Bella took several swallows from the bottle of malt liquor to help her gulp the pills down. She eyed Tasìa carefully with furrowed brows.

With a shrug, she offered the bottle of Wild Irish Rose.

"Care for some?"

Tasìa put the stiletto back in its sheath.

She laughed at the offer with a hint of derision in her tone.

"If there is a way of saying this inoffensively it is beyond my meager communication skills -" Tasìa paused as her gut rolled with laughter. She gathered her composure before continuing, "-but, there is no way in the Seven Hells I am sipping after a cannibal.

"I say that as a truly deplorable human being, myself. And, given that, I strive to be tolerant of so very many differences amongst people, but come on, you are a cannibal! There are limits!"

Bella took another swig from the bottle. She giggled as she replied, "well, fuck you too then."

Tasìa giggled along with her.

Tasìa assessed this latest development. If Bella overdosed here, her body would then make for five potential casualties. Tasìa did not like this change in the calculus.

"Hey, Bella, since we have gotten off to such a lovely start, can I ask you something?"

The woman stared off into space in a preoccupied state of mind. Understandably so, by Tasìa's reckoning. Tasìa was about to walk away to engage the next part of her task, but she heard a murmur.

Tasìa turned back around to see a glare fixed upon her.

"Don't call me Bella. It is not my name."

"What is it then?"

"Sinclair. Eddy calls me by that stupid name because he likes some ridiculous old books, and he wants to live them out. It's supposedly why we got involved in all of this fucked-up shit. Live-Action Role-Playing wasn't enough for him. Dragged me all the way to fucking Paraguay, no offense, to live out his little adventure."

"What was his goal, Sinclair?"

"To become an undead lord, like Dracula, in the flesh. How stupid is that?"

Tasìa glanced toward the lot where the three ghouls hid.

"He wants to become like them?"

Sinclair's hands fiddled together leaning over the steering wheel.

"Eddy sees becoming a mere ghoul as just the necessary first step in his transformation. Becoming powerful. Becoming Immortal. Like Dragos."

"The big guy who greeted the streetwalkers? You telling me he can't be killed?"

Sinclair nodded as she suddenly shivered. It was a reaction to the pills. Deep frown lines appeared on her face.

"Yeah. Something like that."

She got up out of the Hearse, clutching her stomach. With a sudden lunge, Sinclair doubled over.

She emptied the contents of her stomach onto the asphalt. After Sinclair finished with the dry heaves her fingers scrambled to rescue the pills and collect them out of the sediment of pink liquid.

A rancid odor overwhelmed Tasìa as she leaned over the other woman. It caused her to gasp for air. She turned away, gagging.

"Sorry," the Canadian woman apologized. "I lost control of everything."

"Hey, it happens."

Tasìa noticed a casket in the back of the Hearse.

"Sinclair, what is this?"

The woman was preoccupied once more. She stared at the pile of pills in her hands. With a tight grimace fixed on her lips, she threw them against a nearby wall.

"Fuck," she yelled. "I guess I will just have to live another fucking day. What was that you asked?"

"That," Tasìa pointed to the back of the Hearse.

"Oh, That. It is where Drago sleeps."

"Ah. You are kidding me, right? So, so very lame. Don't tell me he really thinks he is a vampire."

Sinclair pointed with a nod of her head.

"You can ask him."

Coming towards them was the crowd of party-goers. From their clothing, they appeared to have just emerged from a discotheque, except for the flannel and brown work boots that most of the Canadians wore.

There was now a chill in the air.

Drago strode from the center. His laughter boomed throughout the complex.

The four streetwalkers were escorted by an equal number of large men. They stood behind Drago.

The trio of ghouls crept out of there hiding space. They gathered on the opposite side of the Hearse from where Tasìa and Sinclair kept company.

Tasìa counted seven yards. That was the distance between where she stood and Drago stopped.

"Sinclair," he asked. "Is this the fifth girl you promised us? She seems to be a little . . ."

"I seem a little what?"

"You are dressed in army green trousers. Not what one would expect. I suppose a certain type of man would go for this, this look. Were you a camp follower perhaps? For the Shining Path?"

Tasìa rolled her eyes at Sinclair. The Canadian woman chortled, amusedly.

"Hey, Drago. My friend here has a question for you."

He bowed his head, gallantly.

"Proceed."

Tasìa eyed Sinclair for putting her on the spot. Though, she already was on the spot. Sinclair's own eyes told Tasìa to play it straight. No sarcasm.

"Are you really immortal," she asked then with a glance at the ghouls, she added. "An honest-to-God vampire?"

She saw the four streetwalkers processing this. One of the ladies studied the ghouls with a rigid gaze in her eyes. The newly acquired pallor upon the woman's face told Tasìa that she just now realized how much shit she was in.

"I am so old my dear that I remember the Black Plague and the fires that engulfed London as if it happened yesterday. Indeed, I am immortal. And, my lady, you have the great honor of assisting me in its sustainment."

Tasìa loosened her demeanor to allow her muscles to go limber.

"Would you mind if I tested the veracity of your claim?"

Drago's brows arched quizzically as his lips pursed together. He never had his bullshit questioned in the open before, Tasìa gathered.

She propped all of her weight on the left, stiletto bearing, leg, and quickly arced down on it. The rest of her body dropped like a pendulum in its descending swoop.

As her right leg slid forward, then bent into her stomach, she grabbed her gun. She fixed the Kel-Tec .32 with the laser sight dot squarely aimed in the center of Drago's forehead.

Tasìa emptied the magazine.

One would have been enough, but the massive overkill where fragments of Drago's skull seemed to dance to the rhythm of the chamber release caused the entire assembly of spectators to pause in shock.

She had the magazine changed out even before rising fully in a straight vertical position.

Tasìa turned to the right. She fired a bullet into the bald head of the nearest ghoul as he gawked at the falling massive husk of Drago's dead body.

Now, the crowd fled screaming and dashing helter-skelter away from her. Even the streetwalkers soon poured out of the fenced-in storage facility.

Only Sinclair remained behind. The Canadian woman leaned against the hood of the car. She giggled and grinned, and she watched the blood as it still poured from Drago's head.

"Now, ain't that some funny ass shit," she said.

Tasìa took a deep breath. She repeated meditatively again thricely to sober herself up. She would have enjoyed the revelry of the moment but she remembered she had somewhere else to be, and her sanity to keep in check.

The tingling in the back of her neck died down. She wondered if she could control it.

Sinclair burst into laughter once more. Her face aped the upturned cross-eyed expression left on Drago's face.

"He looks so stupid," she exclaimed.

"Sinclair, let's get you cleaned up. I've got some friends just up that hill. We get you cleaned up then maybe they'll agree to provide a cot for some sleep."

Sinclair nodded and started to follow.

"After tonight, I don't care what you do," Tasìa said. "But, if you stay in Villa Morrón, you can't eat people. It's really my one big rule. It's just so fucking gross."

Sinclair grimaced and she blew air up into her bangs. Done in a French cut, she looked as timeless as the Sorbonne, Tasìa thought. Her behavior though did not reflect a high class upbringing.

That dichotomy between appearance and behavior was often true with fashion models. Perhaps, that explains Sinclair?

"I'm going to get real hungry soon," Sinclair answered.

Tasìa grabbed Sinclair by the hand to guide her through snake territory as she led her up the hill.

"Eat raw steak if you have to. But no people. Real fucking gross. There is still very little of the ghoul in your appearance. You still pass for an attractive woman. Quit now while you are still ahead."

"I should try. What is your name, I don't think you said it?"

Tasìa was about to blurt out her real name but she quickly corrected herself.

"Avellana."

Sinclair bit her lower lip as she grinned.

"That is what we call 'hazelnut' in Canada. Pretty name."