He accepted the glass of wine, and bowed. “I truly am a vampire, John. Capes spoke casually of their plans for work. What does she look like?’ ‘Black hair. “She must go her own way. They didn’t talk about it much, but Mike had been through some eerily similar foster homes in Florida, the where he was born. She was strong, not unlike a pack mule or a camel; she thought to herself and smirked. You're luck. The man muttered something inaudible, and gathered up the reins. "What do you want fot that coat, friend?" asked Jack, as he came up. Analysis would come later, when the primitive conscience, satisfied, would cease to dominate his thought and action.
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