“Was it Maxine who caved?” I asked more out of curiosity than anything else.
“It was actually Richard,” Joseph said, sounding as surprised as I felt. “He may have hated many things, but his wife wasn’t one of them. He’s how we found out about the tainted water supply.”
“What now?” Liz asked.
“We’re hopeful our scientists will find a cure for this thing, now that we know how and why it’s being spread. In themeantime, we need to get word out to vampires about our new discovery. We’ve already lost too many of our kind,” Joseph said. “The best thing you can do is hang tight. Whatever you do, don’t drink any new blood. Operate under the assumption that all humans are now tainted with the virus.”
32
Before the epidemic, I’d teased my vampire husband for hoarding blood. He’d stockpiled a couple hundred bottles of it below the house, much like a wine cellar, with the explanation that he slept better knowing it was there. I’d said he was like those crazy preppers who stockpiled guns and toilet paper for the apocalypse, which at the time had made him laugh.
Now, I didn’t tease Robert anymore. His reserve of blood was keeping Robert and Liz nourished, and they’d have been in serious trouble had he not had the foresight to prepare. They were rationing the blood conservatively, drinking just enough to fuel themselves each day. Though it was at the front of all our minds, we didn’t dare bring up what would happen if Robert’s blood supply ran out and a cure had not yet been found for the epidemic.
Because of the VGO’s warning about all humans possibly being infected with the virus, vampires now equated drinking blood with playing Russian roulette. Fearing infection, many had stopped feeding altogether. Vampires could survive a long time without blood, though their existence would beuncomfortable; they’d feel lethargic, and suffer saggy skin and sore joints. Psychosis, too, if they starved long enough. However, theywouldstill be immortal, which some vamps saw as a small price to pay.
What many vampires didn’t realize was that their impulse control would weaken the longer they went without blood. Murder rates in every major city on the planet skyrocketed because ravenous vampires were attacking humans. The news each day was rife with strange eyewitness accounts of men, women, and children being snatched right off the street. Humans, their blood inexplicably drained from their bodies, were being found dead in alleyways, abandoned buildings, and even their own homes. Bodies washed up on shorelines.
Then there were the kidnappings. In a chilling conversation, Robert had offered the comparison of humans to crops, which I found frightening yet applicable. Picture for a moment, he’d said, what would happen if suddenly all the food on the planet possibly contained poison—that every meal a human ate might be their last. Imagine, then, how humans would react after finding food they knew for certain wasn’t tainted. They’d hoard it and even fight over it, right? To vampires, finding a virus-free human was the same. These humans were being trafficked, sold like cattle in vampire black markets.
Conspiracy theorists like Martin Pike of Quartzite pointed their fingers at the government, religious cults, serial killers, terrorists, and the old standby, aliens, for the horror that was taking place. They blamed vampires, too, though nobody took the claims seriously. I only knew the real story because of my affiliation with vampires and the VGO, which I was beginning to think wasn’t such a great thing. Sometimes ignorance truly is bliss.
On the other hand, being in the know came with its perks, too. It was later discovered that the blood bank Liz and Roberthad been on their way to visit before they’d been stopped by Joseph had the highest tainted blood supply in California. Thanks to the warning call, they’d likely avoided infection.
The VGO—what was left of them, anyway—had their scientists laboring around the clock trying to remedy the epidemic. Despite Joseph’s optimism, they had yet to find a cure. The mood around vampires was bleak, to say the least.
Though most of us weren’t feeling festive, Robert and I were hosting Thanksgiving dinner at our place for Sebastian, Liz, Joseph, Jerry, and Tim. Dinner would be lots (and lots) of food for very pregnant me and the other humans and, because of the drought, a petite portion of blood for the vamps.
Jerry and Tim were first to arrive. I hadn’t realized it before, but it was the only time Jerry had ever been to Robert’s, though they’d been acquainted for years. “Your home is gorgeous with a capital G,” he said after we’d taken their coats.
Years ago, Robert had purchased one of Jerry’s paintings, which he’d kept in a room he hardly used because of the gruesome nature of the piece. As a human, Jerry had been sold into slavery, and his paintings often reflected the trauma he’d endured. He told me at one of his art shows that he found painting cathartic, and nothing pleased him more than to see his pieces displayed in a buyer’s home. To make Jerry feel good, Robert and I had moved his painting to the entryway, pretending as if that’s where it was always kept.
He was delighted. “Oh, my painting! Front and center, too,” he gushed. “I’m flattered.”
“We do love it,” Robert and I said, which technically wasn’t a lie. Why not take the opportunity to make someone happy if you can?
Next to arrive was Sebastian. He’d brought a chocolate cake with him, plus a giant bouquet of sunflowers. He presented both to me, shyly explaining, “I’m sorry if this isn’t the norm. It’s beena long time since I’ve been invited to someone’s home for Thanksgiving. For any meal, really.”
Touched by his sweet vulnerability, I teared up a little.
His hand fluttered to his chest. “Oh, no, did I do something wrong?”
I waved away my grandfather’s worry. “Pregnancy hormones. This is all so perfect. Really,” I said, thanking him for the gifts.
Liz and Joseph were last to arrive. Like always, they both looked obscenely gorgeous, though their faces and bodies showed signs of their blood rationing. They looked thinner, less radiant. Almost, I realized with bewilderment, human. When I compared their appearances against Robert’s, I realized he was also starting to look malnourished. I pasted a smile on my lips and swallowed down my uneasiness, not wanting to spoil the mood. No point in worrying about something that was out of my control.
Joseph seemed stressed. “No news,” he said guiltily, as if Robert and I had asked.
“I’m sure you’re doing your best. Tonight is about forgetting our worries,” I told him as I kissed his cheek. Though Joseph probably felt otherwise, nobody blamed him for the epidemic the Nolans had created. At least our group didn’t. If his pinched expression was anything to go by, he was facing flak from frustrated vamps all over the world who didn’t appreciate how hard he’d been working to find a cure.
We gathered in the living room to chat and warm our bones by the fire before dinner. Vampires tended to feel chilly when malnourished, and I was always shivering, pregnant as I was. For the festivities, Robert had donated a few ounces of blood from his reserve and commissioned a local jeweler to create ornate drinkware that was essentially a thimble at the end of a long stem. A bejeweled thimble made of pure gold, rubies, and emeralds, that was.
Robert distributed the blood to Liz and Joseph while I served Sebastian, Tim, and Jerry Prosecco. Sighing, I poured myself a flute of blood orange-flavored Italian soda, which I told myself was a fancy cocktail when I closed my eyes and sipped it.
We made polite chitchat, doing our best to pretend that the world around us wasn’t falling apart. Though nobody vocalized it, we were in silent agreement that the conversation shouldn’t get too heavy. So, I inwardly cringed when Jerry broke our social contract.
“Robert, sorry to do this to you, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to address the elephant in the room,” he said, folding his hands over his crossed legs primly.
Though vampires didn’t breathe, I could have sworn that everyone, not just the humans, held their breath in fear of what Jerry was going to say.
