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expression that might have kept me silent any other night.  
    “No, I do not have the ability to change into a bat.”  
    “Where did that rumor get started?”  
    “Did someone tell you I changed into a bat?”  
    I shook my head, unwilling to go into the whole Hollywood/book mythology at the moment.  
    “Why are you here?”  
    “I am your mentor,” he said. “It is my duty to attend to you when you are having difficulties.”  
    “Nobody else has a mentor. Why do I?”  
    He didn’t answer.  
    “How did you know where I was?” I couldn’t help but wonder if there was some secret vampire GPS signal. Instead of a bat logo in the sky, it flashed Marcie in Trouble and gave my GPS coordinates.  
    Il Duce, however, didn’t strike me as the kind of guy who was into technology that much.  
    Since he still didn’t answer I decided to let the question go for another, more important, one.  
    “Is there any way to bring her back?” I asked, turning and staring at the draped figure within the yellow crime scene tape. “She was a vampire when she died. Isn’t there anything you can do?”  
    “Regrettably, no,” he said. “She is too damaged and has lost too much blood.”  
    For a moment I thought he was going to say something else, but he merely shook his head, took me by the elbow and guided me over to the group surrounding Opie’s body.
    “Have you any other questions for Miss Montgomery?” Il Duce asked Detective Halston.
    “No,” the detective said, glancing at me. “But if you can remember anything else, please give me a call.”  
    I nodded, feeling an odd urge to say goodbye to Opie. She’d been kind to me, compassionate about Kenisha, and sweet to both Felipe and Meng.  
    The world had lost a good person tonight, vampire or not.
    I looked for Felipe to give him back his coat. The man must be freezing my now. I would have if he hadn’t been so courtly. As we walked through the parking lot I could tell Il Duce was right behind me.  
    I stared at the pavement. "I thought vampires didn’t cast shadows.”  
    “Please modulate your voice,” he said. “There is no reason for everyone to know we’re of the Kindred.”
    I glanced at him, realizing he was annoyed.  
    Big deal.  
    “Just how old are you?”  
    “Pardon?”  
    “How old are you?” I asked, enunciating the words again.  
    “Is that germane to our discussion?”  
    “A thousand? Five thousand?”  
    “Five hundred seven, if you must know,” he said, his eyes narrowing.  
    “You were alive in the middle ages.”  
    “Slightly past, but yes.”  
    Holy heck. I wanted to ask a hundred questions, all bubbling up in my mind. But this wasn’t the place and from Il Duce’s frown, he probably wouldn’t welcome my questions.
    I looked around for Felipe but didn’t see him. Taking off his jacket, I handed it to my mentor.  
    “Can you see to it Felipe gets this back?”
    “Who is this Felipe?”  
    “I thought you knew everything?”  
    “When it pertains to you, Marcie, yes.”  
    Well, that was certainly a scary thought.  
    I explained who Felipe was and what he looked like. With a courtly bow, one better suited to the 19 th century than now, he said, “But of course.”  
    I left him, making my way back to my car.  
    On the way home, I didn’t want to think of Opie, how I’d come to like her during our two hour dinner and how charming she was. I especially didn’t want to remember the sound as the truck hit her. The truck had sped up, not slowed down. The only time it had braked was to run over her body a second time.  
    I reached over and turned up the heater. I hadn’t been cold until tonight and now I wondered how much of it was the temperature change and how much was shock.  
    As an insurance adjuster, I had handled several cases involving death. One, where the railroad was involved. Two more when a commercial parking garage collapsed. But it was one thing to deal with the paperwork