The Next Generation

  Turning my head, I looked over at the man next to me. Strong, brave, and wise, Dad was exactly what I wanted to be when I was older. In a way, I understood Nika’s feelings about guys—Dad set an impossible standard. Would I ever measure up?

  Not wanting to admit that a fearful panic attack had made me lash out at Russell, I bit my lip, then whispered, “It’s hard to talk about. Did you tell your parents everything when you were my age?”

  Dad surprised me by laughing. Shaking his head, he murmured, “No. No, I kept so much from them.” Sighing, he looked down at his hands. “And people got hurt because of it…me included.” Glancing back up at me, his eyes were sympathetic. “I learned my lesson the hard way, Julian. I know it’s difficult, but talking about it is so much better than keeping it inside.”

  Nodding, I took a deep breath…and told him everything.

  It was well into our typical dinner hour when we were finally finished. As Dad put a supportive, chilly hand on my shoulder, my stomach rumbled. We both looked at the gurgling organ, then Dad laughed. “Come on, let’s go see about some food for you.” Smiling warmly at me, he added, “And I could use a little drink myself.”

  “Thanks, Dad,” I whispered as we both stood. I’d been dreading this moment all afternoon, but I felt better after talking to him. I didn’t hate Russell any less, and I definitely still wanted to be with Raquel, but my heart was lighter, and that was enough for now.

  Twisting the doorknob, Dad told me, “Anytime, Julian. It’s what your mom and I are here for.”

  Dad opened the door then, and the sound of the world immediately flooded me. It was overwhelming at first—my body had gotten used to the quiet stillness of my parents’ bedroom—but with some effort, I pushed the cacophony to the back of my mind, where the residual buzzing of life always stayed with me, generally unnoticed. As I walked downstairs with Dad, I allowed Mom and Nika’s voices to reach me. They were in the kitchen making dinner, and the smell of boiling pasta and bubbling cream sauce made my stomach rumble again. So did the tang of fresh blood in the air.

  I couldn’t wait to have a tall, steaming glass of it…and that was exactly why Raquel and I would never work. Nika was right. She would never accept what I was. Deep down I knew that, but I still couldn’t leave her with someone like Russell. She deserved better, even if better wasn’t me.

  I COULD HEAR Dad and Julian exiting the silent bedroom and paused mid-laugh with Mom. She was teaching me how to make Fettuccini Alfredo. The only problem was that Dad was a much better cook than Mom and she was struggling a bit. It didn’t help the matter any that Mom couldn’t taste-test her own product. Being an undead vampire, her body didn’t handle food well anymore. I wasn’t quite sure what would happen if she ate real food, but by the tender look of sympathy that Mom had given Dad when I’d asked, I figured it was bad.

  So I was Mom’s guinea pig as she carefully adjusted the seasonings going into the creamy sauce bubbling away on the stove. It had gone from too bland to too salty in just a couple of teaspoons and I was giggling at Mom’s annoyed expression when Dad and Julian reentered our world.

  We both paused and looked up to where we could hear them. I’d been keeping an emotional “eye” on Julian the entire time he’d been talking to Dad upstairs. I’d wanted to give him privacy, and I’d tried to not pay any attention to the feelings emanating from him, but when he shifted from one extreme to another it was difficult to tune him out. Much like the salt now coating my taste buds, Julian’s mood swings were too overpowering to ignore.

  Mom inhaled a deep breath, and I looked back at her. She had a dopey, lovesick grin on her beautiful face, and I knew it was because Dad was approaching her. Since Dad had “made” Mom into what she was, they shared a special connection. They were drawn to each other. More so than just a couple in love.

  Dad had told me once that when a vampire sired another vampire, a bond was created so that the newly formed vampire and the creator would want to be together. I guess it was so that the newbie didn’t die. Anyway, Dad said the extremeness of the bond depended on the connection the pair had pre-turning. If a stranger was turned by someone, they’d only have a mild interest to be around each other. Mom and Dad had been married at the time. Halina had once told Julian and me that Mom and Dad’s bond had been almost pornographic in the beginning. Thank God it had diminished over time, and was much more subdued now.

  Mom said it was like coming home.

  Mom closed her eyes for a second, then reopened them when Dad stepped into the room. I heard him exhale at the same time Mom did. Ignoring Julian and me for a moment, they stepped toward each other. I glanced at Julian as our parents leaned together and kissed. He smirked at me, shaking his head in amusement. His mood was a lot mellower than it had been upstairs. Whatever Dad had told him had pacified him…for now.

  After a couple of tender kisses, Mom and Dad finally pulled apart. Dad glanced into the pot of pasta sauce and frowned. “That smells…off.” Peeking up at Mom, he cocked a dark eyebrow. “What did you put in there?”

  Her full lip in a pout, Mom pushed Dad’s shoulders away from her. “Just the stuff you told me to.” She pointed to the pot, and Dad cracked a smile. While the tiny grin was full of amusement, the way Dad looked at Mom was unmistakably full of love. I hoped to see a look of such deep adoration directed at me one day. “I topped it off with a dash of salt,” she said.

  Dad looked over at me, his tiny grin growing. Knowing that he was asking me how it tasted, since he couldn’t try it any more than Mom could, I stuck my tongue out and made a “yuck” face. My answer clear to him, Dad twisted back to Mom. “A dash of salt?” he asked.

  Mom shrugged. She had her hair in a ponytail today and one of the long, brown locks was starting to fall out. Dad tucked it behind her ear, then dragged his thumb over her cheek. “Well, maybe a couple of dashes…” she murmured, clearly distracted by his caress.

  Dad chuckled at her admission. “It’s a pinch of salt, Emma.” He lightning-fast grabbed her waist, and she squealed in surprise. “Don’t you know what a pinch is?” he asked, his fingers coming down to squeeze her bottom.

  Mom started laughing and squirming, trying to get away from him. Julian groaned and dropped his head back. His wave of embarrassment matched my own. Good Lord, they’d been married forever, you’d think the honeymoon period would have been over by now. Not with my parents, though. They were still sappy and playful. Outwardly, I acted just as disgusted as Julian, but inwardly, I was filled with longing.

  Covering my face, I peeked at the flirty pair through my fingers. “Uh…guys, impressionable kids in the room. Time to be good role models and all that.”

  Dad stopped kissing Mom’s neck and glanced at me. “Sorry, sweetheart.” He released Mom but gave her such a heated look that she smacked his shoulder and whispered at him to stop. I was pretty sure their bedroom door would be firmly closed tonight. Thank you, Gabriel, for your miraculous vampire-soundproofing.

  Taking over for Mom, Dad made a couple of adjustments to the sauce and had me try it again. Whatever he’d done eased the saltiness, and I gave him a thumbs-up. Dad smirked at Mom, and she rolled her eyes. Chuckling to himself, Dad checked on the noodles while Mom slung her arm around Julian’s waist. The two of them started in on a conversation about school. Mom avoided talking about the fight though. By the meaningful glance Dad gave her, I was sure he would fill her in later, when the two of them were alone. Normally, I hated being left out of the loop, but I already knew what Julian was going through, and I could pretty accurately guess what his conversation with Dad had been like. They were respecting Julian, by discussing the topic in private, and I let them.

  As Julian and Mom moved their conversation into the living room, Dad twisted to look at me. “Okay, I’ve got one child’s troubles under control for the moment. So, do you want to tell me what’s eating you, Gilbert?”

  Smiling at Dad’s reference to one of my favorite movies, I rolled my eyes. “You’re so emba
rrassing…” I muttered, not really meaning it.

  Dad laughed at the look on my face. “Me?” He shook his head; the kitchen lights made a ring of white in the pitch blackness of his hair. It sort of looked like a halo. “You know nothing about being embarrassed. Ask your mom some time about visiting the ranch for the first time.” Mom laughed in the living room, and Dad smiled at her through the wall that separated them. Looking back at me, he asked, “Still mulling over your English paper?”

  Knowing my problems sounded so insignificant compared to Julian’s made me want to cringe. But they were my problems, so they felt big to me. Walking over to the stove with Dad, I lifted the lid on the last pot simmering on the stove. Taking the top off, I examined the deep red, viscous liquid. The small vat of blood was beautiful…in a horror-movie sort of way. It also smelled amazing, better than the Alfredo sauce.

  Turning off the burner, I looked over at Dad watching me. “It’s just…this assignment is supposed to be easy. It’s supposed to be a getting-to-know-you piece, and I have to lie.”

  I ran my finger along the edge of the warm pot, carefully gathering a sample to taste without burning myself. When the edge of my finger was nice and bloodied, I stuck it in my mouth. My fangs immediately dropped. Normally, I had a firm handle on them, holding them up at a more respectable “human” level, but just a small drop of blood in my mouth made them impossible to contain. Blood meant drinking. Drinking meant down. I could stop the reaction about as much as I could stop my heart from beating harder when I exercised. I could, however, immediately pull them back up. But since we were home, I left them down for a bit. It emphasized my point anyway.

  Fangs fully extended, I looked Dad square in the eye. “I’ll always have to lie.”

  Dad’s light blue eyes washed over my face. “Not always, Nika. You don’t have to lie with us. And you won’t have to lie to the person you eventually marry, if you choose to tell him everything, which I hope you do. It’s much easier on your marriage if you’re free to be yourself with your spouse.”

  I gave Dad a crooked smile, an odd thing to do around fangs. “Whoa, who said anything about a husband? I just want to get through high school. Let’s not get carried away.”

  Dad laughed, then nodded. “Thank God.” He gave me a quick kiss on the head, then turned back to his sauce. “I just about had a coronary saying that.”

  Mom laughed in the living room and Dad smiled. Mom always found it funny when Dad referenced his silent heart. He’d had a coronary years ago, and it hadn’t had anything to do with the idea of me getting married. Dad didn’t like going into specifics about it, but he’d told us that a hunter had forced his conversion. And that right there was a huge reason why we lied. Vampires weren’t universally loved; some people wanted us all dead. Hunting us to extinction was one of the world’s most accepted forms of genocide, even if our existence was mythical to most humans.

  I knew the reason. I knew the stakes. It still sucked, though.

  Pulling my teeth back up, I grabbed the handle on the pot brimming with blood. Stepping over to a coffee carafe waiting nearby, I carefully poured the yummy treat inside. We could drink blood cold, but our family preferred it hot. Especially the undead among us. Mom and Dad didn’t generate their own heat. They didn’t need it anymore, but they both enjoyed the feeling of being warm, so they gravitated toward any source of heat they could find. Kind of like lizards.

  “I know it’s important to lie, Dad. I just hate always having to do it.” When my pot was nearly empty, I looked up at him. “And I’m still not really sure what to call you? The last time Arianna was here, I almost messed up and called you Dad.”

  Dad frowned as he grabbed the pot of noodles. Stepping over to the sink, he poured the water and noodles into a strainer and said, “Well, I’m your grandfather’s wife’s brother, who is helping out your mother by staying here with the three of you…only your mom is gone a lot visiting her boyfriend, so my wife and I end up watching you and Julian most nights…”

  I raised an eyebrow, just like he did sometimes. “And in simple terms, that makes you my…?”

  He paused while he thought of an easier way to say all that. “I’m your… That would make you and me… We’d be…” Frowning, he shook his head. “Just call me Teren.”

  With a sigh, I said, “And that’s weird for me to say.”

  Setting the empty pot in the sink, Dad walked over to me. Squatting to look me in the eye, he put a hand on my shoulder. “I know, Nika. I realize that aspects of our lies are strange to talk about, and I realize that you don’t want to have to lie at all, but it’s for the safety of our family…and our family’s security comes first. Always.” Straightening, he added, “And besides, it’s only as odd as it is because the two of you were so young when we moved here, and we’ve been here for a while now. Once we move on, the lie will be simpler. I promise.” Our family didn’t stay in one place for too long—ten to fifteen years max. We’d moved here when I was five years old, so our max time was quickly approaching.

  Dad took my empty pot of blood from me and gave me a comforting smile. “Now, why don’t you and Julian set the table. Dinner is just about done.”

  After dinner, the four of us went for a walk around the neighborhood. It was a ritual we’d started when Julian and I were about ten. Mom said it was for the fresh air, but I think she really just wanted us to have something to do together each night. Something more interactive than all of us staring at a TV for hours. I didn’t mind. Salt Lake was beautiful, and we almost always found something interesting on our walks. With our eagle eyes and ears, we could pick out things most humans missed. I once saw a rabbit chasing a cat through the slats in a neighbor’s backyard fence. Brave rabbit. I hoped it won.

  Mom and Dad held hands while they walked in front of Julian and me. Dad stroked Mom’s thumb the entire time. Julian watched the mutual affection impassively, but there was a wistful happiness inside him. His feelings were full of pride and contentment, just like mine. If children learned by watching their parents, then ours were shining examples of how to keep love alive. Ironic, since they were technically dead.

  I’d heard some of my peers talk about their parents before—about the distance and coldness between them, about how they never wanted to get married if that was how they were destined to end up. Even though I couldn’t talk about it, my parents were the opposite of their experience. It made me want to talk about them even more. I wanted to give my friends hope by using Mom and Dad as positive examples of what marriage could be. But, to the outside world, Teren and Emma were just a fresh, young couple who had only been married for a few years. And, in the lie, they weren’t really related to me anyway.

  I stopped watching Mom and Dad after a couple of blocks, and focused instead on the land around me. Even though I’d been born in California, and returned there a few times a year to visit my aunt, Salt Lake was my home. I was going to miss it when we had to leave in a couple years. Everyone had agreed that we would stay until Julian and I were done with high school, then the entire group would pack up and head to wherever the two of us decided to go to college. We liked to stay together. Safety in numbers, my dad often said.

  Looking around, I thought Salt Lake was the perfect place for a bunch of partial vampires. The city itself was just as mythical and contradictory as we were. According to our geography teacher, this entire area used to be covered by a prehistoric lake. Portions of the city were located on what used to be former beaches, and that was really weird to think about. The city was almost entirely surrounded by mountains—dry and brown rolling ones in the forefront, soaring white monoliths in the background—but it was near-arid here, more like a desert at times. It was just like us, seemingly one thing on the outside, but something else entirely on the inside.

  Even the city’s tourism slogan seemed aimed at our family. Whenever I saw the signs, I chuckled. Visit Salt Lake. Different by Nature. It was so very true for us. We were about as different as you could ge
t—a fluke of nature. Even to full vampires we were a bit of a mystery. A breed of our own, that was what Gabriel called us. It made fitting in anywhere challenging.

  Our path eventually led us to a very familiar house. To our neighbors, this was the place where our “mother” spent all her free time when she wasn’t with us, but in actuality, this was where Starla and Jacen lived. It was a two-story place in a style Starla called “modern.” I supposed it was. With harsh angles, black accents, and huge glass panels that would probably take a non-super-speedy human hours to clean, it stuck out next to the more traditional homes around it. Starla liked that a lot. Even though our nature demanded a little privacy, part of Starla craved the limelight. Having hot clothes, a contemporary home, a sporty car, and, in the eyes of the neighborhood, a much younger boyfriend, was how she stuck out.

  The lights were on as we walked by, and Dad glanced over at the house. We couldn’t feel Starla and Jacen, since they weren’t blood related to us, but we could hear them laughing. Clearing his throat, Dad said, “Good evening, Starla, Jacen.”

  Starla instantly appeared in one of the windows upstairs. She was wearing a short robe that barely covered her rear. A strange mixture of desire and revulsion swept through Julian as he stared at the woman who was genuinely old enough to be our mother. Julian immediately snapped his gaze to me, and his mood shifted to embarrassment. A flush highlighted his cheeks, and we both stared straight ahead. Yeah, sometimes feeling what someone else was feeling was beyond mortifying. For both parties.

  “Evening, vamp boy, vamp family.”

  Mom frowned as she looked up at the scantily-clad woman. “Maybe you should consider getting some curtains for all those windows, Starla?” She looked back at Julian, who was studiously ignoring Starla. “There are innocents about.”

  Starla laughed and raised a blood-red wine glass in her hand. “If I can still make the young men blush, then I’m not going to stop strutting my stuff.” Her other hand slinked down to untie her robe. It slid open to reveal an underwear set that looked just as pricey as the rest of her. Even I had to admit that she looked good. She put women half her age to shame.