Angeline couldn’t help herself. She was nervous and there was so much food in front of her. She grabbed a warm roll and took a big bite to calm her nerves. It was dryer than it looked and she washed it down with another mouthful of the sweet wine that tasted surprisingly of garlic.

“This is a very interesting vintage, Milord.” Angeline hiccuped.

Rodolpho leaned back, his dinner untouched. A faint hint of a knowing smile played at his lips, or perhaps it was just the shadows dancing across his face. The six candles lined across the table struggled bravely to light the entire room.

Everything grew fuzzy.

“What. Uhm. What did you do to me?” Angeline asked, her tongue thick and heavy.

Rodolpho ran a thumb down his vest, smoothing a crease. When he spoke his voice was distorted, booming from all sides, so different from the smooth charm he had shown earlier. “Like you, we feed from the dead more often than from the living.”

Angeline grasped desperately at her throat.

“Please stay, dinner is just beginning.”