“I know you,” suddenly blurted Smith. “You’re the doctor who attended me when I was sick.”
“That’s right,” said Sammy. “Boris, meet your son. Smith, meet your Pop.”
“He’s not my father,” denied Smith. “Anyway, my old man died way back in a car crash.”
“Your new father for your new rebirth,” explained Sammy. “Boris infected you when he snitched your blood. If it hadn’t been for him you wouldn’t be here now so, in a way, he’s your Pop.” He became serious. “It’s the only way vampires can breed, you know, they depend on their victims to perpetuate their race.”
“And ghouls?” said Smith shrewdly. “What about them?”
“Like humans,” said Sammy shortly. He didn’t want to talk about it. Neither, it appeared, did Boris want to discuss his new offspring.
“Lupe here yet?” He shivered a little and drew closer to the fire. Sammy shook his head.
“He’ll be along.”
“I hope we have better luck this time.” Boris sucked at his bloodless lips. “Seven years now we’ve been waiting and still no sign of them coming out.” He looked suddenly panic-stricken. “Could they be all dead?”
“Lupe said that he could hear sounds the last time,” reminded Sammy. “And we know they took care to stock up well on supplies.”
“But something could have happened.” Boris was a natural pessimist. “Maybe something went wrong with their water supply, or they took a bug down there with them and it wiped them out.” He began to chew at his nails as he thought about it. “And they’re the only ones we know of.”
“Take it easy,” said Sammy; he was becoming infected with the other’s doubts. “They’ll be all right, I know they will.” He changed the subject. “Anything new?”
“Nothing.” Boris hunched closer to the fire, his evening dress, dirt-stained but still retaining a traditional dignity, giving him the appearance of an old and slightly moth-eaten aristocrat. “I’ve covered a pretty wide area and haven’t seen a thing. I guess that we’re the last, Sammy, you and me and Lupe, and we’re not going to last much longer unless they come out from under The Tombstone pretty soon.”
“Don’t forget me, Pop,” said Smith. “I’m one of the boys now.” He grinned at Boris’s expression. “What’s the matter, Pop? Touch you on the raw?”
“I am not used to being addressed as ‘Pop,’” said Boris with simple dignity. “And don’t kid yourself that you are something special. Why, I remember the time when young pups like you were ten a penny. And a lot of trouble they caused too, back in the old days. Made life very hectic for a while.”
“That’s because you weren’t organized,” said Smith brusquely. “Now, take me. I’m modern with modern ideas of how to go about things. You’ve got to be organized to get anywhere in this world.” He stared disdainfully at Boris’s garment. “Take you now, dressed up like a Continental Count playing a bit part in some crummy production.”
“I am a Count,” said Boris in a strangled voice.
“Maybe you were,” said Smith airily, “but who wants Counts? What counts now is the front you put on. Dress like big money, talk like big money and, brother, you’ll get big money.” He beamed in self-satisfaction. “Believe me, I know.”
“What’s the good of money,” said Sammy from the shadows. “It can’t buy you anything, not now.”
“It will.” Smith was confident in his own knowledge of the human race. “And the smart ones are those who get in on the ground floor.”
Boris grunted in disgust; he was a quiet old vampire who believed in keeping himself to himself and not making enemies. It was a system of life which had stood him in good stead in the past and he saw no reason to change just because some young squirt thought he knew it all. He gave a dry laugh at the prospect of deflating the young vampire. Sammy spoilt his fun. “Better tell Smith what he has to know,” he said. “After all, you owe it to him in a way.”
“I owe him nothing,” snorted the old vampire. “What has he ever done for me?”
“You want me to answer that?” Smith grew annoyed as he thought about it. It wasn’t that he objected too much to his new status but the principle behind it annoyed him. He was firm in his belief of the paradox of free enterprise and the sanctity of property, especially private property, and Boris had successfully pulled off a very personal theft. And there was nothing he could do about it.
“Tell him, Boris,” said Sammy again. “You owe it to the lad.”
“You don’t have to tell me anything,” snapped Smith. He expanded his chest. “I’ve read a bit and I know what the score is. I know what to eat and know that I’ve to return to my grave before dawn.” Suddenly he looked haggard. “My grave! Hell! I’d never be able to find it again in a month of Sundays!”
Boris snorted with amused contempt. “That’s for the comic books,” he said. “All that guff about returning to our graves before dawn, I mean. All that’s necessary is that you stay out of sunlight; the actinic rays will trigger off skin cancers. Artificial light’s all right but nothing containing ultra violet.”
“That so?” Smith looked relieved. “Anything else you should tell me while you’re at it?”
“Only to respect your elders,” snapped Boris. “And don’t get careless or you’ll wind up with a stake through the heart or a bullet through the ribs. And it needn’t be a silver bullet either.” He broke off as an animal howled from the darkness.
“Here’s Lupe,” said Sammy happily, and threw more twigs on the fire.
A big, sleek Alsatian-like dog loped into the firelight, sat down and promptly changed into a man. Even in human form he retained a slightly wolf-like air. He nodded to the others.
“Hi! How’s tricks?”
“I’m starving,” grumbled Boris.
“So am I.” Sammy belched wind and rubbed his stomach. “I’ve been living off my fat for so long now that soon I’ll be too weak to take a bite if I had the chance.” He looked hopefully at the werewolf. “Any news?”
“Wife’s had a new litter,” said Lupe proudly. “Three boys and two girls.” He beamed at their congratulations. “Things aren’t as easy as they might be but I’m making out.” He lifted a foot and scratched himself behind one ear. He noticed Smith’s boggle-eyed stare. “New boy?”
“Just born,” said Sammy. “Boris was responsible for him.”
“Congratulations,” said Lupe politely to the old vampire. “How’s he shaking down?”
“Well, he hasn’t gone crazy on us yet,” said Sammy thoughtfully.
Boris changed what was, to him, obviously a painful subject. “Any other news?”
“The rabbits are getting more plentiful,” said Lupe.
“Rabbits!” Boris screwed up his mouth. Sammy echoed his sentiments.
“Rabbits might be good eating for you, Lupe, but not for us. Anything else?”
“I don’t think so.” The werewolf frowned. “There was just one more thing, now I come to think about it, but it’s slipped my mind.” He waved a hand. “Never mind, I guess it’ll come back if it was important.” He returned to the subject closest to his heart. “I wish you could see the youngsters; fine kids, all of them.”
“You’re breeding fast,” said Sammy enviously. “Sure you aren’t going a little too fast?”
“I don’t think so.” Lupe scratched the other ear. “I’m keeping the litters down as low as I can but we daren’t get too low. Anyway, all our troubles will be over when they come out.”
“You can say that again,” said Sammy with real feeling. He smacked his lips. “Hell, I never thought that I’d miss humans so much.”
“Nor me,” said Boris fervently. “Why, once in the old days when they were pressing close I even wished a plague on them.” He sighed. “Right now I could do with the old days, stakes, garlic, silver bullets and all. Modern times were a gift, sure, but look how things wound up.”