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a teenager, who couldn’t be older than fifteen. She looked up and saw two uniformed polizia headed their way. “Get out of here, kid.” It wasn’t entirely kindness that prompted her to give the girl a break. She didn’t have time to deal with the police.
    The girl just sat there, staring up at her with a look of confusion and a hint of suspicion. It was obvious she didn’t understand English. Nikia tried German and garnered another blank look. She didn’t bother with Corsovan, the only other language in which she was fluent. She tried to remember any Italian phrases but all that came to mind was how to say she didn’t speak Italian, and litro , which was a liter. Neither was useful for the situation and she gave up on verbal communication.
    She pointed in the direction of the polizia , and the girl finally caught her urgency. She scrambled to her feet and rushed off through the crowd, as Nikia turned away, seeking to avoid the authorities. She groaned when she saw another uniformed polizia grab the young hoodlum by the collar of her jacket.
    She kept going, determined to avoid the situation but had no choice about stopping when one of the officers put a hand on her arm. He spoke something in Italian and she said, “ Non parlo Italiano .”
    “ Si, Signorina .” He switched to English, with a thick accent. “Please come with me.”
    She shook her head. “Why?”
    “The girl—” He pointed to the teenager trying to free herself from the other officer’s hold. “You must file a complaint.”
    “Really, I don’t have the time.”
    He frowned. “She is a repeat offender. You must.”
    Nikia didn’t think she was required to do anything but didn’t know how to extricate herself. She ended up walking beside the officer into the main part of the station. She paused momentarily at her first sight of the sheer beauty of the vaulted ceiling, made from decoratively carved brown stone, interspersed with skylights in the ceiling every few feet. Suspended brass lamps completed the picture, giving the building charm.
    He led her into a private office, along with the girl, who was still trying to fight the officer, even in handcuffs. She shouted and appeared to be cursing in her native tongue.
    The officer sat her down at a desk and removed his hat. He was young and handsome. Nikia’s eyes strayed to the pulse at his throat and her stomach growled. It had been hours since she ate at the hotel in Zurich and even longer since partaking of blood. The craving came on so strong she started to perspire. Why here, why now? Why did this young man, a member of the polizia , have to be so appealing?
    “This will not take long, Signorina .” He launched into a series of questions.
    Nikia answered as quickly as she could. She was aware of the girl screaming from a nearby office, spicing up her dialog with snatches of English expletives. By the time the officer finished questioning her, his face was bright red with embarrassment. Which only served to heighten her hunger, making her even more aware of the blood pounding in his veins and staining his neck and cheeks. She whimpered and her headache increased in severity.
    “ Signorina ?” He extended a hand. “Are you feeling ill?”
    She waved a hand, using the other to cradle her head. “I have a migraine. Are we finished?”
    “ Si .”
    She didn’t bother with pleasantries as she gathered up her bag and left the office. Her eyes fell on the large clock mounted on the wall and she cursed when she realized she had lost almost an hour. Atar must have caught the next train after hers. She didn’t know when that one had left Zurich, so she approached the ticket counter. The man behind the counter looked bored as he waited on the customers in front of her. His expression didn’t change when she approached.
    “Hello. Can you tell me when the next train from Zurich is due to arrive?”
    He looked at a sheet of paper. “Fifty minutes, Signorina .” His English was so thick as