Page 33 of Blood and Buttercups

“They won’t follow you around. Think of them as more of a coach.” She gives me a sympathetic smile.

“And if I decline?”

The idea of some random mentor on top of the rest of this is just too much. Way too much.

“I’m afraid you don’t have a choice. Even after you grow accustomed to the new lifestyle, they’ll check on you periodically to ensure the virus hasn’t progressed.”

“I thought you said it couldn’t unless I was bitten again?”

“It can’t…but some people find the allure of an unnaturally long life appealing despite the side effects. It’s a safety precaution,” she adds. “Not only for your friends and family, but for our entire community.”

This organization is going to keep tabs on me, make sure I don’t decide to go full-vamp and eat my neighbors.

“All this information and so much more is covered in the paperwork I’m sending home with you,” she continues. “I promise you’ll adjust and go on to live a normal life.”

A headache blooms behind my left eye, and I cover my face with my hands.

Dr. Granger returns to her computer. “Which pharmacy would you like me to call your prescription into?”

This is too weird—too normal. Like I’m going to swing by my local drugstore and pick up an antibiotic for a sinus infection or something.

“Um, the one on seventh. I can’t remember the name right now.”

I can’t remember much of anything.

A horrible thought hits me, and I look up suddenly. “What about dating?”

“In its pre-vampiric state, the virus cannot be passed. You can date, marry, even have children.”

Considering my track record, I should swear off men. I don’t even know why I asked.

“Wait,” I say. “So let me make sure I understand this. There are actual vampires walking around?”

“Yes.”

“And they’re allowed to infect people whenever they feel like it?”

“No—absolutely not. What happened to you was a crime. The same organization that provides protection and guidance for pre-vamps also has a department that tracks and arrests rogue vampires. Your conservator can explain more of that.”

“Oh…that’s good, I guess.”

“Here are the pamphlets I mentioned.” She offers me a manilla envelope that must be two inches thick. “There are a few regulations you need to be aware of, so read those first.”

“Regulations?”

“People don’t need to know vampirism is a true medical condition. There are too many who would seek infection, and it would cause mass pandemonium. As healthcare workers, we’ve vowed to use our discretion when speaking of the illness, and asa patient, you are expected to do the same. Ultimately, it’s for your safety.”

I accept the envelope, feeling like I swallowed a lead weight.

“For your prescription, I’m going to start you off with one ounce three times a day. You can take it straight or mix it with a little juice. Some people like to add it to a smoothie.”

“I’m sorry—did you just suggest I make a blood smoothie?”

“Synthetic blood.”

“Because that makes it better.”

She smiles. “We’ll set a follow-up appointment in a month to see how you’re doing. Please call the office anytime you have questions, or if you’d like more info on either counselors or a support group.”

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