Sucking back another coffee, I stared at the vampire that had murdered my boss. I didn't want to be like this because he was just another predator in this world. Like any of the big cats, a shark, a crocodile, birds of prey, they all did it. Even humanity killed to sustain their life.

Maybe my issue with Constantino was that he ended Nelson's life without giving him a chance to achieve his goals. The big dream, to be the professor that found something that would change the world. Well, he was that, but he'd never know it.

What would happen now? How could I let Constantino out into the world, knowing what he was? This wasn't just being an accessory to murder, it was the weight upon my conscious knowing what he would be doing. How often did he need to drink blood? Once a day, a week or a month? Did he take one life or was it another ten?

How soon before the authorities caught up with him? How long before his own kind figured out that he wasn't dead anymore? Did he need protection or would he be okay?

I had no idea of how powerful he was or if he was just another guy. Did he have supernatural abilities or nothing at all? I'd seen fast movement when he grabbed my arm, but that might have been a one-off. It was not a real indication of his ability.

Searching the internet for fact rather than fiction, I found a lot of one and not the other. Everything was imaginary or written as a belief but really was fiction. I didn't need hypothetical ramblings from someone who lived in fantasy land. I needed the truth, and I suspected that I would not find it. If Nelson didn't know what he faced in the tomb, how did anyone know the truth?

I knew that I was on my own here. Until Constantino and I could communicate properly, we would struggle. Broken words and heavy frowns, gestures, and strain. It would be a hard path, but I knew that I'd walk it. I don't know why but I couldn't turn away from Constantino. It felt like it was my duty to be his guide.

Maybe it was also my duty to ensure that he selected his meals wisely. Could I be a guide to a murderer? I wanted to search how many years an accessory to murder got but didn't, fearing that the government watched everything that happened on the internet. My search terms for tonight were undoubtedly concerning.

I didn't know how much the government invaded our privacy, but I wasn't prepared to take the risk. It was bad enough that I was hiding him here rather than calling the cops. That would be a thought-provoking call. I'm sure they'd call a doctor to have me committed instead of coming here to investigate.

Maybe there was another solution to this lack of information. I wanted to know if there were more vampires out there. Perhaps the vampire at this table could answer the questions in my mind. All I had to do was figure out a way to ask him and to ensure that he understood me.

Taking a blank piece of paper, I drew a face that was a circle and two dots for eyes, a line for a mouth and two little triangles for fangs. On the other side of the paper, I drew several vampire faces.

Getting his attention, I pointed to the singular vampire and then to him.

"Constantino, is there just one vampire or is there a lot?"

He looked at the two images and then lifted his gaze to me. Warily he pointed to the picture of a lot of vampires.

"Okay." I sighed.

Then I set out to draw a house around the singular vampire.

"This is you in this house, yes?"

He nodded silently. Then I moved the pen to the other vampires.

"Where are they?"

It looked like he weighed up the options. Taking the pen from me, Constantino drew waves between the group of vampires and the one that represented himself.

"Is that the ocean? Are you from Europe maybe?"

He said nothing and turned the paper over and began his doodling. I was surprised that he handled the pen so well. I don't know why. It's not like he was an animal. If he didn't open his mouth, Constantino could be mistaken for an ordinary man on the street.

Putting the pen down, Constantino pushed the paper to me. It was a series of pictures with arrows between them. A sequential path of Constantino's trip to his demise. It started with a similar image of a smiley face vampire then it became the vampire's sad face as he's stabbed and put into the sarcophagus. The next drawing was a group taking the sarcophagus to what looked like a boat, but I could be wrong because it didn't seem to match. It was definitely over water because he'd done the wave shape under the shape.

The following images were clearly the burial in his final resting place, at least that's what his killers believed.

"You were murdered but did they realise that it wouldn't kill you? That seems to be likely, you seemed pretty surprised when you realised that the knife didn't do any permanent damage. So, you either had no idea about mortality before waking up or you were maybe a new vampire that had didn't know about your abilities."

Was it possible that vampires as a race have no idea about mortality? That was not possible, they drank human blood, they killed humans, so they understood death. Maybe they didn't comprehend their own mortality.

"Why did they do this to you?"

Constantino didn't answer me. Instead, he returned to the magazine that he was reading. Lifting the magazine so that I could see it, Constantino showed me a lot of images of men, pointing to their hair. Then he flicked out his long mane. I had no idea how life after death worked for a vampire. Maybe the hair kept growing, perhaps it was fashionable wherever it was that he was from, but it was seriously long. So long he had to flick it aside to sit down.

"Well, yes, it is normal, but then it's not normal."

Again, the good old internet to the rescue. It was a wealth of information and in this case, pictures. Images of modern man. Short hair, long hair and everything in between. Suits to shorts, I even showed him the mankini. I don't think he was impressed.

"I'd probably go with something that was a little shorter than what you've got now. At least then you won't have to move your hair to sit down. What about something like that?"

I circled the shoulder length style with the mouse. His head tilted and as his lips pressed tight, Constantino nodded.

"We should go to a barber or something."

Constantino pointed to me.

"Oh no, no way in hell."

"Luuu-cee," Constantino said pointing to me.

He wasn't going to back down, so, I got up and fetched a pair of scissors and a brush.

"Are you sure about this?"

I had no idea if he understood what I said, but he nodded as if he did. Picking up a clump of hair, I held it at the cut point and showed it to him.

"Is that a good length?"

Again, he nodded. I held out the scissors, showing him what I was about to do. Constantino frowned at me, flicking his hand in a way that was similar to how Nelson used to do it. I wanted to impale Constantino with the scissors. There was no point, not when I'd stabbed him earlier, and it did nothing.

Clipping the hair, I put the cut pieces on the table in front of him.

"Yes?"

"Ye-hs." He hissed the word, sounding it as best as he could.

I had to give him points for trying.

Continuing, I made my way through the cut while contemplating what I was doing. Giving a vampire a haircut. Never in a million years did I think that this would happen. No part of that sentence made any sense. I'd never given anyone a haircut and damn it, a vampire! This was not real.

Dumping the last lot of hair, I stepped back and pinched myself. Yep, it was real. Tidying up the ends, I tried to make it match the image. Like the picture, Constantino's hair began to form a wave now that it wasn't being pulled down by so much weight.

Moving around the table, I gestured for Constantino to follow me. Leading him to the bathroom, I showed him the mirror and wondered if he could see his reflection. Myth busted, he could. Constantino smiled and gestured to the mirror as he looked at me, saying something. I could hope that it was, Lucy, you're a legend for someone that's never cut anyone's hair. Realistically, he was probably saying that it didn't look like rubbish, so he was grateful for that much.

Gritting a smile, I awkwardly nodded.

"Yeah, my pleasure. Maybe now you can tell me why those vampires tried to kill you."

The smile fell from his face, and I knew that he could understand me. Or maybe he could understand the word vampires. In the plural form, he knew that I wasn't talking about him. The others. The ones that dumped him into a sarcophagus and buried him for what? A hundred years? A thousand. I had no clue, I couldn't pin his clothes to an era, and none of my efforts to figure it out through history had worked. Until he learned to speak, I was clueless.

Constantino turned out of the bathroom, I followed him back to the dining table. He picked up the pen and began drawing. While he was busy doing his doodling, I cleaned up the hair and swept the floor. It wasn't overly necessary as I'd kept a hold of the hair rather than letting it fall freely. All that fell was a few stray hairs that I'd missed.

When he was done, Constantino turned the piece of paper around so that I could see it. Stepping closer, I felt a wave of dread fill me. He'd drawn a picture of a vampire and then gestured to himself.

"Con-stan-teen-o."

I nodded, staring at the picture. On the image of himself, Constantino had drawn a pretty hat.

A hat as in a crown.