promulgated by vampires, to mislead normals into looking for false signs. To lull humans into a feeling that, like with your mirror trick, they can test for vampires. When the test fails, they feel safe.”
“So, anything he can't do, he just says that it's a false expectation?”
“Yep. But falsehoods planted by very smart vampires. Just so they have an easier time of hiding.”
“That,” I said, “strikes me as being awfully fucking convenient.”
She smiled at that, too. “Well, yes.” She giggled. “Awfully. But he exhibits enough of the familiar traits, like stamina, strength, being nocturnal, being very convincing in everything.”
“Did he ever say how you get to be a vampire?” asked Hester.
“Well, he says he was 'turned' a long time ago, by a female vampire. He says you can't be born a vampire, or anything like that. You have to choose, like he did.” She shrugged. “I suppose if I'd actually expressed an interest in becoming one, he might have said more. You should ask Toby about that.”
“Toby,” I asked, “wants to be a vampire?”
“In the worst way,” said Huck, with a little smirk. “You know what I mean. He's really a wannabe, for all the wannabe reasons.”
“Does anybody else think Dan Peale is really a vampire?” asked Hester.
“Oh, yes. Hanna does. I think Melissa does, at least I think she probably does now. Kevin doesn't really say, but I'm sure he leans that way, too.” She shrugged. “There are times I'm not too sure, myself. Honest.”
“What is it that makes you think that he's a real vampire?” I was really curious.
“You saw that photo on the wall, up on the third. The one taken at Highgate Cemetery?”
“Yeah. Circle of Lebanon… ”
“Well,” she said, in a very low voice, “one of the crypts there is Dan's.”
“Pardon me,” interjected Hester. “His?”
“That's what he says. His. He told me.” She looked at the curtains again. “Maybe that's why you can't find him in the London Directory?”
“Serious?” I asked.
Huck giggled nervously. “Shit, I don't know. Sitting here with you two, oh, maybe not. But I don't want to take any fuckin' chances.” She looked me square in the eye. “Would you?”
“Well,” I said, truthfully, “I'd really need a lot of evidence. One whole hell of a lot of evidence.”
“Me, too,” said Huck. “But let me tell you… Look, he is really strong, all right? And he is an absolute sex machine. Really, he can keep it up for seven, eight hours easily. He refuses to go out in the sunlight without max- SPF lotion. He's got… well, a really dominant personality. Really.” She twiddled her fingers for a second, considering something. “It's a lot more than that. Things he says. Things he does. Really, like, supersophisticated, well educated, and he… ” She laughed. “Shit, I can't believe I'm telling you this, but he, well, talks about things that happened in the 1700s and 1800s. Like he was there, you know?”
“You okay?” She was getting brittle again, and close to the edge, I thought.
“Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. But, and I'll tell you straight up, you watch him drink some blood, watch him drink your blood, and the greedy, slurping sounds, and he… ”
She shuddered, and then just stopped. None of us spoke for a few moments. I figured it was time to change our tack just a bit. “So, why would Dan kill Edie? Any idea?”
Huck shook her head. “Are you so sure that he's the one who did?”
“He's our chief suspect,” I replied. “Unless you know different.”
“Well, if he's your best suspect, then you're probably right. If it's any help, it sounds like you might be right.”
“But you don't know why he did it?”
“Edie was getting so controlled, you know? It's not like she'd ever walk away. So, so she'd do what he wanted, I know that.”
“What exactly did he want?” asked Hester.
“Oh, you know. Sex, of course. Blood sharing, not like me, Edie didn't go for cutting on my scale. But a little. He could at least get a taste. With me,” she said, ruefully, “he could drink the stuff.” She shuddered again. “Compliance. Service, and I mean that in a business sort of way.” She struggled for a word. “Hausfrau? Geisha? She provided all the creature comforts when he came up without Jessica. Especially access to the third floor, where all the privacy was. Edie had the only access key except for Jessica, as far as I know.”
“Third is a big plus, then?”
“Privacy. I mean, if there was a chance somebody else was going to drop in, you wouldn't be so comfortable with… well, with debasing yourself, actually.” She shrugged. “All I know is that when he took me upstairs, he'd have to get the key from Edie. She didn't like that, not a bit.” She looked at Hester. “I mean, she was worried for me, too, you know, but jealous at the same time? Especially later, when we were doing him on about a fifty-fifty basis.” She sniffed. “No secrets up at Renfield House.”
“Is that the only connection you all have with him?” asked Hester. “Nothing more… oh, I don't know, social? For want of a better term.”
“Oh, yeah,” said Huck, with enthusiasm. “That's just about the best part, really. I mean, we really dine, you know? Full, formal dining, with seven course meals that we prepare. Just like in real Victorian times.”
“Really?” I asked.
“Oh, you bet. Formal attire. Men in black tie, women in their finest.” She smiled. “I'm sure you saw the clothes? And we'd talk, or anyway, Dan would, mostly. About the old days, in Victorian England. Mostly.”
“He'd talk about them like he'd been there then?” I asked.
Huck considered that a moment. “Well, now that I think about it… Not so much as if he'd been there, but he gave the impression that he had been. I'm not being very clear, am I?”
“Not sure,” I said.
“Then I'm not. He never actually said, I don't think, that he'd like, talked to Emily Bronte, or Lord Byron, or anything that straight out. But,” she said, earnestly, “he gave that impression, without saying it. He'd sort of refer to them, you know? Like they were old friends. But he never said he was actually there.”
I looked at her quizzically.
“Okay, look, he'd say something like 'Like Byron used to say,' but he'd never say 'that's what he said to me.' See?”
“Okay.”
“Now, in private, it was different. Well, with me, I know for sure. Once he told me about a conversation he'd had with a Prime Minister named Gladstone, and he said he'd known the Wyndam sisters.”
“And they were?”
“Gorgeous women at the turn of the century, I think. Maybe in 1910 or so. High London society.”
“And he's about thirty-five or so?” I just thought I'd better interject that.
“That's how old he appears,” said Huck.
“Was Jessica at these dinners, then?” asked Hester, heading us back on track.
“They were only when Jessica was there,” said Huck. “He and she were the Lord and Lady of the house, kind of, and we were their friends invited to dine.” She sighed. “It was great, really great. We'd use the finest china, and light the real candles in the candelabras, and use the good goblets, and got to drink the old wines Jessica keeps in the basement.” She looked wistful. “New Years is always the best.”
“Does Jessica talk about the past?” I asked.
“Oh, sure. But not like Dan. Just asks him questions. Laughs at his answers sometimes. I don't know why she does, but she laughs.”
I thought I might know, but decided not to say anything. Time to get back on track again. “What did you think when you first heard that Edie was dead?” I asked.
“That he'd killed her.”
“Dan, you mean?”
“Yes.”
“Deliberately?” from Hester.
“No, I thought he'd fucked up. He used to give us a bit of blood thinner, you know, to retard clotting with the little cuts.” She held up her right hand, palm toward me. “Not with my 'special' cuts, though. No way. Neither of us was ever fucked up enough to try that shit, not those times.” She shook her head. “Christ, I could have bled to
