Page 36 of Nosfer-Meet You

Easy prey. Hunting. Right. That’s what vampires do. That’s what I’m supposed to be doing, until…

Yeah. Until the synthetic blood that Elias’s company has been developing finally hits the market next year. It’s almost ready. Just in time for a new millennium.

“Come,” he says, and squeezes my shoulder. “I’ve found Ava and Marcus, and they wish to speak with you in the VIP lounge.”

The sight of Harriett laughing with that feral gleam in her eye burns into my memory like acid. And when I head back into the VIP lounge, I swear I can still feel her laughter chipping away at my heart.

Chapter 19

Juliette

DON’T PLAY WITH YOUR FOOD

“We all lose our innocence the moment we are turned,” I say. “It is the way of things.”

The movie screen has gone dark, and the light from the ticket booth flicks off. Everything is shutting down, leaving the two of us alone in the darkness.

Scotty is uncharacteristically silent as he stares down at his hands, his fingers flexing like they’re trying to grasp for something, or someone. I think I know who he yearns for. I place one of my palms in his, and he flinches.

“Sorry,” he mutters. “I got a little … carried away.”

I nod. “It is all right. But the movie is over. Your story, however, is not?”

He shakes his head. “Later. I don’t think I want to continue being in this headspace, if that’s okay with you.”

“Of course it is,” I say, and tug his hand, beckoning him to stand with me. “Besides.” I brush some grass off my front. “We still have supper to find. But this was a nice diversion, I will admit.”

He shoots me a lopsided grin as we walk, hand in hand, out of the drive-in theater. “Yeah? Think you’d want to do this again sometime? Hang out, take in a movie. Fool around a little?”

Fool around. That’s what he’s calling it. My heart sinks into the pit of my stomach. “Perhaps. I don’t make this sort of thing a habit, you know.”

Merde. What have I gotten myself into now?

We make our way back the way we came. When I hunt, I only do so in my own neighborhood. It’s no good to be too far from home. All Nosferatu must be within their coffin, or at least home base, before dawn. Not out of the sun—at home. Regular vampires do not suffer that particular curse, and I am jealous. Scotty could go to any city in any part of the world, and, so long as he is not out in the sunlight, he will survive. But not me.

Not unless I created a new nest for myself, which is time-consuming and requires too much virginal blood for the ritual. When we pass the familiar markets and storefronts, Scotty’s gait changes. It’s subtle, the way his easy-going stride turns more clipped, more intentional. But I catch it. This version of Scotty is probably the role he played with his Harriett.

“Is Sugardove City very different from New York, then?” I ask as we pass parked cars and discarded beer cans on the street.

“Yes and no,” he says, squeezing my hand a little.

I look down at our locked hands and catch myself grinning. Merde. This is no time to be acting like a lovesick schoolgirl, Juliette. This vampire is not actually interested in you. He is interested in his survival. That is all.

“There’s similarities, sure. Lots of drunks, lots of homeless. Lots of cops aggravating the piss out of things. Different vibes, I guess. Different buildings. And there’s the monsters, of course. The freaks and the creatures the humans like to pretend don’t exist.”

I open my mouth to ask another question, only to catch the scent of humans nearby. But these humans are not drunk, nor are they ordinary. Probably Helsings, at last.

Scotty must smell them, too, because he stops walking and turns toward me. “I think there’s someone up ahead.”

Nodding, I release his hand and crouch low to the ground. “Not just someone. The distinctive odeur of Helsing uniforms.”

Helsings do not seem to realize they give off a different scent to us vampires thanks to the material of their uniforms. A fatal mistake, and one I hope they never realize. It makes them much easier to hunt.

Scotty drops behind a car, and the muffled sound of men talking echoes down the nearby alleyway. Their voices grow louder by the second, and finally, one of them appears at the alleyway’s entrance, his enormous gun in his hands.

“Did you see the look on her face before we killed her?” The Helsing lets out a laugh while one of his friends steps into view beside him. “I’ve never seen them look so pathetic before.”

“They made them seem worse in training, that’s for sure,” the other Helsing says. He’s not holding a crossbow in his hands, but I can see one latched on his belt. It seems they’ve gotten more compact in recent years.