Frank, the mortal, and Nessa, the vampire, getting to know one another.
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You're an architect in his mid-thirties who would rather be a painter,” she said without hesitation. She leaned back in her chair, steepling her fingers, her bright green eyes studying my every move.
“How do you know that?” Was she a mind reader or something?
“There are traces of light green ocher paint under the nails of your index and middle fingers on your right hand.”
I couldn't see anything, even when I held my nails under a light.
“I have excellent vision, especially at night.”
“There's nothing there to see,” I said.
“You failed to wash off all the ocher and pale yellow egg tempera paint you used.” She licked her lips.
Nessa had just described the colors I had been working with earlier in the evening. “I don't know how you guessed what I was using. There's no way anyone could see the paint in this dim light.”
“A vampire could.” She leaned forward, opening her mouth, and showing the tips of sharp pointed fangs.
“Are those real?” I asked in a voice barely a croak. My heart beat faster and the hairs on the nape of my neck stood up.
“There’s only one way to find out.” She raised her upper lip, giving me a better view of her fangs.
I backed away and started to rise, when she laughed.
“Sit down. I've no intention of hurting you.”
“That's good to know.” I laughed nervously. “What do you want from me?”
“To get to know you better.”
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“Why?” Considering what I had seen in the last five minutes, a little caution seemed appropriate.
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