I have never heard of a vampire for whom such a feat is possible. Mages, witches… All lose their magic when they are turned. It is, I suspect, part of why a werewolf’s blood is poisonous to us, because to turn them would mean losing their wolf.
“You’re thinking awfully hard,” Maurice says, then lowers his voice. “Is it about my offer?”
“No,” I say, too quickly. We are in the centre of the clan house now and descend the main staircase into what was once a hotel lobby. Vampires and humans bustle about, though most at least nod in my direction when they notice my presence.
Hardly any even look at Maurice, but I believe they are all incredibly aware of him.
Is that why his only contact here seems to be Bel?
“No,” I repeat when we are walking down the hall to my office. “There is just much to contemplate after last night.”
Maurice nods, but the tilt of his head tells me he does not believe me. He sprawls over the sofa once we’re in the office, though for the first time, he pulls his phone out of his pocket and pokes it in much the same way he did last night.
I take a seat behind my desk and open my laptop. I have meetings scheduled for later in the night, but nothing so early. “Do you even know how to use that?” I ask.
Maurice glances at my computer, then back at his phone. “That behemoth? No.”
“I meant the phone you’re holding.”
He shrugs. “Mostly.” He taps it again, and when it chimes, he frowns. “Not really,” he admits, and I can’t help my faint chuckle.
Maurice’s gaze snaps up to mine. I expect him to get defensive, but he just looks down at the phone again, shoulders tensing a little.
“Do you want me to—” I cut myself off. That never helps. Instead, I stand and make my way over to the sofa. Maurice glares up at me, but when it becomes clear I am not going away, he sighs petulantly and moves his legs, allowing me to sit. “What is it you are trying to do?”
Maurice eyes me warily before he presses the device into my hand. “Just wanted to send a message,” he grumbles. “Grant and Asher sent me some, and they were easy to read, but I don’t know how to get them back and I don’t know how to reply.”
There’s no point in asking whether he’s looked up how to use the phone, and they never come with instructions anymore. I pull my own from my pocket and send him a message myself because I don’t want to invade his privacy.
His phone chimes as the message appears, and Maurice’s eyes widen. “Okay,” he says, “I know how to get to that one.”
“Do it.”
He taps the notification and the message opens.
“You can reply here,” I say, showing him how to open the keyboard and type. He’s clumsy, clearly unused to it, but after a minute or so, he has a reply to my briefhello. “Now hit this icon here.”
The message sends, and Maurice’s grin when he sees it on my phone is almost giddy. “It worked!”
“It tends to,” I say, a little dryly, but my tone does not dampen Maurice’s enthusiasm at all. “Now press this here…”
He goes back to the home screen, and I show him how to locate and open the messenger app. I am careful not to read anything on the screen—though I doubt he would risk showing me anything I should not be privy to—and watch carefully as he replies to a message from Asher, then Grant.
His phone immediately buzzes in his hand as though Grant has been waiting for his text. Are they close? I doubt asking will get me any answers.
“Just keep doing that,” I say. “These things are not as intuitive as they would like us to believe, but we can still learn.”
“It’s…” Maurice’s smile slips from his face, and the look he darts at me is somewhat uncertain. “Thank you,” he says, finally, and I shrug one shoulder.
“It’s not a problem,” I reply. “It’s helpful for me too, isn’t it, if you can contact others?”
“Yes.”
“The other apps you have… Just play around with them. I don’t want to say youcan’tbreak it, but it should be difficult.”
“I’ll have the hang of it soon,” Maurice says. His smile returns, muted, and I miss his earlier enthusiasm.
“Well, until they update the software and move everything, and you have to learn it all over again.”
