"I've been told that there are different species of vampires in York. I assume they've been drawn here from their hiding places because of this hellmouth. I have not yet met any of them, but I have heard rumors."
When he caught her gaze again, he insisted upon her a very serious expression of his own. Bill would never lie and say that he had lived a perfect, moral, vampire life. Because he hadn't. But in the world he was familiar with, things had changed. Relationships between humans and vampires had changed. Bill thought this change had been for the better. He wanted to exist among the living, as close to being one of them as he could.
"Some of us have laws against that sort of thing. We can be punished by our kings and queens for mistreatment of humans. And to kill a human? We could be faced with the True Death for such an act. Many of us strive to drink only synthetic blood. Or blood from willing donors."
Bill looked away from her for a moment.
"I am sorry that you had the misfortune of meeting one of us that fell outside of those lines."
He might have said more than he ought to have, but he felt that someone needed to speak up for those of his kind who were more like him. (Assuming there were any like him in York.) The possibility of being the only one made him a little sick to his stomach.
"Well, if you do decide to go to the Gates again, and if you want company, I would gladly join you. If only to ensure your safe arrival."
Even death couldn't destroy homegrown southern hospitality.