“Since the world would clearly be a better place if vampires were in charge—why aren’t they? Why don’t they take over?”
Gustaf chuckled, clearly amused in a detached, condescending manner. “Oh, we certainly could, if we wanted to. But I think you underestimate how shy most vampires are. We really don’t like the harsh light of publicity.”
Could have fooled me.
Ariel said, “I’d like to move on to the next call now. Hi, Sue, you’re on the air,” Ariel said.
Sue—that was me. Wow, I made it. Back on the air— in a manner of speaking. Ha. Here I go—
“Hi, Ariel. Thanks so much for taking my call.” I knew the script. I knew how to sound like a fan. I’d heard it enough from the other side. “Gustaf, I don’t think all vampires are quite as sensitive and charitable as you imply. Are they stewards watching over the rain forests, or shepherds fattening the sheep for market?”
Gustaf huffed a little. “Every vampire was once a human being. The best of us never forget our roots.”
Even if they had to suck those roots dry… “But you give the worst human beings the power and immortality of a vampire, and what do you get? The Third Reich— forever. See, you know why I think vampires haven’t taken over the world?”
God, I sounded snotty. I always ha ted it when people like this called into my show. Crabby know-it-alls.
“Why?” Ariel said.
“Theatrics.”
“Theatrics?” Ariel repeated, sounding amused, which irritated me.
“Yeah, theatrics. The posing, the preening, the drawn-out stories of romance and seduction when the reality is Gustaf here was probably just some starry-eyed kid who got screwed over. You take all those petty, backstabbing, power trippy games that happen when you get any group together, multiply it by a few centuries, and you end up with people who are too busy stroking their own egos and polishing their own reputations to ever find the motivation to take over the world.”
Aloof, Gustaf spoke. “Have you ever met a vampire?”
“I know a couple,” I said. “And they’re individuals, just like anyone else. Which is probably really why they haven’t taken over the world. They couldn’t agree on anything. Aren’t I right, Gustaf?”
Ariel said, “Sue, you’re sounding just a bit angry about all this. Why is that?”
I hadn’t expected the question. In fact, I’d kind of expected her to move onto the next call by now. But no, she was probing. Which left me to decide: Was I going to answer her question? Or blow it off? What would make her sound like an idiot, without making me sound like an idiot?
I suddenly realized: I hated being on this end of a radio show. But I couldn’t stop now.
“Angry? I’m not angry. This isn’t angry. This is sarcastic.”
“Seriously,” Ariel said, not letting it go. “Our last caller practically worships vampires. Why are you so angry?”
Because I was stuck in the woods through nobody’s fault but my own. Because somewhere along the way I’d lost control of my life.
“I’m tired of the stereotype,” I said. “I’m tired of so many people buying into the stereotype.”
“But you’re not afraid of them. That anger doesn’t come from fear.”
“No, it doesn’t,” I said, hating the uncertainty in my own voice. I knew very well how dangerous vampires could be, especially when you came face-to-face with one in a dark room. I’d seen it firsthand. They smelled dangerous. And here she was promoting one like he was a damned philanthropist.
“Then what are you afraid of?”
Losing. I was afraid of losing. She had the show and I didn’t. I was supposed to ask the difficult questions. What I said was, “I’m not afraid of anything.”
Then I hung up.
I’d turned the radio off, so the cabin was silent. Part of me wanted to turn it back on and hear what Ariel said about my—or rather Sue’s—abrupt departure, as well as what else Gustaf had to say about the inherent nobility of vampires. In a rare show of wisdom, I kept the radio off. Ariel and Gustaf could keep each other.
I started to throw the phone, and amazingly refrained. I was too tired to throw it.
Afraid. Who was she to accuse me of being afraid? The one with the radio show, that was who.