It didn’t surprise me that the tourists didn’t know the paintings were fakes. They all looked either really young—maybe in their early twenties, still fashionable—or elderly. They either didn’t know or didn’t care.

I, however, did. Art is what brings the world to life. It’s been my passion since I was a young child. I devoted my life to it.

One of the paintings, bearing a group of women in the woods, was claimed to have been from 1826: the Romantic Period. It wasn’t quite right, though. The Romantic Period focused on solidarity. Meanwhile, this seems to have a more societal feel.

I tutted as I continued walking. The farther down the hallway I got, the more apparent it became that none of them were real. Not a single one.

“Hey, could ya move? I’m tryin’ to see.” The large man stood out from the crowd, not only because of his height. He wasn’t dressed in nice attire, and he looked too old to be with the young adults but too young to be with the elders. He was also alone.

I took a step aside.

He found a place next to me. “The name’s Ryan. Not very often ya see dudes here without their chicks.”

“I thought the same when I saw you.”

We watched the painting in silence, examining it. Ryan’s body loomed over my own.

“What’s your interest in the piece?” I asked out of politeness.

“I ain’t sure, man. The way he drew the castle just…drew me in, I guess. I dunno.”

The castle was large and grandiose, with dark stone walls snaked with vines. The name of the castle was at the bottom of the page, and I must say, it does not look as impressive in the flesh.

“It’s a damn fine castle.”

“I would incline to agree.”

Ryan turned to look at me. “Ya don’t sound like you’re around here. Ya visitin’?”

I shrugged. “You could say so.”

“What brings a gentleman like yourself to New York?”

“Simply wanted to see the city.”

“Well, enjoy your stay here, fella.”

I gave him a quick smile, and his face paled.

“Don’t tell me those are-“

“Oh,” I mused. “You’ve never seen a vampire?”