9
New vampires need quiet time to themselves to help gain perspective. But don’t call it “time-out.” They find that very insulting.
—The Accidental Sire: How to Raise an Unplanned Vampire
I didn’t feel completely safe until I’d gotten several blocks from the office, and not just because I didn’t want Jane to see me wandering around unchaperoned. Dr. Hudson was still lurking out there somewhere with his medical instruments of terror.
The farther I walked, the more I felt the weight on my shoulders slip away. I’d forgotten what it was like to choose which direction I would walk, how quickly I would get somewhere. The stars above seemed to twinkle a little brighter. The air smelled . . . well, OK, it still smelled like car exhaust and doughnut grease, but still, it was nice to be outside.
I had about twenty miles before I reached River Oaks. When I left the city limits, I sped my pace up to a jog, heading off the county road and cutting across the woods. I grinned to myself as the few remaining leaves on the trees brushed over my head. I carefully picked my way over the roots and fallen limbs I could spot so easily in the dark.
I felt like Little Red Riding Hood, skipping through the woods. But the Big Bad Wolf could suck it. He was no threat to me. I was the apex predator here, in the dark. Unless Jed did that mutant shark thing again. Because I was sure sharks trumped vampires.
Libby had been right. I needed this. I needed a little bit of space, some time to think, without worrying about whether Jane could hear me. In the distance, through the trees, I could see a weird, rounded shape against the branches. A water tower? What kind of weird-ass town put their municipal water supply out in the middle of nowhere?
Still, I bet the view from up there was pretty fantastic, even better than the sights we saw from the tops of Jane’s trees. I climbed up the rusty rungs of the ladder, taking two steps at a time without much effort. I could feel the tower swaying ever so slightly as I moved around the catwalk. I could see the whole town from up here, every tiny glowing light, like a little galaxy.
I rounded the tower, pleased to see an old-fashioned drive-in theater, the screen just visible on the horizon. It was close enough that I could see Brendan Fraser’s face smiling at me through the darkness. I gasped, sinking to the metal grate and hanging my arms over the rail.
Just as I got comfortable, my purse started buzzing. It had been so long since I’d carried a cell phone I almost panicked. I couldn’t remember how the damn thing was supposed to work. The fact that it was basically a preschooler’s toy phone complicated matters. I hit the giant green button to accept the call. Ophelia’s voice came echoing out of the receiver.
“Hello? Meagan? I do not appreciate you ignoring my attempts to respond to your maddeningly vague e-mail. You could at least pick up the phone.”
“Hey, Ophelia, sorry. I’m just struggling with my Fisher-Price phone.”
Ophelia snorted. “Jane did issue you the KidPhone, then? I told her that was too cruel, even to me.”
“Yeah, yeah, you’d think with buttons as big as those, I’d be able to use it, yadda, yadda. Why am I doing your snarky work for you?” I sighed. “And thanks for calling me back. I know my e-mail was vague, but I didn’t want to set off the Council alarms.”
“Ooh, subversive. You surprise me, Meagan. Fine, I’ll bite. Why am I calling you?”
“I was going through your probationary file.”
“Intrusive,” she commented.
“And I saw this e-mail that you sent Jane, a little bit before I was turned.”
“Meagan, I send out a lot of e-mails.”
“I believe you told Jane that it was none of her blanking business who you blanking had contact with when it wasn’t on the blanking campus?”
“Oh, yeah, I do remember that. I took particular delight in using the f-word as all of the parts of speech.”
“Good for you, but can you tell me what Jane did to deserve such a display of profane grammar?” I asked.
“Tina asked me for a copy of all my contacts in the area. She said Jane asked her for it. I sent my masterwork of obscenities . . . And now that you mention it, Jane responded in an e-mail that she didn’t know what I was talking about. I thought she was simply being obtuse, but then . . . I got distracted with Jamie and the mixer and your situation, and I forgot all about it. That’s not like me.”
“You’ve had a lot on your mind,” I told her.
“I juggled illegal business transactions, working for a shadow government, and raising my sister alone, while looking completely fabulous. I think I can handle my freshman year.”
I tried for a placating tone. “You are a total badass. I want to be you when I grow up.”
“Of course you do. Everybody wants to be me.” She sniffed.
“And so modest, too.”
“Meagan, if I’ve taught you anything during our too-brief friendship, it’s that modesty is for losers,” she said. “I’m assuming Jane has you documenting my rudeness in triplicate, so the Council can hold it over my head?”
“Actually, no, it’s just not adding up. There’s a missing link in the communication chain, and it’s driving me crazy.”
“Well, if I can help in any way, let me know. It’s been downright tedious without you here. I mean, I enjoy Keagan and Morgan’s company, but . . . I got used to your being around, that’s all.”
I grinned into the darkness. That was as close as I would ever get to Ophelia saying she missed me.
“Meanwhile, if you need me to come to the Council office for any reason, please just say the word. Between midterms and the police presence on campus, I could use a little space.”
“Police presence?”
Ophelia sounded exasperated. “Ever since that building burned off campus. The remains found in the basement were vampire, apparently. So the police, naturally, are focusing on the most concentrated population of vampires in the area. And because of my history, they’ve taken a particular interest in questioning me. They seem to think I had something to do with it.”
“You . . . didn’t have anything to do with it, did you?”
She deadpanned. “Meagan.”
“I’m just asking!”
“I would never leave that sort of evidence, honestly. It’s like you barely know me.” Ophelia’s voice trailed off. On the other end of the line, I heard a door open, followed by two distinct thumps, like shoes hitting the floor, and the rasp of a zipper. Ophelia gave a little gasp.
“Augh, Jamie is there, isn’t he?” I groaned. “You have to warn me when you start messing around like that! So I can immediately hang up!”
“Then you should probably hang up now,” Ophelia whimpered.
“Gross. When you’re done, tell the girls I said hi.” I hit the big red end button and dropped the phone into my bag. And then I bathed my hands in sanitizer, because that would make a big difference.
“I need new nonpervert friends,” I said to myself, sighing and bumping my head against the railing.
So Tina told Ophelia that Jane asked for a list of Ophelia’s contacts. Jane didn’t know who asked for Ophelia’s contacts list but knew it wasn’t her. Ophelia sent it but didn’t know why anyone would want it. Jane and Ophelia had no reason to lie. That left Tina, the same Tina who seemed to have trouble counting vampires, who couldn’t possibly be as adorably clueless as she pretended to be. But why would she want a list of Ophelia’s contacts? Maybe she wanted to have some sort of intervention-style confrontation with Ophelia about her rude treatment of the roommate who kept stealing Ophelia’s body wash?
Why wouldn’t this problem just unknot itself?
I grumbled, focusing on the screen in the distance. My mom had loved this movie. Mrs. Winterbourne. It wasn’t even one of Brendan Fraser’s big hits, but it was her favorite of his because it was just so dang sentimental, with its twists and turns and impossibly happy ending. We’d curl up on the couch on her rare nights off and enjoy a good mid-’90s romantic comedy and some microwave popcorn.
Even though I couldn’t hear the dialogue, it was nice to sit here and watch something that reminded me of home, listening to the wind move through the leaves. I was relaxed. I was untroubled. I was not worried about someone dumping liquid silver on me in the name of science, which was a nice change of pace.
It lasted all of ten minutes.
I felt, then smelled Ben, all bay leaf and citrus, before I sensed the minute vibrations of him climbing up the ladder. I heard him grunt quietly as he leaped from the ladder to the platform. I rolled my eyes and leaned my forehead against the metal railing, praying to Oprah for strength.
“Oh, come on.” I sighed. “I was just having a really nice, relaxing moment here. I don’t need you or your emotional yo-yoing.”
Ben looked honestly hurt by that. “Emotional yo-yoing?”
“I like you. You’re awesome,” I said, mimicking him. “I think I hate you. Go away. But maybe not. Let’s make out! Nope, let’s pretend it never happened and just smile a lot!”
“Well, that sounds nothing like me.” Ben snorted.
I gave him dead-face.
He slid down to sit next to me on the platform.
“What are you even doing here?” I asked.
“Libby told Jane that she’d let you loose. I overheard because I may have dropped by your office to look for you. And then I followed your trail.”
“If you say ‘by smell,’ I swear I will hit you.”
I made a mental note to use either more deodorant or less scented body wash.
“No. It was weird. I could sense that this was where you were going. I could even see the water tower in my mind. Feel the cool metal ladder rungs in my hands.”
He could see inside my head? That was uncomfortable. Was this the first time? Or was it a full-time ability and this was the first time he’d mentioned it?
“Is that a normal vampire thing?” I asked. “Or some sort of special neovamp trick?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think I want to ask anybody. Who knows what sort of experiments they’d do on us if they thought we were psychic, too?”
I sighed again, leaning my forearms against the railing. “We’d end up in one of those Men Who Stare at Goats scenarios.”
He looked at the drive-in screen. “Mrs. Winterbourne?” he asked. I lifted a brow, and he added, “I’ve seen it a few times. Edgar Beane, the guy who owns the drive-in? He never quite moved past 1998 in terms of his cinematic interests. And Brendan Fraser is a particular favorite of his.”
“So you’re just going to brazen your way through this? Pretend the awkward away?”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “You’re right. I can’t expect you to just sit by while I figure out what’s going on in my own head. It’s not fair. And I’ve been a dick to you while I’ve tried to work through it.”
He looked to me, as if he expected me to argue, Oh, no, you haven’t been that bad! And my face remained impassive, because he had been that bad. I made a little hand-waving motion, as if to say Go on.
“I have feelings for you, very strong feelings,” he said.
At this, I pulled my head back and leaned away from him, making him raise his hands and say, “I’m not saying I’m crazy in love with you or making a doll out of the hair you leave in the drain or anything. But strong ‘liking you’ feelings, like thinking about you all the time. Like, when we’re at work, instead of concentrating on my coding, I’m sitting there at my desk wondering how you’re doing. If you’re having a good night, or if some wackaloon is yelling at you over the phone and what sort of placating yet still pretty insulting thing you’re going to say to him. When we’re at home, I have to concentrate on finding things to do to keep me from seeking you out, to keep from knocking on your door to talk to you, because I know you need to retreat into your safe corner. And I realize everything I’m saying is making me sound like a freaky stalker, and I’m sorry. I haven’t really felt like this about someone for a while, and at first, I wasn’t sure if it was because you’re my sire. I mean, Jane married her sire. Iris married hers. Miranda is going to marry hers. I didn’t want to be with you just because my vampire hindbrain told me I had to. So after I finally figured out that I didn’t have a reason to be pissed off at you for this whole vampire thing, I still kept my distance.”
I stared out into the night, focusing on Brendan Fraser’s goofy-handsome mug.
God, I hoped he was kidding about the hair-in-the-drain thing. Gross.
“And I am supposed to react to this how?”
“With a forgiving heart and a forgetful brain? I will settle for a permanent blackout of all memories connected to me interrupting what was a very enjoyable make-out session by freaking out and running away like a little girl.”
“Why did you run away like a little girl?” I asked. “Which made me feel just awesome, by the way. Super-attractive and desirable.”
“No, no,” he said, shifting his body toward mine, bending his knee so his shin brushed against my ass. “I want you. I want you on a level that would definitely not help my stalker status. But we started kissing, and I realized that I am not comfortable doing any of that in that house, with a mind-reader sleeping down the hall and people who have known me for years. So between that and the general ‘sire feelings’ freak-out, I ran.”
“Is this sudden avalanche of confessional feelings a result of the epic love story that is Gigi and her chiseled Russian boyfriend, and you realizing they’re never going to break up?” I asked.
Ben scoffed. “No. If anything, being around Gigi reminded me why we weren’t all that great together. We’re too damn similar.”
“You proposed to her,” I noted.
“Because I was afraid I would lose her otherwise. I could feel her pulling away from me, trying to find a way out without hurting my feelings. I panicked. She was my first love, and we made sense, and I didn’t think I would ever find someone else who . . . Well, anyway, when I asked her, she broke up with me, and rightly so, because fear is a terrible reason to ask someone to spend the rest of her life with you.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” I told him.
“I want to find a way for us to get back to the people we were sitting out in front of the dorm . . . before you were crushed by a flying free weight. Because I liked those people. They were good together.”
“Our meet-cute is not like other people’s meet-cute.” I sighed. “I like you, too. But I’m torn between those feelings of like and knowing that there’s a very good chance you could freak and run out on me. Or just decide to be a dick again and make me feel so uncomfortable in my own temporary home that I think I can’t move without weirding someone out. I don’t like either option.”
“And if I promised I wouldn’t do that again?” he asked. “That I wouldn’t run away or shut down?”
“That’s really easy to promise and twice as easy to forget,” I countered. “I need to feel anchored somewhere, Ben. I need to feel like I can’t be kicked out of my home, even if it’s only home for a little while. I don’t want to risk what I have at Jane’s. No matter how cute you are.”
“What if I said that if it ever got awkward again, I would ask Jane to send me to some other vampire for fostering?”
I shook my head. “Jane wouldn’t do that.”
“She would if I asked her.”
He was offering to make sure I was safe, comfortable. It was more than I’d been offered by any of my previous potential romantic partners, who considered covering pizza to be a big gesture. I wasn’t sure Jane would honor his request, but it meant a lot that he was willing to give up his own comfort to guarantee mine.
Yes, he’d been a jerk, but he was apologizing. And his olive branch was more trunk-sized. While it didn’t make up for everything, it was something to consider.
“I can’t ask you to do that.” I sighed again. “You don’t have a lot of places you feel safe, either. Besides, we’re under such heavy restrictions that if you lived somewhere else, we’d never see each other.”
“Aw, your self-restraint is so sweet,” he said, bumping me with his shoulder. “I can’t promise you much, but I will do everything I can to make sure you don’t feel uncomfortable or unwelcome in Jane’s house, even if this doesn’t work out.”
“This is not a commitment,” I told him. “This is like a tryout, to see if we would be any good at dating if and when we’re ever released into the wild. If it goes well, great. Maybe once we’re back on campus, we can be a couple who likes each other but doesn’t live together. If it goes badly, we’re just going to have to learn to coexist in the house in a way that doesn’t make me want to throw a van at you.”
“I think we can make this work. I just have to get past the whole hang-up about Jane’s house.”
“So I guess we have to establish a rule: nothing in the house,” I said cheerfully. “Nothing under Jane’s roof. Too many weird emotional strings attached there.”
He grimaced. “Which is a problem, since we spend most of our time under house arrest.”
“What are you going to do about it?” I asked, tilting my head.
“Find a way for us to date without being able to leave the house? Jane’s property is pretty big. We could sneak out to the cow pasture.”
“Anything that involves the word ‘pasture’ is not going to end in a good-night kiss for you.”
“It strikes me that there are plenty of beds on the R and D floors.”
“You know, when I thought about having sex with you, creepy lab facilities didn’t really play into it,” I told him.
“Yes, but you did think about it!” he quipped. “There has to be somewhere that two healthy adult types can find some time alone together.”
This was the same feeling I’d had when we’d spent most of the night talking outside my dorm. This was the Ben I remembered. And somehow, despite the fact that I’d seen him every day for the last several weeks, I’d missed him.
“You’re taunting a desperate man here, Meagan.”
I leaned closer, just enough that my lips almost brushed against his. “You’re going to have to try a little harder, Ben.”
And with that, I slid under the metal railing, turned in midair, and grabbed the ladder in free fall. Ben’s eyes went wide, but he relaxed the moment he saw me dangling from the rungs.
“I deserve that,” he said.
I pulled myself back up on the ladder until I was at eye level with him. I gave him a quick kiss. “Yes, you do.”