Page 15 of Nosfer-Meet You

Juliette winces. Yeah, not like I can blame her. I’m so glad that I don’t use anymore, even if the desire is still there. Because that’s the thing about being a vampire—all the illnesses, addictions, and vices you had in life? They don’t go away when you’re turned. A cancer patient would still have their cancer, even in undeath. The cancer symptoms would remain, even if it couldn’t spread. And it definitely couldn’t kill you. So if you’re one of the unlucky few who got turned that way, your unlife as a vampire isn’t a pleasant one.

I’m one of the lucky ones. Yes, I want to use. But I don’t. And even if I did use, I don’t run the risk of OD’ing anymore. Alcohol, on the other hand, is a blissful balm on my tormented soul. It still works, which was something I was fucking psyched about after I figured that one out. That and caffeine, so my Yorkshire tea in the mornings is still something I indulge in.

“Like opium, then?” she asks.

I shrug. “Yeah. Kind of.”

A part of me aches and wonders why she knows about opium, but … she’s not a naïve little girl, Scotty boy. She’s an ancient, badass vampire who just looks like a cute young woman.

“That is highly irresponsible—non, criminal of your maker,” Juliette hisses, baring her fangs. Her dagger-like fingernails dig into the wood of the crate, gripping so hard her skin blanches. “There are laws against this sort of thing for a reason.”

I shrug before pacing the room, pretending to inspect her paintings. “Yeah, but that’s what happened, anyway. Someone finally recognized me at a party. Evidently, I was already acquainted with a few vampires. They took me into their coven, taught me everything my sire was supposed to teach me. It was good.”

Juliette’s fangs retract, and she wipes her mouth clean with the back of her hand again. “That’s … something, I suppose.”

“Better than nothing,” I agree, and slip my hands into the front pockets of my jeans. “But no, they were good to me.”

“Were?” Juliette frowns. The smear of blood on her cheeks starts to resemble blush and … I shake my head and smile, because it looks pretty on her. That’s fucked up, though, isn’t it? Thinking that a girl looks prettier when she’s covered in blood? The fuck is wrong with me? I mean, aside from the obvious shit, of course.

“Yeah. Were. They were staked by the Helsings about twenty-six years ago, give or take. When Sugardove first put that task force together. They were one of the first groups to go.”

Juliette’s mouth falls open. “Putain de merde. They killed your family? But you haven’t been alone all this time, have you?”

I nod. “Um, yeah. Sort of. I mean, there’s my friends at the parties and shows I go to, but they aren’t … they’re not coven.”

No one in a thousand years could replace my coven. When I was eating rats in alleyways and shooting up in a desperate plea to the gods just to feel something other than death and decay, those vampires gave me options. A healthier way of unliving, if you could call it that. When they were dusted, I considered ending it, too.

Because it was bad enough being turned by a stranger in the first place and discarded like trash. It was also bad enough that my living, breathing family didn’t want me. But I’d finally found happiness, and some tax-funded assholes decided we didn’t deserve to live and took them away from me. Check, please.

The look on her face says no other words are needed. She gets it. Surprisingly. Here I thought Nosferatu were supposed to be blood-crazed lunatics without a single sentient thought. That’s what all the legends say, at least. But that’s not Juliette. This girl goes deep. You can tell just from her eyes and how vast they are. Like the sea or the sky or … the void.

“But enough about me,” I say, and get up only to flop down next to the record player. It continues to crackle. The sound is soothing, especially now. Reminds me of those evenings spent in dive bars with Marcus, Harriett, Ava, and Elias. Playin’ pool, drinking whisky, and listening to the sizzled audio of old records while pretending to be people again.

“So, what about you? I take it you’re not handling your day well. I mean, if you want, we can go take out another Helsing or two if it’ll cheer you up. I’m sure there’s plenty to go around.”

Juliette snorts at my suggestion. “I will have to decline. But thank you, Scotty.” After a long, silent pause, she finally asks, “Would you like to hear about my turning?”

“I don’t know,” I say, and pick at the beds of my fingernails. “That depends.”

“On?”

“If you want to talk about it, of course,” I say.

“I wouldn’t have brought it up if I didn’t. But I also do not want to … dump my problems onto you, either,” she explains. “You are stuck down here with me for the time being. I wouldn’t dare put you in that position.”

I wave a flippant hand. It’s adorable how polite she is. “Girl, I’m all ears. C’mon.” I pat the spot beside me on the dusty cloth and grin with fangs out. “Sit. Tell me all about it.”

Reluctantly, Juliette gets up from the crate and sits down next to me on the cloth. “Very well. Thank you. It was a few hundred years ago, and⁠—”

She abruptly goes quiet because I get the brilliant idea of draping my arm around her shoulder. At her hesitation, I yank my arm away and silently scold myself. “Sorry. I was just … just trying to be comforting. Because this sounds like it’s going to be heavy.”

Juli blinks and says, “No, that’s okay. You may put it back. You were right … it was comforting.” Her voice drops to a light, feminine whisper that makes the little hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. “And this is going to be heavy.”

Chapter 9

Juliette

THE MONSTER UNDER HER BED