“Wendy Teagarden,” I said.

She turned to look at me, her expression warm and full of anticipation.

“Don’t suppose that’s your original name?” I asked.

“Oh, I’ve had lots of names through the years.”

“Figured you’d been around a while.”

“You don’t date older women?” Wendy looked about twenty-eight, though I’m sure she was several hundred. Supernatural immortals age well.

She wove her arm into mine and pulled it under the table. Her hand slipped past my wrist until our fingers clasped. With her face fixed on the singer, Wendy nudged against me, crossed her legs and let her ankle drag across my shin.

Since I’ve been a vampire, I never needed a woman to express affection for me. When I had the urge, a flash of tapetum lucidum was enough to get into a vagina. Lust and eroticism, these were tools to manipulate humans. What need did the damned undead have for romance?

Wendy’s interest kindled a forgotten desire within me. A wave of excitement coursed through my body. My aura sizzled. I tried to calm my aura before Wendy noticed the effect she had on me.

Wendy brought her right hand across and stroked my upper arm. My aura sizzled more intently, fueled by anticipation.

She snuggled closer.

My aura radiated as if I were plugged into an electric socket.

A human woman bumped against our table. “Have you seen Ziggy?”

I turned to her and a male companion beside our booth. Because of their red auras I recognized them as the chalices serving Siegfried von Drek, the old vampire I’d met at the Hollow Fang party.

They wore similar white shirts, wrinkled, and the sleeve cuffs unbuttoned. Their glassy eyes cast worried looks at me. Chalices can become slavishly devoted to their vampires and often pine after them like junkies for their dealer.

The man’s eyes teared. “He was supposed to meet us here.” His voice cracked. “We haven’t seen him since Sunday.”

This distraction caused my aura to fade to a safe, even glow.

Wendy relaxed her grasp of my arm and fingers. “Have you tried calling him?”

The woman reached into the hip pocket of her pants and pulled out a cell phone. “Constantly. There’s no answer.”

I resented the intrusion from these addle-brained chalices. “How about going by his house?”

The woman closed her eyes and raked trembling fingers through her hair. She opened her mouth and it took a moment for her reply to croak through her lips. “Ziggy won’t let us visit without an invitation.”

Probably so that these two airheads wouldn’t disturb his interviewing other chalices.

“Do this for me,” I said. “Go by Ziggy’s place. If he doesn’t like it, tell him to take it up with me.”

The woman hugged her companion and kissed his cheek. She panned her head toward the mariachis, as if suddenly aware of the music-it would be like ignoring a freight train-and said slowly, “We’ll do that.”

“Now would be a good time,” Wendy replied.

The woman took the man by the hand and led him out the door.

“They’re as stupid as they are cute,” Wendy said. “Maybe they’ve given up so much blood that it’s affected their IQ.”

“I doubt their SAT scores were very high to begin with,” I replied. “Ziggy didn’t keep them around for stimulating conversation. Then again, for an old pervert, he is being a bit too indifferent toward his pets.”

“Maybe he needs time to recuperate.”

“Ziggy recuperate? Gossip is he buys Viagra by the carton.”

Wendy clasped my arm again and squeezed. “And how much Viagra do you need?”

“I’ve never had cause to use it.”

“Why? Lack of opportunity?”

“You’re talking to a young vampire, a fountain of concupiscence.”

“Is that what you call it?”

“Call what?” I asked.

“When your aura went to full burner a few minutes ago. Didn’t think I’d notice?”

I didn’t want her to know the effect she had on me so I said, “It wasn’t you. It was the singer. The lady chupacabra.”

Wendy released my arm. “Oh.” Her aura cooled to a pale yellow-green. Even a supernatural divinity felt the sting of rejection.

My cup of blood was still warm enough to release a wisp of vapor. I chugged it and washed my mouth with a hearty swallow of beer.

If this was about sex, I’d pull Wendy close and nibble on her neck before working my way to her mouth as I fingered her. But Wendy was more than a mortal woman, she was a dryad with supernatural powers at least equal to my own. And I was certain she was smarter than me. But the real complication was that I liked her and felt energized by her attention the way I’d been before my life as a vampire.

With every passing minute, the moat of silence between Wendy and myself grew wider and deeper. The mariachis churned through their repertoire of ballads. Every song about romantic betrayal and loss raked bitter words over me.

What happened to the simple days when vampires merely prowled the night and sucked on necks? Or did the tales leave out all the the messy details in the retelling? Messy details like this one before me.

I felt pressed into an emotional corner, queasy with the rush of uncomfortable feelings.

My cell phone started to vibrate. Caller ID gave me Bob Carcano’s number.

I pressed the receiver to my ear and answered.

Bob replied, “I’m right outside. Come see me.” His clipped tone relayed his distress.

I grasped Wendy’s hand. “Let’s go. The change in venue might refresh our conversation.”

Bob waited under the awning. His aura burned bright orange and flashed in rhythm to the agitated beat of his pulse. As soon as he saw us, he started down the stairs and across the sidewalk. “Felix, let’s take your car. I’m too upset to drive.”

“Where are we going?”

Bob held up his cell phone. “Ziggy’s chalices called. He’s been murdered.”

I SPED NORTH ON Colorado Boulevard in my Dodge Polara. The wind drummed across the convertible top. Wendy sat beside me while Bob gave directions from the backseat. Considering it was a Tuesday night, I didn’t have much problem running red lights and weaving through traffic.

Bob and I wore sunglasses, with just enough tint to hide our eyes while still allowing the use of vampire night vision. Around us, human auras glowed in their cars and on the sidewalks.

“What did the chalices tell you?” I asked.

“Those idiots didn’t say much. Mainly blubbered about how scared they were going into Ziggy’s house, and then they found him dead.” Bob craned his neck to read the street signs. “We’re getting close.”

“Could it be vânätori de vampir?” Wendy asked.

Bob rubbed a meaty hand across his face. “Don’t know yet. I’d hate to be right about that. Ziggy liked skimming the margins of human society, so he could’ve been murdered by a hoodlum or a speed freak.”

Wendy looked back at Bob. “Or another vampire?”

“Yes, that’s a possibility,” Bob replied. “Ziggy had lots of enemies, both human and undead.”

Wendy shifted her head to check out the passenger’s-side mirror. “We’ve got company.”

Headlights closed rapidly on my rear bumper. I tensed my grip on the steering wheel and readied my foot to stomp on the accelerator. Who followed? Humans? Vampires? Auras being psychic energy, they didn’t reflect through mirrors. A glance over my shoulder revealed three orange auras inside the car. With the recent mention of Ziggy’s many enemies, the unannounced arrival of vampires alarmed me.

Bob twisted around to look out the back window when his cell phone chirped. Ironically enough, the chime was a funeral dirge. He answered the call, speaking quickly, then snapped his cell phone closed. “It’s my friend Andre and his pals. They’ll be going the back way to Ziggy’s house.”

I turned east into an older, fashionable neighborhood. Ranch-style houses of brick and stone stood behind manicured lawns and neatly arranged shrubs. The car behind us careened up the next street.