Free Consultation with a Vampire - 01 by Patrick E. McLean

city trees that plied their trade in the cracks of the city, his pace felt something more than human. Its roll from side to side was elemental and slow, like the seasons.  
    “Something is troubling you,” Agnes said.
    “No, Agnes. The work goes well and is interesting,” Edwin said without much enthusiasm or conviction.  
    “I am not talking about the work, Edwin.”
    “Ah,” Edwin said, hoping that Agnes’s question would be lost somewhere among the spring winds and crowded city blocks. The sea of faces rushed around them as they took step after step out of phase with both time and distance. Where were these people rushing, and to what end? What momentary stops betwixt cradle and grave did they take? Did they reflect, at all, upon the meaning of their lives? Upon worth and consequences? The terrible cost of it all?  
    They were, Edwin realized, nervous collections of wants and ailments - who, when faced with the silence and the dark, the ultimate, existential reality of death - would realize that their weak faith and incoherent logic were inadequate weapons for the battle they faced.
    “Edwin,” Agnes said, “there is a question in front of you.”
    “Death. Death is troubling me.”
    “Oh, my heavens.” Agnes laughed. Her laugh was as bright as the first flowers of spring, those forgotten annuals that come up year after year and surprise you with their joyful presence. “Forgive me, that is rude, but, after all these years, that question has finally come around, at last.”
    “What do you mean?” Edwin asked.  
    “Oh, my dear. Even as a small boy, you were so very serious. Always interested in the why of things. Precociously reading books that were disturbing for a boy your age. Disturbing for anyone, really, but as disturbing as those books were, you never asked The Question.”
    Edwin looked down at her. His face was as calm and impassive as a stone Buddha, but his eyes betrayed the deep reserve of feeling that lurks within all of us. “I was not concerned with my death.”
    “Poppycock! We are all concerned with our own deaths. I am close enough to have heard the Eternal Footman snicker, and, believe me, we are all concerned.”
    “I am involved in a negotiation...” Edwin began, struggling to get a handle on what he wanted to say.  
    “Ha, ha! A negotiation with Death? Bravo, my boy. That’s the stuff. But I warn you, no matter how well the early rounds may be going, you will be forced to concede everything in the end.”
    “I am not negotiating with Death. I speak of our newest clients.”
    “Ah, yes, the French. I demand you take those treacherous frogs for all they are worth.”
    “Agnes, it is your death that I am worried about.”
    She tried to laugh it off, but her laughter rattled like bones. Edwin felt the grip on his arm tighten. “That should be the least of your concerns, dear boy. You are a young man, successful, making your way in the world. When I see you wed, you will be in fine shape, and you will no longer need your old governess.”
    Edwin said, “You are aware of our clients’ unusual nature. They are in a position to confer certain... advantages. And I thought–”  
    “Oh, Edwin. You mustn’t be tempted by that twilight path. It is a snare of death.”
    “And of ego,” Edwin said.  
    “They are foul creatures, perhaps romantic in storybooks and at the cinema, but you are educated enough to know that there is a limit to a man’s days. Nothing in this world can be procured for free. All things come at a cost, Edwin. And the cost for such a boon, even if it is real, would be simply too much to bear.”
    “Perhaps you have underestimated the benefit,” Edwin said.  
    “Perhaps you have underestimated the worth of your soul. To throw such a thing away for a few extra days.”
    “Metaphysical nonsense aside,” Edwin said, “it is not I who-” and here he looked away from her and could no longer speak. This display of emotion was so uncharacteristic, it