“Where are we going, Daddy?” Stella asks.
“Freddy,” I correct her. “And I’m not sure, really.” Everything I own—four centuries of books and wealth—all belongs to my brother now. And, somehow, I do not care. It is a bit ironic, coming from a man who suddenly found his ability to care again. But making love to Miriam did not just change me back to who I was. It gave me clarity.
With each of our lives, there are bookends. In between are stories, chapters, and pages comprised of events, some of which are out of our control. But what we do control is how we spin the yarn of our stories. We can fill our narratives with empty words and lies, or we can fill them with adventures and truth. But make no mistake, they are our pages to fill. Even if a villain—or a vampire or two—injects dark, unexpected plot twists into our lives, we still get to decide what to do with it.
And what story will rise from the ashes of my own personal plot twists? For me, a four-hundred-year-old vampire, it is one single truth: I have seen rape, murder, massacres, births, and acts of extreme heroism that defied all odds. But not one of those, in my humble opinion, has truly marked my soul as deeply as the acts of love I’ve received.
My maker, for all his shortcomings and betrayals, was there for me when no one else cared whether I lived or died. He turned me because he loved me.
Alex, despite being a daft prick I should have executed the moment he crossed me, threw himself in front of dozens of swords to save my neck during the Great War. He loved me like a brother.
Lula, that big horny slut, never ceases to seek redemption for her wrongdoings, no matter how many times she screws up. It is love that drives her to never give up becoming a better person.
My librarian…well, she has captured my heart for no other reason than she is, and always will be, unapologetically herself. A librarian. Who loves her books and this world. I believe that in a time filled with so much noise and hate, her genuine nature means something. Especially to a very, very old vampire like myself. She has taught me about being brave. She has taught me the true meaning of love—that it is more than a simple feeling—and she has shown me that the only real home I have ever really known is a big ugly-as-hell gray building in the world’s hottest, most inhospitable place on earth. It is filled with grimy, nasty books I cannot stop missing, because when I look at them, I see her.
“Well, first,” I say to Stella, “I’m getting you some ice cream. And then you and me? We’re going to Target, and I’m going to buy you new clothes, toys and—”
“And books?” she asks hopefully.
“Yes, my princess. All the books you could ever want.” I am no longer a man of means, since I gave most of my money to Freddy. However, with careful planning, I can make the two million dollars in cash I kept stretch far. Back on a meager budget. I have survived it before. I will survive it again.
“Are we going to get Mommy back?” Stella asks.
“Yes. I must figure out how first. Your grandma is a very sad and lonely lady, so she wants to keep your mommy all to herself.”
“You should make her a vampire,” Stella says. “Then she could be like us and have lots of vampire friends.”
I try not to laugh. “I had the same thought myself.” I won’t turn Granny, of course. But I do need to figure out something. I believe, with all my heart, if I am given a chance to spend time with Miriam, she will remember us. If I have learned anything after all she and I have been through, it is that we will always find our way back to each other. I simply do not know what to do about her grandmother.
I will come up with something.
Stella and I pass through the ice-cream shop in the lobby. I buy her a scoop of vanilla with O-negative swirls and rainbow sprinkles. She seems to love it. Maybe I will open more shops. Human flavors in the front of the store and vampire flavors in the back. Profession #11? Ice-cream mogul. Or ice-cream king? I do like the ring of it.
Stella and I are almost to the rotating front doors with heavily armed guards on each side, when I hear a baby screaming.
I stop because the father in me cannot help it.
Most everyone is still in the great hall, so there are only a few vampires about in the lobby. Most are texting and speaking frantically on their phones about the news. No one seems to notice the sound.
I stop, turn, and follow the noise to the coat closet door. I push, and it creaks open. Empty hangers and racks frame the five-by-five space, where a helpless and incredibly pale baby is crying so hard, its face is red and covered in hot tears that stream down its face.
“Baby Nice?” Freddy said he gave him to a vampire couple who promised to keep him for a few weeks, just to ensure he did not exhibit any unusual signs of side effects from the serum. Then they were to hand him over to a human adoption agency.
“What’s the matter with him?” Stella asks, licking away on her cone.
“I do not know.” But there is a note tucked into his blanket: Sorry. But he won’t stop crying. We have tried stories, lace diapers, rocking him, cookies, and classical music. Nothing works. Good luck.
“How about some baby formula, you morons,” I grumble. I cannot believe they simply dumped him here in a closet. I will have to ask Freddy who these individuals were.
“Daddy, why won’t he stop crying?” Stella asks.
“Baby Nice is just hungry. He’ll be all right.” I
