walks as the living dead until he finds his mate and she bloods him, brings him back to life. Saroya made my heart beat again, made my lungs take breath.” In a husky tone, he added, “Among other things.”
“How do you know it’s not me who’s . . . blooded you?”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Because fate would not slight me so unspeakably. I’d seek a noon-day sun if I were paired with one such as you.”
“Such as me,” she repeated blandly. She’d been mocked too often over her lifetime to take offense. Her skin was as thick as armor.
“Yes, you. An ignorant, mortal Kmart checkout girl.” He took the sharpest knife from his place setting, absently turning it between his left thumb and forefinger.
“Kmart? I should’ve been so lucky. Those jobs were hard to come by. I worked at my uncle’s outfitter shop.”
“Then you’re even worse. You’re an outfitter checkout girl with aspirations for Kmart.”
“Still better than a demon.”
“Saroya’s not a demon,” he grated. “I wouldn’t have one of them either.”
“Oh, that’s right, she’s a goddess . And you’re a vampire. I suppose pookas are real, too. And shapeshifters?” Then her eyes widened. “Is Mothman real?”
In the Virginias, everyone had heard of that demonic winged being, with its red orbs for eyes. There continued to be sketchy sightings of it flying in the gloom and coal dust.
The sheriff who’d taken Ellie down had joked to others that there might have been a Mothman sighting the night of her arrest, an amusing encounter atop isolated Peirce Mountain.
“Everything you’ve ever dreamed is real,” Lothaire said. “Every creature thought to be myth. We call our world the Lore. And for the record, Mothman’s a fuckwit.”
Her lips parted at that. “How come your kind don’t come out to humans?”
“We are punished when we needlessly reveal ourselves as immortals.”
“So all these ‘myths’ are out secretly combing the streets?”
“And running governments, starring in films, infiltrating human monarchies. Your species is notoriously dim and unobservant compared to Loreans, so we roam freely over the earth, gods walking among your
kind.”
A horrific thought struck her. “If you drank my blood, will that make me a vampire too?” Say no, say no, say no.
He exhaled. “If only it were so simple.”
“Oh, thank God!”
The vampire didn’t like that at all. Tension thrummed off him. He pressed the tip of the knife he held against the pad of his right thumb, twirling until blood began to drip.
Silence reigned. “Lothaire?”
He didn’t answer. Drip, drip . . .
She fidgeted with her napkin. The unfamiliar quiet ratcheted up her nervousness.
Prison had been a continual assault on the ears. During the day, inmates banged on the bars, guards stomping up and down steel steps. It sounded like a messy utensil drawer opened and slammed shut repeatedly.
At night, eerie moans of both pleasure and pain echoed down the ward. Screams rang out. The serial killer across the corridor from her had loved to hiss at her in the dark. . . .
Finally Lothaire grated, “I’ve had mortals beg me to change them. Most humans would give anything to become immortal. It’s considered a priceless gift.”
She gazed anywhere but at his new injury. “I would never want that.”
“Never to sicken, never to grow old?”
Ellie had an innate talent for empathy, for putting herself in others’ shoes. Now she imagined what it’d be like to live for thousands of years, as Lothaire apparently had.
How could he savor each day of his life when the supply of them was unlimited? How could he ever experience wonder or excitement? “All I can think is that it’d be wearying.”
Had a shadow passed over his expression?
“So if I’m not already changed into a vampire,” Ellie said, “and it’s not so simple to do, how will you and Saroya get together?”
“I seek a ring. It has the power to transform her into a
“How do you know it’s not me who’s . . . blooded you?”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Because fate would not slight me so unspeakably. I’d seek a noon-day sun if I were paired with one such as you.”
“Such as me,” she repeated blandly. She’d been mocked too often over her lifetime to take offense. Her skin was as thick as armor.
“Yes, you. An ignorant, mortal Kmart checkout girl.” He took the sharpest knife from his place setting, absently turning it between his left thumb and forefinger.
“Kmart? I should’ve been so lucky. Those jobs were hard to come by. I worked at my uncle’s outfitter shop.”
“Then you’re even worse. You’re an outfitter checkout girl with aspirations for Kmart.”
“Still better than a demon.”
“Saroya’s not a demon,” he grated. “I wouldn’t have one of them either.”
“Oh, that’s right, she’s a goddess . And you’re a vampire. I suppose pookas are real, too. And shapeshifters?” Then her eyes widened. “Is Mothman real?”
In the Virginias, everyone had heard of that demonic winged being, with its red orbs for eyes. There continued to be sketchy sightings of it flying in the gloom and coal dust.
The sheriff who’d taken Ellie down had joked to others that there might have been a Mothman sighting the night of her arrest, an amusing encounter atop isolated Peirce Mountain.
“Everything you’ve ever dreamed is real,” Lothaire said. “Every creature thought to be myth. We call our world the Lore. And for the record, Mothman’s a fuckwit.”
Her lips parted at that. “How come your kind don’t come out to humans?”
“We are punished when we needlessly reveal ourselves as immortals.”
“So all these ‘myths’ are out secretly combing the streets?”
“And running governments, starring in films, infiltrating human monarchies. Your species is notoriously dim and unobservant compared to Loreans, so we roam freely over the earth, gods walking among your
kind.”
A horrific thought struck her. “If you drank my blood, will that make me a vampire too?” Say no, say no, say no.
He exhaled. “If only it were so simple.”
“Oh, thank God!”
The vampire didn’t like that at all. Tension thrummed off him. He pressed the tip of the knife he held against the pad of his right thumb, twirling until blood began to drip.
Silence reigned. “Lothaire?”
He didn’t answer. Drip, drip . . .
She fidgeted with her napkin. The unfamiliar quiet ratcheted up her nervousness.
Prison had been a continual assault on the ears. During the day, inmates banged on the bars, guards stomping up and down steel steps. It sounded like a messy utensil drawer opened and slammed shut repeatedly.
At night, eerie moans of both pleasure and pain echoed down the ward. Screams rang out. The serial killer across the corridor from her had loved to hiss at her in the dark. . . .
Finally Lothaire grated, “I’ve had mortals beg me to change them. Most humans would give anything to become immortal. It’s considered a priceless gift.”
She gazed anywhere but at his new injury. “I would never want that.”
“Never to sicken, never to grow old?”
Ellie had an innate talent for empathy, for putting herself in others’ shoes. Now she imagined what it’d be like to live for thousands of years, as Lothaire apparently had.
How could he savor each day of his life when the supply of them was unlimited? How could he ever experience wonder or excitement? “All I can think is that it’d be wearying.”
Had a shadow passed over his expression?
“So if I’m not already changed into a vampire,” Ellie said, “and it’s not so simple to do, how will you and Saroya get together?”
“I seek a ring. It has the power to transform her into a
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