Page 16 of Collected By the Crow

It pleased him that his prediction was correct. “I’m older than the invention of all the tools used in your lab.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“I was born in 1423.”

Another potato stilled on its trip to her luscious mouth. “And how many of those centuries have you spent here, alone?”

“What does that matter?”

“I’m just curious.”

“Of course you are.” He tried to chuckle but succeeded in sounding like a cat with a hairball. “I’m not a specimen. And you are not a psychiatrist.”

“Do you think you need a psychiatrist?”

Qadaire scowled, but there was a twinkle in her acorn eyes. One side of her mouth rose in a teasing grin as she bit the end of another stringy potato. She was teasing him. Him, the oldest and most powerful vampire in the area, slayer of tyrant king Dracula VI. A human sat across from him, munching on fast food and taunting him.

His groin filled with heat, his fangs throbbing.

“If you’re set on playing games with me, then play the one I went to the trouble of setting up for us. If you’ve got the gumption.”

“Oh, I have plenty of gumption. What are the rules?”

Qadaire placed a rule card in front of her and allowed her time to look it over, then answered all of her subsequent questions. When she was ready, she played the first move. While he contemplated his strategy, she brought out a monstrous-looking sandwich that smelled worse than the potato and contained a poor imitation of cooked meat.

Cassandra giggled. “You’ve never seen a hamburger?”

“That’s what you call that putrid sandwich?”

She laughed and took another large bite. “I guess it is pretty gross,” she agreed. Without thinking about it for a moment, she made her next move.

Qadaire grinned. She would be easy to beat. Board game strategy was different than the scientific method.

“I have no reason to understand what humans eat these days. Just like they have no reason to consider that they might’ve been cattle, if not for me.”

A silent bristle went through Cassandra, her pulse unsteady. Not all of his jokes could be a hit, but now that he’d heard her dulcet laugh, he had to try.

“My apologies. I’ve rattled you.”

“Maybe stick to lighter subjects for your jokes. It’s unnerving to think of what our world would look like if the man who commissioned those paintings and experiments were still around.” She trembled, but Qadaire couldn’t tell if it was a purposeful exaggeration or a true chill. “For what it’s worth, I am very grateful you got rid of him. Even if no one else knows.”

Nine rings! It’d only been a joke, but now? He would go back in time and assassinate the despot over and over if it meant those words would float from her mouth in another 500 years.

“You may ask another of your burning questions.” Hopefully, that would assuage her discomfort.

“Really?” She hummed, her gaze drifting to the corner. “Is it true vampires can’t be in the sun?”

“It’s true.” He recalled the early days, when the warmth of the sun was his gold lining. “The curse changed me. Along with an extra set of arms, I grew resistant to the burn. The only good thing to come of it.”

“I can only imagine. When you say grew, which pair grew?”

He should’ve specified only one question. “The top pair felt the most natural in the beginning, but it no longer matters. I can use them all for different tasks at the same time.”

“I’ve seen. It’s amazing!”

Qadaire stilled. He flicked his attention from the board to examine her. He found no jest but honest admiration.

“Okay, last question. Can you eat human food?”

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