“I’m not much of a joiner,” I told her. “I never have been. But . . . other than that, I’m not sure who I am. For years, I was Rob Stratton’s wife. And then I was Danny’s mom. But eventually, he’s going to grow up, and I will be . . . not obsolete but less vital in his life. And I don’t know what I’m going to do with myself after that.”
“I can see that,” Jane said. “I’m going through the same thing with Jamie, obviously on a much smaller scale, since I didn’t raise him from birth. But with him leaving for college, the house seems so empty. I didn’t realize how much he was distracting me from the calm that descended over our house in the last year or two. I mean, when I first became a vampire, it was total chaos. It seemed like someone new was trying to kill me every year or so. And I got used to it. Chaos became my lifestyle. Gathering my friends together, figuring out how to get ahead of the crisis, eventually getting my ass handed to me in some capacity. And without that, I kind of worry that Gabriel and I are going to turn into my parents. After my dad retired, it got kind of ugly around the house. Mama was used to having the house to herself all day, and suddenly Daddy was there, giving her suggestions about how she could improve her housekeeping skills. We’re lucky it didn’t turn into some backwoods episode of Dr. Phil. And that was only because my sister intercepted Mama’s application tape.”
“Well, you’ll always have young idiot vampires like me to boss around, and you work for one of the most terrifying organizations in the world, which has to be just lousy with infighting and potential archenemies,” I told her.
She grinned. “Thanks, that actually makes me feel better.”
“No problem.”
“But this conversation isn’t about me, it’s about you and your quarter-life crisis. You need to sit back and think about all the time you have left and then consider how you want to spend it. Because, unlike how it is for most people, time is something we have in unlimited supply. Look, it’s all manageable,” she told me. “OK, sure, the first night I was turned, I tried to attack my best friend. But I’d shrugged off my sire and didn’t have any guidance. I didn’t even try to dull my thirst. You’re preparing. And preparing is half the battle.”
Jane walked up behind me and placed a firm, cool hand on my shoulder. “You’re going to be OK,” she told me, her voice so quiet that even my superhuman ears strained to hear it. “You’re going to be strong. You’re going to welcome your little boy home, listen to his stories, put him in a bath, and tuck him in for bed. You are more than your thirst. You are a mother first, and then a vampire.” Jane jerked her head toward the door. “Come on.”
“What?” I huffed as she led me out onto the front porch.
“I’ve been so focused on keeping you contained for our conditioning that I’ve denied you an important rite for any newborn vampire,” she said, slipping out of her wedge sandals. I followed her, already barefoot, onto the grass.
“You’re looking at the world with brand-new eyes,” she said. “You can feel every blade of grass against the soles of your feet. Listen to the wind rustling through every leaf on every tree. Listen to the heartbeats of the animals in the woods. Look up at the sky.”
“Trust me, Jane. I’ve done the ‘new senses’ appreciation bit. I haven’t stared at the craters in the moon so hard since I tried that special brownie for the chemo side effects.”
“Can you just let me have a surrogate-sire moment here?” she grumbled.
“Sorry.”
“Now, I want you to bend your knees, dig your toes down in the grass.”
I bent, prepared for some sort of tai chi meditation technique that would help me stop having such a histrionic reaction to every damn thing. “OK.”
“Now, jump,” Jane told me.
“What?”
“Jump.”
Frowning, I pushed up from the ground with my feet . . . and jetted fifteen feet into the air. I shrieked, flailing all the way down to the ground. I landed on my ass with a hard thunk.
“What the hell was that?” I cried, splayed out on the grass.
“Vampire vertical leap,” Jane said. “Go on, have some fun.”
“You’re not going to tag me or put some sort of tether on me?” I asked.
“Do you plan on running away?”
“No.”
“OK, then, go run.”
Unsure of whether this was some sort of trick, I bent at the knees again and leaped. I was a bit more prepared for the sudden change in altitude and landed with some grace about ten feet away from Jane. She gave me an amused little wave and sat on my porch step.