“Are you trying to make a point, Finn?” I asked, my voice going several degrees colder.
“I’m just wondering, do you ever regret not knowing your father?”
“I regret not applying myself more in geometry. And most of my fashion choices during my adolescence. But it’s hard to regret something you’ve never had.”
“I was just curious,” he said.
“Well, be curious about something else,” I snapped. I regretted my waspish tone, but I didn’t like being asked these questions by someone I barely knew. And I was getting tired of explaining myself—to the Council, to the courts, to the PTA.
But Finn seemed unaffected. He grinned cheekily. “OK, I’m curious about what you will be doing next weekend, as I would like to take you out to an interesting little spot that serves specialty blood. Perfectly legal specialty donor blood.”
“Next weekend, I have plans,” I told him, thinking of my date with Wade.
“And the weekend after that?”
“I may have other plans,” I said.
“You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?” he asked, dark eyes twinkling.
“You don’t want me to make it easy for you. That wouldn’t be fun for you.”
He moved in fast, giving me an unexpected peck on the lips, which made me take two steps back. He grinned, despite my sudden movement. “See, you already know me so well!”
Several nights later, I stood at the kitchen window, watching the moonlight filter through the tree limbs, painting the elaborate landscaping in the backyard in a silvery wash. I would miss the flowers, come spring. It was a small sacrifice, but I would definitely miss the bright colors of the day. I thought about a poem we’d read in high school about Persephone’s garden and the elaborate, but false, flowers she’d constructed out of gems and precious metals the god of the Underworld gave his lonely, depressed bride to try to keep her happy. I wondered if this was some ancient Greek fable to explain seasonal affective disorder.
Jane had insisted that I attend another Newly Emerged Vampires meeting the night before and she made me sit next to Crybaby Bob, with his decidedly unposh London accent, who ended up crying every time he was asked for an update on the strained relationships with his family.
“I just miss them all so much,” Bob blubbered, slugging down what had to be his fifth bloodyccino since we’d started the meeting. “It’s not fair that they’ve cut me off from the whole family. I’m not allowed to go to Christmas this year, can you believe that?”
Frankly, I was surprised Bob’s family hadn’t set him on fire just to prevent his whining.
Despite Jane’s best efforts, membership in the NEV group was a mixed bag. I was starting to make some friends, but the meetings weren’t a lot of fun. I still didn’t know what my vampire power was, but Jane insisted that was normal. I was, however, learning lots of new tips and tricks for ignoring human food smells, so I could feel like I was more a part of Danny’s dinnertimes. Andrea even gave me a polished egg-sized pink quartz crystal to keep in my palm, so I could picture all of my discomfort and negative energy being absorbed into its milky surface.
And as an added bonus to NEV membership, there were several vampire-owned businesses in town that not only wanted to use my bookkeeping service but were also happy to donate items to the Pumpkin Patch raffle. This was increasingly important, as the deadline was looming and businesses that had supported the event for years had suddenly instituted “budget cuts” when I called.
Somehow I’d cobbled together a network of supportive people—Kerrianne, Jane, Andrea, Miss Steele, Mr. Walsh, Wade. In fact, when Kerrianne wasn’t available, Wade and I had come to depend on each other for babysitting help.
For instance, tonight I was home, watching the kids. Wade was working on a special project at his shop, some custom part for a special-order bike that he wanted to finish in time for the weekend so we could keep our drive-in plans. So I was keeping Harley for dinner and homework time. Wade had promised to take the boys to see some very loud, obnoxious cartoon the next week to even things out.
I was composing a list of excuses for why I couldn’t go to the next NEV meeting—new-fang cramps, Danny had homework, emergency meeting of the Pumpkin Patch committee, Dancing with the Stars marathon—when a large figure emerged from the trees in my backyard. I suppressed a grin, wondering what exotic shape Jed had selected for this evening. Fins? Fur? Fangs?
I stared at the shape lumbering about in the backyard. It would seem that he’d gone with none of the above. In fact, he looked downright human, which was sort of boring. He was a tall human, with a broader build, but still human. I lifted my hand to wave. After a long moment, he waved back.