Chapter Thirty-Four
I woke feeling uneasy. Perhaps it was the last lingering effects of scary dreams featuring fangs, fur, and best friends. I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment, trying to return to blissful oblivion. It didn't come. Finally, with a sigh, I opened my eyes and sat up.
Nik was already dressed and ready for the day. He sat on the white couch reading a book. I moved to the couch and tipped his book so that I could see the title. Gold letters were embossed across the leather binding. They read “Little Women.”
I stared at him for a few seconds, my eyebrows lost up in my swooping bangs. He finally noticed my look. “You run out of things to read in 300 years,” he murmured by way of explanation.
“Wait, 300 years?”
“I believe I am technically 301 years old, though I could have lost count along the way.” He didn’t even look up from his book.
“Shit!” I exclaimed. It was the best response I could think of. This got him to look up. He frowned. He didn’t like women swearing. “That’s old.”
“Indeed,” Nik said in a droll voice.
We sat in silence while I tried to take in the centuries he had seen. I noticed a blood bag on the coffee table, snatched it up, and examined it while my brain ran to places I didn't want to go. I'd always thought my books were good… well, decent. But it seemed like each day produced more occasions for self-doubt. I knew nothing about being a vampire, and in the end, my books were just a few piles of crap shaped into a vague plot. My vampire characters were sheer perfection. Almost gods. They were always beautiful, always fast, always flexible, and always talented.
But now I found myself to be an actual vampire and I wasn't any more beautiful, and though fast, my reflexes were just what they had been before. I just tripped more quickly. It was a huge disappointment to realize I was just the same old me, except now I craved the death of my best friends and would eventually see them grow old and die, while I never aged.
“So… what's on the agenda for today? Kill a few more werewolves or play some Monopoly?” I asked as I ran my fingers through my rumpled, red hair. I wanted to take my mind off the more depressing topics. “So?” I urged when he didn’t look up from his book.
“Huh?”
“Werewolves or Monopoly?”
He chuckled, finally setting his book down. Nik turned around, dangling one arm over the back of the couch so he could look at me seated at the other end of the couch. “As much fun as Monopoly sounds, we need to do a little research on you.”
“Fine,” I pouted as I got up from the couch, leaving my empty blood bag on the table. I pulled out a fresh pair of jeans and a T-shirt that read “I'm not short, I'm fun size.” When I came back from the bathroom fully dressed and my hair in a braid, Nik took a second to read the shirt. He didn't laugh outright, but I thought I saw a glimmer of amusement.
“So,” I began. “How do we 'research' me, and what are you looking for?”
“I figure whatever the reason is that everyone wants you has to do with your ancestry, as Helen pointed out. If the spell needs you or your blood specifically than it means you are the descendant of someone, someone important. Therefore, tell me about your family history.”
I moved to the couch and sat down on the far end, leaning my back against the armrest so I could look at him. “I don't know. My grandparents moved to Olympia shortly after World War I. Their parents were dairy farmers in Wisconsin.” I shrugged.
“Further back than that.”
“Um… we're not really the family history type of people.”
“Well, can we ask your folks or your grandparents? Maybe they know.”
I shook my head, trying to ignore the sudden tightness in my chest and the pressure in my eyes. “All dead.”
Nik hesitated. “Your parents are dead?”
I nodded. “Car accident. My grandparents died when I was pretty young. I don't really remember them,” I added, trying to keep him from asking more questions. I wasn’t ready to share, especially with him.
“Okay… so no help there. What about aunts and uncles?”
I shook my head again. “Both my parents were only children, just like me. I know; we must be a bunch of spoiled brats.”
“Eh, I already knew that about you,” he said as he pinched my toe. He was teasing me, but I didn't really feel like laughing.
“What about family legends.”
I shrugged again, trying to pull my thoughts away from my dead family.
“Funny stories always told at Christmas or whatever?”
I frowned. “There's an old story about one of my ancestors being a magician… or wizard or whatever. Like the real kind.” I paused, thinking of the last time I'd shared this story. “I told Isaac about it… he was very interested. Asked a lot of questions, but I couldn't answer any of them.”
“What else do you know about this story?”
“Nothing. What I've shared is what I know.” My dad used to tell the story to my friends to embarrass me. I'd done my best to block the memory.
Nik sighed and leaned back into the couch. As I shared this revelation, he'd been leaning forward, growing more interested with each word.
After a few silent minutes, he spoke: “I have an idea. Let's go check on your cat.”
The two statements didn't seem to relate, but I chose not to ask. I was starting to figure Nik out—he shared what he wanted, when he felt like it, and not before. I could be patient, I told myself, not really believing the voice in my head. Before leaving, Nik poked his head into the common room. Josh was there, playing pool with the man who had brought my laundry.
Josh left his game to join us. “Where're we going?” he asked before noticing my shirt and laughing aloud. I looked at his shirt which said almost the same thing, though the lettering wasn't hot pink like mine. I'd never expected to see “Travel Size” on a guy’s shirt. Still, it worked for him. Josh was barely taller than me, and at 5'4'' I was hardly a pro-basketball player. He wore the T-shirt well, in his own silly sort of way.
“We're going to Ash's place,” Nik responded once we were finished with our mutual mirth. We followed Nik up to the restaurant. It was already full. From the darkness outside, I realized Nik had allowed me to sleep in. I held my breath as we weaved our way around the viewers. Was there ever a slow night? I figured Sunday night would be at least a little dull. At present, the main portion of the screen displayed an address from the president on the latest crisis. I guess that would draw a crowd. Every speaker I heard was tuned into that channel. I wondered why they even had the other ones on.
At the door, Nik spoke to one of the bouncers who nodded and disappeared. We moved to the curb and waited, rainwater pouring off the roof. I was glad of the wide eaves since I forgot to bring a coat. To my annoyance, Nik noticed and pulled his own leather jacket off. Damn gentleman. Of course, if Jordan had done the same thing I would have been proud of him. Even Isaac would have done so in a less condescending way; at least he would have before the whole bitey-turny episode.
“No thanks,” I said, trying to keep my teeth from chattering. He didn't buy it. Instead, Nik draped the jacket over my shoulders. After a moment of nearly silent protest—not entirely silent, since I couldn't keep my teeth still—I slipped my arms into his long sleeves. I was tired of him taking care of me. I'd been taking care of myself for so long now. Maybe that's why Jordan's warnings against Isaac had bugged me so much.
After a short, cold wait, the bouncer returned with a sedate-looking, black sedan. We piled in, me in the passenger seat, Nik driving, and Josh resigned to the back. I thought about offering the front to Josh, but I imagined this car might be fancy enough to have heated front seats—hell if I'm gonna give up heated seats.
It didn't.