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“Crap?” he said, voice soft.

“Yeah, why are you going all spooky on me?”

“Spooky?” he asked, and the sound filled the car. As if the word meant something else entirely.

“Stop that,” I said.

“Stop what?”

“Answering every question with a question.”

He blinked once. “So sorry, ma petite, but I can feel the street.”

“Feel the street? What does that mean?”

He settled back against the upholstery, leaning his head and neck into the seat. His hand clasped over his stomach. “There is a great deal of life here.”

“Life?” He had me doing it now.

“Yes,” he said, “I can feel them running back and forth. Little creatures, desperately seeking love, pain, acceptance, greed. A lot of greed here, too, but mostly pain and love.”

“You don’t come to a prostitute for love. You come for sex.”

He rolled his head so his dark eyes stared at me. “Many people confuse the two.”

I stared at the road. The hairs at the back of my neck were standing at attention. “You haven’t fed yet tonight, have you?”

“You are the vampire expert. Can you not tell?” His voice had dropped to almost a whisper. Hoarse and thick.

“You know I can never tell with you.”

“A compliment to my powers, I’m sure.”

“I did not bring you down here to hunt,” I said. My voice sounded firm, a tad loud. My heart was loud inside my head.

“Would you forbid me to hunt tonight?” he asked.

I thought about that one for a minute or two. We were going to have to turn around and make another pass to find a parking space. Would I forbid him to hunt tonight? Yes. He knew the answer. This was a trick question. Trouble was I couldn’t see the trick.

“I would ask that you not hunt here tonight,” I said.

“Give me a reason, Anita.”

He had called me Anita without me prompting him. He was definitely after something. “Because I brought you down here. You wouldn’t have hunted here, if it hadn’t been for me.”

“You feel guilt for whomever I might feed on tonight?”

“It is illegal to take unwilling human victims,” I said.

“So it is.”

“The penalty for doing so is death,” I said.

“By your hand.”

“If you do it in this state, yes.”

“They are just whores, pimps, cheating men. What do they matter to you, Anita?”

I don’t think he had ever called me Anita twice in a row. It was a bad sign. A car pulled away not a block from The Grey Cat Club. What luck. I slid my Nova into the slot. Parallel parking is not my best thing, but luckily the car that pulled away was twice the size of my car. There was plenty of room to maneuver, back and forth from the curb.

When the car was lurched nearly onto the curb but safely out of traffic, I cut the engine. Jean-Claude lay back in his seat, staring at me. “I asked you a question, ma petite, what do these people mean to you?”

I undid my seat belt and turned to look at him. Some trick of light and shadow had put most of his body in darkness. A band of nearly gold light lay across his face. His high cheekbones were very prominent against his pale skin. The tips of his fangs showed between his lips. His eyes gleamed like blue neon. I looked away and stared at the steering wheel while I talked.

“I have no personal stake in these people, Jean-Claude, but they are people. Good, bad, or indifferent, they are alive, and no one has the right to just arbitrarily snuff them out.”

“So it is the sanctity of life you cling to?”

I nodded. “That and the fact that every human being is special. Every death is a loss of something precious and irreplaceable.” I looked at him as I finished the last.

“You have killed before, Anita. You have destroyed that which is irreplaceable.”

“I’m irreplaceable, too,” I said. “No one has the right to kill me, either.”

He sat up in one liquid motion, and reality seemed to collect around him. I could almost feel the movement of time in the car, like a sonic boom for the inside of my head, instead of my ear.

Jean-Claude sat there looking entirely human. His pale skin had a certain flush to it. His curling black hair, carefully combed and styled, was rich and touchable. His eyes were