Accidental Sire(62)

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"Aw, congratulations, sweetie! I'm so happy for you." Jane sighed, squeezing Libby tightly.

"And Meagan! It's so good to see you, too," Libby said, pulling me up from my chair and dragging me into a long embrace.

"You . . . are a hugger," I said, patting her back and shooting Jane an exasperated look. Jane just snickered. "Everybody in the Hollow just loves to hug."

"I thought we could go for coffee," Libby said. "There's a really cute place across the street that does vampire-friendly mixed drinks."

I glanced toward Jane. "I'm not sure I'm allowed to leave the building. And it might make Sammy jealous if I drink someone else's caffeine."

Jane shook her head. "As long as you stay with Libby, I'm happy. Just take the rest of the night off. You earned it. Libby's going to drive you home."

An outing? Without Jane's or Gabriel's supervision? No strained conversation with Ben on the drive home? Yes, please. I didn't care if Libby tried to recruit me into a multilevel marketing scam, I was on board. I locked down my computer and grabbed my purse.

Libby looped her arm through mine. "Come on, my treat."

I cast an uncertain glance over my shoulder as Jane waved cheerfully and walked into her office.

"Jane thought it might be a little easier for you to relax around me," Libby said as she hit the elevator's ground-level button.

"Why?"

"I had my own interesting transition into vampire life, which Jane had to jump in and oversee. Let's just say that finding a sire and arranging to be turned on supernatural Craigslist is not an appropriate life choice, even if you are terminally ill. Jane had to take me on to foster, too, because she didn't trust my sire. Which turned out to be a good thing, because he wasn't all that trustworthy. And I found his presence to be kind of romantically confusing. Also, my human boyfriend wasn't crazy about him."

I soundlessly mouthed, Wow.

Libby laughed, then led me out of the Council building and across the street to a cozy little coffee shop called Perk-U-Later, chatting all the way about the boost in clients that Jane's recommendations had granted her at-home bookkeeping business. There were other similarities in our histories. Libby grew up not knowing who her father was, raised by a single mother who worked all the time, feeling isolated from other kids by nature of having to grow up faster than they did. The difference between us was that Libby was grown when her mother died, and she'd had something of an adult human life before she herself died. She'd married (unhappily), had a son (happily), and been widowed (no comment) before she'd been diagnosed with the late-stage cancer that forced her into vampirism. She'd chosen this unlife because she couldn't leave her son behind without parents. I liked to think that if the semitruck had given my mom options, she would have made the same choice. Libby's history made me trust her a bit more, despite this strangely forced coffee-based playdate. 

Of course, the minute she brought up Danny, she pulled out her phone to show me pictures of her son, a sunny, towheaded boy grinning goofily into the camera from a pumpkin patch. I scrolled through several shots, most of them featuring her little boy being adorable. In the final picture, Danny was dressed as a matador and had his arm slung around a little boy in a simulated sumo fat suit. I held the phone up.

"Context is important," Libby said, nodding. "School play."

"Ah."

I dragged my finger across the screen and found a shot of Libby and Danny and Danny's de-sumo'd friend sitting on some porch steps. A big blond man with a thick beard and full tattoo sleeves peeking out from under his T-shirt had those arms wrapped around Libby and the boys. They were positively beaming at the camera, like an ad for the Council for "Nontraditional but Happy Supernatural Family Values."

I turned the camera toward her and smirked. "Nicely done."

"Well, some aspects of vampire life have been a little easier than others. That's Wade. Good Lord, that man. Makes up for every argument with my late husband over our nonexistent sex life, diaper changes, living less than a mile away from his parents-just everything."

"How do you do it?" I asked. "You have the same sort of background I do, and you make it look so normal. The kid, the human boyfriend, after-hours business. I always feel like I have this ‘Tragic Backstory' stamp on my forehead."

"I choose to make it normal."

"Because the power has been inside of me all along?" I asked, pausing to sip my bloodychino. "All I have to do is click my heels three times?"