“Really?” his eyes rose to meet mine again and I pushed a little power at him, a little hey, don’t you think I’m hot mojo. Instead of drooling, he looked away.

I frowned.

He scribbled again.

I tapped my nails on the wooden armrest of the couch, the rat-tatting sound loud in the almost silent room.

He stopped writing and looked up again. “Sorry, just writing down your age at the time you were turned.”

“You could have looked that up on the internet,” I replied, wondering at the fact he didn’t even know such a basic fact about me.

“I didn’t want to taint my findings by doing research on you beforehand,” he explained. “So, I hope you’ll excuse me if I take a lot of notes or ask a lot of questions.”

As answers went, his made sense. “I’ve been told to cooperate, so ask away.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, you said you were forty when you died yet you look much younger. Is this common for older humans who are changed into vampires?”

I almost bristled at his calling me old; however, I reminded myself he’d guessed my exterior age as much younger. “Oh, I had to work at regaining the beauty of my youth. I bathed in the warm blood of several hundred virgins before I was able to reverse the telltale signs of aging.”

My response startled him and he peered at me with his mouth rounded in an ‘O’ of surprise. “Seriously?”

I smiled with a lot of teeth. “Totally. It’s why I was arrested and convicted.”

He knelt in front of me scribbling. “Tell me more.”

“How about I start from when I was turned?” A day I still remembered vividly.

“Can you just briefly summarize your life up to that point starting with what year you were born?”

I leaned back and remembered back to a time when I was still so ignorant… so human. “I was born in Hungary on August seventh, 1560. I had a normal childhood. As was usual for the time, I was married by the time I was fifteen to Ferenc Nádasdy.