The moon casts its silvery light through the open window and billowing curtains of a French window.  The curtains billow in a light breeze and the scent of honeysuckle caresses a woman of strong and handsome features: striking eyes, a long straight nose, and a jaw so sharp that looks like it could hew trees with every nod.  She sits with her back rigidly upright in a wooden Edwardian chair that has been re-upholstered in red linen with waves made of gold thread that crest across it.  Her pose is straight, rigid, and strong, and she almost doesn't seem to breathe as the painter works his art.  Average in height, and muscular but not thin, her clothes fit her like a glove.  They should, after all, her tailor is rather handsomely paid to make her white, lace-frilled blouse, blood red silk vest, and her fitted but flared leg linen pants fit her svelte form and suit her eclectic tastes.  Music plays in the background.  It slowly fades back into the writer's hearing as the young man perched on the stool shakes his head.  He swallows, knowing that he can't have heard what she said correctly, and shakes his head again, his slicked back black hair still unmoving thanks to the amount of pomade he had in it.

"Ma'am," he begins cautiously, "did you say that you were born in -"

"1527." The woman cuts him off, staring imperiously. "Yes.  I did.  You wanted a truthful story for your article, correct?  This is the truth."

"Miss Valgard," the young man starts again.

"Ms...  Though, actually, that's not entirely correct," the woman began thoughtfully, "I was a Mrs. once, then a widow, a dame, and a Lady.  I was a Madam, but my time spent in brothels was thankfully short.  Any of those titles will do."

"Yes," he began, eyeing the woman sidelong, "Lady Valgard...wait, as in the Lady Valgard from England?  Who upended the English East India Company?"

"Well, after I was sated as a pirate, I chose to make a different life for myself." The lady sips her drink slowly, "One cannot thieve forever."

The writer gulps, "Clearly."  His fingers frantically type at his laptop, the blue-white light from his screen cast on his youthful features.

"You are what? 19? 20?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"I was a sailor for the Common Fleet at that age.  Good years.  Good men.  Pointless war though.  Religious wars always are pointless.  It seems odd in this age, but in that one life was different.  People weren't well educated, didn't know there were options, much less the details and differences.  They blindly accepted whatever the man on the hill in the nice outfit said about 'the opposition'..." the Lady trailed off at that point.  Taking a deep breath she said, "On second thought, it really isn't that different.  The conflict just shifted from the Church to the State."

"Okay," the writer said, scratching his head, "The Common Fleet? Sailor?  Women couldn't sail in the 16th century!  Well, I mean, they could sail but not as a job!  You're making this all up!  You called my editor and got me here after hours to make up some nonsense story and torpedo my chances of getting onto a real paper!  It's all because of that Immortals Unmasked article I wrote, right?!"

In a blur of motion, she was on him with her hands resting on his thighs between his forearms.  She leant over him, her lips close to his ear, his eyes drawn to the opening of her shirt.  "Calm down," she whispered breathily, "Yes, that's it mortal.  Calm down."  She could hear him almost miss what she called him, could feel the slight tensing as she said it.  "I can hear the arrhythmia in your heartbeat," she licked her lips, wetly drawing her tongue across them, "slow yourself down."  As his heartbeat slowed, she withdrew slightly.  Looking the writer in the eyes, she held his gaze.  "If you can keep that rampant skepticism under control I will tell you, and only you," she emphasized the point with a ruby red fingernail lightly jabbing into his chest, "everything.  But let's get some things in order."  She stood to her full height, taking a step backwards in the process.  "Write, writer.  This is how my story will begin.  My name is Emma Valgard, and I am not an Immortal as some spurious articles have claimed.  I am a Vampire."