The Truth

of a smoking window holding a small child.
    “All right, boys, zis is zer big vun!” he said, and raised the flash cage. “Vun, two, thre—aarghaarghaarghaargh…”
    The vampire became a cloud of gently settling dust. For a moment something hovered in the air. It looked like a small jar on a necklace made of string.
    Then it fell and smashed on the cobbles.
    The dust mushroomed up, took on a shape…and Otto stood blinking and running his hands over himself to check that he was all there. He caught sight of William and gave him the kind of big broad smile that only a vampire can give.
    “Mister Villiam! It vorked, your idea!”
    “Er…which one?” said William. A thin plume of yellow smoke was creeping out from under the lid of the big iconograph.
    “You said carry a little drop of emergency b-word,” said Otto. “Zo I thought: if it is in a little bottle around my neck, zen if I crumble to dust, hoopla! It vill crash and smash unt here I am!”
    He lifted the lid of the iconograph and waved the smoke away. There was the sound of very small coughing from within. “And if I am not mistaken, ve have a successfully etched picture! All of vhich only goes to show vot ve can achieve when our brains are not clouded by thoughts of open vindows and bare necks, vhich never cross my mind at all zese days because I am completely beetotal.”
    Otto had made changes to his clothing. Away had gone the traditional black evening dress preferred by his species, to be replaced by an armless vest containing more pockets than William had ever seen on one garment. Many of them were stuffed with packets of imp food, extra paint, mysterious tools, and other essentials of the iconographer’s art.
    In deference to tradition, though, Otto had made it black, with a red silk lining, and added tails.
    On making gentle inquiries of a family watching disconsolately as the smoke from the fire was turned to steam, William ascertained that the blaze had been mysteriously caused by mysterious spontaneous combustion in an overflowing mysterious chip pan full of boiling fat.
    William left them picking through the blackened remains of their home.
    “And it’s just a story,” he said, putting the notebook away. “It does makes me feel a bit of a vampire—oh…sorry.”
    “It is okay,” said Otto. “I understand. And I should like to thank you for givink me zis job. It means a lot to me, especially since I can see how nervous you are. Vhich is understandable, of course.”
    “I’m not nervous! I’m very much at home with other species!” said William hotly.
    Otto’s expression was amicable, but it was also as penetrative as the smile of a vampire can be.
    “Yes, I notice how careful you are to be friendly with the dwarfs and you are kind to me, also. It is a big effort vhich is very commendable—”
    William opened his mouth to protest, and gave up. “All right, look, it’s the way I was brought up, all right? My father was definitely very…in favor of humanity, well, ha, not humanity in the sense of…I mean, it was more that he was against—”
    “Yes, yes, I understand.”
    “And that’s all there is to it, okay? We can all decide who we’re going to be!”
    “Yes, yes, sure. And if you vant any advice about vimmin, you only have to ask.”
    “Why should I want advice about vi—women?”
    “Oh, no reason. No reason at all,” said Otto innocently.
    “Anyway, you’re a vampire. What advice could a vampire give me about women?”
    “Oh, my vord, vake up and smell zer garlic! Oh, zer stories I could tell you”—Otto paused—“but I von’t because I don’t do zat sort of thing anymore, now zat I have seen the daylight.” He nudged William, who was red with embarrassment. “Let us just say, zey don’t alvays scream.”
    “That’s a bit tasteless, isn’t it?”
    “Oh, that vas in zer bad old days,” said Otto hurriedly. “Now I like nothing better than a nice mug of cocoa and a good singsong around zer harmonium, I assure you. Oh, yes. My vord.”
    Getting into the office to write up the story turned out to be a problem. In fact, so was getting into Gleam Street.
    Otto caught William up as he stood and stared.
    “Vell, I suppose ve asked for it,” he shouted. “Tventy-five dollars is a lot of money.”
    “What?” shouted William.
    “I SAID TVENTY-FIVE DOLLARS IS A LOT OF MONEY, VILLIAM!”
    “WHAT?”
    Several people pushed past them. They were carrying dogs. Everyone in Gleam Street was