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"The night life ain't no good life, but it's my life."

"Night Life" - Willie Nelson

So… vampires were real. I thought about the subject during my second shower of the night. If that was true, then it was only logical that most of the people who hung around the Affair were probably vampires. Did that include Phillip Drackett himself? Dexter seemed to think so. I still made it a point to flirt with Mr. D now and then, though he pretended to ignore it, and it seemed to me that he had always averted his eyes when he saw me with Buddy. Vampire or not, I guessed the guy was a real homophobe.

Drackett and Star were buddies; I figured that Star must know if he was a vampire. Why hadn't Star told me? Oh, well. He probably assumed that my "boyfriend" Buddy had already clued me in. I made a mental note to discuss the subject with Star… someday.

Having learned that vampires existed, I didn't spend much more time worrying about it. Did they run from crosses? Did they hate Italian food? Who cared? I'd read Bram Stoker's Dracula and drooled over Bela Lugosi movies way back when, but I'd met people in the club who wore silver crosses, so there had to be Christian vampires, and I'd watched Buddy eat pizza. Many of the things I knew from personal observation challenged the "facts" found in movies and books. After fucking Dex, I certainly didn't think they were "dead." Maybe they were just different. Once enlightened, if I took the time to think about it, I could tell a vampire from a regular human, and that seemed quite enough. Truth to tell, it just didn't matter to me that much. I was more interested in my own drama.

Not that my life was all that dramatic.

Time went by, and things settled into a routine. I tried my hand, or rather my brain, at prospecting Star's way and, after a few spectacular accidents, learned to do it well enough to pay for whatever I wanted. Remember that old comic-book story where Superman turns coal into a diamond by crushing it in his hand? Don't bother trying that one; it doesn't work… and it's messy.

I spent as much time as I could with Star, and way too much time with Vaira. Vaira came up pregnant, which seemed to mellow her a little. On the negative side, scary Suria declared herself not only Star's but the family's doctor, so she was around even more than before, doing unknown things to Vaira now, I was sure.

I kept my rooms at the Affair, but leased a little apartment close to downtown LA as well. Dex and I continued to enjoy each other, but I found other agreeable men in the local gay bars and didn't always want to take them all the way out to the Affair. As far as I know, Dex never tried to bite me, and I never volunteered, either. When I thought about it, the whole vampire thing still kind of freaked me out. But I did continue to wiggle my ass in front of Mr. D. If he had succumbed to my charms, I might have reconsidered playing the vampire version of hard-to-get. He didn't bite, however… in either sense.

I got to know Xintaie better, and even went horseback riding with her on occasion. She had a number of horses imported from her home planet and some really beautiful white ones that were a product of her own breeding program. Besides her ranch in the mountains of Colorado, she had a smaller spread out near Malibu. She told me she had met Star when she was out riding. Apparently, he was unconscious after being buried in an avalanche, which was the aftermath of an earthquake. Curious about how something like that could have happened, considering all his built-in defenses, I mentioned it to Star, but he made it sound unimportant. So, not wanting to push, I let it go.

One afternoon when Xintaie and I were sharing a large chicken salad at one of our favorite little downtown cafes, I finally got around to mentioning her relationship with Drackett.

"How long have you known the D-man?" I asked.

She put down her fork and regarded me with an odd expression, and I had another momentary pang of wishing I wasn't too scrupulous to read someone's mind.

"A few years," she said, with a smile the Mona Lisa would have envied.

"And how did you meet?" I persevered.

She laughed and took a drink of her iced tea. "I think you should ask him," she said, and that was all she would say about it.

Considering the way Mr. D and I related, or rather didn't, I had no intention of asking him anything of the sort. Why should I waste my time?

But the subject stayed on my mind, and that night, sleeping in my bed at the Affair, I had the most interesting and realistic dream….

* * *

The young woman couldn't move yet, but each overstressed cell in her body vibrated with determined, outraged life, and not a little anger. How dare he leave her here, alone in the dark, for anyone to find?

What had he been thinking? He must have known that taking all of the blood in her body would kill an ordinary person.

And why would he want to kill her? Certainly they had met by chance, but he had seemed to enjoy their time together as much as she. He was so attentive, and so gentle and generous when they made love. They were good together. Couldn't he feel it?

It had been a surprise to realize that the man she was so attracted to was a vampire. She hadn't known they really existed, but the sharp teeth at her throat had gone a long way toward convincing her.

All right, he was a vampire, but did he really need that much blood? Her body probably held five liters, and if that was his usual nightly ration, then there would be a long trail of dry, drained corpses left behind, wherever he went. Such a rampage could not be hidden for long, and soon all the newspapers would scream "vampire!" Surely he didn't want that. No, he couldn't possibly be consuming that much blood on a regular basis. So… why her?

An hour gone now, and the park was still deserted in the dim predawn hours. Her liquid reserves were sluggishly beginning to flow into her veins from bones and tissues. She sighed, this shallow breath fractionally easier than those that came before it, her body drawing extra strength directly from the earth beneath her. Even the blades of grass seemed to bear her up, each lending a little of its own moisture to her parched cells. The dew of morning settled on her bare limbs, and each drop disappeared, greedily absorbed in an instant.

After another measureless while, she sat up, carefully and slowly.

Well, she wasn't as easy to kill as all that. He had chosen a victim whose body was stronger than most. He didn't know that, of course.

But he would.

She stood, leaning heavily against the trunk of the old oak. Her joints grated, as though filled with gravel. Oh, well. She knew that would ease once she found enough water.

An enticing scent of moisture pulled at her like a magnet. It took a long while to walk the short distance to the lakeshore. She stood for a moment, leaning heavily against the railing of the small pier, watching the crescent moon as it seemed to sink slowly into the dark ripples. Then she simply let go and fell in.

* * *

"You all right, miss?" The uniformed policeman approached the dripping woman cautiously. Her low-cut red dress and heeled sandals weren't meant for swimming. Yet, for the life of him, he'd swear that was just what she'd been doing. She was lovely, even with mud on her nose and strands of dark hair trailing over her face.

Golden-brown eyes looked up at the handsome uniformed man from under thick, dark lashes. "Silly me, officer. I was walking around the lake, slipped on a rock, and in I fell." She held out two empty palms. I hope you don't want to see my ID. I'm afraid my purse is somewhere on the bottom of the lake."

The beautiful woman smiled, and he felt a sudden tightness in his chest. Even wet and bedraggled, there was something about her. "May I call a cab for you, miss?"

"I'm really quite alright, officer. Just feeling a little foolish, as you might imagine. That's my building, right up there." She pointed with one slim hand at a two-story apartment complex only a block away. "If I keep walking, I'll be there soon enough."

Officer Stebbins cleared his throat. "I'll just walk with you then, shall I?"

She smiled, and he felt his lips stretch in answer. In five minutes they had arrived. She rang for the sleepy, yawning super and was soon buzzed inside the glass outer doors. Officer Stebbins waved back as he watched her climb the stairs. A little dotty, perhaps, but she certainly was a looker, he thought. What an odd but pleasant way to start the morning.

* * *

It was dark, absolutely black, and he could see nothing, in spite of his excellent night vision. He tried to lie still in the familiar confined space, but he could not rest. The dreamless oblivion that should have been his would not come.

He moved his head from side to side, trying vainly to ease the tension across his shoulders. The tag inside his shirt collar pressed a small square of irritation into the skin of his neck. He felt he might go mad if he could not relieve it.

But there would be no respite from anything until this cursed day was over. He could feel the ball of flame rising higher in the sky with each passing second. How could he stand to wait as the long hours of summer light crawled by?

She was dead. The enchanting, beautiful creature, for whom he had felt some long-forgotten emotion, was dead. And that was precisely why she'd had to die. Her eyes, so soft and lovely, had looked at him, into him, until they saw his soul-or whatever poor remnant was left him after all these years. To some daylight folk he was a dark dream, a pleasant hour of exquisite sensation. To others he was a monster, an evil being born of purest nightmare. He had often played both these extreme parts, and all those in between.

How many centuries since he had been seen only as a man, as… himself?

He could not risk the knowledge he saw in her eyes. What weakness might seize him? What betrayal might she commit if he fully succumbed to her charms… as he very much wanted to. A great deal of time had passed since there were howling, torch-bearing mobs to pursue him. But those frightened, angry people could come again-this time with bombs and rifles and chemical fire-things that would mean for him the true death as surely as any wooden stake.

Secrecy, discretion… these were his only weapons. The disbelief and scorn held for fairy-tale frights was his armor. If his kind existed only in books and on the wide screen, not in the frightened hearts of true believers, then he could walk where he pleased, do what he must.

He squeezed his eyes tight shut, again moving his head the meager inches allowed him. "Why?" crept back into the forefront of his mind. It was always there of late, waiting to pounce on him in his moments of weakness. After all this time, why should he want his existence to continue? Why should he seek so ardently to spare himself that final ending? What more could there be for him than an endless repetition of all-too-familiar acts… acts from which the pleasure had long since been washed away in a red tide of guilt and horror?

He let his eyes open, though they saw nothing but the darkness inside his heart. What was left for him to want? Desire, once sharp in his blood and bones, was all but gone, leaving him hollow and empty. In his long lifetime, he had satisfied every earthly hunger that could be imagined, in every imaginable way.

A line from the Christian Bible floated into his consciousness, "There is nothing new under the sun." He might not be able to attest to that exact fact, but for certain, there was no novelty left to be found in his world of darkness. It had taken him far less than two thousand years to discover that ancient truth.

If he could have smiled, he would have.

* * *

Xintaie swallowed another gulp of water and put the empty glass down on the counter, filling it this time with apple juice from the refrigerator. Her body needed everything-sugars, proteins, vitamins, and endless liquid anything-to replenish its everyday supply and rebuild the reserves she had drawn on so heavily. And rest. She needed that too… more than she had time for. Already the sun shone noontime high, and she wanted to be prepared by dusk to meet him again. She could not be sure that he would stay in his present lodgings for much longer. He must be so frightened.

That thought was all that kept her anger in check.

As a child, she had been taught that her body had this type of recovery potential, but she had never dreamed of needing it. What would her parents say if they knew? They had never understood her desire to come to Earth or her fascination with Earth's people. She'd had to wait until she was of age to travel here, and she knew that her parents were confident she would soon return home.

They were wrong, she thought to herself. This is my home now.

Her birth planet, very close as planets went but well hidden in a fold of space, was very different from Earth. The people there were peaceful, friendly, universally intelligent and beautiful. The times of greed, war, and strife were long over for their society.

Growing up, Xintaie had always longed for things her age-mates never seemed to care about. She looked for different experiences - something more than sailing a familiar sea or scaling a much-climbed mountain - a new adventure, not one already known, proven, and safe. Even harder to understand for her family and friends, she wanted to experience these adventures, not in a safe and guided group, but on her own.

She sighed, swallowing yet another vitamin tablet. Perhaps she was a throwback to earlier times. Her people were not so different from those she lived among now. It could be that there had once been frequent travel between the two worlds - by spaceship, or even through the dimensions. No one now remembered how that had been done, but the legends of magical visits to different lands were there, in both cultures.

* * *

He clasped one hand over the other wrist, feeling for the marks made by her fingernails, but they were gone, quickly healed by the massive intake of blood. The overindulgence had left him feeling bloated for a while, but his body had speeded up its metabolic processes, and now he felt only emptiness. Yes, he decided, he was certain now. There was no escape for him, no way out but the unthinkable. The guilt of this death, the latest of all those that must be laid at his feet, somehow bothered him more than the thousands that came before. He had learned that his kind did not have to kill, but he had willfully chosen to end the life of the beautiful woman who said she loved him.

Was that what had frightened him so? So much that he had continued to drink the liquid of her life long after he had consumed the small amount needed for amorous play or simple sustenance? The fact that she claimed to feel love for him, and worse, that he felt the stirrings of an answering, almost forgotten response in himself?

Yes, it must be that. And, instead of simply leaving, disappearing without a trace as he had so many times in the past when discovered, he had taken the violent alternative. He had struck out in fear and taken wicked advantage of her gentle, misplaced trust.

Yes, this was that fabled last straw. The pain of his continued existence had finally become too harsh to bear. He would rise at dusk, as he had for uncountable nights before. But he would not return to the safety of his coffin at dawn. No, he would climb high and stand gladly atop the ridge of the nearby hills to face the bane and beauty of the flaming golden orb for his first time in centuries.

And his last.

* * *

She took another sip from the straw placed in the large glass of orange juice, swallowed, then took a moment to roll her shoulders and ease the tension in the back of her neck. She had worked all day in her basement lab, stopping only when absolutely necessary to meet her stomach's demands with another large spoonful of peanut butter or a slice of cheese. What she really craved was a strawberry milkshake, preferably with a banana blended in and maybe a raw egg or two, but she didn't want to take the time to stop and make one.

She held the small glass vial up to the light. The liquid was transparent, and it didn't look at all like blood. But, if her calculations were correct, an ounce or so of this formula would not only nourish a vampire for a day, but counteract his allergy to sunlight.

She hadn't had a great deal to work with-only the foreign cells she found under her fingernails and tongue. Her rapid dehydration had served to hold them in place, even through the dunking in the lake, and she had removed, preserved, and studied them most carefully.

Though they were basically human cells, there were certain unmistakable differences. What had brought about those subtle changes, she could not even speculate. She was a chemist, not a genetic detective. But, to her way of thinking, all problems had solutions, and she had begun her day's quest determined to find the answer to "vampire."

Well, there was only one way to test the product of her theories. She was ninety-nine percent certain that her calculations were accurate, but was she willing to risk the vampire's life with that one percent of possible error?

Was there any other way? Were there perhaps vampire lab rats to be found somewhere?

She smothered a laugh. Even if there were such things, she had no idea where to find them. The choice to try the experiment or not would have to be his.

The sun was sinking rapidly, and she hadn't done more than shower off the mud from the lake and thoroughly brush her hair. Well, she thought as she decanted the rest of the solution into a bottle and sealed it, he would just have to put up with the sight of her without makeup, clad in worn jeans and a T-shirt. Perhaps, since that was hardly dignified, ghostly attire, it might help convince him that she was alive and not a specter returned from the dead.

For the first time in hours, she allowed herself a small smile. The shock that seeing her again would no doubt give the vampire would go at least partway toward assuaging her hurt and anger.

* * *

There were still a few minutes left before sunset when she parked her powder-blue T-bird in front of the warehouse. He'd never invited her inside, just mentioned that he lived at his place of business, and this had to be it. There was a discreet sign over the door announcing the "Crystal Affair," but no sign that the bar was in operation. Well, she supposed, no point opening a vampire bar until after sundown.

The door, painted a glossy dark red, opened quickly to her firm knock, and a very large man, towering over her five feet two and dressed in dark slacks, vest, and a sparkling, starched white shirt, looked down at her with interest. She thought he seemed all but incapable of smiling, but the hard stare he directed her way seemed too practiced to be truly menacing. She took in the misshapen ears and short dark crew cut, then smiled up into the pale blue eyes. "Hello. My name is Xintaie. I'm looking for Phillip Drackett." She held out her hand politely, but the man didn't even glance at it. She thought his eyes widened, just a bit, and then he stepped aside.

"Please, come in." The cultured tenor voice sounded odd, coming from the huge body.

She followed his massive back into a hallway, after catching a single glimpse of a large room that glittered with mirrors and crystal chandeliers. Finally, they reached a door that opened into an office, complete with comfortable-looking leather chairs, laden bookshelves, and a heavy wooden desk. The big man gestured toward a chair. "I will inform Mr. Drackett of your arrival. It may be a few minutes. May I bring you anything while you wait?"

She sat down with a sigh. She was feeling almost back to normal, but she was sure it would be several days before her body was completely recovered. And she was still thirsty. She shook her head. "I don't know. What I really want is a strawberry milkshake, but some juice would be nice."

"A strawberry milkshake," the clear voice repeated. "Certainly. Anything else?"

She blinked, and her stomach chose that moment to growl. "Excuse me," she said, "but… what else have you got?"

"We have a complete menu," the man explained. "This is a supper club, after all."

She smiled. "Do you suppose I could have some french fries?"

She thought the man almost smiled back at her. "Certainly. I will have Raphael bring your food. It should not be long."

He gave her a nod and moved toward the doorway, but she stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Suppose I want to talk to you again. Who should I ask for?"

He stared at her for a moment, then bowed, deeply and elegantly, from the waist. "I, madam, am called André." And he turned and was gone.

Raphael was quite short for a man and extremely handsome, and the milkshake was the best she'd ever tasted, and not simply because she was starving. She'd almost finished the fries when a door opened in the back of the room and the vampire was suddenly there in the chair behind the desk. She looked into the familiar thin, pale face, and had to admire his control. There was no sign of recognition at all in the green eyes.

She took a moment to wipe her mouth with the napkin.

"Well," she said, "thank you for feeding me. It only seems fair that you help replace the calories you took. I've been starving all day." She fixed the expressionless face with a glare. "And I certainly hope that you're not as hungry as you were last night."

He blinked, and she saw him swallow. "How… how is it that you…?" He stopped and tried again. "I did not expect to see you here tonight."

* * *

He could feel his pulse racing. She was not dead.

But he had seen her, tossed her drained body to the ground. True, he had not checked for signs of life, but no human could survive without blood….

His mouth opened without his willing it. "You're not human!" he accused.

She laughed. "You're right. I was born on another planet. And you're a vampire. I think that makes us even."

He could not stop looking at her. Her skin was only slightly paler than he remembered it, and her face was lovely, even without makeup and with a small smear of strawberry milkshake on the corner of her mouth.

Before they could tremble, he clasped his hands together in his lap. "I-"

"No," she said. "It's alright. I guess I understand why you did what you did. I must have frightened you, and I'm sorry for that."

He opened his mouth to deny it, but she held up one small hand. "Save it. I said I loved you last night. I don't know why I said it. It's not logical. I obviously don't know you at all. But…." She stopped and ran her eyes over his face, and he would have blushed at the intense scrutiny, if he had remembered how. "Seeing you again… I find I still feel the same." She smiled. "And you're lucky, because that's the only thing that's keeping me from knocking your teeth in right now."

His eyes widened. He had known many women, but none who spoke to him as she did, disrespectful and yet somehow affectionate.

She shook her head. "But I won't demand an apology from you tonight." She picked up the large leather purse beside her chair and clicked it open. "I've brought you something that I hope will make you feel better." In her hand was a small glass bottle, and she held it up for him to see.

"I've been thinking a lot about what it must be like to be a vampire, and you're an old one too, aren't you?" She didn't wait for him to answer. "Living in the shadows for years and years, always afraid to trust anyone new; it must have been a nightmare. But this"-she gestured with the bottle-"may help a little."

"What…." He had to clear his throat and try again. "What is it?"

"I told you, I'm an organic chemist." She glanced at his wrist, and he primly tucked it back out of sight under his cuff. "With those samples of your cells I took away with me, I tested and came up with a formula that may change some things for you." She extended her hand and placed the bottle on the desk, within his reach.

"What sort of things?" He was glad to note that his voice was steadier now. Over the years, he had encountered many strange things: ghouls, sorcerers, werewolves, and once a living mummy. Why should he show surprise over one small, beautiful alien?

"Well…." She glanced at the bottle and then back at him. "I haven't been able to test it, of course, but if it works as I think it will, it should function as a substitute for blood."

He could feel his eyes widen.

"And also, it should take care of your debilitating allergy to sunlight." She stopped and sat back in the chair, crossing her legs at the ankle.

The silence between them seemed to ring with echoes. He had heard her words, but his brain refused to register their meaning. She spoke of the sun so casually. Only an allergy?

He gasped, a sudden memory blasting across his inner eye. Many years ago, he and another vampire, a chance acquaintance, feeding together, hungry and careless, then hounded by townspeople, running for their lives from fire and sharp wooden pitchforks. Weakened by the imminent dawn, he had barely managed to climb a rocky slope and disappear into the mouth of a cave near the top of a high cliff. The other vampire…. He had watched, unable to look away, as the villagers surrounded the man, moving closer as he snarled and snapped, piercing him with fire-hardened wooden points until he squirmed and growled like a wounded beast. And then, just as the vampire almost broke away from the mob, the sun had risen over the hill, and the bright rays had struck his struggling figure.

The sudden burst of flame, white flesh burning to crisp black ash in a matter of moments, the angry, frightened villagers ran from the agonized screams as the vampire was consumed by the deadly light.

He had fled the cave as soon as the dark came again, but the burns on his hands and face had taken weeks to heal….

He blinked, refocusing on the brown eyes that were watching him so intently. "Allergy?" he grated.

"Yes. I don't know what else to call it." She seemed to study his face, and he looked away. "Allergies can be deadly to humans too, you know. Some people are so allergic to bees that a single sting will stop their heart. And there are all sorts of food and drug allergies mentioned in the literature, quite a few of them as lethal as poison."

He swallowed. "I suppose it takes a great deal to kill someone of your… persuasion."

She shook her head. "More than you can imagine, and don't even think of trying to do it again." Her full lips widened in a smile that dazzled him. "You're stuck with me, Count Drackett."

He jerked back as though she had slapped him. "What-"

"Sorry, just a dumb joke. I couldn't resist… the similarity of your names, and all."

She was staring at him again, and he did his best to compose his features. She meant the remark as a jest. She could not possibly know how accurate her attempt at humor had been.

He motioned at the bottle, unwilling to touch it. "Tell me of this… gift."

She leaned forward. "Well, you drink it, of course. Once every day, and an ounce should be enough."

He estimated the bottle held perhaps two hundred fifty milliliters. Sixteen doses.

"I can make more, of course," she added, seeming to have read his mind. "It would be easy enough with larger lab facilities, and maybe a couple of assistants?" She raised perfectly shaped eyebrows.

"Of course," he said, scarcely registering her remarks. Could this be true? In the past, there had been others, scientists of those times, who had claimed to have a remedy for a vampire's greatest weakness. He had never trusted them entirely, though he knew of others who had. But the potions, even if somewhat effective, had offered only temporary, minor relief from the exile to darkness, perhaps allowing one to venture out in the deepest of twilight, or the heaviest of fogs.

She was smiling at him again. "I'm sorry I had no way to test it, but I'm almost certain it will work."

He had to ask. "'Work' how, exactly?"

She tilted her head. "Oh, well, you should be able to walk around during the day… just like anybody else."

He felt as though someone had struck him hard in the belly. Just like anybody else? He had heard many an extravagant promise, but none delivered with quite as much calm certainty, and none that he was almost inclined to believe.

The bottle with its clear, pale amber contents drew his eyes. Could this be the answer to the exile he and all his kind suffered? If so, it would be no less than a miracle.

He shook his head. One such as he deserved no grace, though the woman before him might certainly be a heavenly messenger. He rubbed his palms together, remembering the satin smoothness of her skin.

All at once, everything seemed perfectly clear. Had he not planned for this to be his last night as a living being? Yes, he would meet the dawn as he had planned. But first, as an offering to fortune, he would swallow a measure of the gift this woman brought him. He was resolved. What matter if the liquid was water or the deadliest of poisons? His end would be the same. And if it did what she claimed….

He dared not even imagine it.

"Thank you," he said, bowing his head slightly. "I regret…."

She waited a moment, and when he said no more she stood and walked around the desk, stopping when she was very close to him and looking down into his eyes. "Phillip Drackett," she said, "I don't know what it is about you, and I can't say I'm not still angry, but I stand by what I said last night. I've fallen in love with you, and you'll have to do more than drain my blood to get rid of me."

She bent her head, and he felt petal-soft lips touch his own, her fresh scent invading his nostrils. Then she stood up, her eyes sparkling. "If you feel like gambling, take some of this stuff and try it out. You know. Maybe you could just stick one arm out the window into the sunshine at first." She grinned. "But, whether it works or not, I expect to hear from you tomorrow. If worst comes to worst, call me after dark. But if things go well, I'll expect to see you in daylight." She turned and moved toward the door, then looked back over her shoulder. "But don't call before noon. Thanks to you, I need to catch up on my rest."

Neither André nor Raphael arrived to show her to the door, and she made her own way back outside. The Thunderbird was as she had left it, and the drive home was gratefully uneventful. She hummed along with the music on the radio. Love songs, mostly, as usual. She could still see his last expression, an uneasy combination of hope and bitter skepticism.

He was bound to be in a better mood tomorrow, when he arrived at her house.

Hmm… where had she put that black lace negligee?

* * *

The tall, hulking man stared as the other man's thin fingers held up an amber vial.

"What is it, Master?"

"I have asked you not to call me that when we are alone, André. This is an elixir, a gift from the lady, Xintaie. She says it will let my kind walk in daylight."

André considered the intent expression on his master's narrow, familiar face. "Many have made such claims, sire-witches, sorcerers, alchemists. Not all have been effective; some have proved deadly. Do you trust her?"

The dark head nodded. "I believe that I do, yes-though I cannot say entirely why."

"You say she claims she is no alchemist, but a true scientist. I suppose it could be so, in these modern days. But, sire, it is not needful for you to be able to walk in sunlight. You have me to-"

The dark man lifted his head to smile at his companion. "Indeed. And my trust and need of you will not diminish, dear friend. But to walk in the light… to see the sunrise again…."

André bowed his head. "Yes, Master."

The dark man stood. "Come, my friend, dawn nears. There will be no better time." He uncapped the vial, lifted it to his lips.

"Please, Master! Will you not first test it on one of the lesser? You cannot risk-"

"André! If I am to lead, then I must risk. It has always been so." His sharp tone softened. "And it is also my desire to be the first. Dear André, It has been so very long…."

The dark man drained the small vial, pursing thin lips at the taste. He replaced it, empty, on his desk, and strode down the hallway. His friend, worry-hunched shoulders making him appear smaller than his more than six and one half feet, hurried behind, pausing only to take a heavy, fireproof blanket from a closet in the hall. If the worst came to pass, then perhaps he might save his master in time. It had happened before.

The silent elevator opened its doors to the roof. Stars still dominated the heavens, a sliver of moon sinking in the west. On the large, flat expanse, the two figures were no more than gray shadows. But that would soon change….

André raised his head. From long practice, he could almost smell the sun. To the second, he could time its rising, and it was near, very near. Now was the time for his master to be in the dark below, cradled in the satin and oak of his deep resting place. Never faint of heart, André trembled.

Then, as it had for uncountable turnings of the planet, the sun seemed to leap above the hills and rise high in the morning sky. The only difference, though the sun took no notice of it, was that today it was observed by eyes which had been without this brilliant vision for more years than their owner cared to reckon.

André stood behind the vampire, his long-beloved master, the thick blanket falling forgotten from his fingers as the light and warmth did no more than drape him in the vampire's shadow. Awestruck, he watched as his master fell to his knees, palms upraised to the brilliant pink and golden rays of dawn's first light, then knelt himself.

Though André did not see the tears that fell from the newly sun-blessed eyes, he did hear the vampire's whispered prayer.

"Thank you," he said. "Oh, thank you."

* * *

At that point, I sat up in bed, blinking, and I couldn't go back to sleep. But even after a few hours of reflection, I couldn't decide if I'd unconsciously tapped into all their minds while I slept, or if my subconscious had invented the whole thing.

Looking back, I realize I was never brave enough to ask.