Page 10 of Silent Nights and Vampire Lights

After a long pause, I admitted, “My sister called me Nick a few times. She was young and thought like you. My father didn’t agree.”

Her gaze flicked to me, curiosity sparking in her eyes. “What was her name?”

“Lillian. And no, we never called her Lily,” I added wryly. “Even though she hated her name.”

“When was the last time you were home?”

I hesitated. “It’s been a long time.”

“That’s not an answer.”

I sighed. “Vampires live a long time, Holly. I don’t count the years.”

She shot me a side-eye. “How old are you?”

“Older than you.”

“Obviously.”

“I was born in 1910.”

The car swerved as she gaped at me. I grabbed the wheel, steadying us. “Careful. Maybe I should’ve waited to tell you.”

Her eyes scanned me, disbelief etched on her face. “You look amazing for a hundred-plus.”

“What can I say? I eat healthy and work out.”

“That explains why you don’t drive.”

“I can drive. I just don’t like it,” I protested.

Her expression turned thoughtful, then her eyes widened. “Wait… do you pick people based on their health? Like, do you know if they’re healthy? Is someone unhealthy… bad to drink?”

I stifled a sigh. I should be used to her absurd questions. “Yes, I can tell. I prefer healthy blood. I don’t like the effects of alcohol, drugs, or illness. Others don’t care.”

Her curiosity only deepened. “So you feel the effects of alcohol and drugs? Do you get high?”

“Yes, briefly. Some vampires even keep blood servants for that purpose. It’s not my preference.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line. “That’s… sad. You should help them, not use them.”

Her words echoed my own arguments with my father. Humans weren’t just food. They were a species we should learn to coexist with. But my father had disagreed, and it had cost me everything.

Her yawn pulled me from my thoughts. I glanced at the horizon, pale light beginning to edge the sky. “We need to stop for the day.”

“I made a reservation at a bed-and-breakfast.” Her gaze was fixed on the road, and her fingers flexed on the steering wheel.

Something about her careful tone, the way she avoided looking at me, put me on edge. I narrowed my eyes. “Where are we staying, Holly?”

Holly

I’d spoken to the owner of the Yule House in Little Bethlehem, right on the border of Pennsylvania and New York, a few days ago. They knew Nicholas and I would be arriving early in the morning and promised to leave a light on for us, along with instructions for getting to our room. What I hadn’t expected was to be greeted by Mae and Harold Birnham, the owners, waiting for us in their holiday sweaters, smiles bright enough to power the town.

There was only one problem. Well, besides the explosion of Christmas cheer everywhere, which Nicholas looked like he might break out in hives over.

“You only have one room?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

Mae’s smile faltered just slightly. “Yes, I’m afraid so. I thought you’d asked for one, and it’s all we have left. It’s a busy season with the Christmas Marketplace, you know.”

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