I didn’t reply, but something came clear to me, that there was obviously a danger in his knowing me. He must have liked the danger. I had thought he was possessed of a scholar’s naïveté about it, but now this didn’t seem to be the case.

“Yes,” he said at once, his eyes growing wide as he smiled. “Exactly. Although I can’t honestly believe you’d ever harm me.”

“Don’t deceive yourself,” I said suddenly. “And you do, you know. You commit the old sin. You believe in what you see. I am not what you see.”

“How so?”

“Ah, come now. I look like an angel, but I’m not. The old rules of nature encompass many creatures like me. We’re beautiful like the diamond-backed snake, or the striped tiger, yet we’re merciless killers. You do let your eyes deceive you. But I don’t want to quarrel with you. Tell me this story. What happened in Rio? I’m eager to know.”

A little sadness came over me as I spoke these words. I wanted to say, if I cannot have you as my vampire companion, then let me know you as a mortal. It thrilled me, softly and palpably, that we sat there together, as we did.

“All right,” he said, “you’ve made your point and I acknowledge it. Drawing close to you years ago in the auditorium where you were singing, seeing you the very first time you came to me—it did have the dark lure of danger. And that you tempt me with your offer—that, too, is dangerous, for I am only human, as we both know.”

I sat back, a little happier, lifting my leg and digging my heel into the leather seat of the old chair. “I like people to be a little afraid of me,” I said with a shrug. “But what happened in Rio?”

“I came full in the face of the religion of the spirits,” he said. “Candomble. You know the word?”

Again I gave a little shrug. “Heard it once or twice,” I said. “I’ll go there sometime, maybe soon.” I thought in a flash of the big cities of South America, of her rain forests, and of the Amazon. Yes, I had quite an appetite for such an adventure, and the despair that had carried me down into the Gobi seemed very far away. I was glad I was still alive, and quietly I refused to be ashamed.

“Oh, if I could see Rio again,” he said softly, more to himself than to me. “Of course, she isn’t what she was in those days. She’s a world of skyscrapers now and big luxury hotels. But I would love to see that curving shoreline again, to see Sugar Loaf Mountain, and the statue of Christ atop Corcovado. I don’t believe there is a more dazzling piece of geography on earth. Why did I let so many years go by without returning to Rio?”

“Why can’t you go anytime that you wish?” I asked. I felt a strong protectiveness for him suddenly. “Surely that bunch of monks in London can’t keep you from going. Besides, you’re the boss.”