"Is that where you keep them?" I asked Jimmy, pointing at the room behind the glass wall.

"Yup," he said cheerfully. He swung up a section of the desk and invited us through.

I was nervous. I expected to see dozens of tables piled high with sliced-open bodies. But it wasn't like that. There was one dead body, covered from head to toe with a long sheet, but that was the only one I could see. Otherwise it was a huge, well-lit room, with big filing cabinets built in the walls and lots of medical equipment scattered around the place.

"How is business?" Mr. Crepsley asked as we sat on three chairs near the corpse on the table. Jimmy and Mr. Crepsley didn't pay attention to the dead person, and since I didn't want to look out of place, neither did I.

"Slow enough," Jimmy answered. "The weather's been good, and there haven't been many car accidents. No strange diseases, no food epidemics, no collapsing buildings. By the way," he added, "I had an old friend of yours in here a few years back."

"Oh?" Mr. Crepsley responded politely. "Who was that?"

Jimmy sniffed heavily through his nose, then cleared his throat.

" Gavner Purl ?" Mr. Crepsley hooted with delight. "How is the old dog — as clumsy as ever?"

They started talking about their friend Gavner Purl. I looked around while they were speaking, wondering where the bodies were kept. Finally, when they paused for breath, I asked Jimmy. He stood up, and told me to follow. He led the way to the big filing cabinets and pulled one of the drawers out.

There was a hissing sound, and a cloud of cold air rose from inside the drawer. When it cleared, I saw a sheet-covered form and realized the filing cabinets weren't filing cabinets at all. They were refrigerated coffins!

"We store the bodies here until we're ready."

Jimmy said, "or until their next of kin come to collect them."

I looked around the room, counting the rows of drawer doors. "Is there a body behind each of these?" I asked.

Jimmy shook his head. "We've only got six guests right now, not counting the one on the table. Like I said, it's quiet. And even during our busiest times, most of our storage space goes unused. It's rare for us to be half full. We just like to be prepared for the worst."

"Any fresh bodies in stock?" Mr. Crepsley asked.

"Wait a minute and I'll check," Jimmy said. He consulted a large pad and flicked through a few pages. "There's a man in his thirties," Jimmy said. "Died in a car crash just over eight hours ago."

"Nothing fresher?" Mr. Crepsley asked.

"Afraid not," Jimmy replied.

Mr. Crepsley sighed. "It will have to do."

"Wait a minute," I said. "You're not going to drink from a dead person, are you?"

"No," Mr. Crepsley said. He reached inside his cape and pulled out some of the small bottles where he stored his supply of human blood. "I have come for a refill."

"You can't!" I yelled.

"Why not?" he asked.

"It isn't right. It's not fair to drink from the dead. Besides, the blood will have turned sour."

"It will not be at its best," Mr. Crepsley agreed, "but it will do for bottling. And I disagree: A corpse is the ideal person to drain, since it has no use for the blood. It will take a lot to fill these bottles. Too much to take from a living person."

"Not if you took a little from several," I protested.

"True," he said. "But that would require time, effort, and risk. It is easier this way."

"Darren doesn't speak like a vampire," Jimmy remarked.

"He is still learning." Mr. Crepsley grunted. "Now, lead the way to the body, please. We have not got all night."

I knew it would be pointless to argue anymore, so I shut my mouth and followed silently behind them.

Jimmy slid out the body of a tall blond man and whipped back the sheet. There was a nasty bruise on the dead man's head and his body was really white, but otherwise he looked like he might be sleeping.

Mr. Crepsley made a long, deep cut across the man's chest, baring his heart. He arranged the bottles beside the corpse, then got out a tube and stuck one end into the first of the bottles. He stuck the other end into the dead man's heart, then wrapped his fist around the organ and squeezed it like a pump.

Blood crept slowly along the tube and into the bottle. When it was almost full, Mr. Crepsley pulled the tube out and jammed a cork into the neck of the bottle. He stuck the mouth of the tube into the second bottle and started filling that one.

Raising the first bottle, he swallowed a mouthful and rolled it around his gums, as though tasting wine. "Good," he grunted, licking his lips. "It is pure. We can use it."

He filled eight bottles, then turned to me with a serious look on his face.

"Darren," he said, "I know you are reluctant to drink human blood, but it is time you got over your fear."

"No," I said immediately.

"Come now, Darren," he growled. "This person is dead. His blood is no good to him anymore."

"I can't," I said. "Not from a corpse."

"But you will not drink from a live person!" Mr. Crepsley exploded. "You will have to drink human blood eventually. This is the best way to start."

"Um, listen, guys," Jimmy said. "If you're going to feed, I think I should get out of —"

"Quiet!" Mr. Crepsley snapped. His eyes were burning into me. "You have to drink," he said firmly. "You are a vampire's assistant. It is time you behaved like one."

"Not tonight," I begged. "Another time. When we go hunting. From a living person. I can't drink from a corpse. It's disgusting."

Mr. Crepsley sighed and shook his head. "One night you will realize how silly you are being," he said. "I just hope, by that time, you are not beyond being saved."

Mr. Crepsley thanked Jimmy Ovo for his help, and the two started talking about the past and their friends. I sat by myself while they chatted, feeling miserable, wondering how long I could go without human blood.

When they were finished, we walked downstairs. Jimmy came with us and waved good-bye. He was a nice guy and I was sorry we'd had to meet under dark circumstances.

Mr. Crepsley didn't say anything the whole way home, and when we arrived back at the Cirque Du Freak, he tossed me angrily to one side and pointed a finger at me.

"If you die," he said, "it is not my fault."

"Okay," I replied.

"Stupid boy," he grumbled, then stormed off to his coffin.

I stayed up a while longer and watched the sun rising. I thought a lot about my situation and what would happen when my strength faded and I began to die. A half-vampire who wouldn't drink blood; it would have been funny if it wasn't so deadly.

What should I do? That was the question that kept me awake long after the sun rose. What should I do? Forget about it and just drink human blood? Or stay true to my humanity and… die ?