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which, as was typical for vampires, had been miserable and hopeless. It was the downtrodden who most often found themselves the victims of vampires. They even shared a laugh or two as the weeks went on. Finally, they were talking like old friends from the moment she walked into the room.
    It is time, Fitzsimmons decided one night. She might turn him down, but he didn’t think she would report him.
    “You wouldn’t have to do this anymore if I could just regain my mobility,” he said. “Bring me some blood, Chloe. Perhaps an animal, or a small child. I don’t believe it will take that much. Then you won’t have to do this demeaning job any longer.”
    “I don’t find it demeaning,” she said.
    “No? But surely you don’t like doing it?”
    “I don’t mind.”
    “But how did you get assigned to it?” he pressed, certain that there was a story behind it.
    “Oh, I didn’t get assigned. I volunteered.”
    “Volunteered?”
    She laughed at the look on his face. “You are so obvious, Fitzsimmons. I wondered how long it would take for you to actually ask.”
    “What do you mean?” He started feeling dread as he saw her sneer at him.
    “My Maker was Southern,” she said. “You killed him, remember? You betrayed him.”
    “He was a traitor,” Fitzsimmons muttered.
    Chloe laughed. “Oh, come now, Fitz. We both know that isn’t true. He was in your way, that’s all. You had him eliminated.”
    “Then why are you here?” he asked, and he hated the tone of dismay in his voice. He’d been getting his hopes up, he realized. He’d really begun to think she was going to help him. Now, it was worse than before.
    “Well, I didn’t want you rotting away too soon. I want you to be like this for a long time. For eternity, if I can manage it. I’ll teach my progeny to come in and do this nasty job after me, and their progeny after them, if need be.”
    Fitzsimmons was silent. He closed his eyes as she kept talking.
    “But I need not come quite so often,” Chloe said. “I’ve had enough of your manipulative bullshit. I think maybe once a month is sufficient for keeping your waste from eating away what’s left of you.”
    “No… please…”
    “ Please?” She sounded as if she couldn’t believe he’d said it. “The great Fitzsimmons, pleading for mercy? How pathetic.”
    Her voice was coming from directly above him. He opened his eyes just as she leaned down and spit into his face.
    Fitzsimmons felt a vast hate explode in his chest, and he almost levitated out of the box. It was as if he was a cobra, simply waiting for the moment when the prey got close enough. He had his fangs sunk into her neck and was sucking her blood before she could even cry out.
    Chloe struggled to push him away. He kept biting and sucking, but finally she shoved his limbless body off of her. Blue blood sprayed the room, arcing out over him, and he found himself trying to catch it in his open mouth. Then she was falling backward. Her head hit the wall and she slammed to the ground.
    No! Fitz cried out inside. He could feel the energy from her blood coursing through his body, but he couldn’t do anything about it. He was as helpless as ever.
    Chloe was gurgling on the floor, out of sight. Her torn-out throat was a severe wound, but she’d recover eventually, especially when they came looking for her and fed her some fresh meat.
    The frustration was enough to make Fitzsimmons scream, but he only let himself moan, a high-pitched keening. He tried to rock the little coffin he was in back and forth, and was amazed when he felt it move an inch to one side. He started thrashing with all the newfound energy he had, and when that was gone, he used what was left of his reserves, and then it was sheer willpower rocking the tiny coffin, back and forth, back and forth. He was crying blue blood in frustration, unable to keep from shouting in anger.
    And then, as he felt the last of his energy disappearing, Fitzsimmons was falling. He’d