Chapter 13

Things settled down after a few days. The papers were full of eulogies about the late, departed Datuk Feisal. I bet his family didn't lament his passing. Cleopatra went off to do lawyer things and probably chase some political windmill. I opened the copy of Asean Autocar I had bought and browsed through it over a cup of latte in the Koffee Korner. One particular article caught my eye. I read it carefully and decided I needed the car they were frothing at the mouth about.

"It's almost new," the salesperson enthused as I looked at the Volvo 850R T5 critically. "The buyer changed his mind at the last minute. His wife wanted a Benz. You can have it less 15%."

It was square in shape and rather unlovely although the car magazines had a lot of nice things to say about the beastly thing. It looked about as streamlined as a union blockade, but that's Volvo for you. Fast cars have always fascinated me. Driving fast beats flapping through the night in bat shape, not that I could shape-change like the dark brethren. I wanted a complement to my old 911, although I wanted to keep the Porsche as well. The Proton Putra, which Tai Kor Wong gave me, wasn't street legal. It was a stolen car and then modified into a hotrod.

I allowed the sales person to persuade me a little more before I signed a cheque and handed it over to him.

"I want it in three days, OK?"

"But of course, Mr. Kaid. Changing the registration number for the one you want won't be a problem either. 6147? That will be quite easy. But three days?"

He rubbed his thumb and fingers together in the universal sign for the stuff that lubricates the wheels of officialdom. I shrugged and told him to go ahead.

Of course he couldn't know that 6147 in reverse numerology was FANG. I use the Hebrew system.

It was after I took delivery of the Volvo that I got a call from Mandy. I was delighted to hear her voice and I realised that I missed her a lot. I was resting in the bungalow when the call came through.

"Kaid? How are you, my darling."

Her voice was warm but just a little nervous.

"I'm fine. When are you coming home?"

"Well that's it. That's why I'm calling. I want to stay here in Europe. I like it here and France is a wonderful country. Don't get mad, Kaid. Please try to understand."

"No, no, that's quite all right. I do understand. But how are you for cash? Need any?"

"Nightshade Creations is doing very well. Far beyond my expectations."

"Really? I thought it was Nightshade, Inc. Nightshade Creations sounds classier though. I wish you all the best, and if you need help, uncle is always here. But a word to the wise - be very, very careful whom you induct — know what I mean?"

"I understand, dear Kaid. But wanting to live here doesn't mean that I want to cut you off completely. We're bound to meet now and again. Take care, dear one."

"And you, too, Mandy. I'll miss you all the more now."

I could have told her to return by the next flight and she would have obeyed. That wasn't my style. I didn't want to compel someone near and dear to me into doing something against their wishes, although I wouldn't hesitate to do so with food.

It was amazing. Nightshade Creations had taken the boutique world by storm. It specialised in cosmetics and fabrics. I wondered what herbs and strange essences went into her products to make them so outrageously expensive and so much desired.

I got ready to go out for the night. It had been a week since I had had proper nourishment. I noticed that my need to feed had begun to be more widely spaced. Instead of once every two nights, I now needed to feed only once a week. Strangely enough I hadn't weakened. I was actually feeling better.

I went to the Bistro, a joint where young people hung out and did their thing. The feeding would come later when I roamed the streets in search of a stray one. It isn't clever to choose your victim of the night from a place where every one would see her leaving with me. It paid to be cautious. I kept my eyes open for Rose but she didn't seem to be around. I began to run my eyes over the crowd. It was the usual yuppie gang. Then, just as I took a gulp of the latte, a warm, chocolate voice addressed me. The owner of the voice placed a thundering wallop on my back. I barely managed to keep the coffee in my mouth.

"Long time no see, stranger."

I grinned when I saw it was none other than Cleopatra La Prince, demon goody two shoes and bane of government officials. I seated her and asked what her drink was.

"I'll have a latte, please."

"Are the girls OK, Cleo?"

She knew to whom I referred. She made a face.

"Yes and no. I'm afraid their experiences have warped them and they are giving their mother a hard time. But I think they will settle down in time."

"That's because ordinary people regard rape not as a traumatic experience, a heinous assault, but as something shameful. Ever lurking in the back of their little minds is the thought that perhaps the victim brought it on herself. Maybe she provoked the assault. Perhaps her clothes were too revealing, thus maddening the rapist into a dastardly deed. As if! And because these terrible events are mishandled by those who ought to know better, the shame and the rejection become indelibly fixed in the minds of the victims, and that's the real crime."

Her jaw dropped as she gaped at me. I suppose the last thing she expected from an ageing bloodsucker (just a figure of speech) was philosophy at ten o'clock at night.

"OK, OK, let me put it this way. What happened to the two girls is unforgivable because an act that should be pleasant and an expression of love (if one is lucky) was defiled by a man with a warped soul. I regard rape as reprehensible because it is purely an assault on the person of a helpless female or sometimes a male even. But the act itself is merely the insertion of an organ into another organ - perfectly natural. What is unnatural is the intent behind the act. The victim need feel no guilt because it was a victim."

"I'm not sure I follow your arguments, Kaid, but I glimpse the logic and the philosophy behind your reasoning."

She was a little miffed about the 'insertion of one thing into another' part of my statement. I ignored her and continued.

"Then, there is yourself. You must admit that the first time you came to me it was with great reluctance. Right?"

"Now to think of it, that's quite right." She stared at me with narrowed eyes. "What are you, Kaid? Or more to the point, what did you do to me?"

I let that run by me with an evasion.

"That's not important. In the end you enjoyed the act, and if I'm not mistaken, you enjoyed it every bit as much as I did."

"Did you, Kaid? Really?" she brightened and preened a little, which was perfectly natural.

"Cleo, it was the best I had ever had in my life. You're numero uno as far as I'm concerned."

Wisely, I didn't add that there were several numero unos in my life at the time, if you counted Siew Har and Rose.

She smiled sexily, thrusting her boobs for me to ogle and admire. Thank goodness I managed to steer her away from a most delicate subject. I didn't want to expunge all memory of our gambols from her mind, but I wasn't prepared to reveal to her the nature of my being. Not yet at least. She wouldn't appreciate knowing that she was food to me.

I had considered transforming her, and mind you, Cleo was good people, but I had yet to see if she possessed that feral quality I enjoy in my women and which is essential for survival. A wimpy vamp wouldn't last very long before some one poked a stake into his heart and stuck a burning brand up his ass. Rose had those feral qualities in spades, as did Siew Har, but they lacked brains. An eternity with a couple of airheads for company wasn't exactly my idea of eternal bliss. Life for them began at the pointy end of a prick and ended at its hairy base. I really missed Mandy. She reminded me of that hymn, "All Things Bright and Beautiful."

"Doing anything tonight? I have tickets for the Kitaro concert in the Dewan Budaya, the Cultural Hall."

She gasped and sat up straight in her chair.

"Oh, you swine. How could you? You're a very evil man, Kaid. For heaven's sake we have barely twenty minutes to get there."

We hurried to the Volvo and got in.

"Where's your Porsche," she asked me in a strangled voice as I left rubber on the road. This wasn't a hockey mum wagon and it could generate a few Gs when pushed.

"Left it at home. Just got this one. Like it?"

"It's big. And I notice you removed the back seat. How come?"

"To make it lighter," I lied. One of the reasons I bought the Volvo was to use as a mobile double-bed. I got tired of after-dinner sex where I would prop my food against a wall for a knee trembler. The large area in the rear of the Volvo was a superb place for post-prandial pokes — after dinner fucks if you please.

I did the trip in fifteen minutes and we got to our seats just as Kitaro walked on stage. It was a very good night.