Not bad. I could taste the aluminum, but the blood tasted fresh, just a bitter streak that was probably from the preservatives. Once I started drinking, instincts kicked in, and I felt the fangs snap down in my mouth. It felt a little like popping your knuckles. I swallowed, and swallowed, and all of a sudden the can was light and empty, and I felt a little shaky. I don’t usually drink that much blood at one time, and I’m more of a sipper.
I crushed the can into a ball—vampire strength—and tossed it across the room into a trash can, basketball-style. It sailed neatly through the narrow circle.
“Show-off,” Eve said.
I felt great. I mean, great. My fangs were still down, and when I smiled, they were visible, gleaming and very sharp.
Eve’s smile faltered, just a little. “Really. Showing off now.”
I closed my eyes, got control, and felt the fangs slowly fold up against the roof of my mouth.
“Better,” she said, and linked arms with me. “Now that you’re all plasmaed up, can we go?”
“Yeah,” I said, and we got two steps toward the door before I turned back, got the card out of my pocket, and slid it through the machine’s reader again. Eve stared, blinking in confusion. I chose another O negative (“This Blood’s for You!”) and slipped the warm can into the pocket of my jacket. “For later,” I said.
“Okay.” Eve sounded doubtful, but she got over it. She turned back to the crowd of vamps watching us. “Next?”
Nobody was rushing to swipe their cards, although one or two had them out and were contemplating it. One guy scowled and said, “Whatever happened to organic food?” and went to the counter to get a fresh-drawn bag.
Well, I’d done what Amelie had asked me to do, so if it didn’t work, they couldn’t blame it on me.
But I did feel great. Surprisingly, the canned stuff was better than the bagged stuff. Almost better than when Eve had let me have a taste, straight from the tap, if that’s not too sick.
I felt them watching us. Eve and I weren’t the most popular team-up in town; humans and vampires didn’t mix, not like that. We were predator and prey, and the lines were pretty strictly drawn. In vampire circles, I was looked at as either pitiful or perverted. I could imagine what it was like on Eve’s side. Morganville’s not full of vampire wannabes—more a town full of Buffys in the making.
Our relationship wasn’t easy, but it was real, and I was going to hang on to it for as long as I possibly could.
“What do you want to do?” Eve asked, as we stepped outside into the cool Morganville early evening.
“Walk,” I said. “For starters.” I let her fill in what might come after, and she smiled in a way that told me it wasn’t a tough guess at all.
? ? ?
Later, it occurred to me that I felt jittery, and it was getting worse.
We were strolling out in Founder’s Square, which is vampire territory; Eve could come and go from here with or without me, because she had a Founder’s Pin and was pretty much as untouchable as a human got, in terms of being hunted—by vampires who obeyed the rules, anyway. But it was nice to walk with her. At night, Morganville is kind of magical—bright clouds of stars overhead in a pitch-black sky, cool breezes, and, at least in this part of town, everybody is on their best behavior.
Vampires liked to walk, and jog, along the dark paths. We were regularly passed by others. Most nodded. A few stopped to say hello. Some—the most progressive—even said hello to Eve, as if she was a real person to them.
I had a wild impulse to jog, to run, but Eve couldn’t keep up if I did, even in her practical boots. Holding that urge back was taking all my concentration, so while she talked, I just mostly pretended to listen. She was telling some story about Shane and Claire, I guessed; our two human housemates had gotten themselves into trouble again, but this time it was minor, and funny. I was glad. I didn’t feel much like charging to anybody’s rescue right now.
Up ahead, I saw another couple approaching us on the path. The woman was unmistakably the Founder of Morganville, Amelie; only Amelie could dress that way and get away with it. She was wearing a white jacket and skirt, and high heels. If she’d stood still, she’d have looked like a marble statue; her skin was only a few shades off from the clothes, and her hair was the same pale color. Beautiful, but icy and eerie.
Walking next to her, hands clasped behind his back, was Oliver. He looked much older than her, but I didn’t think he was; she’d died young, and he’d died at late middle age, but they were both ancient. He had his long, graying hair tied back, and was wearing a black leather jacket and dark pants. He was scowling, but then, he usually was.
Weird, seeing the two of them together like this. They were usually polite enemies, sometimes right at each other’s throats (literally). Not tonight, though. Not here.
Amelie glowed in the moonlight, ghost-bright, and when she smiled, she didn’t look cold at all. She inclined her head to us. “Michael. Eve. Thank you for doing the little demonstration today. It was much appreciated.”