“Not quite… Vampires with beginner levels of power can make minor adjustments to their appearance—like Sunny, she changes her hair color all the time, and she makes her eyelashes longer without extensions. So it’d be possible to, I guess, synthetically age to keep up the facade of normalcy.”
“Why didn’t you? Don’t you have powers, or something?” It felt so science fiction to ask, but that was the world he lived in now: full of strange and impossible things.
“No, I’ve never had powers. I don’t know if I ever will.”
Brennan didn’t know how to ask the question. Powers weren’t covered in the pamphlets, as far as he could tell.
“Why not? I mean, how do you… get them?”
“Vampires gain power for each human kill, Brennan. That’s why I don’t have any, and why I don’t think you ever will, either.”
“So. The more people you kill, the more powerful you are.”
“Yes. Or people youturn.”
He guessed going from human to vampire counted as death, too. “That’s a pretty messed-up rewards system.”
“Exactly. Urban clans don’t allow kills, and we don’t train vampiric powers. If you ever have an inclination, I can happily provide you pamphlets about transferring to a nearby colony, but—”
“I’m good, thanks.”
“Good.” Nellie produced more quarters from her pockets. “You want to play another round? Tell me more about that cute librarian.”
“I don’t think I said he was cute.”
“You actually said it twice.”
“I resent that,” Brennan said, but he waved for Nellie to start up another game.
He told Nellie how Cole had helped him steal blood from the school, how he was a university-renowned heartthrob, about theBacheloretteviewing group, about Cole’s infuriatingly gravity-defying curly hair.
He told Nellie how Cole knew all his vampiric secrets and how, except for that first day, Cole was never afraid of him. Which was refreshing, when Brennan spent most of his time being afraid of himself.
After Brennan realized he’d been rambling about Cole for ten minutes and finally shut his mouth with a click, Nellie said, “It sounds like Cole has been a major source of comfort in all this.”
Brennan’s cheeks warmed and he focused on beating up Nellie’s game character. “I guess.”
“Do you think you’ll pursue that relationship?”
Brennan sputtered. Nellie’s character finished him in the moment’s distraction.
“I don’t—I didn’t say that. And no. Of course not. He and I are, like, the textbook definition of ‘bad timing.’ Of ‘it’s not you, it’s me.’ I can’t. He deserves better.”
“Have you considered that maybe he should be part of this conversation? Doesn’t Cole get to decide what he deserves?”
“You don’t get it. He’s literally the kindest person on the planet. He sees the vampire thing as a quirk. He doesn’t see the whole picture.”
“You have to decide, then,” Nellie said, “if you’re willing to show him or not.”
“Yeah, and when he runs away screaming, we’ll have our answer.”
Nellie paused the game and faced Brennan, and his skin prickled under the attention.
“I’ve noticed you talk about being a vampire the same way you talk about being depressed. You assume they’re the worst things about you.”
Brennan blinked. “They are.”
Nellie sighed. Not the answer she wanted. Was he missing some other fatal flaw she thought was more significant? Or did she really expect him to have some sort of pride in the things that actively ruined his life?
