Awesome.
I wasn't sure whether it was my emotional state or the fact that Jane didn't seem to like me and seemed to be holding my life in her hands, but I just couldn't stop talking. I didn't know much about the World Council for the Equal Treatment of the Undead, but I knew that they sometimes used what most reasonable people would call over-the-top tactics to punish vampires who stepped out of line. And I was pretty sure killing a kid within an hour of waking up was nowhere near that line.
My life had not prepared me for this sort of hostile interaction with vampires. I was in preschool when an undead tax consultant named Arnie Frink launched vampires out of the coffin. The living residents of planet Earth were not thrilled to find out that vampires had been lurking in the shadows for the past . . . forever, and humanity had never realized it. Though, when they looked back, they were a little embarrassed they hadn't seen the signs.
Maybe the embarrassment over the missed clues was what made them lash out. A lot of vampires "tripped" and "fell"-sarcastic air quotes intended-on pointy wooden objects. The World Council for the Equal Treatment of the Undead, an elected group of ancient vampires, saw that humans were getting more creative and awful in their vampire-dusting techniques. They came forward, asking the world's governments to recognize them as people with feelings and a general desire not to be turned into ash. They also asked for special leniency in taxes and government documents to fake being alive. But mostly taxes.
Because a surprising number of vampires chose to live in small towns, the Council was allowed to establish smaller regional offices in each state to make sure that the undead didn't pull shenanigans like murdering innocent students. The Council also offered mentors for young vampires like myself, to prevent said murder shenanigans.
Once humans stopped setting them on fire for fun, the international vampire community eventually agreed that with bottled blood and super-high-SPF sunscreen and not having to pretend to be human, it was more convenient to live out in the open anyway. They didn't give Arnie a medal or anything. He already had the meme, after all.
I'd known more than my share of vampires growing up, because I was pretty poorly supervised. In general, they were cagey but friendly. They had not treated me with the snarky, barely restrained anger that Jane was directing my way at the moment.
At some point during my reflections, I had stopped talking and was now just staring at Jane and Ophelia like one of those creepy Big Eyes paintings.
"She is a babbler," Jane observed to Ophelia, who nodded.
"So what's going to happen to me?" I asked.
Jane pursed her lips. "Well, here's my problem. Part of me wants to just punch you in your irritatingly symmetrical face for hurting Ben. But the other, more compassionate part of me understands that this wasn't something you did on purpose and that you weren't in control of yourself, no more than I was in control of myself when I was fresh out of the coffin and tried to eat my best friend. And then the more academic part of me wants to figure out what the hell is going on with you that you managed to turn so quickly. Not in a creepy ‘secured lab and dissection' way, just super-close observation for six to eight months."
"How many parts of you are there?" I asked.
"Oh, you haven't earned the right to be snarky with me yet, sweetie, so cool your jets," Jane told me. "I can't tell you what's going to happen long-term. But for right now, it's pretty clear that you can't continue your classes for the semester. We can't have a newborn vampire who's not in control of her thirst surrounded by a bunch of defenseless, delicious-smelling students. That's the sort of thing that results in calls to my office. I hate that."
Ophelia snorted softly. "So you're going to be secluded with an older, supposedly stable vampire who will be able to help you gain control over your thirst."
"I don't see why the ‘supposedly' was necessary, but yes, you will be staying with me," Jane interjected. "Call it a probationary period, a chance to show the Council that, despite a shaky start, you are going to be a productive, trustworthy member of undead society."
///
My face screwed up even further at the idea of having to prove myself to vampires. I hadn't asked for this. I hadn't wanted to be a part of their stupid undead society, and now they were judging me, trying to figure out whether I was good enough to fit into it? I'd had enough of trying to fit into new groups and new places. The vampires were cordially invited to suck it, as far as I was concerned.