Conversation

"He was alone and elderly and frail," Dracula said, sipping from his goblet while staring at the fire, "and I had made him my mark for all of these reasons, but ... " "But?" she said, looking over at him, surprised. "He was also warm and wise, intelligent and articulate; he recognized me at once and had no fear, patting the empty place next to him on the stone bench, asking me respectfully to delay a strike until he could hear my opinion on world matters." She reached out and placed her hand on his forearm in its embroidered velvet sleeve. "And, as it turns out, I needed his words ... that conversation ... far more than I needed his blood," Dracula whispered, moved and closing his eyes for a moment.