Page 51 of Vampire's Vixen

Crystal and Zandre began to chat, exchanging pleasantries, barely noticing me at all. Meanwhile, I sat with my discomfort, trying to fathom what was happening. Why was I so resistant to their obvious connection, other than the fact that I didn’t trust vampires? And at that moment, it hit me. I didn’t trust Crystal to make her own decisions.

Oh my gods, I’m the expert, so I feel that I should be the one to pair her up!

Bingo, Aphrodite said. And you’d feel the same about your aunt, if she were to find someone. You want to run the show. You want to protect them. But you can’t. The truth is, your power lies in facilitating meetings, not making the final choice. If you make a match, there’s no guarantee it will last forever and you have to be okay with that.

I started to argue, but then realized—how much follow-up had I done on my matches, a year after they got together? None. I had no clue if any of the people I’d paired up were still married. My expertise was in bringing people together, not assuring happily-ever-after. I wasn’t the clearinghouse for happy marriages. I was just a witch who managed to pair up eligible and compatible people. But that was no guarantee of long-term happiness. It was no guarantee of ever-after.

“Are you okay?” Crystal asked. “Earth to Maisy, are you in there?”

“What?” I jumped.

“I’ve asked you if you’re okay twice and you ignored me.”

I must have been so deep in thought and discussion with Aphrodite that I hadn’t heard her. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I was thinking.”

The waitress showed up to take our order. Zandre ordered a steak and lobster.

Crystal followed suit. She glanced at me. “Since you’re driving, I’ll have a glass of red wine,” she said.

“Have two. I’m definitely not drinking tonight.” I turned to the waitress. “I want a double mocha, with whipped cream and shaved chocolate. And a bowl of minestrone, and the fettuccine Alfredo.”

She wrote it down, then vanished, promising to be back with our drinks in a few minutes.

As we waited for our food, we fell into an awkward silence. Crystal and Zandre were exchanging glances, and both kept shooting side-eye at me, as though at any minute, I was going to jump up yelling at them. I tried to navigate what was happening. I had planned on trying to shoo him off from the idea of dating me, but now I realized that wasn’t an issue anymore. On one level, that made me relieved.

“So, I’m thinking of changing up my business model,” I said, deciding somebody had to say something.

“Oh?” Crystal asked, looking relieved, though she was still blushing.

“Astra really made me think about it. I’m going to start holding mixers at the shop once every couple weeks, and I’m going to offer more services than readings—I’ll keep the same name, but it’s time I branched out.”

The waitress appeared with our food and, relieved, I fell into eating. I was surprised to see Zandre eating, but then I remember vampires could eat food—it just didn’t do them much good beyond in a tasty treat kind of way.

As I focused on my dinner, Crystal cleared her throat and asked, “So, Zandre, you’re a member of the Pacific Northwest Vampire Collective?”

He nodded. “Yes, I am. I represent Midnight Point. I’m not high up in the hierarchy, but Val Slater does listen to my ideas.” He paused, then added, “I’m proud of what I do, though. I didn’t ask to become a vampire, but since I am one, I want to make the world a better place for all of us to coexist. I know that sounds odd, coming from someone that most people fear, but I like to think I retain enough of my humanity to make a difference.”

“How were you turned?” Crystal asked, quickly adding, “Don’t feel you have to answer. I really don’t mean to pry.”

Zandre paused, then said, “After my wife was shot by the bank robbers—this was around 1825—I went into a deep depression. I began drinking, and one night I was out late, when a woman I met in the bar offered herself to me. I was so lonely that all I could think of was that for maybe a minute, I could forget Eugenia. Maybe, for just a moment, I could be happy again.”

My stomach knotted and I wanted him to stop. I could feel the pain around him, and I knew what was coming.

“She wasn’t a prostitute, was she?” Crystal said, her voice soft.

He shook his head. “She was looking for victims. I went home with her, and the next thing I knew, I was naked in her bed and she attacked me. I remember her draining my blood, and all I could think was that my father would be so disappointed in me.”

Crystal reached out, placing her hand on his arm, and all I could think of was how much pain Zandre had been through, and how harsh his life had been.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“I died…and then I woke up, and I was out in the forest near the town, awake and healed up. But something was different. My sire found me—she could sense where I was—and she explained to me that I was now a vampire. Then she laughed at me when I asked if I could travel with her. She left me behind. I think she must have been staked, because eventually, when I thought of her, I couldn’t feel anything.”

“Can you usually feel your sire?” I asked.

“For the first few decades, yes. But she vanished after about ten years, at least from my mind. When I was left alone in the woods, I had to make a decision. I could live by hunting victims, or I could go back home and figure out a way to exist with my family, if they’d have me. I chose the latter. My parents had already lost one son to the bank robbers. I didn’t want them to lose me, too. I need blood every week or so, just enough to keep myself strong and viable. And so, I occasionally did a bloodletting on the cows—it was enough to sustain me, though it tasted vile. And my family took me back in, although they always treated me differently. But I helped my father make a go of the bank.”

“Vampires seem really good with financial stuff,” I said.

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