"I'm going to stay with you," he said. "Do you have rooms here?"
  
  "Nothing proper. Find something for us. Find it close to ... close to the cathedral."
  
  "Why?"
  
  "Well, David, you should know why. If the Devil starts chasing me down Fifth Avenue, 
I'll just run into St. Patrick's and run to the High Altar and fall on my knees before 
the Blessed Sacrament and beg God to forgive me, not to sink me into the river of fire up 
to my eyes."
  
  "You are on the verge of being truly mad."
  
  "No, not at all. Look at me. I can tie my shoelaces. See? And my tie. Takes some care, 
you know, to get it all around your neck and into your shirt and so forth, and not look 
like a lunatic with a big scarf around your neck. I'm together, as mortals so bluntly 
state it. Can you find us some rooms?"
  
  He nodded.
  
  "There's a glass tower, right over there somewhere, beside the cathedral. Monstrous 
building."
  
  "The Olympic Tower."
  
  "Yes, could you get us some rooms there? Actually I have mortal agents who can do this 
sort of thing, I don't know why in the world I'm whining like a fool in this place, 
asking you to take care of humiliating particulars...."
  
  "I'll take care of it. It's probably too late tonight, but I can swing it tomorrow 
evening. It will be under the name David Talbot."
  
  "My clothes. There's a stash of them here under the name Isaac Rummel. Just a suitcase 
or two, and some coats. It's really winter, isn't it?" I gave him the key to the room. 
This was humiliating.  Rather like making a servant of him. Perhaps he'd change his mind 
and put our new lodgings under the name of Renfield.
  
  "I'll take care of it all. We'll have a palatial base of operations by tomorrow. I'll 
see that keys are left for you at the desk. But what are you going to be doing?"
  
  I waited, I was listening for the Victim. Still talking to Dora. Dora was leaving in 
the morning.
  
  I pointed upwards. "Killing that bastard. I think I'll do it tomorrow right after 
sunset if I can zone in on him quickly enough. Dora will be gone. Oh, I am so hungry. I 
wish she'd take a midnight plane out of here. Dora, Dora."
  
  "You really like this little girl, don't you?"
  
  "Yes. Find her on television sometime, you'll see. Her talent's rather spectacular, and 
her teaching has that dangerous emotional grip to it."
  
  "Is she really gifted?"
  
  "With everything. Very white skin, short black hair, bobbed, long thin yet shapely 
legs, and she dances with such abandon, arms flung out, rather makes one think of a 
whirling dervish or the Sufis in their perfection, and when she speaks it's not humble 
precisely, it's full of wonder and all very, very benign."
  
  "I should think so."
  
  "Well, religion isn't always, you know. I mean she doesn't rant about the coming 
Apocalypse or the Devil coming to get you if you don't send her a check."
  
  He reflected for a moment, then said meaningfully, "I see how it is."
  
  "No, you don't. I love her, yes, but I'll soon forget her completely. It's just 
that...well, there's a convincing version of something there, and delicacy, and she 
really believes in it; she thinks Jesus walked on this earth. She thinks it happened."
  
  "And this thing that's following you, it's not connected in any way with this choice of 
victim, her father?"
  
  "Well, there is a way to find out," I said.
  
  "How?"
  
  "Kill the son of a bitch tonight. Maybe I'll do it after he leaves her. My Victim won't 
stay here with her. He's too scared of bringing danger to her. He never stays in the same 
hotel with her. He has three different apartments here. I'm surprised he's stayed this 
long."
  
  "I'm staying with you."
  
  "No, go on, I have to finish this one. I need you, I really need you.  I needed to tell 
you, and to have you with me, the age-old venerable human needs, but I don't need you at 
my side. I know you're thirsting.
  
  I don't have to read your mind to feel that much. You starved as you came here, so that 
you wouldn't disappoint me. Go prowl the city." I smiled. "You've never hunted New York, 
have you?"
  
  He shook his head in the negative gesture. His eyes were changing.
  
  It was the hunger. It was giving him that dull look, like a dog who had caught the 
scent of the bitch in heat. We all get that look, the bestial look, but we are nothing as 
good as bestial, are we? Any of us.  I stood up. "The rooms in the Olympic Tower," I 
said. "You'll get them so that they look down on St. Patrick's, won't you? Not too high 
up, low if you can do it, so that the steeples are close." "You are out of your brilliant 
preternatural mind."