despised humans, held them in utter contempt. He wanted the Night World to wipe them out, except for
a few to be used for food.
I was wrong, Rashel thought dazedly. I should have let Vicky torture him. I'm sure he deserves it, if any
of them do. God only knows what he's done in his time.
Quinn had turned his head toward her again, looking straight into the flashlight even though it must be
hurting his eyes.
"So you see, you'd better kill me fast," he said in a voice soft as snow falling. "Because that's certainly
what I'm going to do to you if I get loose."
Rashel gave a strained laugh. "Am I supposed to be scared?"
"Only if you have the brains to know who I am."
Now he sounded tired and scornful. "Which obviously you don't."
"Well, let me see. I seem to remember something about the Redferns.... Aren't they the family who
controls the vampire part of the Night World Council? The most important family of all the lamia, the
born vampires. Descended directly from Maya, the legendary first vampire. And Hunter Redfern is their
leader, the upholder of Night World law, the one who colonized America with vampires back in the
sixteen hundreds. Tell me if I'm getting any of this wrong."
He gave her a cold glance.
"You see, we have our sources. And I seem to remember them mentioning your name, too. You were
made a vampire by Hunter... and since his own children were all daughters, you're also his heir."
Quinn laughed sourly. "Yes, well, that's an on-again, off-again thing. You might say I have a love-hate
relationship with the Redferns. We spend most of the time wishing each other at the bottom of the Atlantic."
"Teh, vampire family infighting," Rashel said. "Why is it always so hard to get along with your folks?"
Despite her light words, she had to focus to keep control of her breathing.
It wasn't fear. She truly wasn't scared of him. It was something like confusion. Clearly, she should be
killing him at this moment instead of chatting
with him. She couldn't understand why she wasn't doing it.
The only excuse she had was that it seemed to make him even more confused and angry than it did her.
"I don't think you've heard enough about me," he said, showing his teeth. "I'm your worst nightmare,
human. I even shock other vampires. Like old Hunter... he has certain ideas about propriety. How you
kill, and who. If he knew some of the things I do, he'd fall down dead himself."
Good old Hunter, Rashel thought. The stiff moral patriarch of the Redfern clan, still caught up in the
seventeenth century. He might be a vampire, but he was definitely a New Englander.
"Maybe I should find a way to tell him," she said whimsically.
Quinn gave her another cold look, this time tempered with respect. "If I thought you could find him, I'd worry."
Rashel was suddenly struck by something. "You know, I don't think I've ever heard anyone say your
first name. I mean, I presume you have one."
He blinked. Then, as if he were surprised himself, he said, "John."
"John Quinn. John."
"I didn't invite you to call me it."
"All right, whatever." She said it absently, deep in thought. John Quinn. Such a normal name, a Boston
name. The name of a real person. It made
her think of him as a person, instead of as Quinn the dreadful.
"Look," Rashel said, and then she asked him something she'd never asked a Night Person before. She
said, "Did you want Hunter Redfern to make you a vampire?"
There was a long pause. Then Quinn said expressionlessly, "As a matter of fact, I wanted to kill him for
it."
"I see." I'd want to do the same, Rashel thought. She didn't mean to ask any more questions, but she
found herself saying, "Then why did he do it? I mean, why pick you?"
Another pause. Just when she was sure he wouldn't answer, he said, "I was-I wanted to marry one of
his daughters. Her name was Dove."
"You wanted to marry a vampire?"
"I didn't know she was a vampire!" This time Quinn's voice was quick and impatient. "Hunter Redfern
was accepted in Charlestown. Granted, a few people said his wife had been a witch, but in those days
people said that if you smiled in church."
"So he just lived there and nobody knew," Rashel said.
"Most people accepted him." A faint mocking smile curved Quinn's lips. "My own father accepted him,
and he was the minister."
Despite herself, Rashel was fascinated. "And you had to be a vampire to marry her? Dove, I mean."
"I didn't get to marry her," Quinn said tonelessly. He seemed as surprised as she was that he was telling
her these things. But he went on, seeming to speak almost to himself. "Hunter wanted me to marry one of
his other daughters. I said I'd rather marry a pig. Garnet-that's the oldest-was about as interesting as a
stick of wood. And Lily, the middle one, was evil. I could see that in her eyes. I only wanted Dove."
"And you told him that?" "Of course. He agreed to it finally-and then he told me his family's secret. Well."
Quinn laughed bitterly. "He didn't tell me, actually. It was more of a demonstration. When I woke up, I
was dead and a vampire. It was quite an experience."
Rashel opened her mouth and then shut it again, trying to imagine the horror of it. Finally she just said, "I bet."
They sat for a moment in silence. Rashel had never felt so... close to a vampire. Instead of disgust and
hatred, she felt pity. "But what happened to Dove?" Quinn seemed to tense all over. "She died," he said
nastily. It was clear that his confidences were over. "How?"
"None of your business!" Rashel tilted her head and looked at him soberly. "How, John Quinn? You
know, there are some things you really ought to tell other people. It might help."
"I don't need a damn psychoanalyst," he spat. He was furious now, and there was a dark light in his
eyes that ought to have frightened Rashel. He looked as wild as she felt sometimes, when she didn't care