Ah, her. Standard dark lady of the night fare. She was exquisite, more intelligent and worldly than any woman he'd ever met. More brilliant, more attractive, more everything. She'd swept him off his feet, yadda yadda, and here he was, some six hundred years later, and all this time they'd played a game of seduction and mayhem that read like something out of a bodice-ripper.

It was quite the tale of danger and suspense. Out here, alone in a cabin in the woods, with a fire burning in the stove and wind shushing through the pine trees outside, I should have been shaking in my booties.

I'd sure love to give Ariel a real scare.

That gave me an idea. A really bad idea.

I retrieved my cell phone from my desk. I dialed the number that Ariel's aggravating voice had seared into my memory.

"You've reached Ariel, Priestess of the Night," said a man. A regular, nonmysterious-sounding man.

"Hi," I said. Oh my God, not a busy signal. I was talking to someone. Was I actually going to get on the show?

"Can you give me first your name and where you're calling from?"

Shit, I hadn't really thought this through. "Um, yeah, I'm… Sue. And I'm from… Albuquerque."

"And what do you want to talk about?"

What did I want to talk about? My brain froze. Was this what happened when people called my show? My big mouth took over. "I'd like to talk to Ariel about fear," I said.

"Are you afraid of vampires?" the screener asked.

"Sure."

"All right, if you could please turn off your radio and hold on for a minute."

Crap. Double crap. I turned off the radio.

Instead of hold music, the phone piped in Ariel's show, so I wouldn't miss anything.

Gustaf was talking about the inherent selfless nobility that vampirism conferred upon its victims. "One begins to feel a certain stewardship for humankind. We vampires are the more powerful beings, of course. But we depend on you humans for our survival. Just as humanity has learned it cannot wipe out the rain forests or destroy the oceans without consequence, we cannot rule over human­kind with impunity. As we would certainly be capable of doing were we less conscientious."

So people were nothing more than a bunch of endan­gered monkeys? Was that it? No, vampires would never be able to take over the world because their heads were generally stuck too far up their own asses.

Finally, Ariel made the announcement I'd been wait­ing for: "All right, listeners, I'm going to open the line for calls now. Do you have a question or a comment for Gustaf? Now's your chance."

I desperately wanted Ariel to put me on the air so I could call bullshit on the guy. She took another call instead. A desperately awestruck woman spoke.

"Oh, Ariel, thank you, and Gustaf, thank you so much for speaking with us all. You don't know how much it means to hear such an old and wise being as yourself."

"There, there, my dear, it's my pleasure," Gustaf said graciously.

"I don't understand why you—I mean you as in all vampires—aren't more visible. You've seen so much, you have so much experience. We could learn so much from you. And I do think the world would be a better place if vampires were in a position to guide us—"

Ariel butted in. "Are you saying, then, that you think vampires would make good world leaders?"

"Of course—they've seen nations rise and fall. They know better than anybody what works and what doesn't. They're the ultimate monarchs."

Great. A freakin' royalist. Ooh, what I would say to this woman if this were my show…

Ariel was maddeningly diplomatic. "You're a woman with traditional values. I can see why the ageless vam­pires would appeal to you."

"Since the world would clearly be a better place if vampires were in charge—why aren't they? Why don't they take over?"

Gustaf chuckled, clearly amused in a detached, conde­scending manner. "Oh, we certainly could, if we wanted to. But I think you underestimate how shy most vampires are. We really don't like the harsh light of publicity."

Could have fooled me.

Ariel said, "I'd like to move on to the next call now. Hi, Sue, you're on the air," Ariel said.

Sue—that was me. Wow, I made it. Back on the air—in a manner of speaking. Ha. Here I go—

"Hi, Ariel. Thanks so much for taking my call." I knew the script. I knew how to sound like a fan. I'd heard it enough from the other side. "Gustaf, I don't think all vam­pires are quite as sensitive and charitable as you imply. Are they stewards watching over the rain forests, or shep­herds fattening the sheep for market?"

Gustaf huffed a little. "Every vampire was once a human being. The best of us never forget our roots."

Even if they had to suck those roots dry… "But you give the worst human beings the power and immortality of a vampire, and what do you get? The Third Reich—forever. See, you know why I think vampires haven't taken over the world?" God, I sounded snotty. I always hated it when people this called into my show. Crabby know-it-alls. 'Why?" Ariel said.

"Theatrics."

"Theatrics?" Ariel repeated, sounding amused, which irritated me.

"Yeah, theatrics. The posing, the preening, the drawn-out stories of romance and seduction when the reality is Gustaf here was probably just some starry-eyed kid who got screwed over. You take all those petty, backstabbing, power trippy games that happen when you get any group together, multiply it by a few centuries, and you end up with people who are too busy stroking their own egos and polishing their own reputations to ever find the motivation to take over the world."

Aloof, Gustaf spoke. "Have you ever met a vampire?"

"I know a couple," I said. "And they're individuals, just like anyone else. Which is probably really why they haven't taken over the world. They couldn't agree on any­thing. Aren't I right, Gustaf?"

Ariel said, "Sue, you're sounding just a bit angry about all this. Why is that?"

I hadn't expected the question. In fact, I'd kind of expected her to move onto the next call by now. But no, she was probing. Which left me to decide: Was I going to answer her question? Or blow it off? What would make her sound like an idiot, without making me sound like an idiot?

I suddenly realized: I hated being on this end of a radio show. But I couldn't stop now.

"Angry? I'm not angry. This isn't angry. This is sarcastic.'"

"Seriously," Ariel said, not letting it go. "Our last caller practically worships vampires. Why are you so angry?"

Because I was stuck in the woods through nobody's fault but my own. Because somewhere along the way I'd lost control of my life.

"I'm tired of the stereotype," I said. "I'm tired of so many people buying into the stereotype."

"But you're not afraid of them. That anger doesn't come from fear."

"No, it doesn't," I said, hating the uncertainty in my own voice. I knew very well how dangerous vampires could be, especially when you came face-to-face with one in a dark room. I'd seen it firsthand. They smelled dan­gerous. And here she was promoting one like he was a damned philanthropist.

"Then what are you afraid of?"

Losing. I was afraid of losing. She had the show and I didn't. I was supposed to ask the difficult questions. What I said was, "I'm not afraid of anything."

Then I hung up.

I'd turned the radio off, so the cabin was silent. Part of me wanted to turn it back on and hear what Ariel said about my—or rather Sue's—abrupt departure, as well as what else Gustaf had to say about the inherent nobility of vampires. In a rare show of wisdom, I kept the radio off. Ariel and Gustaf could keep each other.

I started to throw the phone, and amazingly refrained. I was too tired to throw it.

Afraid. Who was she to accuse me of being afraid? The one with the radio show, that was who.