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“You’re not a shitty sister. You’ve done what every one of our kind does when they join the world of vampires and suddenly find themselves unable to be around the people they love most. You started a new life, left the old you behind, and emotionally distanced yourself from those you can no longer be with. That’s not wrong. That’s not cold. It’s the only way to survive this life.”
She swallowed hard, staring at her empty bowl. “I miss him. I hate that he must have had a moment where he thought of me, remembered the times I was there for his birthday, and then felt the slice of grief.”
I understood. I couldn’t relate to it, because there was no one to miss me. No one I missed. But I understood. “Do you have any other siblings?”
“One. Another brother.”
“You close to him as well?”
She nodded. “It makes me feel awful that I’ve had to let them believe I’m dead. They were informed by the authorities that I drowned while white water rafting with a ‘friend’ I met on my travels.”
“Friend?”
“A vampire who was part of my nest. I decided to go on a one-year-round-the-world trip after college. I met a guy who claimed that, like me, he was traveling. One night, we were super drunk—or I was. He said he had a special drink that could make me live forever. I laughed, thought it was a joke. It turned out he meant his blood, which he gave me after taking so much of mine I nearly died. And so I became a vampire, and the nest managed to have me presumed dead.”
I clenched my fists. Bastard. “You said he was part of your nest. You killed him?”
“No, the leader of the nest got there first. My Sire had displeased him in some way. The leader was a mean son of a bitch. He had many of his vamps target travellers to boost their numbers. They had a whole operation going where they could provide stories of awful ‘accidents.’ The kind where no bodies would be simple to find. Many of his vamps didn’t want to do that, and even more of them didn’t want to stay, but it was tricky to leave.”
I frowned. “Why?”
“The leader was real good at keeping people close. His gift? His blood was addictive.”
I let out a low whistle.
“He used it to keep people in line. Like junkies, we went back for more again and again. My gift was late in fully developing. I could only slice out claws at first. Eventually I’d see ripples of fur. The first time I shifted completely, I attacked everyone around me, killed the leader of the nest, and then fled. I don’t think anyone ever pursued me. It took at least three weeks before the cravings for the leader’s blood eased away. I was like a recovering junkie, but worse. I wasn’t sure I’d live through it.”
Pausing, she thrust a hand into her hair. “I hate that my family believes I’m dead, but at least they won’t spend their days wondering what happened to me. The not knowing would be harder, I think.”
“Probably. They’d be stuck in a strange sort of limbo, hesitant to grieve for you, because it would be giving up on ever finding you alive.”
She nodded. “This way they can move on easier.” Tensing, she winced. “Not that I’m saying grief is easy to move on from—”
“I know what you’re trying to say, Maya,” I assured her, my voice soft. “I agree with you.”
The tension slipped from her muscles. “I just hope my parents won’t blame themselves for my ‘death.’”
“Why would they?”
She took a swig of her NST. “They were big on ensuring that their kids made their own way in the world. My brothers and I had to leave home once we turned eighteen.”
“What?”
“They’re not cold people, I swear. They truly were—are—devoted parents. They were all about life lessons. Preparing us for the big, bad world. One of those lessons was being sent off to stand on our own two feet. But I wasn’t ready to settle. So after college, I went on that trip. And I never made my way home again.”
“Why weren’t you ready to settle?”
“I wanted to see more of the world and what it had to offer before I anchored myself in one place, that’s all.” She paused. “I’ll bet you saw a lot of the world during your time with Sebastian.”
“I did, though I was mostly focused on learning what he taught me.”
“Do you think being a tracker will suit you?”
“Yeah.” I knocked back the last of my drink. “Each night is different, which is good—I don’t like routine. Plus, I like to roam. Being stuck in one place for too long makes me feel suffocated.”
“Being isolated must have been hell for you, then.”
