The Bite of Silence

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It’s a little-known fact that when vampires fly, they hog the window seats.

I saw Nikos the instant I boarded the plane. Well, who could miss those immense shoulders and hewn cheekbones, that aggressive jaw?

He’d cut his dark hair ruthlessly short since I’d last seen him-heaven forbid it display any softness with its curls. He had the kind of remorselessly perfect features that could withstand even the unforgiving scrutiny of a high-resolution camera lens. A perfect, sculpted body too, although that wasn’t my medium. I’d have loved to photograph him as King Leonidas, fatally wounded but still roaring as he charged, unyielding, into battle.

Nikos sat in 3F, first window seat on the right, and you’re probably way ahead of me when I say I suspected he was a vampire. Although sat isn’t quite the right word. He dominated the entire space, not only his seat but the empty one next to it, his large body relaxed but impeccably groomed in a tailored charcoal suit, snow white shirt and crimson silk tie. He was absorbed in his netbook and didn’t see me.

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