the zombie said. “If you still want the interview, that is.” The girl picked up the glass, gulped down half its contents. “To begin, I need to know your full name. Your real name.” The zombie refilled his glass at the bar and brought the bottle to the table. He sat across from the girl. “Which name would you like? Would you like my name when I was a colonial hunting the headless of my kind? My name when I was a statesman in Italy leading the Republic against our betrayers? My name when I rode with Arthur in search of the Grail to end our curse?” The girl tried to steady herself, to hide her disbelief. “I think I’ll need a refill first.” “Do,” the zombie said. He lifted the bottle and waited to refill her rapidly emptied glass. “Your real name will do,” the girl started to say but she never finished. The zombie reached out over the length of the table and steadied her. The girl shuddered at his touch. She did not recoil though, not because she didn’t want to, but because she couldn’t.
