"What Tomas said is true," she begins. "Most cultures see vampires as the damned, the cursed, the outsiders. Stripped of something essential. The stories paint us as animated husks wearing the faces of loved ones, but with no heart left inside. And those stories… they're not entirely wrong. Especially for newly turned vampires. Many do kill, even their own families, without a flicker of remorse."
"Charming," Astrid mutters, tossing back another drink.
Donna's eyes flick toward her, sharp. "Not saying it's excusable. But it's not always their fault, either. Imagine waking up from the dead, starving and disoriented. That thirst, that bloodlust, is all-consuming. And if you're turned by another killer, or cast out without guidance, you become what they say you are—a monster. You never get a chance to be anything else."
The group falls quiet, and I lean forward without realizing it, drawn in. I've never heard this perspective before.
"At some point," she continues, "I think the possibility of change does disappear, especially for those who've committed atrocities for centuries. Not because it's impossible, but because their subconscious knows the weight of what they've done. That kind of guilt would shatter them. You'd lose the person beneath it. Insanity becomes easier than redemption, so they wouldn't even attempt to change."
Donna's whole energy shifts—less the glittering club queen, more scholar at a symposium. "My theory isn't gospel, just how I make sense of it. Psychology, not mysticism. I was a psych major, back when I was human."
She glances around, checking if we're still with her. We are.
"When a vampire turns, they retain memory, fragments of personality, so the idea that we're just hollow, soulless shells doesn't quite track. My theory is this: the transformationsuppresses a part of the personality structure—specifically the superego. You remember Freud's theory of the psyche?"
"Ego, superego, and id," I say quietly, the words returning from a long-forgotten psych class I took back in college.
Donna beams at me. "Gold star."
Then she goes on, hands moving as she explains. "The superego is the moral compass—our sense of guilt, ideals, rules, societal expectations. When a vampire turns, that part dims. Not gone, just quiet. The id, meanwhile, the impulsive, primal part that seeks pleasure without consequence, gets amplified. The ego, caught in the middle, does its best to mediate, but with less input from the superego, it ends up letting the id run wild."
She pauses for effect, then adds, "So, yeah, vampires do have a choice. But the scales are tipped. Every act of restraint takes more willpower than it would've before. That's why feral vampires aren't just bloodthirsty, they're overwhelmed by a psychic imbalance."
She sips her drink, then finishes, "So, my theory has nothing to do with souls or curses. It's not divine punishment. It's a psychological state. A warped one, sure, but still human in construction."
"That's… fascinating," I say, the words slow, sincere. "It explains a lot."
Astrid tilts her head, cutting in with her usual bluntness. "Doesn't it also mean that Kayden here is running on pure willpower? That he could snap at any moment?"
"Maybe," Tomas replies, voice calm as ever. "But maybe being around people who care about him—friends, family, something like love—helps, too. Anchors him."
Kayden leans back in his chair, expression dry. "Kayden is rapidly losing all willpower not to kill, because everyone's talking about him like he's a rabid lab rat."
There's a ripple of laughter, uneasy but real.
I look toward Asher, thoughtful. "So, how does your more spiritual training fit into this? It sounded less like therapy and more like… I don't know, meditation and getting hit with sticks."
Asher's lips twitch, and Donna lets out a soft laugh.
"Yeah, I've heard the story," she says, eyes sparkling again. "How I interpret what that monk did to Asher is basically CBT—Cognitive Behavioral Therapy. But ancient and unnamed. It's about rewiring patterns, breaking the cycle of instinct leading to action. In essence, it's not that different from what we've been talking about."
She sips her drink, voice slipping into something almost professorial. "The spiritual training Asher went through focuses onacceptingthe urges instead of repressing them. Acknowledging the id, but choosing not to act on it. Letting the thirst rise and pass. When you do that long enough, the id stops screaming. It becomes quieter and more manageable. Balance of the psyche starts to return."
"Still sounds dull to me," Kayden mutters with a shrug. "No offense, brother."
Donna arches a brow. "Exactly. That's your id talking—the part that wants the fun, not the consequences."
"Doesn't mean I'm wrong," he quips.
I jump back in. "Have you published any of this, Donna? Your theory, I mean. Maybe if more people knew that change was possible, it could make a difference."
The thought spins in my mind: if people knew redemption was real—even for vampires—maybe they wouldn't be hunted. Maybe they'd volunteer their blood, like Asher. My world is tilting, reshaping. I have vampire friends.Lovers. And the truths I once clung to feel incomplete.
Donna studies me for a second. "No, I haven't published it. Not seriously. It feels too… kumbaya, like Kayden would say.Idealistic. And let's face it, we're not the most trusted voices in the academic world."
"That's because we hunt people," Kayden says, matter-of-fact. "We're predators," he continues, tone cooling. "Trying to make us house-trained is like expecting a lion to be happy grazing with sheep. A few might fake it, but most of us aren't built for it."
Tomas leans forward, voice quieter, but carrying more weight. "Even if it's just a few, it's still worth it. If even some of us can stay close to the people we love, live with them instead of being eternally in the shadows, it's worth everything. To stop subtracting from the world and add something back."
