Zanya stood beneath the fire escape that ran up the side of her abandoned building. She raised her arms and flexed her knees, pushed off and vaulted upward, jumping almost twenty feet through the darkness to the first fire escape landing.

She leaned over the railing and looked down to where Strasser was standing on top of a packing crate, so he'd be able to reach the bottom rung of the iron ladder he's waiting for her to lower.

"You really feeling up to this?" she said.

"Just lower it."

She did and he grabbed hold of the bottom rung, it hanging ten or so feet above the pavement, which was about how tall he was now – his own six feet, plus the crate. He pulled himself up, making the rusty ladder squeak, got a foothold and climbed up to where Zanya was waiting.

"How'd you get up before?" she asked.

"Carefully." He gestured toward the fire escape's iron steps. "After you."

She started climbing and he followed her, landing by landing, the two making the eight-story climb to the window of her loft.

When they got there she pulled the tall heavy window up and climbed inside. Called back to him, "Wait while I light some candles."

He stood out there in the dark and let his mind go back to how nicely Plan C had worked. And to how maybe one day he'd be using her to even things with that cult honcho who'd messed with his sister Claudia's head – who got her to kill herself.

He watched Zanya in there lighting the candles and thought about how different her place was from his, the one-bedroom he rented in what the agent had called a vintage Deco building. He'd put in book shelves and hung pictures to give the place some hominess – a photograph of him and Claudia posing with their music instruments, a nice one of the woman he thought he was ready to marry but wasn't, who had that smile. There was a tropical fish tank in the living room that had no fish in it, just an unopened can of Starkist tuna sitting on the gravel bottom. The women he occasionally brought up there thought it was funny. Usually he had some Billie Holiday or Sinatra or Basie playing on the outdated stereo – throwback music that his friends back in school never could figure his taste for.

"Okay, come on in," Zanya called.

He went in through the window like last time, saw the same high beamed ceiling and occult artifacts, same candles reflecting off Zanya. She wasn't in vampire mode now, didn't have her attack look. But her clothes and beautiful features were spattered and smeared with blood.

Her green eyes watched him checking her out. "I get any on you?"

"I don't think so."

He stepped over and touched her long hair, tugged at some of the strands that were matted together.

"Feels like you hit a snag," she said.

"You might want to wash it off." He gave her blood-spattered clothes the once-over. "And you should get out of these so we can ditch them."

"There's an old furnace in the basement we can burn them in."

"Good."

She held out her arms toward him. "Pull."

Strasser took hold of the sleeves of her sweater and pulled it off over her head.

Like before, she was naked underneath.

"I'm going to take a shower," she said.

"There's a shower here?"

"Even I take one once in a while. It's down the other end. Toilet, too, if you want to stay."

Strasser watched her drop her bloodied sweater on the floor, kick off her shoes and start to push down her jeans.

She looked at him. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"I asked if you want to spend the night."

"Oh."

"I'm full fed if that's what you're concerned about."

"No, I'm... I mean..."

Zanya stepped out of her jeans and walked fully naked over to him. She put her hand behind his head and drew him to her. Kissed his mouth. Long and full.

"See? They're retractable." She smiled in a way that he could see she meant her disappeared fangs.

"I'm glad."

"Anyway, you're welcome to stay if you want."

She turned to go take her shower.

"Zanya?"

She stopped and turned back to him. "What?"

"Question."

"What is it?"

"Not to get too personal, but..."

"God forbid we get personal."

"How old are you?"

"How old am I?"

"Just curious. I mean..."

"How old do I look?"

"I dunno. Twenty-five. Thirty."

She scoffed. "Try times ten."

"That's a lot of years."

"Tell me about it."

She watched to see how he took that – then turned again for the shower. But then she stopped and turned back around.

"Long as we're playing questions," she said, "I have one for you."

"Yes?"

"How did you know he'd follow us."

"That's easy."

"So tell me."

Strasser smiled. "Because I had you. He couldn't resist."

"Yeah, right."

"I'm serious. I mean, who could?"

She thought at first he was being sarcastic. But she could tell by the way he looked at her now that he meant it. She almost blushed, which would have been a first. She gave a little smile and said, "Thank you, that was nice," and turned one more time for wherever that shower was.

Strasser watched her naked back as he unbuttoned his shirt. He tossed it onto the workbench and walked over to the mattress on the floor in the corner. He was about to sit down and take off his shoes, jumped back from the mattress and yelled.

"Jesus!"

Zanya whipped around. "What..."

She saw Strasser staring down at the mattress.

Staring back at him was Zanya's pet snake, coiled and ready to strike.

Zanya turned one more once for the shower. "Come along, Cuz. Man's had a hard day."

The snake took its time uncoiling. Strasser stood back and watched it slither off the mattress, was happy to see it follow its mistress across the candlelit floor.