He let out short surprised laugh. “I think my mother managed.”
“Are your mom and dad vampires, too?”
“No, I am something.” The laughter died. “different.”
I wanted to ask more, but storm clouds had invaded his face again. It would have to be a question for another time.
“What else can you do, other than be ridiculously fast and strong?”
“Every sense you have, we also have. But it’s amplified. Our smell, sight, hearing, touch, all of it is far more superior.”
“Like synthetic drugs might do for sport stars?”
“No.” He shook his head. “Not even close,” he paused and looked steadily across. “If you take every animal’s unique abilities—like the strength of a gorilla, speed of a cheetah,hearing of a bat, the eyesight of eagles, the smell of a bear—and amplify it, you may come close to what we are capable of.”
“So, you’re like the world’s best predator.” As I said the words a large rock settled uncomfortably in my gut. I realized the dire consequences of a species with those kinds of skills.
“We are.”
“And I take it you can mind control?”
“Yes, and mind read.”
His words spread through my body like burning fire. “What!”
Karson laughed. “Are you worried about what I might have seen, Amelia?”
“Yes. It’s a breach of privacy—you can’t just go around peeking into people’s heads.” The fire glowed on my cheeks. I wanted to crawl under the seat and hide.
“Relax, I cannot read yours. I only get brief snippets when your guard is down, not that I haven’t tried.” He smiled at that thought. “And it’s not like I can help it. I tune it out most of the time, all that incessant, mundane chatter fragiles dwell on is preposterously boring.”
“Ethan, can he read minds too?” I gulped.
“Yes, why is that a concern for you?” Now he sounded annoyed.
“Because I live with him.” I threw my hand out in bewilderment of why he would need to ask.
“It appears he cannot read you either.”
I felt a rush of relief. I wondered why the question about Ethan shifted his mood, but I had more questions I needed answers to, so I ploughed ahead. “How often do you need to . . .” I paused, the words dropping away.
“Drink?” He filled in for me.
I nodded, almost reluctant to hear the answer.
“I can go a month if I have to, but I drink every night if I can.”
I glanced at him again, his mood had lightened as if the thought of drinking blood was no big deal to him. I guessed it wasn’t, it was as normal to him as it was for me to eat dinner. I wanted to ask the trap door question. Did he kill the people he drank from? Who in Church Heights did he feed from—Rebecca—all those missing people? I opened my mouth to speak, the words rolled around on my tongue and brought a bitter taste to my mouth and resounding trepidation to my mind. I closed it again, didn’t ask. I decided I didn’t want to know.
“But you eat food too, do you need both to survive?”
“No, we do not need to eat food at all, we evolved over the years to do it so as to be able to go unnoticed by your kind. Food is for social purposes, it’s not something I partake in very often, only blood keeps us alive.” He looked across, taking stock of my response. “Are you hungry?”
I thought it a peculiar question, given our topic of conversation. “We talk about blood and you ask me if I’m hungry?”
“That would be a no then, I assume?”
“Yes, Karson, that’s a no. Are you?”
