Chapter Eight

            The last time I'd been near a man, I'd slit his throat whilst clutching a handful of hair and drawn a blade, with no reluctance, from right to left across his jugular. Judging by his demeanour, my eyes and manner conveyed that fact all too clearly to Andrew Montgomery as I sat opposite him.
            He watched with a fear that almost made me feel guilty as I toyed with a packet of cigarettes, flipping them over and over on the tabletop as I followed his every agitated move. He rambled on with nervousness as he struggled to retrieve a dated tape recorder and his own cigarettes from a battered leather briefcase,  "I'm sorry I'm late Miss Jordan, the traffic was horrendous. I don't usually come through town but--"
            "Mr. Montgomery, " I interrupted, "I'd appreciate it if you could cut the bullshit; I'm a very busy woman." I finished with a wry smile.
            He flushed and uttered a strained laugh, "Of course, I'm sorry..."
            "And please stop apologising, I hate it when men apologise. The last two I killed couldn't apologise enough." I looked up at him from beneath knitted eyebrows, "That was before I shut them up - permanently." I gave him my best maniacal smile.
            He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, as though the seat were made of crushed glass and I heard him swallow, it amused me to see his hands tremble as he lit a Marlboro. "Do you mind if I record this interview? I want to make sure I get this right."
            "Oh you do," I said reaching across and taking his Zippo, "you really do."
            Once I decided to continue my tale, I found it hard to stop. I recounted what I had already told Lisa, minus one small detail, primarily the bit about Vampires; I wanted to see his reaction. He had leafed through The Book with genuine, if not apprehensive, interest and scrawled a few notes on a dog-eared, spiral pad. At one point, the reporter from Hampstead Heath produced a flash digital camera and took pictures of it, front, back and inside. "So I suppose you want to know who - or should I say what - Charles Jordan was and where he fits into all of this?" I asked.
            "Well, if you think it's relevant to your story..."
            "Oh it's relevant alright. I suppose he was the catalyst in all of this. " I smiled sweetly, "Have you ever met a Vampire before, Mr. Montgomery?" I said steepling my fingers and cocking my head to one side inquisitively.
            He laughed, closing The Book, "Can't say I have, but then again, I've never met a serial killer either."
            I held my arms out theatrically, "Ta - dah!"
            He paused, eyeing me suspiciously, "So you admit the murders then?"
            I sank back into my chair and listened to my own voice drift off as I allowed my memories to take over. I remembered with vivid clarity what Gabrielle had said after I'd seen the puncture wound at her neck.