Yes. He’d used this word for it too. The thirst attacked his throat. The prey drive attacked his thoughts. The genetics coded into his essence attacked him, made him into something he didn’t want to be. Tai nodded.
“By the time we got to Slake It Off, I was…bad.”
“Did you try to escape the car?”
“What? No, of course not.”
“Then what do you mean bybad?”
Was Peter trying to provoke him? He didn’t seem to be. Tai latched a hand onto the back of his neck and wrestled for words. “I mean I had an attack. A bloodfiend attack. I wanted to hunt them. Humans.”
“What happened to you physically?”
“You should already know.” Tai jabbed a finger at him. “If you’re a bloodfiend, it happens to you too.”
Peter nodded, still frustratingly serene. “It does happen to me. But you might experience it differently than I do. I just need to know where you’re at, Tai.”
“Okay.” Both hands latched onto his neck, and he bent forward to plant his elbows on his knees. He didn’t know why he needed this posture, as if his body were too heavy to stay upright. “Physically I…uh… Cold. Ice cold. Needles all over my skin, especially my scalp, neck, shoulders, arms. And…and.”
The hand settled on his shoulder again. “Throat closing?”
Tai nodded without straightening up. He couldn’t now.
“Okay. Good job. Let’s give you a minute.”
He hated that Peter was right, but he did need a minute. He slowly sat up, took a deep breath, the air clean and damp with the spray of the falls. At last he looked at Peter, held his gaze this time.
“So do our experiences match or not?”
“The cold, yes. Tightening in my throat, yes. The feeling of needles across your skin, that’s an indication to me of certain things we can talk about.”
“Don’t be vague. Just tell me,” Tai said.
“I think you’re missing some tools, Tai. Ways to process, cope, whatever you want to call it. I’m sorry you’ve reached thirty-two years of age without more help, but you’re still just a kid, relatively speaking.”
Without more help.Was Peter saying it didn’t have to be this hard? “What tools?”
“Do you know why this happens to us?”
Tai loosened one hand from his neck and pushed it up the back of his head into his hair before lowering it to his side. The other hand stayed clamped on his neck, though he wasn’t sure why. “Of course I know. It’s a genetic disorder.”
“Right, but what are the traits of the disorder?”
Tai was lost again. He shook his head, let out a human-sounding sigh that managed to relax his shoulders a little. “The trait is bloodfiend attacks.”
“No,” Peter said.
“…No?”
“The genetic disorder causes atypical physiological traits, andthose traitscause the attacks. For example, your body metabolizes blood faster. Did you know that?”
Tai stopped breathing. His heart seemed to stop too. A faint roaring began in his ears as he stared at Peter, as he tried tounderstand. Physiological traits. Concrete, specific functions of his body. He ought to know this, but he didn’t.
Peter nodded, not needing Tai’s answer. “Do you get thirsty in less than twenty-four hours?”
Tai still couldn’t move or speak, could only stare at Peter.
“Personally I slake every twenty-two hours, but I’ve known bloodfiends who can only go nineteen or twenty. The first tip I’ll give you is this: listen to your thirst. Slake when you first get that parched feeling.”
