Finally, Flemming said, very straightforward, as if delivering a paper at a medical conference, “These are patients exhibiting certain physiological characteristics such as an amplified immune system, pronounced canines, a propensity for hemophagia, severe solar urticaria—”
“Doctor,” Duke interrupted. “What are those? Hemophagia? What?”
“Consuming blood, Senator. Solar urticaria is an allergy to sunlight.”
He made it sound so clinical, so mundane. But what kind of allergy caused someone to burn into a cinder?
“And what have you discovered about these so-called patients of yours, Doctor?”
Flemming hesitated a moment, then leaned closer to the microphone set before him. “I’m not sure I understand your question, Senator.”
“Vampires. In your opinion, what are they?”
Flemming cleared his throat, nervousness slipping into the calm, and said cautiously, “I believe I explained previously, that vampirism is characterized by a set of physical characteristics—”
“Cut the bull, Doctor. We’ve all seen Dracula, we know the ‘physical characteristics.’ I want to hear about the moral characteristics, and I want to hear about why they exist.”
I leaned forward, scooting to the edge of my seat, not because I would hear any better. The microphones worked great. I was waiting for the fight to break out.
“My studies don’t involve the scope of your question, Senator.”
“Why not?”
“Those points are irrelevant.”
“With all due respect I disagree with you. Strongly.”
“Senator, I’m not qualified to comment on the moral characteristics of my patients.”
“Your test subjects, your patients—how do you feed them, Doctor? Whose blood do they suck out? How many of them turn into vampires?”
“Despite all the stories to the contrary, the condition is not transmitted by direct fluid contact—”
“And the blood?”
“Blood bank, Senator. We use pints of the most common types that the existing blood supply can spare.”
“Thank you, Doctor.” He said it like he’d gained some kind of victory.
“Doctor, I have some questions over the budgeting of your research—” One of the other senators on the committee, a woman named Mary Dreschler, quickly steered the discussion back to more mundane matters. A Democrat from a Midwestern state, Dreschler had run for the seat held by her late husband, who’d died suddenly in the middle of a reelection campaign. She was on her third term.
After two hours of this, the day’s session was over. It was just as well it wasn’t an all-day thing. If people in Congress did this sort of thing a lot, I was going to have to respect them a little more. Here I was, thinking the job was all glamour and state dinners. When Duke called the session into recess for the day, a sense of relief passed through the room, and the group sigh of exhaustion changed the air pressure.
Ben, leaning back in his chair, smirked in amusement. “If this is the tone the whole hearings are going to take, we’re in for a roller coaster. I can’t wait to see what Duke does with you.”
“I thought you were supposed to be on my side.”
“I am. It’s still going to be fun to watch.”
I could hear it now: Eaten any babies lately, Ms. Norville?
Eggs for breakfast. Does that count?
Looking purposeful, Ben gathered up his briefcase and jacket.
“Where are you off to?” I asked.
“I have some research I want to do. You don’t need me for anything, do you?”