Living Dead in Dallas

feeling obliged to justify it. As we came out of the elevator, Isabel looked exactly like a statue. You could have hung your hat on her, though you’d have been sorry.
    Some early warning system kicked in when we were within six feet of the vamp. Isabel’s eyes flicked in our direction and her right hand moved, as though someonehad thrown her “on” switch. “Come with me,” she said, and glided out the main door. Barry could hardly open it for her fast enough. I noticed he had enough training to cast his eyes down as she passed. Everything you’ve heard about meeting vampires’ eyes is true.
    Predictably, Isabel’s car was a black Lexus loaded with options. Vampires won’t go around in any Geo. Isabel waited until I’d buckled my seat belt (she and Bill didn’t bother to use them) before pulling away from the curb, which surprised me. Then we were driving through Dallas, down a main thoroughfare. Isabel seemed to be the strong silent type, but after we’d been in the car for maybe five minutes, she seemed to shake herself, as if she had been reminded she had orders.
    We began a curve to the left. I could see some sort of grassy area, and a vague shape that would be some kind of historical marker, maybe. Isabel pointed to her right with a long bony finger. “The Texas School Book Depository,” she said, and I understood she felt obliged to inform me. That meant she had been ordered to do so, which was very interesting. I followed her finger eagerly, taking in as much of the brick building as I could see. I was surprised it didn’t look more notable.
    “That’s the grassy knoll?” I breathed, excited and impressed. It was like I’d happened upon the Hindenburg or some other fabled artifact.
    Isabel nodded, a barely perceptible movement that I only caught because her braid jerked. “There is a museum in the old depository,” she said.
    Now, that was something I’d like to see in the daytime. If we were here long enough, I’d walk or maybe find out how to catch a cab while Bill was in his coffin.
    Bill smiled over his shoulder at me. He could pick up on my slightest mood, which was wonderful about eighty percent of the time.
    We drove for at least twenty more minutes, leavingbusiness areas and entering residential. At first the structures were modest and boxy; but gradually, though the lots didn’t seem that much larger, the houses began to grow as if they’d taken steroids. Our final destination was a huge house shoehorned onto a small lot. With its little ruffle of land around the cube of the house, it looked ridiculous, even in the dark.
    I sure could have stood a longer ride and more delay.
    We parked on the street in front of the mansion, for so it seemed to me. Bill opened my door for me. I stood for a moment, reluctant to start the—project. I knew there were vampires inside, lots of them. I knew it the same way I would be able to discern that humans were waiting. But instead of positive surges of thought, the kind I’d get to indicate people, I got mental pictures of . . . how can I put it? There were holes in the air inside the house. Each hole represented a vampire. I went a few feet down the short sidewalk to the front door, and there, finally, I caught a mental whiff of human.
    The light over the door was on, so I could tell the house was of beige brick with white trim. The light, too, was for my benefit; any vampire could see far better than the sharpest-eyed human. Isabel led the way to the front door, which was framed in graduating arches of brick. There was a tasteful wreath of grapevines and dried flowers on the door, which almost disguised the peephole. This was clever mainstreaming. I realized there was nothing apparent in this house’s appearance to indicate that it was any different from any of the other oversized houses we’d passed, no outward indication that within lived vampires.
    But they were there, in force. As I followed Isabel inside, I counted four in the main room onto which the front door opened, and there were two in the hall and at least six in the vast kitchen, which looked designed to produce meals for twenty people at a time. I knewimmediately that the house had been purchased, not built, by a vampire, because vampires always plan tiny kitchens, or leave the kitchen out entirely. All they need is a refrigerator, for the synthetic blood, and a microwave, to heat it up. What are they going to cook?
    At the sink, a tall, lanky human was washing a few