Authors: Megan Morgan
“Did it?” His tone was light but curious.
“You’re neutral. It seems like everyone in this city wants to harness your abilities for their cause, but everyone fails. So if you told Robbie no, you meant it. He’d know you meant it. Even a man like Robbie wouldn’t think he’s such a special snowflake if he just kept pushing, you’d finally come around to his way of thinking.”
“But?”
“But…he kept coming back.”
“Yes.”
“He wants something else from you. More than just a vampire army.”
“Oh, he wants a vampire army.” His voice floated on the air. “But you’re right. He wants something else, too. Something more important. Something he can’t stop trying and trying again to obtain.”
“What is that thing?”
“Robbie is ridiculously powerful. Few telekinetics in history have been able to move a person, or affect human flesh, and none of them to the extent he can. There’s never been a man more supernaturally powerful, at least not one we can remember. But there’s a price to pay for power like that.”
“He’s dying. Power like that destroys you.”
“In his case, even faster than it’s destroying Sam’s lap dog. Robbie is deteriorating as fast as his power is growing.”
“That’s why he’s deaf and slowly going blind.” She got it, suddenly, but the revelation was horrible. “Oh my God… He wants your blood, doesn’t he?”
“Very good, Little Red. Yes. If he becomes a vampire, he won’t die. It will halt the damage being done, even reverse some of it.”
“And all of you are opposed to turning him? I find it hard to believe every single one of you is so tenaciously loyal to your code of indifference. How hasn’t he found one corrupt vampire to give him what he wants?”
“There are several layers to that answer.” He shifted. “One, he hasn’t done it yet. Because he’s trying to be diplomatic. If he gains it freely, without trickery, he thinks that will make us trust him and want to follow him. Two, as bad off as he is, he needs an old vampire’s blood to really fix him. Not one of these new whelps. Old, old vampires are not easily swayed or persuaded. There’s also a third, really big, really terrifying reason. How much do you know about vampirism, June?”
“Just what I’ve learned from the others.” She frowned. “What am I missing?”
He leaned toward her. “Not only would becoming a vampire stop Robbie’s deterioration, it would keep him from being affected by anyone else’s powers. Do you know what kind of monster that would create?”
She gasped, the full weight of it hitting her. “An invincible one.”
“Nearly. Unless you left him out in the sun for a couple hours. We do have our weaknesses.”
“But you couldn’t chain someone like Robbie out in the sun. You couldn’t do anything to him.”
“And that’s the third reason no one will turn him. We don’t want to get involved, but we’d like to have a city left.”
“Why doesn’t he turn himself? Eric Greerson gave himself the virus.”
“First of all, don’t call it a virus.” His tone darkened. “Secondly, he didn’t turn out exactly the way he planned, now did he?”
“So the vi—the blood doesn’t work correctly when it’s used that way?”
“Eric Greerson is far from the first person to shoot himself up with vampire blood in hopes of turning. We have a name for people who do that: zombies. They’re not quite human and not quite supernatural, but entirely disgusting and mindless.”
“Eric didn’t die when he was shot, though, and Aaron was concerned even shooting him in the head didn’t actually kill him. So wouldn’t Robbie at least get what he wanted and not be dying?”
“Eric’s healing wasn’t as fast as ours. Bleeding? He shouldn’t have bled out at all; the wound should have closed at once. Robbie needs a much bigger boost than that to survive.”
“Why does it only work coming from a vampire?”
“Do you think I’m going to tell you that?”
She pressed her lips together and shook her head. “You have to be careful. He’s going to come back, and he won’t take no for an answer this time. He’ll get someone to do it, even if it’s not an old vampire, even if it’s only half-assed through one of the young ones.”
“There won’t be any young ones soon. We’re going to cleanse our society, as I told you.”
She refrained from expressing her disgust and outrage at that. She couldn’t say anything that would change his mind, and honestly, she didn’t know much about their “society,” not enough to have an opinion on how they handled things.
“What does Robbie want?” she asked. “Yes, to get all the paranormal people to storm the Institute, but what’s his end goal?”
“What do all madmen want? Control. He wants to rule this city with fear. He wants humanity to cower. He wants paranormal people to become the monsters most normals think they are.”
“And none of this fills you with any particular emotion? You don’t want to break your neutrality beyond reacting to the inconvenience it might bring you?”
“You mean, do we care about the normals or the paranormal people he’ll control?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“We don’t owe normals or paranormals anything. We don’t have any sense of community with either of them. Someday, you’ll understand.” He leaned in closer and whispered, “When you’re one of us.”
She barked out a surprised laugh. “You think I want to be a vampire?”
“Don’t you? You’re already like us. It would suit you.”
“Am I? Would it?” She laughed again.
“I know all about you, June Coffin. I learned about you. When I first saw you in the newspapers, I was smitten.”
She made an exaggerated gagging sound. “My very own vampire stalker.”
“You don’t feel any sense of community with paranormal people. You removed yourself from your kindred long ago and made yourself an outsider, to the point you don’t even understand them. You didn’t know about most paranormal matters until you came to Chicago.”
“What I am tore my family apart. I grew up wanting to be as normal as I could. I don’t think being a vampire would give me that normalcy. How am I supposed to go back to my boring life if I’m a vampire?”
“Do you think you ever will go back to that life, even as you are now?”
“I hope to.”
“You may hope, but you know nothing can ever be the same.”
She stared into the darkness. “You’re going to get rid of the young ones. Why would you make new vampires?”
“New vampires that are to our liking.”
She crinkled her nose. This subject was making her queasy. She didn’t like discussing genocide.
“When do you think Robbie will come to you?” she asked. “Soon?”
“I wouldn’t doubt it.”
“What do we do until he comes?”
“Do as you like. None of you are my prisoners, outside of Micha.”
She swiveled toward him. “Let him go. He’s of no use to you now. Between the FBI and what Robbie is about to do, no one will care about the technicalities of vampires. It’ll get lost in the sea of shit that’s about to erupt.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
“Why do you care what anyone thinks of you? Why does it matter?”
“The less people know about us, the less ingrained we are in their society. The more we can keep to ourselves. Don’t pass judgments. This is not your world. Yet.”
“Well if you continue to hold Micha, I’m staying here.” She scooted to the edge of the couch and stood. “I’ll wait right here for Robbie.”
“Do you love him? Your hybrid human?”
She rolled her eyes at this ever-asked question.
“I don’t know. I’ve never had the opportunity to know him outside of this. Maybe someday I can answer that question more clearly.”
“I won’t hurt him, for your sake. Like I saved your friends.”
“Your kindness is endless.” She sagged her shoulders. “But thank you for what you did. How did you do that, by the way? Changing the van to make it look like a news van? Sam told me shapeshifters can’t glamour objects, only people.”
Occam stood, his silhouette rising in front of her. “Sam is just a man, with one lifetime.”
“What?”
“Power grows as you get older. When you’re much older than a typical human, it grows quite a bit. You learn to control it in ways you can’t learn in one lifetime.”
“Guess that’s another perk of being a vampire.”
“Yes, though I don’t suppose it’s a selling point for you, since you’re not fond of your power.”
She kept her mouth shut.
“I have plenty of other advantages to tempt you with.”
“How old are you?” she asked.
“I made the switch in eighteen thirty-five. I was thirty-two at the time.”
She boggled. “You’re almost two-hundred years old?”
“I’ve got a few more years before I reach that milestone.”
Her fascination overwhelmed her trepidation. “Is it like in cheesy vampire movies? Are you tortured by the thought of living forever?”
“Do you think indefinite life is a curse? The thing all humans want the most, to not have to face death?”
“Doesn’t sound like it.”
He chuckled. “You’re smart. Another reason I’m inordinately fond of you.”
“Thanks.” Something else popped in her head. “I wanted to ask you one more thing—why did you give me Micha’s ring?”
“Why do you think I gave it to you?”
She hesitated. She could almost make out his face in the darkness. “I thought… It was just to torment me. But now I think it might be something else.”
“What something else?”
“You know I can see ghosts, don’t you?” She studied him, what she could see of him. “But how do you know that? It’s not something you could have looked up. It’s not in my records. Even if you’ve been spying on me, you wouldn’t know that. I’ve only told a few people.”
“You saw one at the clinic.”
She tilted her head. “How do you know that?”
“I thought Micha was the one who could see, the way he reacted.” He stepped closer to her. “But it was you. You saw Rose Bellevue.”
“How do you know that?” The nape of her neck prickled. She subtly drew back from him. “Are you telepathic?”
“It wasn’t magic. Much less mysterious. I heard you two talking through the door.”
She sagged.
“Also, I can see ghosts too.”
She perked. “You can?”
“Yes. I’ve always been able to, even as a human.”
“So you gave me the ring, knowing it would help me communicate better with her? Summon her?”
“I was hoping it would.”
“Why?” She shrugged. “Don’t tell me you want me to talk to her and get her to say she lied about everything. I don’t think you can put a ghost on trial.”
“No, you can’t. Ghosts are just ghosts. They’re nothing. I admit, seeing her pissed me off, but there’s nothing I can do about it. No, I gave you the ring because I wanted to see if it would work. And it has. Thank you for letting me know.”
“What are you talking about?”
He moved closer. She stood her ground, though the prickling on the back of her neck grew stronger.
“A lot of people can see ghosts,” he said. “But not many can communicate with them. Less can control them, even with an object. It takes a special person.”
“What kind of special person?”
“Colloquially, a necromancer.” He waved a hand. “I think the Institute calls them something else, but I don’t care.”
She dropped her mouth open. “I don’t want to be a necromancer! I hate ghosts.”
“Have you seen them your entire life?”
“No. She’s the first one I’ve seen.”
“Ah.” He rocked back a little. “Interesting. And worrisome.”
“Why?” She tried to stifle rising panic. Would she be hanging out with ghosts for the rest of her life?
“You’ll find out, one day.”
“Occam.”
“Everything in time. Don’t worry your pretty little head right now.” He reached out and touched her shoulder, making her flinch. “I must go. I need to keep my ear to the ground. When I know where and when Robbie will meet with us, shall I tell you? Is that what you wish?”
She was stiff, fighting the urge to throw his hand off her. “Yes, that’s what I wish.”
“If I can make your stay any more pleasant, don’t hesitate to ask.” He dropped his hand away.
“You could bring us some food. Real food. I know it’s been a while for you, but we can’t live on potato chips and popcorn.”
“Of course. And I wouldn’t want you to be forced to eat anything that might exacerbate your condition.”
“Thanks.”
She turned toward the stairs. In doing so, she caught another fleeting whiff of cologne. Something struck her—why she noticed it, apart from it not being like Occam to smell pleasant.
“Why does that cologne you’re wearing smell…”
Occam was gone, the room silent.
“…familiar?”
Occam had Chinese delivered for them by Zack.
“Occam sends his regards.” Zack dropped the bags in the middle of the bedroom. He smiled a fang-filled smile at June. “You’re looking good.”
Sam grabbed up the bags. “Thanks. Now kindly fuck off.”
“Not going to invite me to dinner?” Zack still gazed at June. “I’m offended.”
“Does Occam want you messing with us?” Sam asked. “More importantly, would he be upset if I had to kill you?”
Zack sneered at him. “I’d like to see you try.”
“Would you?” Sam stared him down.
After a moment of dangerous silence, Zack sneered again, turned, and left the room. June breathed a sigh of relief. Sam glanced at her. She suddenly forgave him for his hot-headedness earlier.
The bag contained several Styrofoam boxes. One of the boxes had “June” scrawled across the top. She opened it and peered inside. The box contained a bunch of Chinese vegetables: snow peas, watercress, baby corn, and broccoli. She sniffed them to make sure they weren’t sautéed in anything she couldn’t digest.
She thrust the box at Micha, who sat beside her. “Taste these. Tell me if you taste any peanut oil or butter flavor.”
Sam tossed them two wrapped sets of chopsticks.
“I don’t know how to use chopsticks,” she said. “Is there any plastic silverware in there?”
Sam peeked in the bag. “Nope. Time to learn a new skill.”
Micha opened his chopsticks and dug into the vegetables. He took a bite and chewed slowly. He swallowed. “No. I think they’re good.”