Stalking the Vampire Read Free

dubiously. “If I've learned anything at all during my two years here it's that this Manhattan doesn't abound in logical explanations.”
    â€œNonsense,” she said firmly, seeming more like herself. “We'll speak to Rupert and get to the bottom of this.”
    They stopped before a door.
    â€œThis is it?” asked Mallory.
    â€œYes.”
    â€œGive me your key.”
    â€œI can unlock my own door, John Justin.”
    â€œHand it over. You're not going in there first. I don't know what's on the other side of this door.”
    â€œWell, I know,” she said. “This is my home, for goodness' sake!”
    â€œTo quote a blonde bombshell I lusted for when I was a kid, I don't think goodness has a hell of a lot to do with it.”
    He took the key from her, inserted it in the lock, turned it, and slowly opened the door.
    â€œIt's dark as a tomb in here,” he complained.
    â€œI'm saving on electricity until we get our next case,” explained Winnifred. She reached over to the wall and flipped a switch, and suddenly the room was bathed in light.
    â€œGoddamn!” exclaimed Mallory. “Now, that's impressive!”
    â€œI'm very proud of it.”
    â€œYou should be,” said Mallory, still staring at the wall to his left. On it were the mounted heads of a gorgon, a chimera, a banshee, a unicorn, a dragon, and half a dozen other beasts he couldn't identify. Below them was a gun rack filled with high-powered rifles of varying makes and calibers. “You ought to will these to the museum.”
    â€œI already have.” She paused. “The only thing missing is the Yeti. I spent two years hunting for him in the Himalayas. I came across his tracks a few times, but never actually saw him. The weapons are all retired, of course—keepsakes of a more exciting life. An excitement I thought was gone forever, before I met you.”
    â€œHi, Winnifred,” said a voice. “Welcome back.”
    Mallory jumped back and studied the wall, trying to determine which head had spoken.
    â€œWho said that?” he demanded.
    â€œI did,” replied the voice, and suddenly a glowing bird that constantly changed colors flew past all the doily-covered chairs and couches to perch on Winnifred's shoulder.
    â€œThis is Dulcet, my songbird,” said Winnifred.
    â€œDon't ever let Felina see her.”
    Winnifred smiled. “Why do you think I keep her here instead of at the office?”
    â€œI don't believe I've ever seen anything like her,” said Mallory, fascinated by the bird's changing colors.
    â€œShe's imported from Italy,” explained Winnifred. “Sing something for my partner, Dulcet.”
    The bird burst into a lilting aria from Madame Butterfly.
    â€œIsn't it beautiful?” said Winnifred.
    â€œVery nice,” answered Mallory. “A little highbrow for my taste.”
    Dulcet immediately began singing “That's Amore.”
    â€œThat's enough for now, thank you,” said Winnifred, and the bird fell silent.
    â€œWhat's this?” asked Mallory, looking at a small glass case that contained a silken veil and a crushed rose.
    â€œIt's from a very long time ago,” she said uncomfortably, and immediately turned her attention elsewhere. “Oh! I forgot to set food out!”
    â€œHow the hell many beggars get past your doorman and make it to the seventh floor?” asked Mallory, following her past shelves filled to overflowing with romance novels, DVDs of love stories, and CDs of every sentimental love song Mallory had ever heard plus a few hundred he had thankfully missed.
    â€œNot for beggars,” she said, scurrying to the kitchen and pulling some items out of the refrigerator. “Well,” she amended, “not for the kind you mean, anyway.” She walked to a window, opened it long enough to place the foodstuffs on a broad ledge, and closed it again. “It's for the harpies. They get so hungry