What he could do was bleed to death, but that was a less-than-satisfactory way of proving his point.
“Some vampires are an entirely separate species from you,” he said. “We weren’t all humans once who got bitten, then transformed into immortals like your mythology would have you believe. Some of us are born as vampires like you were born as humans.”
Russel, the quiet one of his two jailers, listened with a blank face. The other one, the harsh one, glared at him, making his disbelief obvious in his expression.
Sinclair continued. “When we’re young, we’re more vulnerable than our older counterparts, who are called turned. You see, there are two kinds of born vampires—living and turned. Living vampires, like me, need to eat, we need to breathe and sleep, and while the sun does affect us, it’s more of a nuisance, not…harmful.”
Sinclair stopped himself before revealing the sun would kill a turned vampire. They probably suspected as much, but he had to be careful. Give them enough information to prove his point and not enough to further their cause.
“Get on with it.” The harsh man glowered, unimpressed.
“Living vampires are later turned by their elders. Then they become somewhat more like the creature in your fables but less fantastical. Their hearts cease to beat, many still breathe, but they don’t have to. They no longer require food and must sustain themselves on blood. They don’t age and can live long lives.”
It wasn’t necessary to reveal their immortality or how fertility issues had decimated the living vampire population and slowed the growth of the species to a crawl. The less he had to tell to make his point, the better.
“That’s why I can’t prove anything. I’m still living. I haven’t transitioned. There is nothing special about me,” Sinclair said warily.
“Then what use will you be to us?” Russel asked. “Maybe I should let Hank kill you. We were going to hold you for ransom, but you’ve admitted you’re nothing special.”
“Yeah,” Hank chimed in.
Sinclair flinched. He didn’t plan on dying today. “I meant I’ve no fancy trick to offer to prove my claim, not that I’m not valuable to my people.” Sinclair paused, considering his next words carefully. “My father is a prominent political figure among our kind, and we’re a wealthy family. He would pay for my safe return.”
“Why should we believe you?” Hank said.
“What have you got to lose? You’ve got me. I’m trapped here. No one knows where I am, and it’s the truth. You could be rich,” Sinclair pointed out. “My father is a rich man.”
His captors looked at each other.
Sinclair took the opportunity to test his bonds again, but they held firm. “Oh,” Sinclair said, drawing their attention back to him. “There’s one thing I can do to prove it. Look at my mouth. Watch.”
Letting his fangs come in would make him hungry, but what choice did he have? This would prove at least some of what he’d said was true, and he hoped that would convince them that the rest had been the truth also.
Sinclair opened his jaws and drew his lips back. His teeth appeared ordinary until he forced his fangs to drop. They sprang from his upper and lower gums, seemingly out of nowhere, and both Hank and Russel jolted backward.
Russel actually looked scared. “Motherfucker.”
Sinclair let them recede into his gums and closed his mouth. “I’m sorry I didn’t think of that sooner. See? It’s all true.” The trick seemed to work.
“Suppose we go ahead with our plan? We demand a ransom for your pathetic life. How much could your father come up with? And don’t lie.” Hank lifted his hand, a knife firm in his grip. “If I think you’re lying, I’ll cut you. Then we’ll find out for sure if you bleed or not.”
“A million dollars,” Sinclair answered confidently. “My father can get you a million dollars. But he will be angry if you’ve hurt me, and he isn’t the sort of vampire you want to cross.”
Neither man attempted to hide their delight at the large sum. Luther could come up with ten times that number, but he’d guessed correctly; one million would be sufficient. Perhaps it wouldn’t come to that if he could manage to slip out of these restraints.
The two humans fell into discussion as if Sinclair were no longer in the room. They spoke of burner phones and how to make the ransom call without being traced. They weren’t working alone. Others were in on this plan. But how many? Careless of them to speak so plainly right in front of him.
Sinclair needed an escape plan, and for that, he needed to know the layout of this building, how many others lurked, and if there were guards stationed at the exits.
“I have to pee.”
“Hold it,” Russel snapped.
“I can’t. I really have to go. We were celebrating when your bomb exploded, and I’ve had a lot to drink,” Sinclair said. Then added a quiet “Please?” and looked toward Russel, judging him the most reasonable.
“Fine, fine, but no funny business, or you’ll regret it.” Russel nodded to Hank, who opened the door and shouted for someone called Gutter.
A huge man with a deadly-looking machine gun appeared in the doorway.
