by Molly Harper
It took me a second to figure out how to read Wade’s neat handwriting backward, but I eventually read, “I had sex in a death barn, and all I got was this temporary tattoo.”
“Wow,” I said, shaking my head.
“Hey, a girl’s first tattoo, that’s a milestone. That, your fang-ginity, and your first barn sex all in one night. I’m just glad I was here for it.”
“Well, it’s been so long since I’ve had sex, you might get credit for taking my actual virginity,” I muttered into his neck.
“How long?” Wade asked, smirking down at me.
“About two years . . . two and a half . . . three. It’s been three years since I’ve had sex,” I told him. “Oh, my God, this is pathetic.”
“Nah, it’s not pathetic—three years?” he marveled. “How is that possible? Your husband’s only been dead for two years.”
“Well, the last year with Rob was . . . distant.”
“Were y’all living in the same state?”
“My marriage was far from perfect!”
“You know, every time I think I like ya just enough, you go and say something like that, and I like ya even more.”
“There is something very wrong with you,” I told him as he helped me right my clothes.
“And you love it,” he said, kissing me.
“Yeah, I kind of do. Which means there’s something wrong with me, too.”
I was proud of myself, knowing that I’d said I loved it and not him. I hadn’t melted into a postorgasmic puddle of overenthusiastic-to-the-point-of-being-sad confessions of affection. I’d come out of my first sexual experience (involving another person) in three years with about seventy percent of my dignity intact. Even if I had, technically, had sex with him before our first actual date.
I liked my relationship with Wade. It was comfortable and fun and seemed to meet both of our needs for now. Would I like to see it grow into more? Absolutely. But with things being so unsettled with my custody case and my attachment to Finn, I didn’t know if I could handle “more” right now. Barn sex and sassy banter were my current limit.
Wade smirked, offering me his hand as if he were a knight aiding a lady stepping down from a carriage and not the girl he had just ridden hard and put up damp. He helped me slide into my jacket and carefully folded the collar under my chin. “I think the rain’s let up a little bit. Do you want to make a break for Murphy?”
I grinned at him, toying with the buttons of his own jacket. “Would it be weird if I said no?”
“Well, as much as I am sure I would enjoy round two, I’m gonna have to get some juice and a cookie in me, or my whole standin’-upright situation is gonna get ugly.”
“Yeah, I should probably start carrying an emergency blood-donor pack in my purse for next time,” I said.
“You sure you don’t already have one in that giant-ass bag?” he asked wryly. “And it’s kind of nervy of you to assume there’ll be a next time.”
I gasped. “First of all, that’s a fair statement about my bag. But who said that the donor packet would be for you?”
“Oh, so you’re going to just bite me and drop me?”
“Well, if you didn’t like it, I’m sure I could find someone who—”
Wade caught my wrist and yanked me close for a hot, demanding kiss. “I liked it,” he told me, his voice stern. “Trust me, I liked it.”
“Good. Let’s go get you that cookie.”
I had officially taken the evening off. Between work, Les and Marge, the Pumpkin Patch madness, and whatever I was doing with Wade, I felt like I’d been missing too much time with Danny. So I’d sent Kerrianne home at sundown, made Danny’s favorite chicken nuggets with a bandanna tied around my nose, and spent the evening watching him run around our front yard, searching for Bigfoot tracks. Eventually, he got tired of chasing his own tail like a Jack Russell terrier and joined me on the front-porch swing, where we read Pete the Cat and His Magic Sunglasses (six or seven times).
I was proud of my progress—having Danny sit on my lap, letting my chin rest on his sandy hair without a twinge of worry about whether I would be tempted by his blood. Now that I’d experienced live feeding and connected it to sexy Wade-based feelings, there was no way I could consider it in any way related to Danny. Ever.
“Mom, who would win in a fight, a werewolf or a vampire?” Danny asked, flipping through his copy of Bigfoot Cinderrrrrrrella.
“Well, sweetheart, there are a lot of Web sites devoted to this debate, but I’m not really sure.”
“But werewolves have fangs and claws, and they’re super-fast,” Danny reasoned.
“And vampires have fangs, and they’re super-fast. And they’re super-strong,” Finn noted, stepping onto our porch.
My sire had just walked onto my front porch mid-conversation, as if it were totally normal for him to drop by in the middle of the night. I smiled, because I couldn’t think of any other expression that wouldn’t convey, Oops, I slept with some other guy since the last time I saw you.
While I was the master of multitasking, I was not good at this semi-sort-of-juggling-two-men thing. Surely this was going to come back and bite me in the ass. I knew that on the scale of potential evil I could do as a vampire, it was pretty minor. Still, I knew I was going to have to make it clear to one of them at some point that he was relegated to the friend zone.
I just had to figure out which one it would be.
Finn returned my smile, looking at me like I was something precious, which was not helping me in terms of friend-zone designation. It was the sort of expression you’d hope to see on the face of a husband and father returning home at the end of the day to find his wife and child waiting for him—except that he wasn’t Danny’s dad . . . or my husband . . . or even my significant other . . . and he was a dead guy.
“Yeah, but vampires can’t go out during the day. All a werewolf would have to do is rip the lid off your coffin, and you’d be dead,” Danny scoffed, but there was mischief in his eyes. He was teasing Finn, testing how far he could push the big bad vampire and not get busted for being rude to a guest.
And Finn was playing along, blithely ignoring my son’s sass. He sat next to us on the porch swing, careful to put a respectable distance between himself and Danny. “You make a valid point.”
“Does that mean I win?” Danny asked me.
“I think it means you and Mr. Finn are at a tie,” I told him.
“Miss Steele says there’s no such thing as a tie, that’s something new-age parents made up to keep from hurting their kids’ feelings when they lose.”
I snorted. “That sounds like something Miss Steele would say.”
“But that’s OK,” Danny said. “Because I don’t want Mr. Finn’s feelings to be hurt because he lost.”
“I’m not sure that’s the case,” Finn said.
“So Mr. Finn, do you drink blood from people or bottles?”
“A bit of both.”
“How old are you?”
“Most vampires don’t like to answer that question.”
Danny nodded. “Neither does my mom.”
“Easy,” I warned him.
Finn chuckled. “You ask a lot of questions, don’t you, Danny?”
“Mom says that’s my job. How am I supposed to learn anything about the world if I don’t ask questions?”
“I seem to recall mentioning something about being polite when learning about the world,” I muttered.
“I could be worse,” Danny noted. “Hayden McTieg shoves people off their chairs when he says hello.”
“That’s true. I should lower my standards to McTieg levels.” I snorted. “Danny, how about you go brush your teeth and get ready for bed?”
“Actually, before you go up, Danny, I have something for you,” Finn said, digging a small blue-wrapped package out of his jacket pocket. “I noticed that you really like LEGOs.”
Without hesitation, Danny popped the small blue box open and gasped. “Mom! Clutch Powers!”
Danny showed me the dark-haired mini-figure inside the box, dressed in painted-on blue jeans and a leather jacket. Clutch Powers was the main character in a LEGO adventure movie that Danny watched over and over until we could both quote the DVD from memory. But despite his numerous notes to Santa and birthday requests, I had never been able to track down a mini-figure Clutch, not even on eBay.
“This is the best present ever!” Danny exclaimed. He threw his arms around Finn’s waist. “Thank you, Mr. Finn!”
And so Danny explained to Finn why this was such an awesome present and why Clutch Powers was the greatest character created since the invention of literature. And they debated the merits of LEGOs versus the Lincoln Logs that Finn had played with when he was growing up. Finn was a little stiff at first, but he managed to approach Danny from the level my son appreciated most. He didn’t want to be talked down to or patronized or treated like an adorable brainless moppet. He just wanted you to talk and listen.
“All right, sir, it is bedtime for you,” I interrupted at last.
Danny huffed in protest. “But I wanna talk to Mr. Finn some more!”
“You’ll see him some other time.”
“OK.” He sighed. “Good night, Mr. Finn. Thank you for my present.” He held up his hand for Finn to give him a high five.
The corner of Finn’s mouth lifted as he slapped it. “Good night, Danny.”
Danny scrambled off the couch and up the stairs like a monkey.
“He likes me!” Finn exclaimed, sounding downright giddy.
“You brought him a rare LEGO. You could burn down our house, and he would still look at you all googly-eyed.”
“Don’t ruin this moment for me,” he said, shushing me.
“Just wait until you step on one of them with bare feet,” I muttered. “I don’t do that very often, by the way. Let him talk to men that I’m . . . I don’t even know what to call what we’re doing. I don’t know you. I don’t know what your intentions are. Just don’t—don’t hurt him. Don’t be nice to him because you’re trying to show me what a good guy you are. For that matter, don’t hurt me. Because if you do, I’ll have to—”
He kissed my cheek, running his hands along my hair. His nose twitched, and for a second, I worried that he smelled Wade on me. But his tone remained smooth and even as he purred, “I would expect nothing less than the no doubt very creative and terrifying threat that is about to fall from those lovely lips of yours, but it’s not necessary. I don’t want to hurt either of you. That’s the last thing on my mind. And as far as using him? I like Danny. I mean, I don’t have a lot of experience with kids, but he’s not an unpleasant little person. I can adjust. And he’s part of you, an important part of your life. How could I not want to get to know him better?”
“Let’s just . . . we need to take things slow in the ‘getting to know you’ area, OK?”
His lips quirked. “Does that cover occasional kissing?”
“It might,” I said. “But not in front of Danny, because he’s six, and kissing in all forms grosses him out.”
Finn nodded. “Cootie-phobia.”
“Exactly.” I giggled as he leaned in, brushing his mouth against mine. That same feeling from my dreams, the emotions I’d experienced when I was turned—acceptance, excitement, a thrill of fear—all came rushing back to me. It was a shockingly gentle kiss, questing, searching for some bit of softness in a world that had been just a bit too hard on him. I worried that he might be able to smell Wade on my skin, taste him in my kiss. But Finn simply pulled me into his lap, nibbling on my bottom lip as his hands traced the lines of my back. And then I recalled the feeling of Wade’s lips against mine, and I clutched at Finn’s shirt, prepared to shove him back.
But he retreated on his own, sliding his hand along my arm as he settled back in the seat. “So how’s my favorite vampire accountant?”
“I am doing well,” I said.
“Still have plans for the weekend?”
“Yes,” I told him. My date with Wade was cemented, with babysitters and everything. If nothing else, I really wanted a romantic outing with him that didn’t involve a death barn. “I’m assuming this is an unsanctioned visit?” I asked.
“I left Jane a voice mail,” Finn promised. “Which she will not get, because according to Dick, she doesn’t understand how to use her voice mail.”
I sighed, letting my head drop to his shoulder. “Why do you risk pissing her off just to see me? Why do I risk pissing her off just to see you? Is it just that you’re my sire? Is this why I feel drawn to you?”
“No,” he said, stroking his thumb along my cheek. “At first, there is an instinctual bond between the sire and the childe, to help the new vampire trust their mentor enough to get them through the transition. But it fades once the new vampire feels more settled in their new life. Most of the sire’s privileges after that? Rules designed by the Council to keep older vampires in power and younger vampires in line. Look it up in any of the guidebooks.”
“Oh, trust me, I will,” I told him. “Maybe your influence over me got extended because we didn’t get that time together at first? Maybe that explains the warm fuzzy feelings and the dreams.”
“Dreams? There were dreams?” Finn’s smile widened.
“I will never recap them.”
“Mom!” Danny yelled from upstairs. “I can’t find my ninja pajamas!”
At the sound of my son’s voice, I slid out of Finn’s lap. “Well, of course you can’t, they’re ninja pajamas! No one sees ninja pajamas.”
I got silence from upstairs. Finn stared at me.
“I thought it was funny,” I told him before calling to Danny. “I put them in your top drawer.”
“I’m still a little stung by the refusal to recap. I’m really not so bad as all that, am I?”
“Yes!” I exclaimed, laughing. “You are completely untrustworthy. You haven’t told me why you answered my ad. You haven’t even told me why you’ve stuck around and continued to see me, despite Jane threatening you with some very creative retribution.”
“I told you, your ad made you sound like a good person. I wanted to help you.”
I stared at him, silent and stone-faced.
Finn cleared his throat. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”
“No.”
He sighed. “OK, cards on the table. I turned you because of your talent.”
“You needed a discreet bookkeeper?”
He chuckled and cupped my cheek in his palm, settling a very serious gaze on my face. “Your vampiric gift.”
“I don’t have a vampiric gift,” I told him. “Jane said it would probably manifest itself within a few months of my changing. But nothing so far, and for some reason, she can’t get a read off me. “
“That’s because you’re a stabilizer.”
“What?”
“When you’re around, you suppress the gifts of the vampires around you. Jane can’t always read your mind. I’d bet she couldn’t read the mind of any human or vampire within twenty yards when you’re around. She’s just so focused on trying to read you that she hasn’t noticed.”
“Well, that’s a crappy power!” I exclaimed, unable to contain the disappointment of being told I was the psychic equivalent of a candle snuffer. “I was hoping for something cool, like telepathy. I would have settled for the squirrel thing!”
“No,” he said, holding my hands between his. “It’s an incredible gift, especially to someone like me.”
“Why?”
“My special ability involves a sort of mental possession. I can travel into other people’s heads, read their thoughts, see what they’ve done, what they plan to do. Occasionally, if the person I’m occupying is highly suggestible, I can move them around, physically, a little bit like a puppet.”
“Have you ever done that to me?” I demanded.
“I try not to invade my hosts’ privacy.”
“That’s not really an answer.”
; Still not responding, he said, “My ability has become more unpredictable lately. I’m not sure why. It’s becoming . . . more. The door is swinging both ways. For months, when I’ve gone into other people’s heads, some of them have made their way back into mine. I’m losing consciousness in the middle of conversations while my mind goes on walkabout and I drag people in. I am walking around my apartment during the day, copying the morning routines of my neighbors. The day before I turned you, I woke up in my hallway, inches away from walking into a beam of sunlight.”
“How is that possible?” I asked.
“Our talents change over time. They grow and mutate. Your friend Jane couldn’t read the minds of vampires when she first rose, but now she’s able to read our thoughts easily, unless there’s some complication like your gift. My talent is just changing faster than I can control it.”
“And how does my gift work? How am I helping you?”
“Because you are suppressing my power. You’re stabilizing me.”
“How?”
“Without even trying, which is the best sort of gift,” he said. “Think about it. You’re one of the most stable people I’ve ever met. You’re nurturing and solid. It only makes sense that you would provide an anchor for the people around you.”
“But how did you even know that this would be my completely passive and useless-to-me gift? How did you know to turn me?”
“I was in the Hollow, months ago. You were sitting at a coffee shop at the hospital. I was visiting a human acquaintance who had gotten into a, let’s say, disagreement with a business associate.”
“So many of your stories involve violent disagreements.”
He poked my side, continuing as if I hadn’t said anything. “I passed by the coffee shop, and I saw you there. And you looked so very miserable. I don’t think I’d ever seen a human look so hopeless in all my life. I felt something for you. And I hadn’t felt anything for anyone, besides myself, in a long, long time. I couldn’t help but slip into your head, to see what was making you so unhappy.”
“So you have been in my head.”
Still no acknowledgment that I’d spoken. “I could sense it, that latent power, bubbling under the surface of your blood, the ability to suppress the abilities of the vampires around you,” he said. “You were my salvation, my solution, and you didn’t even know it. I settled into your memories, learning more about you. I saw you fighting with your husband, just before he died. I saw you sitting in the doctor’s office, receiving news about your test results. I saw your little boy sleeping and your terror at never being able to see him grow up. And before it even fully formed, I could see the birth of the inspiration for your plan to become a vampire. I knew you were going to follow through with it. And if you weren’t careful, you would either find some brutish vampire who would take advantage of you—or, worse, a human who would take advantage of you. So I stayed close to you. I dipped into your mind a few more times and made sure I was the first to answer your ad.”
