Vampire Weekend by Mike Chen

Author:Mike Chen [Chen, Mike]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-11-07T14:44:23+00:00

CHAPTER 23

I wanted to SAY YES.

Not because I dreamed of turning people into vampires. Far from it. The urge to say yes came with a simple appeal, an acknowledgment and confirmation of Ian’s desperation. But it wasn’t that easy. And I didn’t know how to explain that to Ian without coming off as dismissive or condescending or just plain cruel.

I had to say something, but the disaster of that night with Marshall loomed over my thoughts. Though the words I came up with tonight weren’t any better than before. “I...can’t?”

A silence grew between us, and Ian shot a look that lacked definition, as if he couldn’t comprehend my reply. “What do you mean, you can’t?” he asked, both anger and confusion tinting his words.

“I just can’t.”

Ian seemed to leap past the whole confirmation of 1) vampires exist, and 2) I was one of them. Which meant that at some point, I’d need to have to talk with him about community rules. “Of course you can,” he said, his voice becoming increasingly frustrated. “That’s how it works.”

“Actually, that’s not how it works.” This marked the third time a human learned my true identity, and between this, Laura’s “it’s fine” response and Marshall’s “that sounds depressing” reaction, I wondered if I simply wasn’t very good at being a vampire. Definitely a poor representative for the community if nothing else.

“That makes no sense.” His hands went up in a shrug, a full-body rejection of my statement.

“No, seriously. I can’t,” I said, mirroring Ian’s frustration for completely different reasons.

“You mean you weren’t made? Were you born a vampire?” Ian squinted, mind clearly churning. “Like, is my grandpa secretly one too?”

“What? No, of course not.”

“So you were made a vampire.”

“Yeah, I mean, that’s basically how it works,” I said, an exasperated sigh slipping out.

“So then you can turn my mom.” He pointed with the cadence of his words, as if that would prove his point further.

“No, that’s the thing.” My hands went up, the universal sign of slow-the-fuck-down. “Okay, let’s reset. Yes, someone turned me. No, I can’t turn other vampires.”

“This makes no sense,” he said again. But repeating it wouldn’t flip reality. “You’re, like, contradicting yourself.”

Lola waddled between us and plopped down. She looked with ears back, seemingly pleading for us to stop arguing or at least give her a bone.

“So, here’s what I know about turning,” I said. “The rumor—standard assumption, really—is that it can kill you if you try.”

“Didn’t you have, like, a master vampire or something?”

In my head, the chorus to Depeche Mode’s “Master and Servant” began playing. “This is what I know for sure—like, I know this because everyone has the same story. I went out to a show. Iggy Pop—seventies punk guy. I went to his show in LA, have no real memory of the show and kind of came to about two weeks later in a closet in my apartment.” Senses came in flashes: the lights from the stage, the heat of bodies mashing together, and the intense

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