Not yet.
"You're new here," the bar steward comments, leaning in close. The music isn't that loud, thankfully, so it's not a desire to be heard which brings about his conspiratorial proximity.
"I am."
"Looking for anything in particular?"
My eyes flick up, and I stare straight at him. I can't think of what to say, so I remain silent.
"I mean, if you're new..." He shrugs. "You might not be familiar with how things go down here."
"There are rules?"
"The only drinks to be consumed on the premises must be purchased here." With a grin, he points to a sign on the wall.
An old-style vampire, complete with Dracula-esque cloak, leans over a maiden with heaving bosoms, fangs mere inches from her neck.
There's a red line through the picture, and the underlying text reads No Necking. The terrible pun makes me groan. Jesus. My entire being is reduced to a cartoon above a bar.
"There have been complaints," the barman goes on.
"Unauthorised biting?"
"Women saying it's too hard getting bloodstains out of their party clothes on a forty-degree wash. We've banned a couple of vampires, but...you know." He shrugs. "All in all, this is a good place to work. I'm Scott, by the way." He holds out his hand.
"Nathan." Instinctively, because I was brought up that way, I reach out to touch him, and as his fingers curl around my hand, I realise it wasn't all about good manners on his part.
"Ah." Scott nods. "You're cold."
"You're not going to ask to see my death certificate, are you?"
"No, no. Just curious. When a new guy turns up, you wonder..."
"You're familiar with all the regulars here, then?"
"I have a good memory."
Well, isn't that just a gift for me wrapped up in a nice, neat bow? I ask myself. Swallowing back the nerves, I open my mouth to speak---
"Can I get you anything?"
Damn; he got there first, and I've lost my nerve. "I'm not much of a drinker," I blurt out.
"No? What're you doing here, then?" But Scott's teasing. Even in the dim light, I see his eyes twinkle. "Don't answer that."
"No, it's not like that; I---"
"We've got a deal going with the local blood bank; fresh delivery of rhesus neg bloodsicles, if you fancy one."
"Excuse me?"
"Bloodsicles. Never heard of them? Like freeze-pops; new on the market. Apparently, there's a new technique involved that stops the blood fractions separating during the freezing process. I dunno how it works exactly, but they go down a storm with the less-than-alive of our clientele."
"Bloodsicles," I echo. My God; I've heard of everything now. "Thank you, but no. I prefer to get mine fresh from the source."
"You're the boss. Just here looking for some company, then?"
"No," I answer rather too quickly. "No. I'm here to..."
Scott lifts his eyebrows and leans on the bar, propped up on his crossed arms. "You're here to...? Hey, are you undercover? 'Cause that incident with the---"
"Undercover? Good grief, no."
"Press?"
"No, look, I'm just here to...Listen, you said you were familiar with Vlad's clientele. You have a good memory."
He cocks his head, narrows his eyes.
Suspicious, but curious. "You're looking for someone." Not a question.
"I'm trying to locate an old friend, yes."
"Not much of an old friend if you don't know where he is, then, huh?"
"How do you know it's a male I'm looking for?"
"Lucky guess." Scott winks. "We get a lot of gay vampires in here; twice the chance of being shunned in society, they come here; takes all sorts. No one judges, you know."
"Just because I'm looking for a man doesn't mean I'm---"
"It doesn't." Another wink. "You are, though, right?"
This man's infuriating, and all the more so because he's right and he knows it. I can't think of anything to say that wouldn't make him even more smug, or me even more embarrassed.
"You're looking for someone?"
"I am, yes."
"You do realise a barman of my stature sticks to the same doctor/patient privilege as a doctor would? Or a priest?"
"Of your stature?" I know I sound mocking, but he's being irritating, so he probably deserves it. Just to add to the scorn, I raise my eyebrows and look him in the eye. "This is a vampire-friendly bar, not a church."
"Yeah, and aren't you grateful? I mean, you'd probably burst into flames or something if you---"
He stops when I shake my head. "No? I've always wondered about that. I used to know a guy, one of your lot, you know."
"My lot?"
"Yeah, one of you. Anyway, he'd always refuse to walk into a church. I always wondered why that was."
"An affectation. Some people---sorry, we're not strictly speaking people, are we?"
"Oh, now, I didn't say that---"
"Some people refuse to go into churches to perpetuate the various vampire myths." I wave a dismissive hand.
"Churches, not crossing thresholds until invited, garlic, running water, that kind of thing."
"Why do they do it, though? What does it achieve?"
"You really want to know?"
Scott nods, and I beckon with a crooked finger. He leans in even closer.
"So you lot, humans, bother yourselves with fiction, while failing to figure out how dangerous we really are."
He swallows slowly, more of a gulp, and I have to admire his nerve; he holds my gaze like he's not nervous at all. Maybe he thinks it's safer to keep his eyes on me. I'm less dangerous if you know where I am.
Scott inhales sharply, holds his breath, then lets out a short burst of laughter. "Wait, you nearly had me there."
"I nearly did, didn't I?"
"Swindling bastard; I thought you were going to..."
"Now would I?"
"I don't know, do I? I don't know you."
"No, you don't." I wink and leave him to work out if it was a friendly or threatening gesture.
"Now, where were we? Oh yes; you were about to tell me if you know the person I'm looking for."
"I was, was I?" Scott stands up straight but keeps his palms resting on the bar. He's not ready to turn on his heels and
