Mirror

by Noelle Ryan

  ”Good idea,” Damian said. “That will give Valerie and me a bit more time to do some further research as well. Plan for tomorrow evening, just after sunset.”

  I returned upstairs to resume work on my oh-so-exciting presentation.

  If it was hard to stay focused on it before—and generally it’s hard to get excited over a presentation on Literature and Pedagogy you know most of your colleagues are planning on sleeping through—the prospect of spending time with a baby-crazy vampire couple made it that much more impossible. Still, I strapped myself to my work like Conan to the carborundum wheel and managed to grind out another few PowerPoint slides with accompanying notes that were guaranteed not to disturb my colleagues' beauty rest.

  I considered throwing in a few gems for my own amusement—such as maybe an aside that trading Melville for Anne Rice was guaranteed to improve class participation—but decided my as of yet untenured status made that a pretty bad idea. Nevertheless, I enjoyed imagining the lemon drop face Myron was sure to make if he heard me announce something like that in front of everyone.

  When I was digging through my purse for a pen that wasn’t running dry, I came across my unfinished list from yesterday, crumpled next to the earrings Ava had given me. I pulled both of them out of my bag and placed them on my impromptu desk. Seeing the earrings just made me feel guilty, so I focused on the list, which made me begin wondering just what provoked Dorothy’s impromptu visits and whether there was any way to catalyze them when I had questions for her. I was almost tempted to ask Damian, but this whole horn business made me even less comfortable with the idea of him knowing she could talk to me. I needed to find someone to ask about it, but since everyone I knew was either a vampire, an academic, or a distant relative, my prospects weren't terribly good.

  Looking down, I realized I’d been idly drawing horns under my list. I added “vampire babies?” next to my sketches, my skin crawling as I did so. Though a part of me was grateful there was at least still the possibility of me having kids, I was mostly frightened at the prospect of infants with decidedly pointy first teeth and super-human strength and speed. It seemed more like the premise of a Stephen King book than a possibility to be celebrating. Plus, how could they grow or mature if they were vampires? Would Valerie and Damian end up coddling an infant for centuries?

  I was jumping to conclusions without any information, I suddenly realized. Clearly I needed to ask them about this. In the meantime, I could at least balance out my list a little. It didn’t seem right that the reasons to explore my vampirism side of the list was completely empty given that I’d spent all my time with vampires since making it.

  What were my reasons for being here then? Protection, of course. Then last night flashed through my mind and I warmed and quickly added “Tom” to the list. I tapped my pen against my teeth for a few seconds, then added “curiosity.”

  I studied my categories, trying to think of any others to add to either side of the list. I wasn’t sure why it still seemed important to me to finish it—other than the handy distraction from my work, of course. And then it struck me: I’d written it right into the list from the start. “Reasons to pretend life is the same as it always was.”

  Clearly it wasn’t. I could no longer encounter sunlight without heavy layers of sunscreen and huge aviator glasses, enjoy my favorite restaurants, or be completely honest with my friends.

  I glanced at the earrings again. Ava. I still hadn’t called her, despite the guilt I felt every time my fingers brushed across the earrings. I did not want to lie to my best friend, but I had. Worse, I’d let her worry needlessly about me, freaked her out when she came by to check on me, and then never called or even emailed an apology.

  On impulse, I snatched my cell. Eleven p.m. Would she still be up? I sent her a text so I wouldn’t disturb her if she was already sleeping.

  Hey - u up?

  Her reply appeared within seconds: Yes.

  Mind if I call?

  Minutes passed. I worked myself into a frenzy of remorse and fear. What if it was too late to fix things between us? What if she wouldn’t talk to me ever again? What could I possibly say to her to make anything better?

  I’d just gone to splash some water on my face to help calm me when I heard my phone chirp.

  No lying.

  Taking a few unnecessary breaths, I punched in her number.

  “Ava?” I said.

  “You were expecting someone else?”

  Her snarky tone relieved me. If she was still angry enough to be snappish, she still cared enough for me to have a chance of repairing our friendship. I laughed, but got only silence in return.

  “Uh—so are you alone?” I asked.

  “And you care why, exactly?”

  Ouch.

  “I just—I figured it would be easier if you were. To talk without interruptions, I mean.”

  “Just me and Sartre,” she said.

  We had both named our cats after existentialist playwrights because they came from the same litter, and then joked that now we were officially related. I winced at the painful twinge the memory provoked.

  “How’s he doing?”

  “Aly, no offense, but I’m assuming you called for some reason other than checking on my cat?”

  I sighed.

  “Yes, of course," I said. "Um. I’m sorry.” Damn. Why couldn’t vampirism grant super-human conversational suave-ness as well?

  “And?”

  “And…” I paused, realizing I probably should have planned what I wanted to say to her before calling. “And I shouldn’t have lied to you. I didn’t want to. I won’t do it again.”

  “Why would you have lied if you didn’t want to lie?”

  I sighed again. It was a fair question, and one I couldn’t answer directly if I didn’t want her to hang up on me for talking crazy. But maybe, instead of lying, I could simply be truthful about the things it was safe to tell the truth about.

  “I know this isn’t going to make a lot of sense," I said, "but there are some really weird things going on in my life right now that I just can't talk about.” With anyone who can eat garlic and doesn’t get their food from an artery, that is. “But I won’t lie to you anymore, and I’m sorry I did before. If I can’t talk to you about something, I’ll simply tell you I can’t, rather than lying about it.”

  “What do you mean? There’s nothing we can’t talk about.” Her voice softened. “Is something wrong, Aly? What’s going on?”

  This was torture. Knowing I was disappointing her, knowing she did nothing but care about me and I now was concealing a fundamental part of myself from her was far worse than having Cesar in my head. How could we maintain a friendship under those pretenses? I couldn’t do this to either of us. I had to tell her the truth.

  “Now’s not the best time to talk about it,” I said, realizing she’d only think I was crazy if I tried to explain it over the phone. I’d have to show her. “Could we maybe get together sometime tomorrow afternoon?”

  She hesitated, and I could almost feel her debating whether her concern or hurt feelings were stronger. I wasn’t sure which won, but finally she said “Fine. I have some free time around four tomorrow. Do you want to come over to my place then?”

  “Yes, absolutely.” I smiled for the first time since I'd texted her. “I’ll see you then. Thanks Ava.”

  “Don’t thank me yet—I haven’t decided whether or not I’m forgiving you,” she said, but I could hear a hint of her usual snarkiness under her cooler tone and I smiled.

  “I don’t blame you,” I said, “but I’m still glad I’ll be seeing you tomorrow.”

  Fifteen

  After I hung up the phone, I jumped up and did a bouncy little dance, shaking my hands excitedly. Maybe I could make this work without any pretending. Ava was my closest friend; she deserved to know the truth about me. If she freaked out, I could just will her into forgetting about it, right?

  I skipped around the room, then flung myself onto the bed, gri
nning as Beckett came over to investigate my exuberance. He head-butted my hand and I scooped him up to give him a good head scratch.

  “You seem awfully happy about something. I guess it would be egotistical of me to hope it was because you had a foreshadowing that I was coming up to check on you?”

  I popped upright so quickly Beckett went tearing under the bed with a disgruntled meow.

  “Actually,” I said, trying to pretend Tom hadn't startled me, “you seem to be one person I never get a sense of. I wonder why?”

  Tom shrugged.

  “Mind if I come in?”

  “Of course not,” I said, grinning and slapping the spot next to me.

  “Oh my, the lady invites me to her bed no less,” Tom said, grinning back.

  “Don’t get any ideas or I’ll plop your butt on the floor.”

  “I’ll try to be a gentleman,” Tom said, sitting beside me. “Unless you force me to be otherwise, of course.”

  “Who me? I’m a picture of innocence and light.” I circled my hands above me in a mock halo.

  “Hmm," he said, "that halo looks to me like a new addition. That or I somehow managed to miss seeing it last night.”

  Remembered heat flooded through me, coloring my cheeks—and probably a few other sensitive areas as well. But I was still too happy at the thought of regaining my friendship with Ava to be anything other than delighted, so my embarrassment died quickly, leaving only a pleasant tingling throughout my body.

  “So what are you so delighted about, then, if it isn’t the indescribable glory of my magnificent presence?” he asked.

  “Long story.” I certainly wasn’t about to tell him I was happy at the thought of telling Ava I was a vampire. I’d tell him afterwards, since I didn’t want to lie to him either, but I didn’t want to risk him trying to stop me now. “So what brings you up here anyway?”

  “Just missed you, I guess.” He grinned, and then his face grew more serious. “Plus Valerie and Damian are acting strange about their research. I don’t quite understand why they’re so fidgety all the sudden.”

  “Oh, that.” I grimaced. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about it. They think the horn could allow them to have children, and when that possibility arose during our conversation—it was when you were still checking out the upstairs for signs of Marielle—they both started acting strange. Valerie could hardly sit still, and Damian kept grinning like a little kid.”

  Tom’s face sobered. “You mean this Sringara thing can allow even vampires to bear children?”

  I couldn’t tell if he was just shocked or, like me, disturbed by the possibility.

  “Apparently," I said. "I have to admit I’m not wild about the idea. Little babies with fangs? It gives me the creeps, to put it mildly.”

  Tom visibly shivered, immediately making me feel better. At least I wasn’t alone in being disturbed by this.

  “It’s not—it shouldn’t be possible," he said. "Vampires are in a state of near stasis. There’s no real growth or change—we’re just borrowing the life stored in the blood of the living to continually heal and maintain our bodies. Vampire eggs and sperm would be like any other element; they couldn’t change into a zygote, or change from a zygote to a child. I don’t see how any crystal horn, magic or otherwise, could alter such a fundamental part of what we are.”

  “Wow," I said, trying to absorb the implications of what he'd just told me.

  ”Maybe they're mistaken," he continued. "Valerie has always missed never bearing children—perhaps she's just hopeful this relic could change that, and Damian is caught up by her dream. I simply don’t see how it could be otherwise. Elves bear young naturally, though infrequently—but vampires, to my knowledge, never have.”

  I relaxed. I had become so used to viewing Damian and Valerie as the source of knowledge on all things supernatural over the last few days that it hadn’t occurred to me they might just be projecting their hopes rather than expressing simple facts.

  “Should we talk to them about it?” I said.

  “I’m not sure.” He paused. “Let’s see how things go tomorrow. If they’re still acting strangely then we might want to—but I’m in no rush to bring their dreams crashing down while your life is still at risk.”

  Though it made me feel like the kind of storybook character I usually delighted in mocking, I had to admit it was nice to have him concerned with protecting me. Not that I was about to climb to a tall tower and start weeping for a knight in shining armor or anything.

  “Hey, could you teach me some more about how to defend myself?” I asked, my train of thought reminding me of the decision I’d made in the woods behind Cesar’s house. “That course I took really only taught me a few basics, most of them regarding the effective use of pepper spray and quick knees to the groin or heels to the instep. All that was helpful, but,” I shrugged, “I feel like I need to know a lot more than that.”

  “Of course. We can start right now,” he said, grinning as he flung me back on the bed and straddled me. “Beginning with close combat.”

  I pulled my knees up and locked my elbows down, forcing him to perch just above my hips, which I then raised and twisted to the side, throwing him onto the other side on the bed. Then I pedaled back, hopping with about as much grace as a lame turtle from the bed to the floor to give me a bit more room to dodge his next “attack.” He just rolled onto his side, though, propping his head on his hand and smiling at me.

  “So they taught you that move in your self-defense class too, huh?”

  I nodded, a separate part of my brain marveling at how hard I was breathing, as though the oxygen really was necessary. I wondered if that habit would fade with time.

  “Did they teach you anything to counter this?”

  He sprang from the bed with the exact fluidity I’d been so sorely lacking seconds before, and I winced with envy. Then he was standing in front of me. I moved my arms up to push him backwards—I’d foolishly put myself against a wall, so I had nowhere to go with him this close—but he caught them both. Trapping a wrist in each hand, he moved his arms behind me, resting them just behind my hips. And then he bent down and kissed me.

  The heat that had rushed through me last night surged back, and I leaned into the kiss, closing my eyes. Damn this felt good. I wryly remembered telling a friend a few years back how I just wasn’t that into kissing, how it only seemed like an awkward squishing of lips and tongues that brought to mind clumsy high-school dates and dances more than it did desire.

  Obviously, I’d had no idea what I was talking about.

  His hands released my wrists, one arm moving to pull me towards him even more tightly while the other explored the curves of my waist, spine, and shoulder blades. I would have never named my shoulder blades as an erogenous zone before, but I was quickly warming to the idea. I moved my hands to his sides, slowly tracing the line from just below his hips, along his side, and all the way up to his neck. Then I moved my hands between us, absorbing the shape of his abs and chest, circling my fingernails around his nipples, and he moaned quietly, his knees bending just slightly.

  It took hardly any force at all to propel him backwards across the room and onto the bed. I dodged away, grinning.

  “They didn’t teach me that move," I said, "but it seems to work pretty well.”

  He growled, leapt for me, and we tumbled to the floor. Beckett bolted from his hiding spot under the bed and scrambled into the bathroom.

  “Aww, see, now you made me scare the poor little kitty,” Tom teased, cushioning my head under one arm and using his other arm to pin both of mine. Though my feminist inclinations railed against it, a more primal part of my brain was taking over, pointing out just how nice it felt to be trapped against someone so damn attractive. My head was at the perfect angle to study the faint line his jugular made crossing his neck, and the memory of how his mouth tugging at my neck last night had pulled waves of exquisite electricity through every vein and artery left me wondering if I could do
the same to him. I tilted my head, slowly licking along that faint line, gently scraping my teeth across it without breaking the skin.

  His muscles rippled, and the arm that had been cushioning my head now clenched to press me against his neck. I wanted to pour that same electricity into him as he had into me last night, but his comment about how he could only draw blood from me since I’d just drank stopped my teeth just short of piercing his skin.

  With a shudder of effort, he pulled back slightly to look at me.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” I said.

  “Then why aren’t you biting? Do you not want to?”

  I looked at him, confused.

  “I thought it wasn’t safe unless we’d just drank human blood.”

  His gaze clouded for a moment, then cleared. “Oh! No, it just won’t satisfy true blood hunger unless there’s fresh human blood running through our veins.” He chuckled, smiling at me in a way that did decidedly…interesting…things to certain areas of my body. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t do it, it’s…” his voice trailed off.

  Remembering the way I’d felt last night, I could see why he was at a loss for words. And needing no more encouragement, I freed my arms, tilted his head back, and sunk into the spot I’d been teasing. Instantly, his whole body was drawn tight, as if he was arching around and into my mouth. His eyes closed, and a soft moan slipped from him.

  I smiled as I watched him, remembering how it had felt to have him drink from me. I wondered if the same current was running through his veins right now, or if it felt different for him. It certainly felt different to be on this side of the equation, I realized. A faint feeling of power had slipped into me as I’d begun, and it grew steadily as I drank, until it seemed that an electric white noise was assaulting my ears and spreading across my entire body. I forgot where I was, even who I was. Everything within me was aware only of the pure white energy obliterating my senses.