Stalking the Vampire by Mike Resnick Read Free Book Online Page B

Mallory.”
    â€œWishful thinking.”
    McGuire turned back to the store, just in time to see a handsome young man, dressed in a tuxedo, walk up to the salesgirl. She threw her arms around him and exposed her neck to his teeth.
    â€œBoy, talk about fickle!” muttered McGuire. “And I would have married her!”
    Mallory looked surprised. “You would?”
    â€œWell, we'd have had the honeymoon first and maybe visited half a dozen sex clubs to make sure we were compatible…”
    â€œI've never seen anyone fall in love and get jilted so fast,” remarked Mallory. “You coming or staying behind?”
    â€œI'm coming.”
    â€œThere's only one more store with its lights on,” said Mallory, looking down the corridor. “We'll take a quick look and then decide what to do next.”
    â€œIt's a poster shop,” observed McGuire as they approached it. “See, there's Bela Lugosi. And there's a young Frank Langella. He's the one who made young girls want to be bitten. Without him, there'd be no billion-dollar romance novel industry.”
    â€œ Is there one?”
    â€œYoung women gobble them up the way young men consume girlie magazines.”
    â€œDoesn't anyone write romance novels without vampires?” asked Mallory.
    â€œHave you been to a bookstore lately?” replied McGuire.
    â€œNot really.”
    â€œWe're the New Thing,” said McGuire proudly. Suddenly he frowned. “On the other hand, getting laid anywhere but on the printed page isn't any easier than it ever was. I blame it on anti-vampire prejudice in high places.”
    â€œPerhaps,” said Mallory. “Or it could just be that you're an ugly little wart with bad manners and worse breath.”
    â€œIs that any way to speak to a friend of long standing?”
    â€œWe've only known each other for maybe an hour,” replied Mallory.
    â€œWell, that's as long as most of my friendships usually last,” said McGuire. He wrinkled his brow thoughtfully. “Probably it's jealousy. Or maybe envy. Or, as I was saying, it could simply be a misguided dislike of vampires.”
    â€œLet me know when you're through feeling sorry for yourself,” said Mallory.
    â€œRight,” said McGuire. He was silent for a moment. “Five…four…three…two…one. Okay, I'm through. For the moment, anyway. Let's go.”
    â€œJust a minute,” said Mallory, staring intently through the window.
    â€œWhat is it?”
    â€œThis wasn't a wasted trip after all,” said the detective, pointing to a poster showing a skeletally thin black-clad man and promising that the noted European poet Aristotle Draconis would make one of his rare public appearances at Madison Round Garden at eleven o'clock on All Hallows' Eve.

“Where to now?” asked McGuire as the little vampire and Mallory emerged from the elevator on the ground floor and walked to the exit.
    â€œWe've got almost two hours to kill before this Draconis shows up,” answered Mallory. “There's no sense wasting it. You're a vampire. Where would you go to hide?”
    â€œThat's a very broad question,” said McGuire as they emerged into the cool night air. “Would I be hiding from the police—and if so, the vice squad or the fraud squad? Or from another vampire? Or maybe I'd be hiding from Harry the Book, who's been trying to collect what I lost at Jamaica yesterday. And of course I always hide from overly aggressive redheads called Thelma, because you never know which one might turn out to be the one I made some silly promises to when dazzled by the midday sunlight. Or I could be hiding from the AAA Ace Credit Company. Or…”
    â€œShut up,” said Mallory wearily.
    â€œYes, sir.”
    â€œYou sound like you spend you entire life in hiding.”
    â€œIt's not easy being an unemployed middle-aged vampire,” said McGuire defensively. “I know, from the