“A human?”
I shake my head. “No. It’s another member of the community—for a human to be willing to help, they’d have to know I’m a vampire, and that would endanger the whole community. Especially back then.”
He frowns, and I can see he’s about to ask more questions, so I hold up a hand. “Let me finish, and it will all come clear, young grasshopper.”
Huffing and rolling his eyes, he slouches back in his chair. “Fine.”
“So I have a volunteer—let’s say it’s a shifter. But this shifter, as kind as they are to agree to let me feed from them, is a stranger. I don’t want to bring them back to my home, and truthfully, they probably don’t want to go. They’re already offering to put themselves in a vulnerable position; why would they also voluntarily go to a secondary location with a stranger?”
He’s nodding slowly. “Okay, so, what? Is it like sex at a gay nightclub? You find a corner or a bathroom stall?”
I tilt my head and study him. “Are you even old enough to be going to nightclubs?”
“Oh my god,” he mutters, and I make a mental note to tell him Malia, the current god of the spiritual plane, doesn’t want his obeisance… but another time. I need to save the digs up and spread them out, not use them all at once. “Why are you like this?”
“Like what?” I bat my eyelashes innocently. “Do I need to tell Sam you’re having dirty sex with strangers while illegally at a nightclub? Just imagine what he’ll have to say… you’ll probably get hours of lecturing about safe sex and underage drinking and recreational drug use.”
Noah shudders hard, his face going blank, and I know something I said crossed a line.
“I’m sorry.” I get up and go to kneel beside his chair. “What is it?”
He shakes his head and pushes away slightly. “Nothing. It’s… nothing. I’m fine. You—you don’t need to apologize.” He sounds like he’s choking on that last sentence, but I think it might be because he doesn’t like letting me off the hook rather than because he’s upset. I inspect his face carefully, but he seems to be back to normal, so I return to my chair and sprawl in it like I’m at the beach rather than in a conference room at work.
“Where was I?”
“You found a stranger in a bar,” he prompts.
“That’s right—you were comparing the act of a species taking sustenance in order to survive to anonymous blow jobs in public toilets.”
He winces. “Uhhh… that’s not what—”
“Don’t worry, that’s pretty close to how it was sometimes. Depending on the people involved, there could even be orgasms. But bathrooms back then weren’t like they are now, if there even were any, and since you’re so familiar with sex in nightclubs, you know that there’s a really high chance of being seen.” I pause for him to respond to the jab, but he keeps his jaw locked. How disappointing. “And if a human happened to be the one who saw a vampire feeding… well, usually it didn’t end well.”
He opens his mouth, then closes it again.
“Go on, ask,” I encourage.
“Couldn’t you just… use charisma to compel the human not to say anything?”
“Theoretically, yes. But that assumes the human doesn’t just sneak out and raise an alarm without us having seen them. Plus, the kind of charisma you’re talking about is really unpleasant to do—and complicated. If I were to use charisma to compel the human to not tell anyone what they saw, they could still write it down. They might not be able to say, ‘There was a vampire drinking someone’s blood in the storeroom,’ but they could find another way or combination of words. They could even say they saw something terrible and play a guessing game with a friend until the right answer came up. It would be next to impossible to cover all bases to prevent them from revealing what they’d seen—especially for a young vampire, or one who didn’t have strong charisma.”
“So just making them not say anything is out—but what about making them forget?” He’s leaning forward again now, that reluctant fascination back.
“That’s the other option,” I agree. “But it’s not one we like. We can’t make people forget—we actually have to remove the memory from their brain. It’s a horrible violation, and one of the reasons why vampires only feed from humans as a last resort.”
“Because if they knew about vampires, that would put the whole community at risk. So every time a vampire feeds from a human, they have to take a memory from them.” The horror of it reflects on his face. “And if that happened to a particular human more than once, the gaps in memory would be a giveaway anyway.”
“Yes. People who believe in vampires have widely been discredited throughout the centuries due to the way the magic protects us, but there have always been enough who knew to cause trouble for us. Mostly in rural areas in highly religious countries. At one point, village priests were responsible for more deaths than soldiers—and usually of innocent humans.”
“How does charisma work?” He furrows his brow. “And what’s the point of it, if you only feed on volunteers?”
“As far as we’ve been able to ascertain, its primary purpose is to make feeding pleasant for the donor. Light charisma numbs the pain of being bitten and having blood drawn. It also stimulates production of blood cells to help the donor replace what’s taken. We believe the ability then evolved over time to also become a form of defense—a way to confuse and distract attackers. And then after the species wars, when humans were no longer our allies, there came times when it was used to remove memories.” I really don’t like talking about this. There have been times when I was forced to redact human memories in order to protect the community, and even knowing I prevented the potential slaughter of many, it haunts me.
“But because vampires don’t like doing that, they only feed from humans as a last resort.” He sounds thoughtful now, and I wonder what’s going through his head. If Percy—and by extension, the magic—weren’t so utterly convinced he could be trusted, I’d be a little concerned about the way he’s digging out information that could aid humans in wiping out my species.
“I’ve known vampires who held out for assistance and nearly died because they wouldn’t feed from a human and violate them that way. And I’ve heard of others who did die. That kind of brain rape is not something any decent vampire takes lightly.”
Noah goes still. “Is that why you were so mad this afternoon when…?”
Adrenaline pumps through me as I remember walking into his part of the office and seeing that succubus looming over him. “Yes. Consent is sexy, Noah. More to the point, in our community, consent is essential, and lack of it is a crime. The only exception is to prevent harm to oneself or others. Did she enthrall you?”
He hesitates, and my blood surges. How dare an employee of CSG, someone who is supposed to stand for the law and what’s right, use their power in a personal squabble? In the office! Poor Noah—like he hasn’t been through enough, he’s now had to deal with a colleague abusing him in what’s supposed to be a safe pla—