Page 12 of Silent Nights and Vampire Lights

Igroaned as Holly shifted again on the bed. It was a king-sized bed—plenty of space between us—but somehow, her every movement felt like a ripple on the damn ocean. She flopped over to the other side with a dramatic exhale, and just as I started to drift off, she flipped back again.

“Jesus, Holly. Pick a spot and stay there. I’m getting seasick over here.”

She froze, the thick duvet clutched in her hands, and peeked over it at me. “How are you even awake? Don’t you, like, die during the day?”

I pressed a hand over my eyes. “Where do you get this information about vampires? Television? I’m just as alive as you are—just… different. And I’m serious, your tossing and turning is nauseating.”

With a dramatic sigh, she sat up and leaned against the headboard. “I can’t sleep.”

“Then read a fucking book.”

Her eyes scanned the room pointedly. “Oh, sure, because there’s a library hidden somewhere in here. I didn’t exactly have time to pack a novel, what with, you know, running for my life.And how do you sleep during the day, anyway? Doesn’t the light bother you?”

I sighed again, giving up on sleep entirely. “It’s natural for me. And the blinds are blackout curtains, so no sun gets in. Think of it like someone working the night shift who sleeps during the day.”

She tilted her head, considering that, then nodded. “I guess that makes sense. I’m an early bird myself. I used to get up at three in the morning to start baking, so I’m more of a morning person.”

I smirked. “I figured you were. A morning bird, chirping incessantly all day.”

Her lips quirked up in a grin. “I don’t chirp. Much.” She laughed, light and melodic. “Okay, fine. I talk a lot.”

“Maybe that’s why you’re not sleeping,” I muttered, unable to stop myself from smirking again.

She rolled onto her side, propping herself up on one elbow to peer down at me. “Tell me more about your family.”

I closed my eyes. “No.”

“I’ll keep talking until you do,” she threatened in a sing-song voice.

I cracked one eye open. “I already told you about them. It’s your turn. Tell me about your family.”

Her expression shifted, the playfulness fading as she flopped onto her back, folding her hands behind her head. “There’s nothing to share. Everyone’s gone. I’m alone.”

Her voice was flat, stripped of the lively energy she usually carried. Against my better judgment, I turned my head to study her. “You mentioned being raised by your grandparents. What was that like?”

A wistful smile touched her lips. “It was wonderful. They lived in this tiny town in western Pennsylvania. My grandma owned a bakery and taught me everything I know about baking.My granddad was a carpenter and had a small farm. It was magical.”

Her voice carried a soft, wistful tone, tinged with sadness. I didn’t want to ask, but the words slipped out, anyway. “What happened to your parents?”

Her smile faltered. “My dad was a soldier. He died in Afghanistan when I was five. My mom died a few years later. A car accident.”

Her voice trembled, sadness threading through the words, and it cut through me in a way I hadn’t expected. Even after decades among humans, I’d never grown used to their fragility. Watching them age, break, and die while I stayed the same had worn me down. I’d lost friends, acquaintances—people I let myself care for—until I stopped letting anyone in. I was tired of it. Tired of losing people. Tired of being alone. And somehow, I knew Holly understood that loneliness better than most.

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly.

She gave a low laugh, a little watery, betraying the ache she was trying to hide. “Thanks. Do vampires die?”

She wasn’t just asking about me. I could hear the weight behind her question. “We’re harder to kill than humans, but yes. Accidents, injuries, sunlight—all of those can kill us. We just don’t die from natural causes the way you do.”

I didn’t add the other part, the one vampires don’t talk about. Some choose death—stepping into the sunlight when the weight of eternity becomes unbearable. I understood their reasons now, more than I ever thought I would.

She was quiet for a moment, then asked softly, “Why did you leave your family?”

I stared up at the spackled ceiling, memories just as real and painful as when I left. “I didn’t leave. I was exiled from my clan.”

She rolled over and propped herself up on her elbows, her eyes wide with shock. “Exiled? Your family kicked you out?What did you do? Drain a human? Break a fang? Scare kids for Halloween?”

I smiled despite her ridiculous comments. “Not exactly. Where do you get these ideas? I disagreed with my father and my cousin, the head of our clan, on vampire and human relations. I wanted us to be more integrated with them, while he wanted us to remain separate.”

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