“Your wish is my command,sahib.”

Doodlebug brought him his pills and two pints of chichi California blood. Jules almost swallowed the mug the blood was served in, he was so hungry. He quickly realized the bullshit behind the old saw that said hunger could make any food taste great. This blood tastedawful. It reminded him of the first time he’d ever drunk skim milk. No richness, no tang, hardly any zing to it at all. But blood was blood, and ravenous as he was, he was in no position to be fussy. He took a second long swig, then hastily opened the pill bottle and counted out six tablets in his palm. He had no idea whether taking that many at once might be bad for him. But the thought of reexperiencing his former state of decrepitude scared him even more. And after all, Doc Landrieu hadn’t told himnot to catch up on his dosage when he missed a pill or three. He gulped the pills down his dry throat two at a time.

“Feeling any better?”

Jules felt life seep back into his extremities. “Yeah. I’m startin‘ to.” He pulled his feet out of the piano box. “One thing I been wonderin’ about for the past three nights now. That evil shit you pulled with them Knight supporters-how’d you know gettin‘ them to drink their own blood would make ’em dissolve like that?”

Doodlebug smiled slyly. “Oh,that little trick. That was a useful bit of vampiric lore I picked up from my spiritual guides in Tibet. They were all vampires themselves, you know. The cornerstone of their wisdom and spiritual practice is the freeing of oneself from vampiric desires. Particularly the desire for blood. All of them were many centuries old. And not a one of them had ever imbibed a single drop.”

“You’re shittin‘ me. Either that, orthey were shittin’you.”

“Not at all. They provided me with proof. And the best proof of all was that, during my entire stay of more than three years, I never witnessed any of them drink the blood of men or animals. None of them ever suffered for the lack.”

“So what’d you eat for three years? Yak gruel? Don’t tell meyou went three years with no blood.”

Doodlebug stared out the window, his delicate features wistful and sad. “Would that it were so. No, they provided me with ample blood to drink during my stay. I’d been a blood-drinking vampire for far too many years by the time I first heard of their teachings. I could never hope to approach the blissful equilibrium enjoyed by those quiet, serene monks. But that was actually part of the reason they welcomed me to study with them-the fact that I was a confirmed blood drinker. In order to add to the ranks of their order, they need a ‘fallen’ vampire like me on hand. While I was with them, I was the one who turned their human initiates from ordinary seekers to fledgling vampires. When the newborns awoke, they found two objects sitting in front of them… a meditation staff of humble, weathered wood, and a silver bowl filled with blood. The monks directed them to choose only one, the object they most desired. Those who chose the meditation staff were admitted as novices into the lowest ranks of the monks. Those who chose the bowl of blood, well… let’s just say the monks didn’t tolerate failure of will gladly.”

Jules whistled with grim appreciation. “Wow. That’s really hard-ass. If it wasme being given that choice, I’d end up a puddle of red goo, fer sure. So, like, how many passed the test?”

“During my thirty-nine months in the monastery, sixty-three initiates came to our mountaintop. Two became novices. After a few months, the sight and odors of bubbling puddles of flesh no longer turned my stomach.”

“Huh.” Jules stared at his diminutive friend with new eyes. The kid had done some major growing up since Jules had broken off relations three decades ago. Maybe he could be a help in the fight against Malice X after all. “Speaking of turned stomachs, mine’s doin‘ a helluva lot better. Howzabout you and me split that pot of coffee you brewed. Then howzabout we go pay a visit to Miss Maureen.”

“Jules! You’ve come back! Thank every angel who ever lived!”

Jules let her embrace him. But he didn’t move a muscle to hug her back. Despite understanding her a little more, he was a long way from forgiving her.

If Maureen noticed that Jules didn’t return her embrace, she didn’t show it. “Baby, I was worriedsick about you! I thought I might never see you again! I haven’t gone into work the past three nights. I’ve just stayed home, waiting here by the phone, praying that you’d call or come by. Neither of you bothered to tell me where Doodlebug was staying! I was going out of my mind. Simply going out of my mind!”

Jules said nothing. For a few long seconds an electrically charged silence hung like a thunderhead in Maureen’s living room. Doodlebug was the one who finally broke it. “I’m staying at the Twelve Oaks Guest House. It’s a lovely spot, tucked away on Bayou Road. I have my own goldfish pond…”

Maureen wasn’t paying attention. She hadn’t taken her eyes off Jules’s face. Her own face wavered between fear and cautious hope. She took his hands and pulled him over to the couch. “Come sit next to me. Come. You have no idea howgood it is to see you.” Their two large forms took up every inch of the spacious couch. She kept one of his hands pressed between hers, nervously kneading and caressing it as though it were a pet dove that might suddenly fly away. “What can I do, Jules? Tell me what I need to do to make things right with you.”

“Only one thing you can do for me. And that’s rat out Number Two Lover-Boy. Tell me everythin‘ you know about Malice X.”

Maureen quickly looked away, but Jules caught the frightened look on her face. “What’s-what’s there to tell? It’s beenyears since I spent any real time with him. And they weren’t exactly good times, either. I put as much about him out of my mind as I could.”

“That ain’t gonna hack it, Maureen. I ain’t takin‘ no excuses. You wanna get back in my good graces? Then you give with the information. You give us somethin’ to go on, somethin‘ to track him back to his burrow with. Spill-I want his name, rank, and serial number, who tailors his zoot suits, where his grandma makes groceries, his fuckin’shoe size, okay?”

Jules’s litany had reduced Maureen to the verge of tears. “Don’t make me get involved! I’mafraid! He’s capable of anything! Don’t make me tell you things he’ll know came from me…please.”

Jules’s voice reeked of bitterness. “Baby, you’realready involved. You was involved in this stinkin‘ situation way before I ever was. There’s no backin’ away from it now.”

“I have to agree with Jules, Maureen.” Doodlebug knelt by Maureen’s side and took her hand in his. “It’s impossible for you to go backward. Your only hope of regaining your balance is to go forward. The more you’re able to help us, the quicker we can find him. And deal with him. The quicker you’ll be out of any possible danger.”

Maureen’s lower lip quivered. She looked at Jules, then Doodlebug, then back to Jules. “He… he called himself Eldo Rado. Like the car.”

“Iknow that already,” Jules said with more irritation than was helpful. “I already got that nugget of info from the goddamn horse’s mouth hisself.”

Doodlebug waved him off. “Calm down, Jules. She’s made a start. Honey, did he ever tell you his real name? His birth name?”

“Nuh-no. No, I don’t think he ever did. In fact, I’m sure of it.Eldo Rado was his gang name. He was proud of it. Everyone had to call him that. He never toldanyone his real name. Not that I ever knew of. I think he’d done things… things maybe he didn’t want his family connected with.”

“Did he tell you the street he grew up on? Which schools he attended?”

“How about the name of his best friend?” Jules asked. “Or his favorite uncle?”

“Wait-wait, don’trush me! Give me time tothink. To try to remember. His street… no, no, he never told me that. He grew up in Uptown, I think; I can’t say which part. Central City? Irish Channel? It could’ve been either. Or even Broadmoor. Schools… oh God, Iwish I could remember!”