to admit it. Unlike Mirafield, there seemed to be an unnerving equality among the humans, synthetics, and mutants at Ruby's prison compound. Kora didn't like it but she doubted anyone would sympathize with her, especially not Vaughn. “I hate violence of any kind, especially when it involves my creatures.”
Vaughn climbed to his feet. “I don’t think you should judge me from what you’ve seen tonight. It's not like I'm going around beating everyone up on a daily basis.”
“Even if you only harmed another once every fifty years, it wouldn't make a difference. It still means you're a danger.”
“Why do I have the feeling you were decided against me before you even came out here?”
“Maybe I was. I find it hard to stomach that I ever made something as out of control as a vampire.”
Before Kora could flinch, Vaughn’s face was level with hers. This close, she could clearly see his fangs, smell his skin, and see flecks of green burning through the brown in his eyes. “I’ve found that hard to accept myself, but then I didn’t have a choice, did I?” he snarled. “You made a deranged woman her fantasy vampire and then took off to Mirafield. I hope it was worth all the money they paid you.”
Vaughn turned without another word and disappeared into the mist rising off of the water. Kora wanted to call out to him, but forced herself to remain quiet. In her gut she knew that she hadn't made Vaughn for Ruby, but the only alternative was that she had made him for herself; this possibility was even more horrifying. Was she really as tacky as some of her clients or even— oh god, it was painful to think it —Ruby? She knew the answer was yes because if she was back in her lab, right this minute, she couldn't design a synthetic that fit her own tastes more than Vaughn. As much as she hated to admit it, Gus was right. Vaughn was delicious.
Chapter 11
Ivan had just taken the first puff of his cigar when Caleb appeared in the doorway dressed in gigantic pajamas covered with smiling trains. He doused his cigar and dropped it in the tray for later. “You all ready for bed?” he asked in a high voice. Caleb nodded, lifted Ivan up, and carried him down the hall to his own room. Ivan noticed a crayon drawing on the floor that showed a stick-figure girl with a shock of bright blue hair sitting in a birdcage.
“I’ll read you five books and then its time to go night-night,” said Ivan, reaching for one of Caleb’s favorite stories about a naughty boy who sails to a land of huge, frolicking monsters. Ivan read for an hour, tucked comfortably into a crevice of Caleb’s mountainous arm. When the giant was asleep, he climbed down off the bed and turned on a nightlight shaped like a Ford Mustang.
He returned to his bedroom and had just relit his cigar when he heard a loud pounding in his closet. Ivan scrambled through the racks of clothes until he determined which wall was in peril, then furiously cleared away pyramids of shoeboxes. He ran back and forth from his closet to his bed with armloads of his most precious outfits. Then a loud mechanical sound burst from behind the wall and, moments later, a grinding saw blade tore through the wood, spewing bits of sheetrock in all directions. The saw cut a tall rectangular hole that fell forward onto the floor with a loud bang.
“Ivan,” said a gruff voice. A flipperish hand reached out and gripped the side of the rough opening and pulled through a tremendous flannel-clad body with a heavy tool belt cinched around its waist. Humphrey studied Ivan through globular eyes set high on a bulbous head. Though he didn’t have tusks, Ivan’s eldest brother resembled a walrus more than a man, with great flabby jowls that nearly hid a mouth that was constantly chewing on cookies he kept stashed in his pockets. “Someone blocked off the tunnel door.”
“I’m afraid I did,” said Ivan. “I asked Ramon to expand my closet several years ago.”
“Then I’ll just have to
Vaughn climbed to his feet. “I don’t think you should judge me from what you’ve seen tonight. It's not like I'm going around beating everyone up on a daily basis.”
“Even if you only harmed another once every fifty years, it wouldn't make a difference. It still means you're a danger.”
“Why do I have the feeling you were decided against me before you even came out here?”
“Maybe I was. I find it hard to stomach that I ever made something as out of control as a vampire.”
Before Kora could flinch, Vaughn’s face was level with hers. This close, she could clearly see his fangs, smell his skin, and see flecks of green burning through the brown in his eyes. “I’ve found that hard to accept myself, but then I didn’t have a choice, did I?” he snarled. “You made a deranged woman her fantasy vampire and then took off to Mirafield. I hope it was worth all the money they paid you.”
Vaughn turned without another word and disappeared into the mist rising off of the water. Kora wanted to call out to him, but forced herself to remain quiet. In her gut she knew that she hadn't made Vaughn for Ruby, but the only alternative was that she had made him for herself; this possibility was even more horrifying. Was she really as tacky as some of her clients or even— oh god, it was painful to think it —Ruby? She knew the answer was yes because if she was back in her lab, right this minute, she couldn't design a synthetic that fit her own tastes more than Vaughn. As much as she hated to admit it, Gus was right. Vaughn was delicious.
Chapter 11
Ivan had just taken the first puff of his cigar when Caleb appeared in the doorway dressed in gigantic pajamas covered with smiling trains. He doused his cigar and dropped it in the tray for later. “You all ready for bed?” he asked in a high voice. Caleb nodded, lifted Ivan up, and carried him down the hall to his own room. Ivan noticed a crayon drawing on the floor that showed a stick-figure girl with a shock of bright blue hair sitting in a birdcage.
“I’ll read you five books and then its time to go night-night,” said Ivan, reaching for one of Caleb’s favorite stories about a naughty boy who sails to a land of huge, frolicking monsters. Ivan read for an hour, tucked comfortably into a crevice of Caleb’s mountainous arm. When the giant was asleep, he climbed down off the bed and turned on a nightlight shaped like a Ford Mustang.
He returned to his bedroom and had just relit his cigar when he heard a loud pounding in his closet. Ivan scrambled through the racks of clothes until he determined which wall was in peril, then furiously cleared away pyramids of shoeboxes. He ran back and forth from his closet to his bed with armloads of his most precious outfits. Then a loud mechanical sound burst from behind the wall and, moments later, a grinding saw blade tore through the wood, spewing bits of sheetrock in all directions. The saw cut a tall rectangular hole that fell forward onto the floor with a loud bang.
“Ivan,” said a gruff voice. A flipperish hand reached out and gripped the side of the rough opening and pulled through a tremendous flannel-clad body with a heavy tool belt cinched around its waist. Humphrey studied Ivan through globular eyes set high on a bulbous head. Though he didn’t have tusks, Ivan’s eldest brother resembled a walrus more than a man, with great flabby jowls that nearly hid a mouth that was constantly chewing on cookies he kept stashed in his pockets. “Someone blocked off the tunnel door.”
“I’m afraid I did,” said Ivan. “I asked Ramon to expand my closet several years ago.”
“Then I’ll just have to
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