by Molly Harper
Why wasn’t I more grossed out by that? Why?
I pushed it away without drinking. Because that was disturbing.
Jane sighed. “OK, Meagan, I’m trying very hard to set aside my personal feelings about the fact that you’ve apparently drained and maybe done a half-assed job of turning a young man I happen to like very much, leaving me to make a very upsetting phone call to his mother, who goes to church with my mother and will make my weekly coffee date with Mom a living hell. I really am trying. I understand that you’ve been through two traumatic experiences in the last hour or so, but we need to talk about the events that led to your turning and then waking up too damn quickly and biting a perfectly nice kid, all of which have resulted in a metric ton of irritating and unnecessary paperwork for me.”
“I can’t believe I’m the one saying this to you, Jane, but maybe you should take it easy on her,” Ophelia said.
“A living hell, Ophelia,” Jane growled. “And you’ve met my mother.”
Ophelia rolled her eyes.
Jane took a deep breath and said in a calmer, slightly sweeter tone, “I’ll start again. Meagan, my name is Jane Jameson-Nightengale, and I’m the head representative of the World Council for the Equal Treatment of the Undead for western Kentucky. Now that you’re a vampire, you are under our protection, but you’re also subject to our laws. With me so far?”
I waggled my hand back and forth. “Ish.”
“Great. I’m here because Ophelia called me about your turning and the, um, strange circumstances. I was here taking her report when the V-one-one alarm went off. Let’s go through every step of what happened since you woke up this evening,” Jane said. “No detail is too small. Because I’m still trying to figure out whether I like you or not. You’re friends with Ophelia, so I’m leaning toward not.”
“My future mother-in-law.” Ophelia sighed, waving her hand at Jane.
And so I went through the whole horrifying morning (evening?) again, which was a treat. I told Jane everything I could remember about the night of the mixer and every moment since I rose, and her expression remained absolutely neutral throughout my story. And considering the number of broken bones and flesh wounds involved in that story, that was more than a little upsetting.
I got so caught up in verbally vomiting everything I could remember that I had a sort of out-of-body experience, where it felt like I was floating above myself, watching me making an idiot of myself. And my mind’s eye could see that I apparently hadn’t washed my eye makeup off after the mixer, so I had day-old mascara running down my cheeks.
Awesome.
I wasn’t sure whether it was my emotional state or the fact that Jane didn’t seem to like me and seemed to be holding my life in her hands, but I just couldn’t stop talking. I didn’t know much about the World Council for the Equal Treatment of the Undead, but I knew that they sometimes used what most reasonable people would call over-the-top tactics to punish vampires who stepped out of line. And I was pretty sure killing a kid within an hour of waking up was nowhere near that line.
My life had not prepared me for this sort of hostile interaction with vampires. I was in preschool when an undead tax consultant named Arnie Frink launched vampires out of the coffin. The living residents of planet Earth were not thrilled to find out that vampires had been lurking in the shadows for the past . . . forever, and humanity had never realized it. Though, when they looked back, they were a little embarrassed they hadn’t seen the signs.
Maybe the embarrassment over the missed clues was what made them lash out. A lot of vampires “tripped” and “fell”—sarcastic air quotes intended—on pointy wooden objects. The World Council for the Equal Treatment of the Undead, an elected group of ancient vampires, saw that humans were getting more creative and awful in their vampire-dusting techniques. They came forward, asking the world’s governments to recognize them as people with feelings and a general desire not to be turned into ash. They also asked for special leniency in taxes and government documents to fake being alive. But mostly taxes.
Because a surprising number of vampires chose to live in small towns, the Council was allowed to establish smaller regional offices in each state to make sure that the undead didn’t pull shenanigans like murdering innocent students. The Council also offered mentors for young vampires like myself, to prevent said murder shenanigans.
Once humans stopped setting them on fire for fun, the international vampire community eventually agreed that with bottled blood and super-high-SPF sunscreen and not having to pretend to be human, it was more convenient to live out in the open anyway. They didn’t give Arnie a medal or anything. He already had the meme, after all.
I’d known more than my share of vampires growing up, because I was pretty poorly supervised. In general, they were cagey but friendly. They had not treated me with the snarky, barely restrained anger that Jane was directing my way at the moment.
At some point during my reflections, I had stopped talking and was now just staring at Jane and Ophelia like one of those creepy Big Eyes paintings.
“She is a babbler,” Jane observed to Ophelia, who nodded.
“So what’s going to happen to me?” I asked.
Jane pursed her lips. “Well, here’s my problem. Part of me wants to just punch you in your irritatingly symmetrical face for hurting Ben. But the other, more compassionate part of me understands that this wasn’t something you did on purpose and that you weren’t in control of yourself, no more than I was in control of myself when I was fresh out of the coffin and tried to eat my best friend. And then the more academic part of me wants to figure out what the hell is going on with you that you managed to turn so quickly. Not in a creepy ‘secured lab and dissection’ way, just super-close observation for six to eight months.”
“How many parts of you are there?” I asked.
“Oh, you haven’t earned the right to be snarky with me yet, sweetie, so cool your jets,” Jane told me. “I can’t tell you what’s going to happen long-term. But for right now, it’s pretty clear that you can’t continue your classes for the semester. We can’t have a newborn vampire who’s not in control of her thirst surrounded by a bunch of defenseless, delicious-smelling students. That’s the sort of thing that results in calls to my office. I hate that.”
Ophelia snorted softly. “So you’re going to be secluded with an older, supposedly stable vampire who will be able to help you gain control over your thirst.”
“I don’t see why the ‘supposedly’ was necessary, but yes, you will be staying with me,” Jane interjected. “Call it a probationary period, a chance to show the Council that, despite a shaky start, you are going to be a productive, trustworthy member of undead society.”
My face screwed up even further at the idea of having to prove myself to vampires. I hadn’t asked for this. I hadn’t wanted to be a part of their stupid undead society, and now they were judging me, trying to figure out whether I was good enough to fit into it? I’d had enough of trying to fit into new groups and new places. The vampires were cordially invited to suck it, as far as I was concerned.
But I didn’t think Jane would respond nicely to that particular invitation.
“And where will that be?” I asked.
“Half-Moon Hollow.”
“I’m sorry, where now?”
Having lived in mid-central Kentucky all of my life, I was pretty sure I’d heard of every little burg in that area. I’d heard of Possum Trot and Monkey’s Eyebrow, even Paducah, a town name that no one pronounced correctly on the first try. But I’d never heard of Half-Moon Hollow.
“Half-Moon Hollow. It’s the home of my former Council office,” Ophelia said. “I’ve lived there for the last fifty years. It’s basically a cultural wasteland, but there’s an interesting lace-tatting festival every spring. And the dollar movie theater is nice.”
“And it’s also the home of my current C
ouncil office,” Jane added, somewhat testily. “We’ll do our best to make you comfortable there. And if Ben survives the transition, he will also be comfortable there, since it’s his hometown. Your professors have been made aware of your situation, and you’ll be allowed to continue your course work online, so you won’t lose any ground academically. Ben, too, I imagine, since he’s only got a few classes left before graduation.”
“You told everybody I turned Ben into a vampire?” I asked, grimacing.
“No, we told half of the people who asked that he’s come down with a case of mono complicated by strep throat and MRSA. The other half were told he joined the Peace Corps. Misinformation is the best way to prevent panic. One student being turned as the result of a very public accident? That happens. Another student gets turned the next night under shadowy circumstances? Not so much.”
“I’m not sure about this,” I admitted. “It’s all happening really fast. A day ago, my biggest problem was midterms and paying my cell-phone bill. And now you’re telling me that I have to move my whole life to some armpit town in the middle of nowhere, away from everybody I know, and stay with strangers? I don’t know what to think.”
“I know it’s a lot to take in,” Jane told me. “And I’m sorry, but you don’t have a lot of time to mull it over. Also not much choice. It’s pretty much a ‘come quietly or I involve zip ties’ situation.”
I grunted and thunked my head against the conference table.
“I hate to admit it, but Jane and Gabriel did a tolerable job training Jamie,” Ophelia drawled. “And Jane’s caring for my sister, Georgie. I wouldn’t allow that unless Georgie was in at least adequate hands. Besides, I’ll come home on school breaks to visit, to check in on you.”
I asked, “Why do I feel like I’m being punished here?”
“You’re not being punished, but since you seem resistant to us trying to sugarcoat it for you, I can’t allow you out of my sight until we figure out what the hell has happened to you and what that could mean to the vampire community. I know vampires try to come off as all blasé and unflappable, but the older ones tend to freak out when they encounter something new. Some of them still aren’t sure this whole electricity thing is going to work. If word gets out that vampires can turn overnight and possibly turn other people with a bite, there would be, well, what’s the global vampire equivalent of a toddler tantrum at Kmart?”
I looked to Ophelia, who nodded.
“And humans? Forget about it. They were barely prepared for the Great Coming Out when they knew that turning was a complicated three-day blood exchange. No one can know where we’re taking you and Ben. Ophelia is sworn to secrecy, and Tina seems to be terrified-slash-in-awe of the number of UERT members we brought along, so she’s not going to ask too many questions. You’ll be able to talk to your friends and family over Skype, but you can’t tell them where you are. And I’m sorry if that doesn’t work for you, but as you are one of my newest constituents, I will be overseeing your transition into undead society and making sure that you are not somehow a threat to our way of life. In English, that means I am the boss of you. I will see to your feeding training, so you don’t go around biting people all willy-nilly. I will find you an appropriate support network, because you’re hanging out with Ophelia and clearly cannot be trusted to choose your own friends.” Jane paused to observe and ignore the profane gesture Ophelia made. “I will be checking your e-mail and your browser history and generally invading your privacy. And considering the fact that I am giving you the benefit of the doubt, rather than following the Council’s previous policy of ‘stake first, stake often, worry about the facts later,’ you will gladly cooperate.”
I nodded slowly. “OK, I guess I could maybe live with that . . . wait, my browser history?”
“Morgan told you that your obsession with weird Harry Potter fanfic ships would eventually come back to bite you,” Ophelia said with a snicker.
“This is not the time to judge my Dramione shipping,” I told her. I pointed my finger in her face. Ophelia made a halfhearted snap at it, clicking her teeth together far short of my digit.
Jane’s mouth dropped open as she stared at Ophelia. “You having what seems to be a normal, affectionate friendship unnerves me. I am officially unnerved. Anyway, I will also be getting in touch with your friends and family. I will need a list of names and contact info, including your next of kin, so I can notify them.” She cleared her throat, picking up her pen. “Also, I’ll need a list of those Dramione fanfic Web sites.”
Ophelia snickered.
“If they have any clue that I’m down here, my closest friends are probably upstairs, trying to chisel their way through your sunproof doors to get to me,” I told Jane. “I have a few other friends on campus, a few Facebook-contact-only friends back home, but no family. You probably noticed that the emergency contact space on my enrollment form was blank.”
“I thought maybe you were bad at paperwork or being snotty toward your parents or something. So you have no family?” Jane’s face softened for a second. “Not even a distant cousin who would count as next of kin?”
“My foster parents made it pretty clear that there was no need to keep in touch after the last check from the state cleared,” I told her.
Her lips pursed so hard that she seemed to be clenching them around her teeth. “Do you have any questions for me?”
“Oh, loads of them.”
“Can we start with the simple ones?” Jane asked.
“What was that whole ‘Protocol: Jupiter Ascending’ thing before? Of all the Channing Tatum movies, you picked the one where he’s a space werewolf with magical flying boots?”
Jane snickered. “Oh, as the highest-ranking Council official in western Kentucky, I have the right to name any security protocols I design myself. And I name mine after horrible movie bombs that the actors regret making. You know, because they wish those movies were secret.”
I nodded. “I respect that.”
“Great. Everything else you’re going to have to ask on the drive home, because sunrise is just a little too close for comfort,” Jane said. The door opened, and one of the UERT goons carried in my blue suitcase and my laptop bag. My chest constricted painfully at the sight of it, but I tried to write the sensation off as Ben-related heartburn. “Ophelia packed your bag for you. Anything else you need can be shipped to Half-Moon Hollow.”
“Can’t I say good-bye to Morgan and Keagan?”
“No. For one thing, you’re not supposed to be awake yet. And we don’t want you biting them, so we can’t trust you to say good-bye in person. “ Jane told me. “I don’t have room in my house for any more accidentally undead coeds.”
“Rude.”
Jane snapped her notebook closed. “Well, prove to me that you can be trusted around people without biting them, and I won’t have cause to make jokes at your expense.”
“Meagan, I’ll see you soon.” Ophelia reached across the table and squeezed my hand, which in the realm of Ophelia gestures was practically a bear hug. “If you need anything at all, you have my number. And I don’t give that number to anyone I don’t want to talk to.”
“She really doesn’t,” Jane muttered. “It took Jamie’s intervention and a court order before I got it.”
I stood and picked up my suitcase. Considering how light it was, I wondered if Ophelia had packed anything at all. I unzipped the suitcase and saw that it was crammed full of all my favorite jeans, pajamas, and sweaters. So why . . . oh, right, I had superstrength. That was weird.
“Just one more thing, Jane,” Ophelia said. “Can I see your phone?”
Jane lifted an eyebrow but handed Ophelia the device. Ophelia held the phone up to eye level and squinted with concentration. The phone crackled with a loud, staticky zhing noise and a burst of light.
Ophelia smiled brightly and handed Jane the smoking hunk of plastic.
> “I see you’ve discovered your vampire talent,” Jane muttered.
Ophelia chirped, “Yes, I have. Jamie was right. I just needed to relax a little bit and focus on something other than Council business and raising Georgie, and it came to me, just in time for me to mess with you. Which is a side bonus.”
Jane tossed her smoking phone into a wall-mounted box marked “Hazardous Materials.” Her tone was as dry as the cafeteria’s toast. “I’m so thrilled for you.”
3
Like any child, a new vampire needs boundaries. Just think of your newly turned vampire as a murderous toddler.
—The Accidental Sire: How to Raise an Unplanned Vampire
I wasn’t allowed to go back to my dorm room. I wasn’t allowed to leave the containment floors. I was led down yet another hallway into an enclosed parking garage. It was more than a little horrifying to watch Ben’s body being loaded into the hidey-hole in the back of a Council SUV and closed in under the lid inset in the floor, like he was inconvenient luggage. They didn’t wrap him in a body bag or anything, though, so I guessed I should be thankful for that.
I would miss New Dawn, a recently completed residence hall added to the far side of the UK campus, which had been built with coed, commingled living in mind. The college had been eager to be one of the first in the country to prove that all students, living and undead, could coexist in a safe, federally subsidized environment. Only three floors showed aboveground, containing the administrative offices required by the people who supervised vampires on campus. Below ground level, the floors alternated between living and undead students, then were sorted by male and female. Beyond the lack of “been lived in for decades” smell, the dorm featured a coffee bar in the lobby, super-fast Internet, private soundproof study pods, and a third-floor lounge containing board games from every decade since 1850 to encourage play among the students. I loved Board Game Nights.
