This embryonic curiosity, was this a sign of Max’s interest? Oh please, oh please let that be the case.
More than happy to answer, Zander broke it down into layman’s terms. “All right, so you’re aware there’s multiple generations of vampires?”
“Uh, yes. Although no one can agree on how many.”
“Thirty-two, currently. Your generation isn’t determined by when you were born, but by who your sire is.”
“Sire being…the vampire who turned you?”
“Right. You are the generation after your sire, whatever that is. So for example, if your sire was fourth generation, then you’d be fifth. Now, depending on how close you are to generation zero, the more powerful you are. The further away you get from the first of our kind, the weaker you are. You don’t have the same strength, healing factor, or abilities. The thirty-second generation of vampire is only a few steps away from being human. The only differences being that they heal a little faster and live longer.”
“Oh.” Max pondered for a moment, that quick mind of his turning over these new facts. “I assume it’s rude to ask what generation a vampire is.”
“It can be, depending on the situation. I don’t mind if you ask me, though.”
“So what generation are you?”
“One.”
Max startled, head twisting to look at Zander. “Wait, seriously?!”
His reaction wasn’t atypical, but it still amused Zander. Most humans were beyond startled to learn that about him. Supposedly because he looked so young. They had this idea that generations zero and one should look ancient, for some reason.
“My sire is Fernando. He’s a very good man, one who took a strong liking to me. He turned me—hmmm, seven years ago now. I was twenty-three, just out of college. We met on the racing strip, actually. I had no idea who he was at the time and challenged him to a race.”
“Did you win?”
“Lost utterly, by a good length. He liked that I was gracious about the loss and invited me out to dinner. It was only after the race that I learned who he was. Kicked myself for being hotheaded enough to challenge someone I couldn’t put a name to.
But I went to the dinner. We got along so well, it was like speaking with a friend I hadn’t seen in a long time. There was a feeling of familiarity. He and I crossed paths several more times, racing each other, then he started asking me to come and test his bikes before the races. Within a year of knowing him, he offered to turn me.”
“Just like that?”
“It’s actually rare for him to do so. Fernando is old—very old, as one might imagine. In the entirety of his life, he’s only turned twenty-six people. Myself and one other are the most recent additions to his clan. He hadn’t turned anyone in two hundred years before us. Really, it was telling that he liked me so much he would want to keep me as a son.”
“It does say a lot. What about your biological family?”
“My parents chose not to be turned, although I did offer. My siblings took me up on it. I have two—a brother and a sister.”
“Which makes them second generation? I have that right?”
Max steadily relaxed as they talked, no longer as tense. Zander hid a smile, delighted. “Correct. There’s not a lot of differences between generations one and two, really. You can see the variations if you look hard, but they’re almost equal. It’s similar for most of the tiers. The differences are only noticeable several generations apart. Between zero and four, for instance, is quite noticeable.”
Max gave a thoughtful hum but didn’t respond.
Zander was perfectly willing to let him think. It was a lot of information to take in. He liked how interested Max was in all of this, how he wasn’t asking just to make conversation.
“So you’re not actually that much older than I am.”
“No, I’m not,” Zander confirmed easily. “Did you think I was?”
“I didn’t want to even try and guess, honestly. You can’t tell age by looking at a vampire.”
“True enough. Even I don’t try it. Well, not by sight.”
“There’s another way?”
“Scent. A vampire’s nose is better than a dog’s. We can smell quite a bit.”