“Right, but she’s six,” I pointed out. “I can mold her into whatever I want. She could be a success story from the very beginning, she’d credit everything she ever learned to us. It’ll be good for the school.”
“And when you stand beside an 18 year old at a press conference, looking barely older than you are now, how’s that going to work?” Porsche asked, and I shrugged.
“I age.”
“You’re aging because you’re treating your human body like crap,” She replied. “That’s not aging, that’s just looking hung-over every morning.”
I grinned at her, even as I got up to fill another drink. And then, I felt my jaw twitch, a sign that my fangs were starting to grow in for the night. Glancing out the window, I saw that it was almost dark.
“Porsche.”
“So come sit here and stop being dumb,” she replied, holding out her hand. Reluctantly, I went.
The second I touched her, the cravings began to recede. Picking up another picture, I was suddenly transported back to the audition, when this bright eyed young girl had read with me. I remembered her at once, the way she watched me without awe or fear, the way the words had tumbled out of her mouth naturally.
“That’s Amy,” Porsche said, her eyes softening. “She’s eighteen, which means she’ll only have a year, maybe two if she agrees to go back a grade. She doesn’t have any experience.” Everything she said was negative, yet I heard the softness in her voice. I turned, to meet her eyes.
“So…what then?”
Porsche let go of my hand to flip over the headshot, where notes were scribbled. The second she did, the cravings came back, now that it was fully dark. I could feel my fangs surge forward in my mouth. The sun was set, and my transformation, subtle yet obvious, was complete.
“Amy is also HIV positive,” she said, softly. I felt something move in me; a twinge of sympathy for this bright young girl. And she was good, she had blown me and everyone else in the room away. But it was knowing, looking at her as I gritted my teeth against the blood lust, that she would never tempt me, never be in danger at my hands, and never have to run from the room if a late night rehearsal was needed.
“How?” I asked, standing up to pace the room.
“Genetics. Her mother was infected, apparently.” Porsche looked over the form carefully. “She’s homeschooled…or rather, online schooled. Lives with her father, who is not infected. He’s employed as a chef at the school, and all of her work experience is also in the kitchens.”
“That’s right,” I remembered now, seeing her face in the hallway more than once. Her father also came to mind, a tall, wirily man, with grey in his hair and an aura of sorrow about him. If he thought losing his wife was bad, he should try becoming undead and knowing everyone you love will be dead soon enough. I downed another shot, looking out the window as the town’s nightlife began to emerge. It hit me like a hammer, a warm feeling rushing over me. Already, I could feel the effects, the cravings ceasing a bit as the alcohol warmed my blood. That was one problem with being a vampire, I was forever cold, even during the day as a human.
Whoever invented the story that vampires were blood thirsty creatures all the time was clearly in the mindset of torture and angst. Only turning as the sun set was quite enough for me, I didn’t think I could stand for it during the day.
“I want her,” I said, turning to Porsche, who was already packing up the other files. I smiled ruefully. The girl knew me too well.