LITMIR.BIZ

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have no use for drugs. What happened to your foot?”

      “It was injured. How come you’re using the window instead of the door?”

      “I…opened it for the fresh air. Why are you wandering around the hospital in the dead of night?”

      “Couldn’t sleep.”

      The man’s mouth pulled a little at one side, as if he were fighting a smile. “You’re very good at answering questions without saying a thing.”

      “So are you. So what’s in the bag?”

      The man only shook his head and glanced toward the window once more. Will looked around the room now that his eyes were adjusting to the darkness. He saw the refrigerator, the label on the front, the Red Cross logo. “This is where they store the blood.” He said it very softly, but the man heard him.

      He nodded. “That it is.” He got up on the windowsill again, then he paused, turning back. “ Time Magazine ,” he said.

      “What?”

      “That’s where I’ve seen you before. You were on the cover of last week’s Time Magazine . I read the article, too.”

      “That’s really nice, but it doesn’t explain why you’re stealing blood from a hospital at 3:00 a.m., pal.”

      “Oh, let it go already. You guessed what I was the moment you looked at me, though how you knew, I cannot say. Who is this ’Bartrone’ you thought I resembled?”

      “A figment of my imagination.” Will stopped there, lifted his gaze. “I never said that out loud.”

      “Of course you didn’t. I’m a vampire. I read your mind.”

      “Oh yeah? Prove it. What am I thinking right now?”

      The other man stared at him, frowned hard. “I don’t know. You’re blocking.”

      “I’m blocking?” Will repeated.

      “Perhaps subconsciously, but yes. You have a very strong will, don’t you?”

      Will shrugged. “If you can’t read me now, how could you before?”

      “How would I know? You’re the one who let your guard down, let your thoughts slip out.” He shrugged. “Perhaps you were startled.”

      Will rolled his eyes and moved closer, using the cane to help him bear the weight, though every step shot bolts of pain through his body. When he got close enough he reached out, tugged the side of the bag open and glanced inside. Plastic bags filled with blood.

      “You really are stealing blood.”

      The other man nodded. “It’s better than the alternative.”

      “You mean killing for it?”

      “I meant starvation. I would no more kill an innocent than you would.”

      Will shook his head. “This isn’t real. There are no such things as vampires.”

      “Then how did you know what I was the moment you looked at me?”

      Lowering his head, Will said, “I don’t know.”

      There was a pause. “The article said you withstood weeks of torture and never broke. It said your silence saved the lives of countless American soldiers.”

      Will shrugged.

      “It said you walked twenty miles through the desert when you escaped.” He glanced down at the foot. “As painful as that is even now, I can’t imagine how you managed that.”

      Will shrugged again, shook his head. “Yeah, okay, you really read the article. What do you want, an autograph?”

      The vampire smiled. “I have to go.” He turned again to the window.

      “No, wait. I need to talk to you. I have questions-”

      “Questions I cannot answer, my friend. Even for an exceptional mortal like you. I’m sorry.” He turned to face out the window again, then quickly ducked back inside and to the left of the glass. “Hell, I’ve been seen. There’s a crowd below, looking up here and pointing.”

      Will glanced toward the door at the sound of running feet. “Someone’s coming. Tell me, vampire, are you a man of your word?”

      “I am.”

      “Then give it. I cover your ass now, you answer my questions later. Agreed?”

      The doorknob turned, and the vampire glanced that way, then out the window again. “Questions about what?”

      “A vampiress named Sarafina.”

      “Why?”

      Will swallowed hard. “I need to know if she’s real. That’s all. Do you agree or not?”

      “All right,” the vampire said quickly. “I agree.”

      The door was opening as Will glanced around the room and spotted a folding screen. “Over there, behind the screen,” he whispered.

      The vampire moved so quickly he was but a blur of darkness. If Will had had any doubts-and he had-they were gone now. Nothing human could move with such a burst of speed. Nothing he knew about, anyway. “I never got your name,” Will whispered.

      “Jameson Bryant,” the vampire hissed back.

      “Willem Stone,” Will replied.

      “Good to meet you.” There was a touch of irony in the vampire’s tone.

      “Same here-I think.”

      Three orderlies burst into the room, flicked on the light and paused to stare at Will, as he stood near the open window. He lowered his head, painted a look of anguish on his face.

      “Listen, don’t jump,” one of them said. “It’s no answer. You know that.”

      “Jesus, it’s that Stone guy,” another muttered. “Mr. Stone, you’re a hero-”

      “It’s Colonel Stone,” he muttered. “Or it was.”

      “It still is, man. Colonel Stone, U.S. Army Special Forces, and a fucking national icon. God, if you go out like this, then they win, don’t you see that?”

      “Yeah, that’s right,” said the other guy. “Man, don’t tell us you survived all that crap just to give up now.”

      “Colonel Stone, sir, I just got out of the Army. I was over there. Let me tell you something, you did us proud. You cash out now, it’s gonna crush all those soldiers who see you as a hero.”

      Will turned slowly, looking at them, even while swinging one leg over the windowsill. “Just stay where you are, okay? I have to think.”

      The men stopped their forward progress. “Come on, come on back in here. You can think in here as good as anywhere else.”

      The door opened again, and a woman stepped in. She was mid-fifties, fit, kept her hair colored, but the smokers’-wrinkles in her face gave her age away. “Mr. Stone, I’m Amelia Ashby. I’m a psychiatrist here.”

      A psychiatrist was just what he needed, he thought, considering he’d just been conversing with a vampire. Shit. He almost laughed, but that would have blown the suicidal depression skit right out of the water.

      “Tell me what you’re feeling. Please, I only want to help you.”

      He pursed his lips, sighed, wondered if this was going to end up lengthening his stay, when he’d so been looking forward to getting the hell out of here tomorrow. He drew his leg inside, stood on the floor, closed the window, and grabbed his cane. “I’m not going to jump, all right? I was just…out walking the halls.”

      “Good. Very good. And you came in here because…?”

      “My

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