I look across the aisle again and find him staring at me. Does he know how badly I’m hurting right now? Does he know how much his words still matter, or that it was thoughts of him that kept me alive all those years when Nice’s eccentricities made me want to jump off a tall bridge? Once, Nice made me stay up for ten days straight to binge-watch Supernatural. Over three hundred hours. It was thoughts of Michael that kept my head on straight. I imagined him at my side, saying, “Miriam, you’re strong. You can get through this. For Stella. Just pretend Dean is me.”
Then there was the time that Nice wanted to stay in the bubble bath for a month. I had to sit there for hours reading to him and refilling the tub with warm water. Then he made me use a whisk to keep the bubbles just so.
It was Michael who gave me the strength to carry on and stay focused on Stella when I didn’t have it in me.
“You are upset. I meant no offense,” he says. “You are a vampire now. Our kind is unable to procreate the human way.”
Michael and I lock eyes, and I have to wonder if he still senses what I’m feeling like he used to. Otherwise, why would he have just said that?
“Yes. Right,” I agree, trying not to get choked up by his small act of compassion. “I guess we won’t be reliving those times.”
“If you could become human again, would you? Would you have more children?” His eyes flicker with a curious twitch.
What a strange question. I’m not sure. I tend to push myself away from dreaming of the impossible. My parents taught me that it’s better to focus on the possible.
“I haven’t given it much thought,” I reply. “Everything I know about vampires, which is a lot—more than most vampires even—says that it can’t be undone. Once you’re a vampire, you’re a vampire.” The Keepers have records dating back centuries of all sorts of experiments they did on vampires to see if the person could be cured. They drained them of their blood, starved them, injected them with whisky as an antiseptic. The only thing the Keepers accomplished was creating very hungry, intoxicated vampires. “Why do you ask?”
“Merely making polite conversation.” He returns to his screen.
“I thought you didn’t like talking about hypotheticals.”
He loosens his red tie. “I don’t.”
“Good. Let’s talk business, then. Tell me what you know about Nice. Where did he run off to after planting that bomb?” He had to be near when it went off, but I highly doubt he stuck around afterwards. He probably saw that Michael and I survived, and wouldn’t want to risk being caught.
“My intel has informed me that Nice is making his way south. To Mexico.”
I frown. “Mexico? Are you sure? Doesn’t really seem like his style.” Nice is more of the frou-frou Paris type.
“There is a big bullfight, and he wishes to show off his new red cape.”
“Okay. That sounds like him. So we’re going to Mexico?”
“We are not. You are staying at one of my safe houses with the child,” he says.
“First of all, the child’s name is Stella. And second, I’m not going into hiding.”
Michael flashes another one of his famous stern warnings with his dark eyes, but this time, I’m not having it.
“You honestly think I’m going to let you kill Nice? He’s mine…” I snarl.
“No,” Michael replies. “I do not plan to kill him. I plan to send my men to capture him.”
“Did you say capture?” Has he been eating chocolate chip cookies?
“Yes. I plan to detain Nice and put him on trial. The law must be obeyed.”
Over my undead body! “He’ll find a way to get free. And he’ll just keep coming after us.”
“If I murder him, my people will see that I am no better than the outlaws who organized the Uprising.” Michael sighs exasperatedly and takes a calm tone. “If Nice is executed, it will be after he has been given a proper trial so the world can see what happens to those who cross me.”
Forget that! If he’s not going to kill Nice, then I will. There will be no trial. There will be no fairness for that insane frilly man.
“Well,” I say sweetly, pretending to go along, “just be sure I get a front-row seat at the trial.” I get up and go to the small galley in the back, where they have snacks and drinks. Stella is already stretched out with a blanket on one of the reclining seats, watching My Little Pony on my phone. She says they’re her only friends, that magical creatures have to stick together.
Poor thing. I know if I could just give her a normal life, she would make friends and feel like part of this world, instead of like someone who doesn’t belong anywhere. Not human. Not vampire. Something utterly unique. Like a unicorn.
I duck down and inspect the contents of the mini-fridge. There are several bags of the red stuff. I still can’t get used to drinking it, but I know I have to. My organs will eventually shut down if I don’t. Michael once told me how he’d spent several years getting a degree in bioengineering and then went to work in a lab, where he studied his blood on their equipment after hours. According to him, vampirism is brought on by a very primitive and ancient virus that can’t survive long outside the body. It combusts, leaving behind only fine carbon particles. Basically ash. So he found a way to stabilize his blood for just a short while—long enough to develop several theories based on the behaviors of the blood cells.
He believes this vampire organism somehow allows our bodies to function off very little oxygen. The lower oxygen content slows down the rate of DNA decay, so our bodies can continue making new, perfectly healthy cells for centuries. Our muscles have more stamina and power because they don’t require the heart to pump all that oxygen to function at full capacity. Our heart is also required to do far less work, beating at an extremely low rate, reducing wear and tear significantly. It also makes our bodies much colder. Less heat generation.
When he talked about it, the whole thing reminded me of those insects that go into hibernation for long periods of time, slowing their heart rates to almost nothing. Some even produce a sort of antifreeze in their bloodstreams so they don’t ever get truly cold. All very fascinating.
The downside to this phenomena, he claims, is that some of our internal organs don’t get the micronutrients they need to fully function. That’s where the nutrient-rich human blood comes in. We digest it or absorb it into our bodies, like a supplement.
Of course, it’s all just hypotheses. To really study a vampire’s blood, you’d have to make it stable. Or run lots of experiments to prove out a theory. And no vampire in his or her right mind is going to loan themselves to a laboratory to be studied because Michael is right about one thing: We must always remain a secret, living in plain sight among humans. If they found out about us, we’d be hunted.
“Miriam?” says Michael’s deep voice from behind.
I stand from the fridge and turn to face him. He’s wearing a T-shirt and exercise shorts.
Freddy. Not Michael. The pilot had his gym clothes on board and loaned them to Freddy, since Freddy was missing the back half of his suit. Interestingly, he has the same great ass as Michael.
Still, even though I know it’s not Michael, I can’t stop my heart from beating just a bit faster when I look at him. That sexy smile. Those bedroom eyes. The understated charm.