“Aww,” he says. “I had a good joke lined up, Sabby.”
Of course this is what I get for being nice and taking him out of my bag. Under my breath, I hiss at my fake-puppet overlord, “Why did you want to start here anyway?”
“Because this lovely place is where my ship first landed in 1803!” Bulan says. “Back then it was dreadfully boring. The homes had no central heating. Or plumbing. And most witches were still hiding from Puritans in the woods and befriending the Algonquin, who sadly found me terrifying. All I had for company were mermaids and—”
“Stop. I don’t want your life story, Head. I need to know more about vampires so I can pull off a wedding for them. That’s it.”
“History is important.” Bulan sniffs. “It explains why we are the way we are, as a community and as individuals. Aren’t you the least bit curious about me?”
“Nope,” I say. “Mostly because I think you’re having me on. The water line’s over five hundred feet away. People would’ve noticed mermaids flopping across the pavement.”
“Well, obviously the waterline moved over several centuries, Sabby. They’re not here anymore, anyway; they’ve retired to Winter Island. We used to have a pickpocketing merm at the wharf, though. Your grandmother would bring trinkets for her to steal on purpose whenever she felt like cleaning out the junk drawers.
“As for that particular mermaid,” he goes on, hat slipping over his thick eyebrows and heavily lidded eyes, “plenty enough rubbish is carried on the currents these days, so she doesn’t come out much. I hear she’s built a small junk kingdom down in the bay. Also, that she summers in Nantucket.”
“Uh-huh,” I say absentmindedly. Since Bulan isn’t in the mood to supply me with useful information, I allow myself to meander backward into childhood memories. Grandma sometimes took me fishing around the wharf, back before she let her friends attempt to kill me ritualistically. Around the corner was a secret garden I loved. I wonderif it’s still intact, or if the city turned it into a tourist trap with fake headstones and skulls.
“… and that’s why the merfolk and the kelpies are now thickest of friends with the— Sabby, are you listening?”
I lift the floppy, sparkling brim of Bulan’s hat so we can get eye-to-eye.
“I told you, I want to know about vampires. Not this other stuff.”
“Why?” he whines. “I never had to explain anything so basic to Rose.”
“Right, but I’m Sabby. Different person. My mom and grandma loved the idea of vampires and anything that had to do with”—I throw up finger quotes with my spare, un-head-laden hand—“?‘the Community.’ I was never interested.”
“Whyever not?”
“Seriously? Why would I want to know about your super-weird paranormal world when I could break the generational cycle, attend college, and have a safe, predictable life? With steady meals and a couch that has never doubled as a mushroom farm?”
“Rosie always hoped you would outgrow your beige phase.”
Of course that’s what she called it. I turn to avoid the caress of a maple-leaf-addled breeze and say, “Vampires. Now.”
Bulan relents.
“All right,” he says. “Vampires are not, in fact, undead, nor are they humans suffering from an unfortunate medical condition. What are they, then? Their own species—with beautiful bone structure, a gift with words, andterribleosteoporosis. Their teeth can’t handle heavy chomping, so they prefer a liquid diet.”
“You mean blood?”
“True, they are known to drink blood, but not for the reasons you might think! Vampires are quite sustainably minded and they prefer to consume as eco-consciously as possible. Blood is a renewable resource, you see.”
“Unless you over-drink and kill your victim.”
“Oh, certainly,” my spherical tour guide agrees. “It’s best to avoidthat. Alas, vampires have been known to farm humans from time to time. It’s led to a bad reputation.”
“Shocking,” I say. I find myself picturing two vampires in overalls, holding pitchforks: an undeadAmerican Gothic. “What about sunlight? Is that a problem?”
“Indeed. Their skin is about as weak as their bones.”
“That’s rough. They’re not good at much, are they?”
“They do live forever,” points out Bulan.
“Yes, but so do jellyfish.”
“I didn’t know that! I should visit the beach and start a conversation with one soon. See if they have any tips for longevity…”
