He straightened the ruffles at the v-neck of his completely ahistorical white linen shirt and twisted his pearl earrings. They were not quite the elaborate symbols of status his ancestors would have worn, but then, he was hardly the chaotic force of nature that nonhumans had often been viewed as in pre-colonized India. His own ancestors would have likely elevated him to the same pedestals of wonder and dread that held fully mythological creatures like his family’s djinn or the Hindu’s asuras. Vanishing into the wilds only to spontaneously influence the lives of humans for extreme good or ill seemed like a lot of work though. He seemed perfectly capable of causing harm to the people around him without any wilderness involved.
“Black in a vampire’s eyes is a sign of blood hunger. Younger vampires especially will start to lose their grip on reality and become unable to stop themselves from feeding on the nearest human if they stay in this state for too long.” Rahil still had to fight back the impulse to curl up so tightly he twisted himself out of existence whenever he thought back to the few times he’d let his need for blood get that bad. “You know the myths of crazed, villainous vamps? That hunger is part of where the stories come from.”
“What’s the other part?”
“Racism.”
“Typical.” Violet rolled her eyes, like she was flipping off the entire social structure in her head. “And the red?”
Rahil grinned. “That just means I’m tired of your BS.”
“Ha ha,” Violet said, pronouncing each syllable separately. She crossed her arms, tipping up her chin in a way that should have looked childish on someone so young, but was executed with the perfect amount of cynicism to work regardless. “So, what bizarre shit are you going to make me do today?”
“You talk to your mother with that mouth?”
“Yeah, the twice a year Idotalk to her.” The way Violet’s lips twisted up reminded Rahil a little too much of his own kids. Or maybe it was just himself he was seeing. The pain, the loss, the inability to confront it all. He didn’t know how to break through that barrier any better now than he had with his boys, and he struggled to decide if he was even the right person to do so—it hadn’t turned out so well before, had it?—but Violet pushed the topic forward all on her own. “So, bizarre shit? Yes, no?”
Rahil’s gut twisted as he took the coward’s way out. “You’re the one who elected to be here.” He shrugged. “If you want to be a vampire, you’re going to have to learn how to get blood—ethically. By which, I mean consensually.”
“There’s a blood charity in Ala Santa now,” Violet pointed out.
“Go ahead, then.” Rahil motioned to the door, one brow raised. “The Ala Santa neighborhood is, what, ten miles from our suburbs? Probably fifteen if you want to stay safe on that bike. With vampires coming from all over the city, you’ll have to get there early to be far enough ahead in line—just don’t start out before the sun sets, or take the same route too often, or ride too near the police, or else you might not make it at all.”
The sudden discomfort on Violet’s face was harrowing.
“It’s a lot harder than you first anticipated, I know.” He hadn’t meant to be gentle with her—had been trying this whole time to scare her off, not ease her fears—but he knew the pained look of a child realizing the world was crueler than they’d anticipated, and he couldn’t stop his impulse to soothe that aching, especially when the child in question had clearly already seen her share of hurt. “You get used to it, though; find ways to make it work.”
Violet chewed on her lip, bouncing her shoulders like she could throw off the hardships of vampires if she shrugged enough. As obstinate and abrasive as she was, she didn’t seem like the type who could find it in herself to actually do so. Though neither had Rahil’s youngest, until suddenly it was too late. Violet caught him looking at her—imagining a different child in her place—and huffed at him. “How doyouget your blood, then?”
“Mostly hookups,” Rahil admitted. He held up his phone, tapping the screen back to life and flipping through the current match’s profile: all mundane gym shorts with half the man’s face covered in a camera flash. “It’s dangerous though, see, because you have to judge whether someone is going to be safe based on limited interactions, and no matter how certain you are, you’re not always right.” Rahil hummed. “I suppose it’s like being a woman on a dating app, except when your date kidnaps or murders you, people care even less.”
“Fuck that.”
“Indeed.”
She held out her hand. “Can I…?”
He offered her the phone, but as she navigated effortlessly back to the main feed, the profile in view switched to one far more suggestive. Rahil snatched the device back. “You know, actually, maybe this is not a good show and tell scenario.”
Violet smirked in a way that should have been illegal for anyone her age. “You afraid I’ll see a dick?”
Rahil cleared his throat, tucking the phone away entirely—into the pocket furthest from the literal child, just for good measure. “I think this is a conversation you should be having with your father.”
Blowing out air through her lips, she leaned back onto her elbows. “I don’t thinkDadwants to see dicks.”
“To be fair, most men don’t,” Rahil pointed out.
“No, I mean, Dadlikesdicks—or men, I guess—he just doesn’t want toseethem. You’d think he’d be over Mom by now, but he’s still being all touchyabout dating.”
Boy, had this conversation really gotten away from him. “And um, how does that make you feel?”
“You’re not my therapist.” Violet scowled at him as she said it, like she didn’t have a much higher opinion of her actual therapist, though Rahil couldn’t imagine most rebellious probably-preteens felt differently. She turned her attention to her feet, pointing and flexing her floral-covered Converses. “So, howdoessomeone get blood if you’re like…”
“A child?”
“Ateenager.”
“I don’t have any direct experience; I was already an adult when I turned.” How functional an adult was debatable, but Rahil did not need to be having that conversation with Violet of all people. For her sake, he gave it genuine thought, nodding as he finally answered, “You would need to have someone in your family who you know will always be there for you, who’s willing to give up parts of their own life to make sure you’re safe and healthy and happy. And preferably a phlebotomist. Drinking directly from the skin gets weird if you’re not into the person.” Not that it stopped him from accepting his housemates’ offers when he couldn’t find anything better. At leasttheyweren’t family.
