My confession earned me a laugh, one far more charming and musical than I'd anticipated. I felt something stir inside me, a familiar thing that I had to tamp back down—maybe candor wasn't such a good idea. But I'd been on this particular vendetta for decades. Why not try a little happiness? Life had to be about more than retribution. Otherwise, was it truly life?

In fact, this could be fun, especially since Freya's laughter was followed by a theatric craning of her neck as she looked skyward. "You have an awfully good tan for a vampire."

"Just one of the many lies storytellers feed us," I replied. "We don't burst into flames in the sun, or anything even close. In fact, I love the sun."

"I can tell." She flicked her gaze down the length of my bare right arm. A faint huskiness entered her voice. "You have the most flawless skin."

"Freya," I said in feigned disbelief, "you shameless coquette."

It was a thing I'd had many years to ponder, but for me this was the best thing about being a woman, even a tall gawky thing such as myself. Women never saw another woman as a physical threat. If I were of a mind, I could feast on women's blood forever and a day, and never a one would see me coming. But, then again, men saw me as even less of a threat than women did. Poor things.

"I'm not hitting on you," she said with a smile. And she added, as if to change the subject, "You just don't look like a vampire."

"You mean I don't sparkle or look like a goth girl?"

She barked an inelegant laugh, one that she made sound sweet. "Well, no. But aren't you all pale and hungry looking?"

"Most of us are a bit on the pale side," I admitted. "My kind are terrified to be out-and-about in daylight."

"Oh, stop. You just said ...." She clearly was enjoying what she thought to be a grand joke on my part. I continued.

"The sun doesn't harm us. Not at all. But during daylight, we're just like normal folks ... more or less. Most vampires are scared pissless to walk around like a normal person in the daylight."

It was true. With the rarest of exception, others of my kind locked themselves up during the day, often behind high walls and armed guards, as scared of the daylight as some ancient villager might be of the bogies in the night. What creature could live such a contemptible life?

"Okay," she said, her smile widening. By that time, some drinks I'd ordered had arrived, and she lay down her pencil and took a sip of the tall cocktail before her. "What happens at night?"

"Oh, chaos," I said with mock severity. "Let loose the dogs of war."

"Stop teasing," she squawked.

"No. I get stronger as the sun sets. It comes so sudden that it sometimes takes my breath away. That's when I'm at my most dangerous. Because it's when my hunger hits its peak."

"Your lust for blood?" She really was being a good sport. "I always wondered. How many humans does a vampire need to survive? ... I mean, a sample population."

"Not a one," I said.

"What? You mean ... you're a vampire who doesn't ...."

"No, I do drink human blood. Just not often. And I don't need it. None of us do."

She pulled her sketch pad to her chest, obviously caught up in my story. "Wait, wait, wait. If vampires don't drink blood. How do they get their powers? And what are your powers?"

"You mean, can I turn into a bat?"

She smiled her answer.

"No."

"Can you turn into anything?"

"An angry bitch if I'm hungry enough."

"Then what are vampire powers?" she asked with a faint howl of delight.

"I am wicked strong, faster than you could imagine, and harder'n shit to kill."

"Sign me up."

"I wish I could."

"You won't make me a vampire? It sounds great, no downside at all." She craned her neck in my general direction. "Gimme, gimme."

"Darling, I wish I could. It isn't how it works."

"Another lie?"

"Exactly."

"Then where do new vampires come from?"

"From other vampires, but ...." I turned to face her. "Look, I can't explain it ... at least not why it works the way it does. But sometimes people get bitten, die, and then come back. It's one in a million. One in a billion."

"But you have no control over it?"

"Not even a little bit. Otherwise, how long before every billionaire in the world is a vampire?"

"They're not?"

"Ah, touché."

By that time, my new friend had gone back to her sketching, which she'd done only in fits and starts since our meeting. It was an experience that was pleasant beyond words. She earlier had mentioned she would be in Miami another two days and that she was from Chicago. That I would do Freya-Lynn harm was completely out of the question. I already had grown to like the woman too much. That was part of the danger. I was in the middle of this little feud with Marion's comrade, and it was a conflict the end of which wasn't in sight.

I have always been compulsive and unrelenting, both in love and in war. If I started something with Freya ... well, it didn't matter in the least to me that she was married with children. I'd steal her away from her hubby without a second thought. But not to drag her into my fucked-up war with a bunch of assholes. I'm a terrible person, but I wouldn't do that to a friend.

"When do I get to see this picture?" I asked.

"Ooohhh ... I dunno about that."

"There's an implied agreement that if you agree to sit for a sketch that you get to see it when it's done."

"Oh, I used to be really good in college. I'm not sure I'm doing you justice."

"Nonsense."

"Where are you from really?" she asked, no doubt hoping to throw me off the scent. "Your English is perfect, but I hear an accent in there. I just can't put a finger on it."

"Transylvania."

"No, really."

"I was born in Acre."

"In Israel?"

"Well, it was part of the Kingdom of Jerusalem then."

For a moment, I thought she might finally call bullshit. But the story was too much fun, and even if it irked her a skosh that I kept up the pretense, I could tell she didn't want it to go away.

"So ... your native language is?"

"English now. But I grew up speaking Turkish, Arabic, Greek, and French of a sort." Then my mouth moved of its own accord. "Do you wanna have dinner tonight?"

"Of course," she said with a shy smile. "As long as I'm not the main course."

"I never play with my food."

"Speaking of which, doesn't human food ... you know."

"We all eat human food."

"Vampires eat human food? Even garlic?"

"It upsets my stomach a little, but I like it just fine."

"Holy water?"

"I could guzzle the stuff by the gallon."

"How do you feel when you see a cross?"

"Annoyed."

"So, if you were born during the crusades, how old does that make you?"

I tried to run the numbers. Some things I was still terrible with. "Around about 800 years. I'm not certain. Pederast I was still pope during that time ... if that helps at all."

"I shouldn't be laughing," Freya said moments later, between guffaws, "I'm actually catholic."

"So was I once. I even spent a few years at a convent. Look, I'm never going to see this sketch, am I?"

"It just doesn't capture your beauty."

"Oh!" said I. "That was a good reply. It just might work."

I still was keeping half an eye on the area, and at about that moment I spied the object of my designs. Fallon, dressed in a lovely and extremely flattering summer dress, was leaving the back entrance of the hotel and strolling in our direction. "You know," I said to Freya, "if you want a proper model, you should sketch that hottie right there."

"Oh, my God," my companion whispered when she got sight of Fallon approaching. "I've seen her a few times since I arrived. Is she not an absolute stunner? And that front grill! I'm not a fan of that type of augmentation, but whoever did her work should get the Nobel Prize for Medicine. They are absolutely perfect."

I couldn't help but agree with Freya, but I also couldn't help but notice the expression on the face of the young woman walking toward us. There was something there of doubt or worry. Or was it just sadness? I've never been the empathic type, but I felt a tug of sympathy for her. I continued to regard her until she very nearly reached us, and when she did, I caught her eye.

"Hey, gorgeous, buy you a drink?" I could be incredibly friendly when it suited my designs.

The young woman came to a stop, and a confused and worried look flashed across her face. "I'm sorry?"

"Oh, hon, I didn't mean to startle you," I said. I smiled and motioned to Freya-Lynn, giving the woman a wink when I did. "My friend here was just lamenting how she couldn't find an artist's model worthy of her skill. Would you mind sitting for her?"

A delighted smile slipped across Fallon's face. "Really?"

"It would be wonderful," said Freya. "If you have the time?"

"Oh, no. I don't have any place to be." When she sat, I ordered a round for the three of us, and she continued saying, "Are you serious about drawing me?"

"Freya, show her the lovely picture you drew of me."

The older woman's lips pursed into a twisted smile, and she grudgingly passed the pad to Fallon. I opted not to steal a peek.

"Oh, my God. That's so beautiful," said the young woman. She glanced in my direction, and then back to Freya. "Ahhh ... that's just perfect. You are so talented—"

"Freya-Lynn," I said, nodding to my new friend. "And I'm Elizabeth Bathory."

Freya barked another laugh. "That is not your name!"

It dawned on me that I had not yet introduced myself to either Freya or Fallon, despite having torrid fantasies about at least one of them. "No, it's not. But you can call me Bess anyway."

"Bess is a vampire," Freya said to Fallon. "Be careful she doesn't gobble you up."

An unexpected burst of laughter escaped me, a sound of pure joy. It hadn't dawned on me that Freya might mention such a thing, but why shouldn't she? She plainly didn't believe a word of it, nor would Fallon. But if Fallon were to mention it, even in passing, to Marion? Well, that might just tip my hand.

No. I did not lament my decision to invite the lass to join us. As was so often the case, necessity forced a plan into my head. And murderous gears began to turn.

"I promise to gobble neither one of you," I said. By that time, Fallon had struck a pose and Freya had turned to a new page and now regarded her new model carefully. "But only if our new friend—"

"Fallon."

"Only if our new friend Fallon agrees to have dinner with us tonight."

"Absolutely!" said Freya. "It'll be a girls' night. I haven't had one of those in ages."

"Oh, this is ...," Fallon began. "It's all very sudden. I sort of have plans ...."

"It's a guy, isn't it?" I asked.

"Yes." She made the word sound like an apology.

"And he's gorgeous and charismatic."

"Yes. And so ... I don't know. He's so attentive and sophisticated."

"Well," I said, nodding to Freya, "I think my friend would agree that if this beau of yours is gallant and a true gentleman that he wouldn't begrudge you one single tiny little night with the girls."

"Hear! Hear!" agreed Freya.

"Well, okay then," said Fallon with a beautiful smile.

It was all sudden and unexpected for the youngster, but Fallon positively beamed at the attention. There was something going on there that I didn't quite understand. Most women would not have agreed so readily to an unexpected invitation from two strangers, no matter how charming they were or how enticing the offer. A woman's trust of another woman goes only so far, so I'd expected needing much more time in persuading her.

It occurred to me that this kid was lonely, desperately lonely, and obviously distraught about something, though I could not suppose what. Marion knew how to pick out the weak and the vulnerable from the herd, of that there was no doubt. It only made what I was going to do to the man that much more delicious.

My hastily prepared plan, though, required that Fallon stay out of touch with Marion for the rest of the day, so I needed to move fast. Feigning a need to visit the lady's room, I brushed against Fallon when she rose to let me pass. In that single faint brush against her soft and scented flesh, I managed to nick her cellphone.

It was a grubby skill that I'd cultivated over the years, but I could pinch almost anything. After reaching the hotel doorway and skimming her text messages, I sent a short note to the number I knew to be Marion's. Afterward, I deactivated the thing and stashed it under an out-of-the-way shelf in the back hallway of the hotel. I then stopped by the loo, washed up a mite, and returned to the table to find Fallon standing and patting herself in obvious distress.

"Is everything okay?" I asked before resuming my seat.

"Fallon mislaid her phone."

"I'm sure I had it when I left my room. I just checked messages ...."

"Well, then, it has to be somewhere," I assured her.

"Oh, damn. My whole life is in that."

"Sweetheart," I said in my most soothing voice, "it's Miami. Things always work out here. What kind of phone is it?"

"An iPhone, one of the newer ones."

"Black?"

"Yes."

I handed her my phone, insisted that she sit and enjoy her drink, and after asking a few more questions told her I'd backtrack and see if I could find her device.

"I'm sure it will show up. You can keep mine until then, and I'll make sure the staff is on the lookout for any unclaimed phones."

There was absolutely no reason not to do as I said I would. Over the next ten minutes, I made a careful scrutiny of the areas Fallon said she had passed or stopped after leaving her room, dropped by the front desk to report the missing phone, and even queried the cleaning staff on Fallon's floor. What else would a good friend do?

I didn't feel the least worry that she might call Marion. No one memorized phone numbers anymore, and it wasn't as if someone like Marion would have his number listed. As for my phone? I swapped out phones every week or so. Even if Fallon was so uncouth as to snoop in mine, it's unlikely she'd find anything incriminating. In any event, I never left records of my many ill deeds anywhere, least of all on a telephone.

To my delight, Fallon and Freya were chatting and laughing when I returned. A new round of drinks was on the table.

"What did I miss?"

"You don't have fangs," said Fallon with an angelic smile.

"Pardon?"

"You're a vampire?"

"Oh! I'd nearly forgotten." I showed them my pearly whites. "It's not as antiseptic as they make in the movies. I just take a big ol' bite and slurp up what comes out."

"Ewww ...," said my companions in unison, each making their own face that suggested TMI.

"No, no. It's true. My teeth are hard and very sharp." I snapped my choppers a few times just to emphasize the point. "But, alas, I didn't find your phone. Though the staff is on the lookout for it."

"You know what," said Fallon, "it's not the first one I've misplaced. Damnit. But thanks so much for taking care of me. I ... I really needed that."

You may imagine that I felt a tad of shame for filching the thing to begin with, but I did not. Recall that I was sparing this adorable lass from a fate somewhat less comfortable than losing a phone.

She did later express a certain worry that she wouldn't be able to contact her friend, Marion. (A German count he was trying to pass himself as. Gimme a break.) But after some careful inquiry, Freya uncovered that they merely were meeting. It wasn't really a date at all, not even under the modern code of such thinking.

With that little tidbit of news in hand, the three of us planned our girls' night out. I had other plans to make as well, and it all would be positively glorious.