He was watching the lizard fondly.
“But if we grew up in a culture where everyone had snakes and tarantulas as pets, we would be much less afraid of them. It’s considered strange to have a pet rat, but normal to have a pet hamster. They’re both in the Cricetidae family. But we think one is cute and one is horrible.”
“Let me guess,” Adam said. “You think rats are cute.”
“Not especially. But I acknowledge that it’s merely convention that makes people think they’re less cute than hamsters.”
He looked at the jar on the table.
“Leeches are much cuter than hamsters,” he said.
Adam laughed, until it was clear Wes wasn’t kidding.
“Can I hold a leech?” Gus asked.
Wes said, “If you do, it’ll bite you and suck your blood a little. Are you okay with that?”
Adam gaped.
Gus asked, “Will it hurt?”
“Not really.”
Gus shrugged. “Okay.”
“Um, sorry, not okay. I would really prefer my daughter doesn’t hold anything guaranteed to suck her blood.”
“Well, I suppose it’s not guaranteed—” Wes began.
“No. Nope. Thanks, but no.”
“We have plenty to spare,” Wes said mildly. Then, “You can hold Ludwig. He doesn’t suck blood.”
Wes held up the lizard that had scampered up his arm and onto his shoulder.
Gus nodded and held out her hand. She stroked the small lizard’s back and giggled with delight when it ran onto her wrist.
“Gus isn’t scared of them,” Adam said.
“No.” Wes cast a fond, respectful look at Gus.
“Wes, what do you do?” Adam asked. “Besides being a vampire-werewolf hybrid who practices witchcraft and worships Satan, of course.”
Wes’ blue eyes were intense as he spoke.
“I’m working to create a viable sustainable natural alternative to electric light,” he said intently. “It’s a huge problem, both in terms of unnecessary energy output and lack of access to necessary energy. Lighting accounts for twenty percent of worldwide energy used every year, so a natural alternative would cut down on our general energy usage. Electric light pollution spoils rural areas and scares animal populations out of their natural habitats, which can change entire ecosystems over time, so a natural alternative would be less disruptive. And urban neighborhoods that are primarily lower-earning people of color are severely underserved by cities’ infrastructures, so they have a lack of electric streetlights, which makes the areas less safe and more susceptible to crime. A natural alternative to electric light could be more accessible for neighborhoods of that sort. If I can find a way to create this bioluminescent light, it could be used everywhere. Anywhere.”
His eyes glowed with purpose.
“Holy crap,” Adam said. “You really are a superhero.”
Chapter Six
Wes
Adam Mills arrived at Wes’ doorstep looking harassed.
Since Adam had called him a superhero two nights before, Wes had carried around a feeling he didn’t recognize. A spacious, fizzy sensation that made his head feel a bit light and the corners of his mouth turn up.
“I need to ask you a huge favor,” Adam said, grimacing. “It’s Gus’ turn to do a show-and-tell at school, and all she’ll talk about is wanting to bring, er, Bettie.”
Adam shuddered when he uttered the tarantula’s name, but Wes was touched. If Gus brought Bettie in to school and talked about why she was interested in her, she could convince a whole classroom of kids that tarantulas were lovely, fascinating creatures, and nothing to be afraid of.
“So,” Adam said, “I need you to talk her out of it.”
“Huh?”
“Yeah, just tell her Bettie doesn’t like to ride in cars or something, maybe. Whatever you want. I can bring her by, or you could pop over. Whatever’s easiest for you. I’m really sorry.”
He ran a hand through his silky dark blond hair, and it settled in a messy fall around his face.
“It’s just, when Gus gets fixated on something, it’s nearly impossible to get her off it. You really have to replace it with another fixation instead.” He seemed to be half talking to himself. “Anyway, I’m sorry to put you on the spot, but can you?”
“Can I talk her out of it?”
“Yeah.”
“Or she could just take Bettie to school,” Wes offered.
He had Adam’s full attention now.
“Oh, no. No, no, that’s not necessary. Nope. No worries.”
Adam swallowed hard when he was scared, and his eyes darted around.
Wes couldn’t believe what he was about to offer. But with each passing day he thought about Adam Mills more.
“I could go. With her. If she wants.”
Adam blinked up at him. His eyes were a bluish-grayish color that reminded Wes of the Pacific Ocean on smoggy days.
“Can you do that?” He immediately flushed. “Oops, sorry. I didn’t mean. Um.”
There was a childish wonder to Adam that delighted Wes. He imagined it was probably where Gus got her own sense of wonder and curiosity, even if hers was for different topics.
“Will the sun burn me to a crisp, you mean?”
Adam laughed nervously, but he bit his lip and looked up at Wes like he really would like to know the answer.
Wes leaned closer. Usually, Adam was energy in motion—one eye on Gus, the other on the ground in front of him to make sure he didn’t trip.
But now Wes had his full attention. He looked into Adam’s stormy eyes and took in the way his pupils dilated and his lashes swept downward. The way his mouth softened and parted slightly.
And he said, very seriously, “I’m willing to chance it.”
Adam snorted and then looked sheepish.
“Sorry,” he muttered.
“I’m not a vampire,” Wes said mildly. Then, in his best Bela Lugosi voice, “I am a daywalker.”
Adam’s eyes got wide and Wes relented.
“Do you believe in vampires?” he asked.
“No!” Adam said very quickly. Too quickly. “Not really.” He scuffed the stoop with the toe of his worn sneaker. “I don’t know. It’s just as possible as anything else, isn’t it? No, no, never mind. Forget I said that.”