Mr. Vampire Who Lives in My Neighbourhood

15

Florence gazed at the immobilized vampire sprawled on her floor. Her plan had worked perfectly - the doctored blood bags had weakened him enough for her hidden traps to ensnare him. Now was her chance to get answers.

"Let's have a chat, shall we?" Florence circled Farrell as he strained fruitlessly against the bindings. "I have some questions regarding your nature and recent killings with similar puncture wounds."

Farrell scoffed weakly. "Preposterous accusations. I'm no mere beast who savages victims."

"Oh? Enlighten me then," Florence pressed. "What exactly are you?"

"If you must know, I hail from a distinguished bloodline of British nobles - the Forsythes," Farrell proclaimed. "We abstain from crude slaughter, procuring vital fluids through civilized channels since the 1800s. I relocated here pursuing my artistic passions."

Florence's eyebrow raised skeptically. "You expect me to believe vampiric nobility is real?"

"My authentic pedigree is irrefutable, I assure you," Farrell insisted. "One merely needs examine the Forsythe legacy across venerable London galleries and museums."

"Artistry or audacity, either way I have doubts," Florence retorted. "Suppose I humor your tall tale. Swear you had no involvement in recent killings."

"On my family's honor, you have my word," Farrell vowed seriously. "I remain as shocked as you by such barbarism sullying my kind's dignity."

As Florence pondered this, Farrell stealthily extended a forked tongue towards a blood bag. Swiftly, his tongue was pinned down by a hurled scalpel.

"Ah ah ah...no sampling the goods until we're finished here," Florence chided, waving the sedative's empty vial.

Farrell gulped nervously. Perhaps the interrogation would be more arduous than expected. But gazing at this formidable woman, he felt only greater fascination blooming.

"Let's review - you claim you are not just a vampire but vampire nobility...with a penchant for art rather than hunting victims," Florence summarized skeptically.

"I confess a certain melodrama about my lineage but the salient points ring true," Farrell replied, a touch of pride in his voice. "We Forsythes cultivated more sophisticated appetites."

"Is that so? No temptation for fresh blood straight from the vein?" Florence flashed a vial she had drawn from herself.

Farrell's eyes flashed red but he maintained composure. "I admit your bouquet is most enticing. But I've evolved beyond crude impulse."

"Hmm, a lofty notion for an immortal," Florence pressed. "Ever grow bored? Seek thrills from harming mortals?"

"I'll confess mortals often disappoint but finding the rare gem makes eternity worthwhile," Farrell mused. "Like yourself - a worthy foe capable of besting even my charms."

Florence fought the edges of a blush at the unexpected compliment. "Flattery won't sway my interrogation. What can you share of other old ones?"

"Indeed secrecy is vital given recent...tensions." Farrell lowered his voice. "Rumors abound of radical factions rejecting subtlety. But to condemn an entire species for extremists seems unfair, no?"

Florence wavered. Perhaps there was some truth to the nuance here.

"One last inquiry," Florence leaned in. "Your hypnotic tricks - teach me."

Farrell laughed. "What need have you for such arts?" His smile turned sly. "Or perhaps deeper motives stir..."

Flustered by his perceptive gaze, Florence realized she had revealed more interest than intended. What was it about this vampire that kept catching her off guard?