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before your death.”
    â€œI did lose them! As well as my voice. I could not speak above a whisper for years before my death. And now it is as if I have transformed into a new version of myself when I climbed up out of that coffin. And you are the reason for it!”
    He clutched her about the neck and squeezed. She struggled and then kicked and landed her foot successfully at his hip, just missing his groin. Nicolo dropped the vampire and with a shout, stumbled backward into a swath of lush tall grass.
    â€œWe women have learned a thing or two about defense since your time,” she said, standing over him. “Let that be a warning. You’re strong, though.” She rubbed her reddened throat. “Kind of weird for a dead guy.”
    â€œI am not dead,” he managed as he fought to free himself from the long grasses tangled about his shoes.
    â€œNo, you’re not. But what are you?”
    That was the question, indeed. By all the blessed mercies he prayed that foul brimstone bargain had not been enacted.
    â€œWhy did you play the violin?” he asked the vampiress. He had best be cautious for another attack. The next time she could use her fangs.
    â€œI didn’t play it,” she said. “I was supposed to find the violin and bring it to Acquisitions, but I figured I’d better open up the case and check to be sure it was inside first. When I did, it was almost as if the violin had a mind of its own. I’m sure it played those notes by itself.”
    That did not surprise him. What he knew of the violin was that it was magic most foul. Diabolical, even.
    Truly, had she summoned him by enacting that bedamned brimstone bargain? It didn’t seem possible. The condition had been that he should be the one to play the violin. Only then would he be granted immortality and immeasurable supernatural power.
    Did he have immortality now? He certainly felt...something. Stronger, and more powerful. Sure. Yet if not immortal, what, indeed, had he become? And how to fix it?
    Did he want to fix it? That may imply his going back to the grave, of dying. Again. He rather liked the air today and the soft, sweet grass beneath his shoes. The sky appeared so clear and bluer than ever he could remember. When had he last admired the sky and simply inhaled the crisp summer air?
    No matter, he must not rile this woman overmuch in case she might bite and kill him. Perhaps he could play along with her suggestion to keeping an eye on him. Yes, must needs.
    A zombie? If he started to decay he would immediately request a second death, because if he turned into something like that thing displayed on her little box then—absolutely not.
    â€œWhere is it?” he asked.
    â€œThe black violin? It’s uh...” Her eyes wandered along the side of the fancy silver carriage, then snapped back toward him, though she didn’t meet his gaze directly. “...on its way to the Archives for storage.”
    â€œI don’t understand that.” She was lying to him. Moments earlier she had said she had it. “You played it not too long ago. I felt the music. It moved through my veins. And it called out to me.”
    â€œReally?” She stepped before him, admiration sparkling in her pale blue eyes. He recognized that look. So many had looked upon him as a literal idol when he’d been at his prime performing on the stage. “You’re really him. The Paganini.”
    â€œIndeed.” He set back his shoulders and puffed up his chest. Felt good to step back into the acknowledgment of his talents. He was a maestro, and he would resume that status. Because he knew nothing else.
    â€œWhat is your name, vampire?”
    â€œSummer Santiago.” She offered her hand, and he assumed she wanted him to shake it.
    He gripped it and her skin felt warm. Amazing to feel another being’s warmth and life, to be reassured that he, as well, possessed life. Then a flash burst in his brain,