“Easy now, sweet thing,” Rees warned. “Frankie is not a monster. Let’s get that cleared up right the
fuck now. It wasn’t what he was that I had beef with. It was him lying about it. Lies are poison.”
Snod’s stomach clenched.
“Like I told you before, Frankie is special,” Rees continued on. “We got through the shit, we got
really close. He told me all about the Order, the ancient vampires still running around—”
“Did he tell you how he was turned?” Snod asked quickly, suddenly sensing an opportunity.
Rees quirked his brows at the interruption, but replied, “Yeah. He told me all about it. I know exactly
what happened. That bastard Maker of his is one sick motherfucker.”
Practically on the edge of his seat, Snod tried to remain casual as he pressed, “Do you know his
Maker’s name?”
“Yeah,” Rees snorted, his brow wrinkling. “Gascard or something. It’s French, I think. Uh, let’s
see...”
Snod waited, tempted to reach over and shake the answer out of him.
“Fuck, I can’t remember,” Rees groaned, waving his hand flippantly. “Look, if you wanna know about
that shit, you need to ask Frankie. It’s not my story to tell.”
“But you’re absolutely sure that you don’t remember the man’s name?” Snod hated how urgent he
sounded.
“Why do you want to know so badly?” Rees snapped back, suspicious.
“Frankie will not tell me,” Snod replied defensively. “He will not tell me anything about how he
became a vampire.”
“If he ever tells you, you’ll understand why he’s not real keen on sharing it,” Rees said quietly. “It’s
not a nice story. I may not remember the name, but I remember what he did.”
Snod sat back in his seat, sullen. To be so close to obtaining that vital piece of information and to be
denied because of an elderly memory was frustrating. He did wonder what had happened to Frankie
that made him hate his Maker so much. It was easy enough to imagine the man as a monster; he was a
vampire, after all.
They drove in silence after that, Snod finding himself hating this particular vampire more than any
other. Not only for the crime of being an unholy beast, but knowing that he had hurt Frankie conjured
up an intense rage he wasn’t sure what to make of.
“Almost there,” Rees said, slowly pulling the ice cream truck through the bustling city streets of
