Page 34 of Nosfer-Meet You

Something finally clicks in that thick skull of his, and he snaps his fingers. “Right. You were a—how do you say it in your language? A mardy bum? You were being a mardy bum about it. Anyway, Sapphire gave this to me. As a gift.” He runs his hands over his chest, admiring the cheap fabric of the robe. “And she invited us all out to a party tonight. She said Harriett could even come along. Have a few laughs.”

I stalk across the room to push Marcus toward the door. “Absolutely not. Harriett is staying in tonight. She doesn’t do New Year’s Eve with the coven, remember?”

Marcus’s brows slam together as I yank open the door and push him through it.

“Wait, wait, wait. But she said she wants to go, bro! Don’t be buggin’ about it!”

Buggin’. And this fool makes fun of my slang. Gods, this decade is a mess. The fashion, the slang, the music … okay, well, except for Nine Inch Nails. That guy makes the nineties tolerable. But if everything really does end tonight? Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing after all. I don’t love the direction humanity is moving in, what with the internet and all. Now that Pandora’s Box is opened, there’s no going back.

It takes every bit of willpower not to slam the door in Marcus’s face. He lingers in the hallway, smoothing out the wrinkles on his stupid robe like a fussy princess. “You can’t baby her forever, man. That’s all I’m saying. She’s got to be her own vampire at some point. You aren’t her sire. You didn’t make her. So let her spread her wings a little.”

That’s when I do slam the door in his face.

“She’s going to go regardless!” he yells from the other side of the door. “You can’t stop her! She’s an immortal, Scotty!”

“I know,” I mutter to myself. “I know that.” When I turn away from the door and make my way back to the sofa, I notice I’m clenching my fists at my sides.

An hour later, I’m on the subway, headed for the Bronx. The car is full of intoxicated humans and reeks of blood, alcohol, and sewage. Not an appetizing combo, but I’m twitchy and haven’t fed in ages. There’s a good chance I’ll spot a rat or two on my way to the club, though, so I keep my head down and don’t make eye contact with anyone.

“Hey,” a woman in her mid-twenties slurs as she wobbles over to where I’m standing. I grip the pole tighter and grimace. Ugh. No. Not in the mood. “You’re cute,” she continues, and pulls a potato chip out of her jacket pocket to toss in her mouth. “Dansh with me.”

If Marcus were here, he’d absolutely dance with her. Dance, fuck, and feed. But the more time I spend with Marcus and Ava, the less I feel connected to them. Like I’m not a real vampire, and never will be. Like there’s something wrong with me. Like I’m broken.

I can smell and feel the vein in her neck pulsating, beckoning me to take a bite. To bleed her dry. I swallow hard and pretend to be focused on a spot on one of the dirty windows, still refusing to make eye contact with her. Can’t risk accidentally glamouring her. Still haven’t gotten a handle on that particular talent yet. Every time I try it on the rats, things go … wrong. Sometimes, they jump in front of trains to their deaths. Other times, they wind up attacking each other until there’s nothing left but stringy masses of rat pulp.

“No thanks,” I mutter.

“Aw, c’mawn man! Don’t be like that.” The girl throws her arm around my shoulder and dangles from my side, nearly pulling me over.

I let out a deep growl that doesn’t even sound like my own voice. It’s raw and primal, and judging from the look on the girl’s face, absolutely terrifying, too. Suddenly, she’s sober. Her eyes fly open and she scurries away, bottle in hand, to the other side of the train car.

Good. Maybe she’ll be smarter about approaching strangers. Probably not, though. One of these nights, another vamp is going to get her, and she’ll end up as a footnote in the paper. No one in this city gives a shit about all the murders anymore. The police barely give a shit about our feeding frenzies. The mayor doesn’t seem too bothered, either, considering the vampires are cleaning up the homeless population for him. Sick and twisted man.

I finally get to my stop and run up the stairs, past the throngs of partygoers and drunks. Before I even have the chance to turn the street corner, a swath of black drops in front of me. I bare my fangs, ready to defend myself, but when the black-clad figure spins around, I let out a sigh of relief. Eli.

“Going to the party, Scott? I didn’t think you were out tonight,” he says as he picks a bit of lint off his suit jacket.

My hands ball into fists at my sides. “Y-Yeah. You scared the shit out of me. How did you even do that? Where’d you even come from?”

His amber eyes lock onto mine, and he smirks. “I flew, of course.”

Right. Ancient vampire. Of course he can fly. It’s not fair that the older vampires get all the cool powers and the rest of us are down here fighting for our unlives.

The friendly expression on Eli’s face disappears, and he’s back to being Mr. Serious Business. “I heard you had a disagreement with Marcus earlier, and I wanted to check in with you.”

I lift an eyebrow. “Check in with me? Why?”

“Because Marcus enjoys his hyperbole, of course. You, on the other hand, would give me a more realistic explanation.”

I can’t help but snort at that, and rub the back of my neck. “Wow. Okay. Thanks, I guess? Look, he said Harriett was going out with them to a party with some woman I don’t know.”

Elias nods, but says nothing, so I continue.

“Her name’s Sapphire. She’s from a strip club, I think. Not sure if she’s actually a stripper or something else, but I don’t love the idea of Harriett going out on a night like this.”

Elias draws in a breath, then nods again. “I understand you are worried for her safety, Scott. But coddling Harriett will only stifle her growth. She is with Marcus and Ava. She will be safe with them.”

I look away, unable to look him in the eye anymore.