night after night. But when she got back, according to Steve, she really made up for everything. They listened to music and talked and danced and ate strange Rumanian dishes that the maid whipped up. Until dawn. Then he came home.
Steve put his hand on my arm. "Tom, you know that poem—The Owl and the Pussy-Cat? I've always thought the last line was beautiful. 'They danced by the light of the moon, the moon, they danced by the light of the moon.' That's what my life will be like with Tatiana. If only she'll have me. I'm still having trouble talking her into it."
I let out a long breath. "The first good thing I've heard," I said without thinking. "Marriage to that girl—"
When I saw Steve's eyes, I broke off. But it was too late.
"What the hell do you mean, Tom: that girl? You've never even met her."
I tried to twist out of it, but Steve wouldn't let me. He was real sore. So I figured the best thing was to tell him the truth.
"Stevie. Listen. Don't laugh. Your girl friend is a vampire."
He opened his mouth slowly. "Tom, you're off your —
"No, I'm not." And I told him about vampires. What I'd heard from my mother who'd come over from the old country, from Transsylvania, when she was twenty. How they can live and have all sorts of strange powers—just so long as they have a feast of human blood once in a while. How the vampire taint is inherited, usually just one child in the family getting it. And how they go out only at night, because sunlight is one of the things that can destroy them.
Steve turned pale at this point. But I went on. I told him about the mysterious epidemic that had hit the kids of Groppa County— and made them anemic. I told him about his father finding the handkerchief in the Stopes' house, near two of the sickest kids. And I told him—but all of a sudden I was talking to myself. Steve tore out of the kitchen. A second or two later, he was off in the hot-rod.
He came back about eleven-thirty, looking as old as his father. I was right, all right. When he'd wakened Tatiana and asked her straight, she'd broken down and wept a couple of buckets-full. Yes, she was a vampire, but she'd only got the urge a couple of months ago. She'd fought it until her mind began to crack. Then she'd found that she could make herself invisible, when the craving hit her. She'd only touched kids, because she was afraid of grown-ups—they might wake up and be able to catch her. But she'd kind of worked on a lot of kids at one time, so that no one kid would lose too much blood. Only the craving had been getting stronger. . .
And still Steve had asked her to marry him! "There must be a way of curing it," he said. "It's a sickness like any other sickness."
