Page 29 of Night of the Vampire
"Um, you have dog hair all over your jeans." She popped up out of her chair. "I have one of those sticky roller things."
Dog hair was not what she was thinking about. And that scared her, because she didn't trust me. "Lizzy."
She froze.
"Sit down and eat your dinner. Please," I added.
Keeping her eyes carefully on my face, she sat.
Carrying over both glasses and the bottle, I set one of the wineglasses in front of her and took a seat on the other side of the square table, directly across from her so I could watch her expressions as we talked. Though she picked up her fork, she just held it in her hand as her eyes shifting around the table. Looking for a weapon, perhaps? I listened in on her thoughts for a moment. Yes, that's exactly what she was doing. "You don't have to be scared, Lizzy. I'm not going to hurt you." And I wouldn't. Not yet. "But I can't control my body's reaction to being so near a woman such as yourself." I held my arms out to either side. "I am just a male, after all."
She didn't try to deny her fear or play it off with false bravado. She also didn't act like some fearful virgin. She was just a woman who was prepared to defend herself if she had to. I admired that about her.
"Is my aunt right about you?" she blurted. "That I should stay away from you. I haven't even told her what happened last night. Or that I'm staying here."
Good. I hope she kept it that way. "You told her about me, did you?" I was strangely flattered.
"Yes, after you came into the store and walked me home."
So, Judy didn't tell her what I am. "What do you think?"
"Well, Wiggles has taken to you. So, you can't be all bad."
That brought a smile to my face. If she only knew the reason behind his sudden change of heart. "I guess you'll just have to make up your own mind about that, then."
She took a bite of her dinner, her expression thoughtful. "So, you're from Ireland."
"I am." I swirled the wine in my glass before taking a sip. Kenya truly had fine taste in wines.
"What's it like there?"
"Cold," I told her. "And wet. And very green."
"Is your family still there?"
So we were doing this. "Not anymore."
"Where are they? Are they here with you?"
"The family that matters is, yes."
"Like your friend who's sick."
Rolling the stem of the wine glass between my palms, I nodded. "Yes. Like her."
A flash of something flew across her face. But it was there and gone before I could catch what it meant. I tried probing her bent head with my mind, but there were no clues there, either. Actually, she was singing a song to herself.
I almost smiled. She was catching on to me. Whether she truly believed it or not.
"Why did you leave Ireland?" she asked after a moment.
"Because it was too cold and too wet, and I was too poor." That was not a lie. "So, I came to the land of opportunity." I held up my glass in a toast, then drained it before refilling it.
Setting down her fork, she picked up her wine and leaned back in her chair. "You make it sound like you came over here in the nineteenth century."
I mimicked her posture. It made humans feel more comfortable when you acted more like they did. Breathing. Moving your limbs every once in a while. Even though it was easy for me to sit completely motionless for hours at a time. "Perhaps I did."
"That would make you over a hundred years old."
