“First, you will not feed off me or attack me in the night like some Gothic horror. I have a gun and use it freely.” She held up one finger, the maroon lacquer glinting in the low light. Smoke curled lazily around her in a hazy halo.
“Very American.”
She ignored me, continuing with a second upheld finger. “I’m fluent in Latin, Sanskrit, and Aramaic, and I speak Italian, Hebrew, and Turkish like I was born to it. You will not get anything past me, so you may as well be straightforward from now on.”
Something in my core pulsed, heat flaring deep within parts of me I’d long since considered dead.
“How does a modern American woman come by these languages at such a young age?” It was a rude question, but I couldn’t stop it tumbling free.
Rye granted me a dangerous half smile that thundered through my blood. She glanced briefly at the coffee table between us as if the question landed there with a physical thud. “I’ve been told I have a knack.”
Sharp eyes meeting mine again, locking me in place, she held up a third finger. “Finally, we are partners in this research. That means I tell you what I know.” She jabbed all three fingers atherself before pointing them at me, “and you tell me what you know.” Her thin brows arched high across her forehead, mouth in a thin line. “Sound good?”
“You’ll get no argument from me.” I held my hands up in nonchalant peace. “I look forward to our partnership, Miss Amato.”
She leaned back to her original repose as a fresh knock came at the door.
“Enter,” we called in unison. Rye tilted her head, considering me through the lilting smoke.
William arrived with yet another silver tray. This time, I was relieved to see a steaming bowl of blood, the hospital bag with its remaining contents in a warm towel to the side. The fangling also produced a crystal ash tray, setting it ceremoniously on the arm of Rye’s chair.
“Breakfast,” he said with a deep bow before leaving the room in respectful silence.
I realized it was the easiest interaction I’d had with William yet, and I didn’t wonder if the glowering woman had something to do with it. There, again, was that pulsing heat.
“Don’t let me keep you,” Rye waved. “I’d rather you’re satiated for both our sakes.”
I took a cautious sip this time, relieved at the familiar if slightly stale taste of human blood. I drank deeper, careful not to slurp or spill as that ancient, unearthly hunger rose to meet my offering. This was the compulsion that called to our baser natures, that lengthened our fangs and sharpened our talons, pushing us into the shadows in search of our next sacrifice—our next temporary gift to immortality.
When I was done, Rye stubbed out her cigarette, releasing a final exhale.
“Now,” she said. “Let’s catch each other up.”
Three
The fanglings awaited me outside the hotel at exactly 11:00 p.m. as I’d instructed. They stood in a smart line, shoulders back, fidgeting hands pressed to their sides. Although they all wore their hotel uniforms, I’d dressed for the hunt—all black with athletic shoes. The troll that owned the building I slept beneath in Boston—Pete Landry—once told me I looked like a museum thief. But I found the simple ensemble practical to move in and helpful in camouflaging me in a world that now boasted electric sensor lights on every corner. Some nights I yearned for the faint flicker of a gas lamp and its predatory advantages.
No matter.
“Tonight, we begin your first and most important lesson as a new vampire.” I addressed the nest, voice commanding as I looked from one to the next. I was pleased to see they shifted beneath my gaze, a submissive response I remembered well from my years in the Puritan school—although fanglings were amuch more dangerous sort of unruly than the boys I’d taught basic figures. “Tonight, we hunt.”
Two hands shot up into the air.
“Yes, Alex?” I called on the first.
“Billy said we don’t need to hunt if we aren’t comfortable with it. He said we can feed off the blood bags.” His hair never left his eyes, shielding his gaze no matter which way he gestured.
“Mr. Barlow has tasked me with teaching you to master your powers and learn what your sire would’ve passed to you. Hunting is an integral part of your new life, and you will not always have the luxury of convenience delivered.” I sniffed, nodding to the next fangling with their hand still up. “Bradford?”
“I don’t want to eat anyone.” His voice was deep but gentle, like the push of a great root into the dirt. “And you can call me Ford, Professor.”
I paused, taking in the others. “Do you all echo these sentiments?” Six heads nodded in unison. “I see.” I tapped a finger to my lips in thought. I hadn’t planned for such hesitance in a nest this young. Fanglings were often dangerously ravenous, unable to control themselves in their hunger. But these six seemed content to snack on the vampiric equivalent of microwave meals.
And I still needed a fresh drink, regardless of their discomfort.
“A compromise, then,” I said, steepling my fingers together. “I am not so strict as to force your hands, but the fact remains you must learn how to feed from a living being for your own safety.” The fanglings shifted their weight, scuffling gravel at such intervals as to sound like an orchestra pit at warm-up. Another hand shot up, but I waved it down. “Tonight will serve as demonstration only.”
More hands shot up. I put my hands out to end the matter, shaking my head. “No more questions. Follow me.”
