Offer

"I don't ... I don't know what to say," the hospitalist sputtered. "I ... I feel like I must be hallucinating ... I ... gawd ... " His visitor winced and looked down at its hands. "There are hundreds of us within the city limits," it said softly. "We never tire; we will never fall sick; we will never die. If we take the night shifts, all of you will be able to recover sleep and baseline health." "In exchange for?" the hospitalist prompted weakly, staring across the desk into the red eyes of his guest. "Blood supply," it said (its ghostly pale face glowing in the desk light). "A barely noticeable reduction in your stock and, of course, we will help the dying cross over painlessly." "Why now?" the hospitalist asked (afraid of the answer). "This answer is also 'blood supply'," the vampire responded gently. "If you lose this fight, we starve. Quarantine means that access to food depends on our ability to get close enough to ... our targets ... to mesmerize them. If we grow too weak, we will go insane and you will find yourself fighting TWO unseen enemies - the second more lethal than the first." "Jesus," the hospitalist sighed, and then flubbered an apology when his visitor winced again. "You must remove all crosses, crucifixes, and holy books from the main floor," it instructed, "and I realize that this is a big ask for a Catholic hospital. On the flip side, we do not need protective gear of any kind." "What - no masks even?" the hospitalist asked, shocked. "No masks even," the vampire confirmed. "Can you start tonight?" came the next question.