Jane frowned. “I never sent Tina an e-mail like that.”
“If you didn’t ask her for the list of Ophelia’s contacts, who did?”
She shrugged. “It’s probably some shady business associate of Ophelia’s trying to make new Facebook friends or something. Just make a note in the file about your recollections of the situation.”
“Will do.”
“Oh, and speaking of shady friends, I noticed that you added another asterisk to the nope list?” Jane held up a sheaf of paper from my out-box. “And a note. Dr. Fortescue has a PhD in ‘babbling loony.’ ”
“I stand by my statement,” I told her primly.
“I didn’t know you could get a degree in ‘babbling loony.’ ”
“It’s one of those lesser-known majors,” I said. “Like French literature or pottery.”
“This guy will not stop.” She sighed even while she laughed. “He’s been calling me for months. And he doesn’t seem to get that I don’t have room in my schedule for every babbling loony who has something to sell us. He’s like a telemarketer who just won’t give up. And I say that as a former telemarketer who gave up very easily.” When I arched my brows, she shook her head. “Long story.”
“Well, you might want to let security know that he’s threatening to show up and wait for you in the parking lot so you’ll have to listen to him.”
Jane snorted. “Well, let him try. Parking-lot fisticuffs in this town tend to go badly for nonvampires.”
“How about I let the security office know that he’s planning on waiting for you in the parking lot?”
Jane smiled indulgently at me. “I’ll let them know. Trust me, I’ve learned not to take chances with these things.”
“Thank you. I feel better now.”
Jane put her hand on my shoulder. “No, thank you. You’re doing a really good job here, Meagan. My schedule has never been so well organized. Your e-mails are clear and concise, without overloading me with information. And you always remember to stock my office mini fridge with those single-serve packets of Hershey’s Blood Additive that I like so very much.”
I grinned at her. “Thanks, Jane.”
The elevator dinged. She smiled warmly. “And to reward you for all that hard work, I think you deserve to go on a little outing.”
I groaned. “Every time you use that voice, I end up learning a life lesson.”
I turned to see Libby, the sweet blond soccer-mom vamp. She sped up as she approached Jane, practically skipping as she threw her arms around her.
“Hey!” she cried. “It’s official! Thanks to all of the clients you recommended me to—Southern Comforts, Sam Clemson’s contracting business, the free clinic, and Gabriel’s random businesses—I have replaced all of the customers I lost after I was turned, plus at least twenty percent. And because vampires value honest bookkeepers, I can charge them more money. I’m financially solvent! I can afford to buy Danny the brand-name macaroni and cheese and everything!”
“Aw, congratulations, sweetie! I’m so happy for you.” Jane sighed, squeezing Libby tightly.
“And Meagan! It’s so good to see you, too,” Libby said, pulling me up from my chair and dragging me into a long embrace.
“You . . . are a hugger,” I said, patting her back and shooting Jane an exasperated look. Jane just snickered. “Everybody in the Hollow just loves to hug.”
“I thought we could go for coffee,” Libby said. “There’s a really cute place across the street that does vampire-friendly mixed drinks.”
I glanced toward Jane. “I’m not sure I’m allowed to leave the building. And it might make Sammy jealous if I drink someone else’s caffeine.”
Jane shook her head. “As long as you stay with Libby, I’m happy. Just take the rest of the night off. You earned it. Libby’s going to drive you home.”
An outing? Without Jane’s or Gabriel’s supervision? No strained conversation with Ben on the drive home? Yes, please. I didn’t care if Libby tried to recruit me into a multilevel marketing scam, I was on board. I locked down my computer and grabbed my purse.
Libby looped her arm through mine. “Come on, my treat.”
I cast an uncertain glance over my shoulder as Jane waved cheerfully and walked into her office.
“Jane thought it might be a little easier for you to relax around me,” Libby said as she hit the elevator’s ground-level button.
“Why?”
“I had my own interesting transition into vampire life, which Jane had to jump in and oversee. Let’s just say that finding a sire and arranging to be turned on supernatural Craigslist is not an appropriate life choice, even if you are terminally ill. Jane had to take me on to foster, too, because she didn’t trust my sire. Which turned out to be a good thing, because he wasn’t all that trustworthy. And I found his presence to be kind of romantically confusing. Also, my human boyfriend wasn’t crazy about him.”
I soundlessly mouthed, Wow.
Libby laughed, then led me out of the Council building and across the street to a cozy little coffee shop called Perk-U-Later, chatting all the way about the boost in clients that Jane’s recommendations had granted her at-home bookkeeping business. There were other similarities in our histories. Libby grew up not knowing who her father was, raised by a single mother who worked all the time, feeling isolated from other kids by nature of having to grow up faster than they did. The difference between us was that Libby was grown when her mother died, and she’d had something of an adult human life before she herself died. She’d married (unhappily), had a son (happily), and been widowed (no comment) before she’d been diagnosed with the late-stage cancer that forced her into vampirism. She’d chosen this unlife because she couldn’t leave her son behind without parents. I liked to think that if the semitruck had given my mom options, she would have made the same choice. Libby’s history made me trust her a bit more, despite this strangely forced coffee-based playdate.
Of course, the minute she brought up Danny, she pulled out her phone to show me pictures of her son, a sunny, towheaded boy grinning goofily into the camera from a pumpkin patch. I scrolled through several shots, most of them featuring her little boy being adorable. In the final picture, Danny was dressed as a matador and had his arm slung around a little boy in a simulated sumo fat suit. I held the phone up.
“Context is important,” Libby said, nodding. “School play.”
“Ah.”
I dragged my finger across the screen and found a shot of Libby and Danny and Danny’s de-sumo’d friend sitting on some porch steps. A big blond man with a thick beard and full tattoo sleeves peeking out from under his T-shirt had those arms wrapped around Libby and the boys. They were positively beaming at the camera, like an ad for the Council for “Nontraditional but Happy Supernatural Family Values.”
I turned the camera toward her and smirked. “Nicely done.”
“Well, some aspects of vampire life have been a little easier than others. That’s Wade. Good Lord, that man. Makes up for every argument with my late husband over our nonexistent sex life, diaper changes, living less than a mile away from his parents—just everything.”
“How do you do it?” I asked. “You have the same sort of background I do, and you make it look so normal. The kid, the human boyfriend, after-hours business. I always feel like I have this ‘Tragic Backstory’ stamp on my forehead.”
“I choose to make it normal.”
“Because the power has been inside of me all along?” I asked, pausing to sip my bloodychino. “All I have to do is click my heels three times?”
“No, smartass. I choose to make it normal by not dwelling on the things I can’t change, like my relationship with my mother or my husband, and focusing instead on what I can do to make my life better—for me and for Danny. I understand the feeling that it’s safer to pull up the rope ladder and isolate yourself, b
ut you can’t do that now. Vampires, for all our solitary ‘children of the night’ crap, are social creatures. We need that support system, and you just happened to land right in the middle of one of the best support systems you could ask for. You should take advantage of it. Even if it makes you uncomfortable.”
“I will try.”
Libby gave me a speculative look. “Well, I think it’s time you headed home.”
“I know, I know, you’ve got to drive me.”
“Actually, no, I think you should walk back alone. I’ll tell Jane that after we talked I drove you home.”
“I’m sorry, what?” I coughed up part of my coffee back into the cup. Classy. “Is this a trick?”
“I know what it’s like not to trust yourself, not to be trusted. I think you need to take a walk. Be out in the world and prove to yourself that you can get from point A to point B without hurting anyone or getting hurt yourself.”
“Still feels like a test,” I told her. “Jane will be pissed if she finds out.”
“Well, if Jane asks, I have some parenting experience I’m going to fall back on to justify my decision. Or I will run. Running also sounds good.”
I stood, hooking my purse over my shoulder. “Thanks, Libby.”
Libby’s hand shot out, catching my wrist before I could walk away. “If you screw me over here, I will deploy my mom guilt in ways you can’t even imagine.”
“Thank you for the warning.”
9
New vampires need quiet time to themselves to help gain perspective. But don’t call it “time-out.” They find that very insulting.
—The Accidental Sire: How to Raise an Unplanned Vampire
I didn’t feel completely safe until I’d gotten several blocks from the office, and not just because I didn’t want Jane to see me wandering around unchaperoned. Dr. Hudson was still lurking out there somewhere with his medical instruments of terror.
The farther I walked, the more I felt the weight on my shoulders slip away. I’d forgotten what it was like to choose which direction I would walk, how quickly I would get somewhere. The stars above seemed to twinkle a little brighter. The air smelled . . . well, OK, it still smelled like car exhaust and doughnut grease, but still, it was nice to be outside.
I had about twenty miles before I reached River Oaks. When I left the city limits, I sped my pace up to a jog, heading off the county road and cutting across the woods. I grinned to myself as the few remaining leaves on the trees brushed over my head. I carefully picked my way over the roots and fallen limbs I could spot so easily in the dark.
I felt like Little Red Riding Hood, skipping through the woods. But the Big Bad Wolf could suck it. He was no threat to me. I was the apex predator here, in the dark. Unless Jed did that mutant shark thing again. Because I was sure sharks trumped vampires.
Libby had been right. I needed this. I needed a little bit of space, some time to think, without worrying about whether Jane could hear me. In the distance, through the trees, I could see a weird, rounded shape against the branches. A water tower? What kind of weird-ass town put their municipal water supply out in the middle of nowhere?
Still, I bet the view from up there was pretty fantastic, even better than the sights we saw from the tops of Jane’s trees. I climbed up the rusty rungs of the ladder, taking two steps at a time without much effort. I could feel the tower swaying ever so slightly as I moved around the catwalk. I could see the whole town from up here, every tiny glowing light, like a little galaxy.
I rounded the tower, pleased to see an old-fashioned drive-in theater, the screen just visible on the horizon. It was close enough that I could see Brendan Fraser’s face smiling at me through the darkness. I gasped, sinking to the metal grate and hanging my arms over the rail.
Just as I got comfortable, my purse started buzzing. It had been so long since I’d carried a cell phone I almost panicked. I couldn’t remember how the damn thing was supposed to work. The fact that it was basically a preschooler’s toy phone complicated matters. I hit the giant green button to accept the call. Ophelia’s voice came echoing out of the receiver.
“Hello? Meagan? I do not appreciate you ignoring my attempts to respond to your maddeningly vague e-mail. You could at least pick up the phone.”
“Hey, Ophelia, sorry. I’m just struggling with my Fisher-Price phone.”
Ophelia snorted. “Jane did issue you the KidPhone, then? I told her that was too cruel, even to me.”
“Yeah, yeah, you’d think with buttons as big as those, I’d be able to use it, yadda, yadda. Why am I doing your snarky work for you?” I sighed. “And thanks for calling me back. I know my e-mail was vague, but I didn’t want to set off the Council alarms.”
“Ooh, subversive. You surprise me, Meagan. Fine, I’ll bite. Why am I calling you?”
“I was going through your probationary file.”
“Intrusive,” she commented.
“And I saw this e-mail that you sent Jane, a little bit before I was turned.”
“Meagan, I send out a lot of e-mails.”
“I believe you told Jane that it was none of her blanking business who you blanking had contact with when it wasn’t on the blanking campus?”
“Oh, yeah, I do remember that. I took particular delight in using the f-word as all of the parts of speech.”
“Good for you, but can you tell me what Jane did to deserve such a display of profane grammar?” I asked.
“Tina asked me for a copy of all my contacts in the area. She said Jane asked her for it. I sent my masterwork of obscenities . . . And now that you mention it, Jane responded in an e-mail that she didn’t know what I was talking about. I thought she was simply being obtuse, but then . . . I got distracted with Jamie and the mixer and your situation, and I forgot all about it. That’s not like me.”
“You’ve had a lot on your mind,” I told her.
“I juggled illegal business transactions, working for a shadow government, and raising my sister alone, while looking completely fabulous. I think I can handle my freshman year.”
I tried for a placating tone. “You are a total badass. I want to be you when I grow up.”
“Of course you do. Everybody wants to be me.” She sniffed.
“And so modest, too.”
“Meagan, if I’ve taught you anything during our too-brief friendship, it’s that modesty is for losers,” she said. “I’m assuming Jane has you documenting my rudeness in triplicate, so the Council can hold it over my head?”
“Actually, no, it’s just not adding up. There’s a missing link in the communication chain, and it’s driving me crazy.”
“Well, if I can help in any way, let me know. It’s been downright tedious without you here. I mean, I enjoy Keagan and Morgan’s company, but . . . I got used to your being around, that’s all.”
I grinned into the darkness. That was as close as I would ever get to Ophelia saying she missed me.
“Meanwhile, if you need me to come to the Council office for any reason, please just say the word. Between midterms and the police presence on campus, I could use a little space.”
“Police presence?”
Ophelia sounded exasperated. “Ever since that building burned off campus. The remains found in the basement were vampire, apparently. So the police, naturally, are focusing on the most concentrated population of vampires in the area. And because of my history, they’ve taken a particular interest in questioning me. They seem to think I had something to do with it.”
“You . . . didn’t have anything to do with it, did you?”
She deadpanned. “Meagan.”
“I’m just asking!”
“I would never leave that sort of evidence, honestly. It’s like you barely know me.” Ophelia’s voice trailed off. On the other end of the line, I heard a door open, followed by two distinct thumps, like s
hoes hitting the floor, and the rasp of a zipper. Ophelia gave a little gasp.
“Augh, Jamie is there, isn’t he?” I groaned. “You have to warn me when you start messing around like that! So I can immediately hang up!”
“Then you should probably hang up now,” Ophelia whimpered.
“Gross. When you’re done, tell the girls I said hi.” I hit the big red end button and dropped the phone into my bag. And then I bathed my hands in sanitizer, because that would make a big difference.
“I need new nonpervert friends,” I said to myself, sighing and bumping my head against the railing.
So Tina told Ophelia that Jane asked for a list of Ophelia’s contacts. Jane didn’t know who asked for Ophelia’s contacts list but knew it wasn’t her. Ophelia sent it but didn’t know why anyone would want it. Jane and Ophelia had no reason to lie. That left Tina, the same Tina who seemed to have trouble counting vampires, who couldn’t possibly be as adorably clueless as she pretended to be. But why would she want a list of Ophelia’s contacts? Maybe she wanted to have some sort of intervention-style confrontation with Ophelia about her rude treatment of the roommate who kept stealing Ophelia’s body wash?
Why wouldn’t this problem just unknot itself?
I grumbled, focusing on the screen in the distance. My mom had loved this movie. Mrs. Winterbourne. It wasn’t even one of Brendan Fraser’s big hits, but it was her favorite of his because it was just so dang sentimental, with its twists and turns and impossibly happy ending. We’d curl up on the couch on her rare nights off and enjoy a good mid-’90s romantic comedy and some microwave popcorn.
Even though I couldn’t hear the dialogue, it was nice to sit here and watch something that reminded me of home, listening to the wind move through the leaves. I was relaxed. I was untroubled. I was not worried about someone dumping liquid silver on me in the name of science, which was a nice change of pace.
It lasted all of ten minutes.
I felt, then smelled Ben, all bay leaf and citrus, before I sensed the minute vibrations of him climbing up the ladder. I heard him grunt quietly as he leaped from the ladder to the platform. I rolled my eyes and leaned my forehead against the metal railing, praying to Oprah for strength.