Stalking the Vampire Read Online Free PDF Page B

Draconis.”
    â€œDoesn't he play third base for the Louisiana Lechers?” said the waiter.
    â€œHe's a seven-foot-tall vampire and he's in Manhattan right now.”
    The waiter frowned. “What's he doing in Manhattan? The Lechers are playing the Toledo Troglodytes in an hour.”
    Mallory put the bill away. “Thanks anyway.”
    The waiter lowered his voice. “Before you leave, Effendi , perhaps I could interest you in some exotic belly-dancing?”
    â€œWe're in a hurry.”
    â€œIt will only take me a few minutes to change into my costume.”
    â€œ Your costume?” said Mallory.
    â€œDo you see anyone else here?”
    â€œSome other time.”
    The waiter shrugged. “Your loss.”
    â€œDoubtless,” said Mallory as the waiter walked away. The detective turned to McGuire. “Finish that drink. I've got to check on my partner.”
    â€œI thought I was your partner,” complained the little vampire.
    â€œYou're my companion for the moment. She's my partner. And the youngman we're looking for nabbed her on the neck last night. I want to make sure she's not out doing the same thing to someone else.”
    â€œShe won't be,” said McGuire. “It takes more than one bite to inspire the thirst in a victim.”
    â€œThe kid was only bitten once.”
    McGuire shook his head. “He only remembers being bitten once, but if he drank some of his aunt's blood, then you can draw one of two conclusions. Probably Draconis was feasting on him all during the trip from Europe, and the young man slept through it. They usually do, you know. I mean, it's quite painful to be bitten in the neck. Fortunately, we have a mild anesthetic in our saliva.”
    â€œFine,” said Mallory. “That's one conclusion. What's the other?”
    â€œThat the young man is kinky beyond belief and needs to see a good shrink.”
    â€œLet's stick with the first,” said Mallory. “I saw the bite marks on his neck.”
    â€œOkay,” said McGuire, finishing his drink. “It's probably the more reasonable assumption.”
    â€œAll right, let's go.”
    They walked out into the night, avoided the crowd watching dragon races on the next block, took a pair of side streets, and soon arrived at Winnifred's apartment. The doorthing—Mallory had some difficulty thinking of him as a door man —recognized the detective and passed the two of them in, and a moment later they emerged from the elevator onto the seventh floor.
    Mallory knocked on her door, and Winnifred, looking a little less pale, opened it.
    â€œWho's your friend?” she asked, staring at Bats McGuire.
    â€œAn expert on vampires,” replied Mallory.
    â€œYes, he certainly looks like one,” she said. “Come on in. May I offer you some tea?”
    â€œNo, thanks,” said McGuire. “We just had something to drink.” He stared at her trophy wall. “That's quite a collection you have here, ma'am.”
    â€œCall me Winnifred, or Colonel Carruthers.”
    â€œI especially like the banshee.”
    â€œYou know something about banshees, Mr…. ah?”
    â€œMcGuire, ma'am, Bats McGuire. And yes, some of my best friends are banshees.”
    She stared coldly at him. “Banshees are a vicious and surly race.”
    â€œYes, ma'am, they certainly are,” he agreed promptly. “You don't dare turn your back on them for a second. But when you're a forty-seven-year-old unemployed vampire, you take your friends where you find them.”
    Winnifred turned to Mallory. “I assume Rupert is safe in some hotel room?”
    â€œHe flew the coop,” said Mallory.
    â€œHe turned into a bat?” said Winnifred, surprised. “I didn't think he was that far gone.”
    â€œPoor choice of words,” replied Mallory. “We stopped at Noodnik's—you know the place; we nailed Skippy the Card Shark there a few months