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eyebrow.
    There were so many things to say, where to start? ‘That you learn how to pronounce my name correctly,’ was all I managed.

Chapter 9
    Over the next few days Victor gave me glimpses into his past. His full name was Victor Wareham, turned sometime in the twelfth century, near Dorset in England. At the end I sat down and re-read the (badly scribbled) notes I had made. I really needed to learn shorthand or something.
    V. W. — twelve years old, fell from a tree, badly injured spine. Did not lose the use of his legs completely, pronounced limp and used makeshift cane — miserable, bitter wretch about disability! (His words not mine) . Six years pass, rich landowning family moves into village. Mysterious disappearances started to occur…turns out family a coven of vampires, feeding from area to area, living in one village, then moving to another when suspicions are aroused about M.D. At first villagers (and V.W.) suspected nothing. But soon there are mumblings. Two years later, V.W. limping home when he is attacked — unable to run…
    My handwriting trailed off the page after that. I remember being so engrossed in what Victor had to say that I must have forgotten to take notes. I saw his usually expressionless face burn with his memories. He told me that the vampire that attacked him did not finish him. Instead he injected his poison. After his turning, the coven asked Victor to join them, but arrogant and uplifted by the freedom of his new strength (no surprises there), he refused. I had asked him about what happened next, but he was deliberately sketchy about the rest. He feigned forgetfulness about his early vampiric life. But weren’t vampires supposed to have eternal memories?
    My very first client had given me much to think about. I was unsure whether to involve Megan and Neha in his case. After much self wrestling I decided, for the time being, that it was best to keep quiet.
    I concentrated on developing a professional code, number one on which was complete privacy for my clients. Other codes for my agency included, background checks on potential partners, do nothing illegal, put everything in writing, and TRY and stay alive!
    This last point I underlined twice.
    My brain ticked over wondering about a payment plan. How much to charge? I felt a bit of a bloodsucker myself when I thought about the money. Asking a vampire to pay for my services in finding a human mate seemed bloodsuckerish. I tried to distract myself with thoughts of Sookie Stackhouse. She was human (sort of) and she managed not one, but a few vamps…this was where my logic failed me and I tried not to dwell on it. In any case, I may not have a service to offer at all if I didn’t come up with a plan. There was nothing to worry about. Yet.
    I decided to work on a shortlist of women first. But, what type of woman was Victor interested in? Did vampires have preferences? I rang him.
    â€˜Victor, do you have a preference for the way your potential partner should look?’ No harm in getting straight to the point.
    â€˜I have no preference.’
    â€˜Right, so nothing like tall, fair and lovely?’
    â€˜I would prefer a pulse,’ Victor said somewhat sardonically.
    I ignored this. ‘Well okay. I just wanted to make sure I shortlist the right type of woman. You know, physically.’
    There was silence on the phone, had I offended him?
    â€˜I have a few ideas about short listing women for you,’ I persisted. ‘I thought I’d check if you wanted me to select them according to their looks.’
    â€˜Physical attributes are transient, Shaleenee. I hope you will look beyond that for a suitable candidate.’
    â€˜Good.’ I grinned. This attitude was going to make things a whole lot easier. ‘I’ll be in touch when I have a few leads. Bye!’
    ***
    The next day, I woke early, gulped down some cheese on toast and a cup of tea, and walked to my tutorial class. It