Accidental Sire (Half-Moon Hollow #6)

“I am really screwing up this sire thing,” I told Jane. “Maybe I should just go.”

“No, Meagan, stay where I can see you. Ben, just relax your hands and climb down,” Jane told him. “And Ben, I think that given the way you seem to feel about your sire, you should go with bottled blood for your first feeding. Is that OK with everybody?”

I lifted my eyebrows. “Wait, is it supposed to come from me?”

“Under ideal circumstances, yes, but I think we can all agree we waved bye-bye to ideal a while ago,” Jane said.

“I don’t want anything from her,” Ben insisted.

Well, that was hurtful.

Jane waved at Gabriel, who produced a warm mug full of blood from behind his back. He waved it in front of Ben’s face, and Ben slid off the wall with an “Oof.”

Ben reached for the mug and sniffed at it. His two sets of fangs slid out, and he winced, clapping his hand over his mouth. He jostled the mug, and Jane steadied his hand to keep him from dropping it.

“Was that two sets of fangs?” Gabriel said, peering at Ben’s mouth. “Do you have two sets of fangs? How did you—”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Ben told him, covering his teeth with his lips. “And I don’t know if I want to do this. Is this donor blood?”

“No, I drained a drifter in a car-wash parking lot and saved it, just in case, because that’s how we’re doing things now,” Jane told him, clearly nearing the end of her patience.

Ben stared at her. Jane stared back.

“OK, fine.” Ben took a long gulp of the blood and then, after pausing to smack his lips, drained the whole mug. “Happy?”

“More or less,” Jane said.

“I need to be somewhere else,” Ben said, walking out of the room. Jane nodded at Gabriel, who followed him.

“Stay where you can see me? What am I, seven?” I asked.

Jane lifted a brow. “If a seven-year-old could accidentally start some sort of vampire epidemic with just one bite, then yes.”

“That was uncalled for.”

Jane pursed her lips. “Was it?”





4




Your vampire childe is going to resent you. Accept it. Save up for the centuries-long therapy.

—The Accidental Sire: How to Raise an Unplanned Vampire

I guessed I couldn’t blame Ben for not wanting me around while he and Jane had the vampire birds-and-bees talk. After all, he’d asked me to dinner, and I’d made him be the entree.

Still, it stung a little bit. I thought I’d prepared myself for how angry Ben would be. But to see that anger in his eyes, after knowing nothing but flirty banter from him, shook me up more than I would admit. I couldn’t help but feel I’d lost the beginnings of something important. And considering that he had centuries to hold on to his grudge—and that I’d sort of accidentally murdered him—I didn’t think we were going to make that dinner date.

I went to my room and tried to pretend I was starting on homework assignments. It was the distraction I needed to keep me from yanking my blue suitcase out from under the bed and throwing my clothes into it.

I opened a Word document on my laptop and, deciding to test the monitoring software Jane had installed on my computer, typed in the words “Half-Moon Hollow.” A scary blue filled my screen with bold all-caps, screaming at me, “THIS IS YOUR ONE AND ONLY WARNING. KEYLOGGER SOFTWARE HAS BEEN INSTALLED ON THIS LAPTOP. TYPE THAT PHRASE AGAIN, AND THE NEXT BLUE SCREEN OF DEATH WILL BE REAL.”

She couldn’t do that, right? She couldn’t install spyware on my personal computer! I mean, I knew she could do it, technologically—the Council hired the best and brightest minds available to work for their tech departments—but could she do it legally? I seemed to recall from our orientation at New Dawn that vampires operated under what was basically a feudal system of government, in which they did what the Council told them to or else. So I probably didn’t have much room to complain about her rigging my computer.

Despite Ophelia’s warnings, maybe it would be better if I were sent to stay somewhere else. Ben didn’t want me here. Jane was clearly more comfortable with Ben than she was with me. And I’d been in enough group-placement situations to know that you didn’t want to be the least favorite kid in the house. Been there, done that, lost my favorite jeans.

I could hear every word floating up from the kitchen as Jane informed Ben of what had happened to us and how it affected him. Yes, he was a vampire. No, he wasn’t a normal vampire, and she didn’t know why. No, she didn’t think Meagan had done anything on purpose to make him a weird vampire. Yes, his parents had been informed, and while they weren’t happy, they weren’t in a panic, either. Yes, he would be allowed to contact his parents by Skype. No, he would not be allowed to see them in person or tell them he was staying less than ten miles away from his childhood home. Yes, he would be staying with Jane for the foreseeable future. Yes, Meagan had to stay here, too.

At the mention of my name, I put on headphones and cranked up some bass-heavy music. Superhearing or no, I did not need to eavesdrop on whatever it was that Ben had to say about me. I did manage to finish some classwork my professors had assigned for the coming week.

I set up my desk, “accidentally” smashing two or three unicorns as I made space for my books and laptop. I finished the setup on the closely monitored online Dropbox folders where I was supposed to leave my homework assignments. I made a schedule for all of the reading I needed to complete that week and the homework deadlines. Taking those steps gave me the illusion of control, which gave me the illusion of feeling better. Sure, I couldn’t control where I lived, what I ate, or who I had to see over the breakfast table every evening, but at least my iCalendar was up to date.

Headphones still in place, I opened my copy of Moby-Dick and found my place. I didn’t particularly enjoy the book, but I did enjoy the assignment, comparing the original work with its unofficial adaptation, Jaws. I was part of a pod of three people reading the book and coming up with discussion points about this modernization, while other pods where comparing and contrasting Heart of Darkness with Apocalypse Now or Don Quixote with Defendor. This was why the professor, Dr. Cantley, was my favorite teacher this semester. He seemed to understand his students’ need to connect literature with new media, but he didn’t let us off with shallow analysis. We were expected to be astute as hell.