Accidental Sire(98)

She sighed. "Allan's a misunderstood genius. He's going to change the world. And if I help him, he's going to name the drug after me. And then, when the drug/gene therapy is perfect, we're going to be turned, and we'll be together forever."

Was there a level beyond batshit crazy? Because Tina just leveled up.

I flicked my hand, popping the phone loose from my jeans. It fell against the inside of my shirt, which kept it from clattering onto the metal chair.

"So you did all this-derailed my life, got Ben killed, crushed my freaking rib cage-for some guy?" I asked. "I don't like to judge, but wow. That reeks of desperate."

"No," she scoffed. "I mean, it wasn't just him, it was his research. Do you know what it's like to want to be a vampire so badly and not be able to find a willing sire?"

"No, no, I don't." I shook my head, hoping it disguised the movement of dropping my KidPhone into my hand. I stroked my thumb over the one button, the Jane button. And then I searched for send. I could only hope that Jane could hear Tina's blather. Or at least locate me with that triangulating thing they used on CSI.


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"I wanted to be turned so badly it wasn't fair. I'd spent my whole life studying vampires, trying to help humans understand what they were really like, the miraculous creatures you are. I wanted that for myself, to be special, eternal, beautiful. And I kept trying to find one who would turn me, but they all said I was ‘too eager,' ‘too needy.' Even the bottom-feeders refused."

"That is . . . super-depressing, Tina," I said, trying not to add an obvious amount of emphasis on her name. "If I'd known, back at the dorm, how badly you wanted to be turned, I could have maybe talked to Ophelia, helped her see how important this was to you. Really, Tina, maybe I could talk to Jane now for you. You know me. You don't want to do this to one of your ducklings. You don't have to help Dr. Fortescue."

Please, Jane, please be listening. Please pick up on these brick-sized clues I'm dropping for you. I will never complain about the KidPhone again.

Tina waved the gun carelessly as she threw up her arms. "I don't want to be a regular vampire anymore. I want to be special, like you. And Allan's research will make it so much easier for people like me to be turned. No exchange of blood, no commitment, just a quick bite, and twenty-four hours later, you pop up better than ever."

It hit me that after spending her pathetic life studying vampires, Tina didn't understand them at all. She still saw them as some sort of supernatural nocturnal unicorns. She didn't realize how much help newly risen vampires really needed. She didn't realize how social some vampires were. She'd twisted what she'd learned about us into her own narrative, suited to her weird little fantasies about dark, mysterious creatures of the night.

When I got out of this, I was going to write a very sternly worded letter to my college about its screening process for people who work with student housing.

"Did Dr. Hudson have anything to do with this?" I asked.

Tina frowned. "Who?"

"The chief science officer for the Council office."

"The pushy little vampire in the plaid shirt?"

I nodded. "Kind of derpy?"

"Yes, we had to do something about him. He kept getting in our way," she said, wrinkling her nose in distaste. "Every time we would approach you, we'd find him hiding out near Jane's house, keeping those vampire security guards all stirred up, trying to get to you two. Allan took care of him, left him in a little pile of ash in some B and B in Cooter Holler." 

I tried to feel bad about Dr. Hudson dying, but honestly, the man had left me to die in a tobacco field. So . . .

"You're not spilling all of our secrets, are you, Tina?" Dr. Fortescue asked, shooting his cuffs as he walked out of the office. His chubby cheeks were red and flushed, his dark eyes were bright and gleeful, and his dark hair had been smoothed back. So either he'd been in there drinking, or he had been in there rocking out to old-school Mötley Crüe. I didn't smell any whiskey, so I was betting on hair metal.

"Just a little girl talk," Tina chirped. "I've missed my little chats with Meggie. She's the same sweet girl she was when she lived in the dorm."

"Dr. Fortescue," I said loudly, hoping that Jane was listening. "Or should I call you Allan? I never had you in classes at UK, so I'm not sure what to call you."

"Dr. Fortescue is fine. I didn't spend years getting two PhDs to be called Allan by an undergrad."