"If there was a God," I say, "and I don't believe there is one, why would he allow people to be killed by vampires? My mother wasn't a sinner. I don't care what anyone says. She was a good person and didn't deserve to die. I didn't deserve to become motherless. You didn't deserve to become avampire."
"Eve," he says, his voice almost a whisper. "I don't think vampirism has anything to do with hurting humans. We're like collateraldamage."
I frown, unable to let the thought go. "What do you mean? God was punishing someoneelse?"
He nods but doesn'telaborate.
"Who?" I say finally but he shakes his head and looks away. I say nothing. There's no arguing with people on this and I knowit.
"Shh," he says and takes my chin in his hand once more. "Just enjoy the night. Quit thinking so much. Besides, you should just drink." He takes one of my hands in his and holds his other wrist out to me. Drink? He must mean that I should pretend to drink his blood like a good blood slave would. I frown and take his wrist and I hold it in front of me, reluctant to go through with theruse.
I think about blood slaves – humans who drink vampire blood and are addicted to its effect on their neurotransmitters. To me, they're no different from any other addict. To be pitied. But there's something in the whole idea that draws me and I feel just a slight twinge of shame. Like it's illicit, like it's XXX porn, drawing you in, arousing you, but making you feel slightly tarnishedafterwards.
Sitting there with his wrist at my lips, his arm around me, other vampires watching us, does something to me that surprises even me. I feel aroused. My body warms at the thought of this intimate act – drinking his blood. I remember how Michel felt when he drank the woman's blood in my shared memory with him. It was so erotic, that connection he felt when he drank, like the joining of two bodies in sex. I kiss his wrist, and then open my mouth, my tongue on his skin and hegasps.
I turn my face up tohim.
"What are you doing to me?" Iwhisper.
"Nothing," he says, his voice breathless. "That's allyou."
Then, a strange warmth floods through me and I know I'm channeling him, his emotions. He feels for me, tenderness, ownership – as if I am so valuable, he'll do anything to protectme.
It's then I realize something not in the papers and books I read about vampires. They're humans whose lives were taken from them, usually against their will, and were forced to become killers to survive, their humanity slowly slipping away because of their hunter nature and need for human blood, slowly losing all emotions unless they maintain contact with us through feeding. It is a curse and in that moment, my heart feels as if it's expanding, growing bigger, admitting vampires back into my category of 'human'.
They really are damned – not by a god as Michel thinks, but by a strange quirk of evolution. Now, instead of wanting to find a drug to poison them, kill them all as I once dreamed of in my fantasies of vengeance, I turn my thoughts to a cure. I wonder if a cure is even possible, but I'm certain that vampirism is some genetic mutation in a virus or other infectious agent that evolved thousands of yearsago.
"If vampirism is a genetic mutation or set of mutations, there's always gene therapy. How wonderful would that be – to cure vampirism?" I say, looking in his eyes. "To give you back your life? You could be apriest."
"You're wrong," he whispers. "But I love yourmind."
I smile, my eyes closed, unwilling to be drawn back to the real world. The drowsy warmth I feel builds, the desire in me building along with it, but I'm helpless to stop it. I don't want to stop it. It's so pleasant here, I let myself just drift on this strange cloud of warmth that seems to go on andon.
Then, it breaks and I startle back to the present. Michel turns his body to me and our eyesmeet.
"We're not alone," he whispers as he bends down to me, his lips touching my ear. "Remember what Isaid."
I instantly becomealert.
Michel turns away from me slightly, but I keep facing him. Someone has joined us and is standing close. I can sensehim.
Avampire.
"I like her blood type," the vampire says, his voice deep and smooth. "B positive. Mostly Irish but some Welsh. I could smell her across the park. Is she temporary orpermanent?"
Michel stands and brings me around in front of him, his arms around me, one across my shoulders, the other still holding my hand. He's tall enough so that his chin rests on the top of myhead.
"Permanent."
I keep my eyes closed and lean back against Michel, the back of my head against his chest. I try to act drugged as if I'm his blood slave, and it isn't hard to do. I know he's doing something to my mind to ensure I don't panic and I'mglad.
I peer at the vampire through my eyelashes. He's older, with grey hair and that strange grey skin in the darkness. His lips look almost blue, and his mouth's slightly open, revealing sharp canines. He's in huntermode.
"You couldn't beat me," Michel says flatly, as if answering an unspoken challenge. "Don't even think oftrying."
A surge of adrenaline goes through me and Michel squeezes me as if to calm me. Soon enough, I relax and my heart rate slows oncemore.
"Don't worry," the vampire says. "I'm not interested infighting."