analyst. I look at spreadsheets.
I write reports. The truth is I’m incredibly boring.”
“I
don’t think that’s boring,” Blackwell said. “Analysis paid for everything you
see in this house.” Oliver saw Maria smirk. “Well,” Blackwell said, catching
her eye, “analysis, and just a bit of ruthlessness.”
Oliver
drank more of his wine, wanting to ask an obvious question but not wanting to
sound foolish again. “You’re a vampire,” he finally said.
“Had we
not established that already?” Blackwell asked.
“But
that’s wine you’re drinking, isn’t it?”
Blackwell
peered at his glass curiously. “Why, I do believe it is,” he said, as if he
were realizing that for the first time.
“Shouldn’t
you be drinking…you know.”
Blackwell
raised his eyebrows. “Blood?”
“Yes.”
“I do drink blood,” Blackwell said, as if he were talking to a child. “I must do,
don’t I? Tell me, Mr. Jones, do you drink water?”
“Of
course.”
“Must
you not drink water in order to live?”
“Yes.”
“Do you
drink only water?”
“No.”
Blackwell
raised his glass to Oliver. “Cheers.” He took a drink.
Oliver
wasn’t sure that analogy would hold up to much scrutiny, but he got the point.
“So this is…” he looked at Maria. “All these people are your vampire family, or
something?”
“Or
something,” Blackwell replied. “We are not the Munsters . A few of the
staff here were already vampires who chose to serve me. The others were humans that
I turned myself. As such, they are my subjects, and I am their master. Isn’t
that right, Maria?”
“Ever
yours, my master,” Maria said, tilting her head at him in an odd sideways nod.
Oliver
was beginning to feel a bit tipsy. Had he had too much wine already? He really
was a lightweight. “I find it safer to surround myself with those I know to be
loyal,” Blackwell continued. “Take Maria, here. She has been with me for…”
“One
hundred ninety-eight years, my master.” She seemed to be beaming, Oliver
thought. He suspected her feelings for Blackwell went far beyond simple loyalty.
“Ah,
yes.” Blackwell swirled the wine in his glass, then drained it. “We will have
to do something special for your two hundredth birthday,” he said to her.
“Think it over and let me know what you’d like.”
What did
vampires get for their birthdays, Oliver wondered. A victim with an unusual
blood type? He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
“You
really have no idea why the lizards want you?” Blackwell asked Oliver. He
sounded disappointed.
“None.
Really.”
“Hmm.
Well, they are despicable creatures. No sense of class at all. They really
can’t die out fast enough, if you ask me.”
“Sally
said something about that. They had a civil war?”
“Religious
divisions would be a better way to put it. I don’t know what they argue
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