‘Great to see you too, Simon.’ I check out the tall skinny metaller with his long straight dark hair parted down the middle. ‘Wow, you haven’t changed a bit.’
He looks down at his heavy metal band T-shirt partly hidden by a large black overcoat. ‘Why would I? It’s my look, dude.’
‘True, it suits you,’ I agree.
Simon is a vampire who I met at The Pale Heart in the 1980s after an Iron Maiden concert, and we got talking. I’ve seen him a few more times since then; he’s a good sort. A ‘nice’ vampire, if you will. He abhors violence of any kind and drinks only when necessary, hence his skinny appearance and the half pint of blood he’s cautiouslyclutching.
‘Still got your allotment in Finchley?’ I take another sip of my drink and shiver.Damn, that’s good blood.
He nods proudly. ‘Yes, just planted a crop of garlic and some broad beans. Planning on selling them at the local market to make some extra cash.’
I guess a vampire has to do something with their time, but gardening is not a hobby I’ve ever been into. And planting garlic? Well ... that’s asking for trouble. My eyes flick to the other member of our table, a stocky cherub-faced fellow with blond curly hair. From his appearance, he could be the brother of the female thrall behind the counter. But from the way he’s draining the last of his full pint and licking the inside rim with relish, he’s definitely a vampire.
‘Will, this is my mate Dan. He’s a retired fisherman from Norfolk,’ says Simon. ‘Dan, this is Will, my actor friend I was telling you about.’
We size each other up. Dan’s retired? He barely looks like he’s old enough to tie his own shoelaces. But the age someone looks doesn’t mean anything if you’re a vampire.
‘How old are you?’ I ask.
‘Two hundred, give or take. Simon and I were turned around the same time,’ he replies, and Simon nods to confirm it. ‘You?’
‘Four hundred and sixty-five.’
Dan whistles. ‘You must have seensome stuff.’
I shrug, not wanting to give any specifics. ‘Yeah.’
‘What are you doing for work now?’ Simon asks. ‘I seem to recall you had some money left over from your mercenary days.’
‘Good memory. I do,’ I reply. ‘But that’s tied up in investments. I’ve been doing some freelance consulting on the side. And acting, of course.’
‘Is that why you’re back in London?’
‘Yeah, I’m playing Orsino inTwelfth Nightat Shakespeare’s Globe. It’s starting next month. I could probably get you guys free tickets if you’re interested.’
‘That would be great. Thanks, Will,’ says Simon enthusiastically.
‘Cool. I might come down,’ offers Dan offhandedly, sounding like he would rather clip his toenails than go to a Shakespearian play. ‘I can always stay with Trixie. She won’t mind.’ His eyes flick to the bar, where the blonde is giving me a glowering look.
Hah, I was right: they are related. I could read his mind, but it’s more polite to ask. I nod at her. ‘Is Trixie your sister?’
Dan nods. ‘Yes. She got the job here in 1840. It was either that or prostitution. But Mick looks after her. He’s a good guy.’
I’ll say he looks after her. Shit, she’s been a thrall longer than Elliott. No wonder Trixie’s so interested in me. Apartfrom keeping her young and bouncy, venom is like crack cocaine to a thrall of her age.
‘Strange. I’ve never seen her working here before,’ I remark. ‘She must have been otherwise engaged on the times I dropped in.’
Dan narrows his eyes. ‘Why are you asking about her? You wanna get with her?’
‘No, no,’ I say hastily. ‘Just curious about her deal.’ Poor Trixie, I don’t like her chances of getting a venom fix, with her overprotective brother keeping an eye on her.
‘Coz if you’re after a bit o’ that, you’re better off waiting for the Covent Garden gig. Heard those vamps are gonna be hot for biting action 24/7. Might even pay a visit myself.’ He grins lasciviously.
I drain the last of my blood and wipe my mouth, resisting the urge to lick the rim like Dan. ‘What Covent Garden gig?’
‘An exclusive vampire brothel,’ says Simon. ‘The vamp pimp, Alexander Dryden, has been spreading the word in our community to drum up business for opening week. Apparently, it’s going to be quite a large establishment, at least three floors and a bunch of different types of rooms.’
He looks disapproving. ‘You wouldn’t be interested, would you, Will? You’ve got better taste than that.’
