"Hey, you doing alright?"
"I'm okay," I told Allie over the phone, pitching my voice to make it coarse, "Just feeling under the weather. Running around yesterday in all that rain did a number on me."
"With both you and Catalina out, I almost had to resort to talking to Chelsea at lunch. Thankfully Bonnie came to talk about her bees."
"She saved you there," I chuckled, leaning on the arm of Mason's leather sofa as we chatted, "I'll be back tomorrow. Have you checked in with Catalina? She was stressing about AP Chem homework when I checked in on her earlier."
"Oh, yeah, I talked to Mrs. Roberts about Catalina's family situation and she got an extension. I tried to get you in the clear too, but she said wanted a doctor's note if you were sick."
Mason, sitting at his desk across from me, looked up then from his examination of Margret's drawing. He raised his eyebrows and mouthed: 'Paul can help'.
"I think I can get one. Or just cram work in between naps."
Allie's intuition clicked immediately and her voice filled with implication, "I assume Mason's taking care of you?"
"He is," I admitted as the devil caught my eye and grinned.
"You're not at his house, are you? Or is he at yours? Oh my god if he's at yours and your dad isn't home - "
"Allie," I laughed, quickly cutting off that train of thought, "I'm sick. I'm hardly in the mood."
"Waitwaitwait," she gasped, "'In the mood? I didn't say anything about that, I mean, the two of you haven't even kissed yet, right? Right?! Or are you not keeping me up to date on - "
"I've kept you up to date," I assured her patiently, "There's been no... bases involved yet."
I saw Mason duck his head and bring a hand to his mouth, feigning intense concentration.
"Yes, right, you would tell me though, wouldn't you?"
"I'm not going to get graphic with you."
"No... I just want to know if it's romantic or not. Like, when and where? You know? And if he's good at it. And if he uses tongue on the first kiss, ugh, you know that's a red flag - "
"That's getting pretty graphic."
"Oh, come on."
"I'll tell you the when and where... and maybe I can divulge whether he's a good kisser, but that's it."
Mason clicked his tongue but shook his head good-humoredly.
"Wait..." Allie suddenly whispered, "Is he there with you right now?"
"What do you mean? I've had you on speaker this whole time - "
"Stop, I'd literally die," she gasped, mortified, "Anyway, I gotta see how Catalina's doing. I was thinking of making some corn-muffins afterschool to bring over to the Romeros, so I need to get started."
"Yes, they should be home by now," I checked the clock, "Send them my regards."
Allie laughed, "What are you, eighty? But sure, yeah, I'll bring your regards over with the muffins."
"Sounds good, bye!"
"Bye!"
I tapped the conversation closed and set the phone on the ridge of the couch cushion.
"You're going to update Alissa Brown on all the bases we get to?"
"'All'?" I raised my eyebrows, "Rather presumptuous, don't you think?"
He rolled his eyes and nodded his head skeptically, though I saw that infuriating smirk before he turned away. A stack of books from my family's limited, storehouse archive teetered beside me; a collection of western European folklore as observed and recorded by Lunari scholars. Unfortunately, these were all mere transcriptions of the originals and I didn't have a comprehensive set. That lay in our vast castle-library all the way back in the Valley... if it had escaped destruction that was -
"Sara?" I glanced up and met Mason's worried stare, "You looked troubled again."
"I'm just frustrated," I sighed, flicking the pages of the book in my lap, "I don't have nearly all of the information here that I'd like. Even if I did, I don't think it would add up. Celtic ideology is about warding and protecting. Some rare, ancient sects practiced human sacrifice, but nothing in the Common Era."
"Human sacrifice, huh," he murmured, staring at his laptop, "Those are usually rituals with a method. Margret's body was ravaged."
"Similar to how vampires tend to cover their tracks. Any missing body parts?"
"Everything was accounted for by combing over the scene."
"Blood loss?"
"Proportional to the injury."
I frowned, "Did you check her environment or merely her corpse?"
"Her corpse," Mason looked up, curious.
"That's not enough," I shook my head, gripping my book tighter, "Vampires will create injuries after exsanguination to make it appear that the blood loss is proportional. Then, they'll place the body in a spot where it's hard to gauge the pool of blood. In cities, they'll wait for rainstorms to dispose of kills and place bodies near sewer drains."
His expression resolved, "She was found in a little runoff creek..."
I chuckled, leaning forward over my book to regard him with a smirk. He raised his shoulders with preemptive chagrin.
"You don't even think like a vampire that feeds from humans."
He hesitated, guilt quirking his lips down.
"I... have."
I swallowed, pressing my lips together against a barrage of questions. He sensed them nonetheless, standing stiffly and moving to settle across from me on the couch. Warily, he studied me, but he tilted his body toward me openly.
"Go on."
"How many?"
His brows arched, "One hundred and thirty seven. Over half of those didn't survive."
I clenched my teeth. My hands clasped around my knees, fingertips gripping my own skin tightly.
"Before Paul turned me, I'd dreamed of becoming a soldier," he confessed softly, shoulders taught and gaze focused firmly on the floor, "But plans change. When I was reborn, I fully understood what I was from reading Paul's mind. I understood how he wanted me to live, how he wanted me to... eat. I didn't resent him but..."
His fists clenched as he leaned forward over his knees, bracing himself on his forearms.
"Given my ability to read the minds of others, I felt that I could have both. I felt that I could both consume human blood and do right by innocents. That I could be a soldier, the way I'd always dreamed; fighting for the safety of others."
He loosed a mocking chuckle. A visible cringe twitched across his face.
"I admit," he whispered, "There were nine... accidents; people for whom I'd simply lacked the self control. Who truly didn't deserve death. But the others?"
He smiled grimly, glancing over. I was stone-faced.
Looking down again, he continued, "For five years I hunted the worst society had to offer. Those who stalked women, I stalked in kind, repeating the catch-and-release for weeks. If they realized their karmic comeuppance, they were allowed to live. If they continued their obsession, I killed them.
"Those who committed homicide, I would have them understand fear in the moments before I bled them dry. Those who committed premeditated murder, I let them know I was coming for them days before they met their inevitable end. The rapists..."
A long, unnerving smile snaked across his face.
"I will never feel guilt over the rapists," he seethed, voice firm for the first time since beginning his confession, "I tortured them prior to killing them. My ability to see into the minds of the victims allowed me to appropriately gauge the proper torment."
He blinked, exiting the reverie with a suddenly anxious expression. He spared me another glance.
"I'm still with you," I rasped, my voice a mere wisp.
"If I'm frightening you - "
"No, you're not, but..." I wrinkled my nose, "It's not right either. I suppose that it's not my place to speak because, once, I too... killed a human..."
My voice choked off and Mason sat upright, moving purposefully but swiftly closer. His movements were slow, but I allowed him to lay a hand over mine.
"My point," I continued shakily after a breath, "Is that supernaturals need to be exceedingly careful in how we go about passing judgment and sentencing on humans. We may not have that right in the first place. Not only do we run the risk of causing a cruel and unusual punishment, but we curb the learning capacity of human legal systems. Like immunity, their legal system needs to be challenged in order to be competent."
"I can't just sit and listen to malintent and let it be."
"In most situations, you may need to do nothing. If we give ourselves and our abilities over to the humans, we're unable to simply be of service to the good ones. Because how do we know which are good? Immortals, especially, should know this.
"We who have seen how cultural norms change. Watched how something acceptable in one era becomes unacceptable in another; how can we know that what we are choosing in the present is definitively good? Will these things too be judged by a further enlightened future society?"
He started a bit, his eyes glittering with a fresh light as he regarded me. With a swallow he reigned in his surprise.
With a taught jaw, he met my eyes, "Some people deserve death. Human or not."
"There are those who are evil and those who are confused; what of schizophrenia? People who hear voices? It's a rare scenario, but what of those who hear voices telling them to kill? Were you able, then, to differentiate those who were killers for their own gratification and those who killed because they had illness?"
Conflict pressed his lips together and tightened his eyes, but he shook his head, "Retrospectively, there have been those that I wonder about. But Sara, this was in the nineteen-twenties and thirties; what good mental rehabilitation services were available? Perhaps it was better to put them down - "
"Like an animal? Be careful with that line of thought. Humans have high intrinsic value. They have existential discussions and are capable of both external innovation and internal change. On top of that, their short lifespans give their struggles meaning."
"These people were immediate menaces to society," Mason argued, brows furrowing and upper lip curling, "If you were in my shoes, you'd let them live?"
"I'd let the humans deal with their own."
He blinked, but disgust lingered in the scrunch of his nose.
"We don't intervene to save humans from themselves, from nature, or from coincidental accidents or illness. Among my kind, it's a strongly debated topic. In the end, it usually falls to the wayside in light of supernatural threats. I figure that after all we do, maybe they can at least be responsible for their own."
He stared straight-on now, open curiosity in his wide eyes.
"What?"
"Nothing," he muttered, leaning back into the couch cushions beside me to stare at the ceiling.
"Why do you defend what you did? Your tone earlier implied some regret."
"There's a part of me that sees your point, but doesn't want to..." his jaw flexed, "Say I had assisted in bringing them to justice instead of dealing out the justice myself; who's to say that they'd have received proper judgment? A proper sentence?"
"The humans."
"You have a significant amount of faith in the race you insinuate as weak."
"Just because they are weak in body, comparably, doesn't mean they are weak in mind. Their justice may not be perfect and not all of them may agree, but we are similar to them in that way, don't you think?"
I smirked, gesturing to the pair of us. Mason's half-grin quirked onto his cheeks for a second before falling once again.
"I suppose I regret because I became what I hated. If I'd stayed with Paul, I wouldn't have accidentally killed innocents. I'm just as bad as those I condemn."
He swallowed and I noticed his eyes beginning to brim as he looked to the ceiling again, hands clasped tightly in front of him.
"I'm a hypocrite."
I gripped my knees tightly, "I feel the same."
He frowned, reaching out once more to brush his fingers against my tense hands.
"I've talked up a big game about protecting humanity. But I may have had a very limited view of what humanity really is."
Mason continued to rub with his fingertips, his brows still-furrowed but he stayed quiet.
"There hasn't been a single vampire that I've encountered that I'd allowed to live," I confessed, my voice hushed and eyes lowered, "Until you. Until your family. We considered vampires akin to animals. Intelligent but murderous and incapable of change. Vampires inherently violate the rights of humans in the same way parasites do."
His gaze hollowed.
I lowered my own, nervous to look up, "Your family's humanness was jarring. I'd thought at first that it was some natural adaptation, a way for the parasite to more closely associate with its prey for easier access to a food source - "
He interrupted suddenly, "If you had discovered that we'd been feeding from the locals, you would've killed us?"
I nodded without hesitation, "The fact that many of you were at a high school was insidious. And another was at a hospital. Places where vulnerable humans frequented."
He raised his eyebrows and blew out a puff of air, "Yes, I can see how that was suspicious."
"I discovered Paul's blood drives and realized the true situation."
"Our family is making you rethink your preconception about vampires?" Mason wondered, turning his body to rest a forearm along the top of the couch and lean toward me.
I nodded wordlessly.
"You think that some of the vampires you killed might've been rehabilitated."
My lips parted in hesitation, brows furrowing.
"The majority of the freshly-vampirized are uncontrollable and endanger so many-"
He raised a finger, a bittersweet smirk on his lips, "Be careful with that line of thought. Their humanity is valuable. With enough time and practice, they can feel and act human again with the right guidance."
I grimaced.
With a cautious motion, he reached for me. His eyes remained watching my face as he did so. I swallowed nervously, but set my book back onto the pile and allowed him to sweep me onto his lap.
"Is this alright for you?" I asked breathlessly.
When I looked up at him, his jaw was restrained.
"I can manage."
"You always draw close when you speak with me. I can feel your breath on my neck sometimes."
He sensed the question inherent in my observation.
"I've been increasing my tolerance," he admitted, face turned away from where I leaned against his shoulder, "Your body language has been increasingly more open to me and I want to be able to reciprocate. More than simply with my hands."
I blushed and he leaned away from the heat.
"Sorry..."
"Don't apologize, I understand how that could be misconstrued," he said with a low, resonating chuckle, "I simply mean that I would like to be able to kiss you, one day."
"I'll do my best to smell less appetizing."
Mason gazed down at me in thought, "Feeding from you would hurt me more than it would hurt you."
"Physically," I pointed out, "I'd be pretty sad if you died."
"Ah."
"Could you stop mid-feeding?"
"I can prevent myself from applying venom. But stopping a feeding entirely... with how appetizing you smell, I have my doubts."
"It wouldn't be the first time I've killed a vampire with my blood," I divulged, inspecting my nails in a flippant way.
"How does that work, exactly?"
"I can't get technical on the history of my bloodline," I said hesitantly, "But the mode of action once the blood has been drunk, perhaps."
He shrugged, "Whatever you feel most comfortable divulging."
"It's like alcohol, but more potent. If I can only manage to get a vampire to consume a hearty sip, I've done the work of two or three shots of moonshine. It's faster acting too. You'll see a vampire lose coordination within one minute. Consuming a liter is a pretty fifty-fifty shot of living, especially if they can throw it up quickly. If they consume five liters they're definitely dead. No way to bring that back up before it poisons."
"Five liters is about as much blood as a human has!"
"A human," I emphasized, "My kind can replenish red blood cells faster than humans can. We can replenish a variety of cells faster than humans can - with adequate nutrition. Energy doesn't spring from nowhere."
"We only need to feed once a week or so," Mason rebutted.
"Human blood is extremely nutrient rich. That, and vampirism is based in one of the old magics. You exchanged fertility and humanity for speed, strength, durability, and heightened senses."
"Fertility, huh," he frowned, "That's old magic?"
"Fertility is an extremely powerful and ancient bargaining chip when it comes to magic. The ability to create life. Not everyone needs it, of course, and some shouldn't even wield it in the first place. But it's powerful nonetheless."
"So we can't get our fertility back," Mason contemplated, "But my family did reclaim our humanity."
"I won't downplay the hard work your family does, but the need to drink human blood is an inherent sign that you have lost some of your humanity."
"And you?"
"I am also without some of my humanity."
His green-eyes narrowed. I put a finger over my lips.
"You have already been fairly transparent with me," he capitulated, his arms tightening a bit, "But I'm concerned. The only reason I can make peace with what I am is because of my companionship with my family. You seem alone."
"I've got Chief Murphy," I provided hesitantly, "And some human friends from school."
"You've been through a lot in your short life..."
I tilted my head, raising an eyebrow.
"I know," he admitted, grinning conspiratorially, "You played your hand earlier in this very conversation. Prior to that, however, I hadn't thought you were immortal..."
"What did you think I was?"
I crossed my arms, suddenly suspicious.
"I pegged you as someone in their mid to late twenties."
My mouth dropped open, "Wait, what? Why? When?"
"Well, you were much too accomplished for a high schooler for one thing. The way you act with the highschoolers often takes on a more mentoring and even condescending tone."
"Huh... I'm terrible at keeping secrets," I sighed.
"You are," he grinned down at me and I withered further in his arms, "So... was that you spying the other week?"
Gripping my fingers into fist, I glared up at him, "I can kill you, jerk. I almost did that day on the mountain and you know it!"
The crooked smile pressed even wider to his cheeks and his eyes gleamed with triumph.
"Maybe," he allowed cloyingly, "The night you were spying, what did you hear?"
"I heard everything up until Paul came home."
A knock at the door startled me. I shifted my weight from Mason's lap but he held steady and I looked up anxiously.
"They won't mind if you don't."
I settled back against him.
"Come on in," he called.
"Sorry to intrude," Kira chimed, her petite form shadowed by Samuel's lanky one. They entered and sat on the floor across from us, "We're here to inquire about mysteries."
"O-oh."
Leo and Anne appeared in the doorway. They settled on the other end of the couch. "
"So, uh, you've overheard the conversation?"
"I instructed my children in discretion-" Claire announced from where she leaned against the doorway, but despite her, all her children nodded.
She threw her arms in the air, exasperated.
"Then, I don't need to repeat myself," I said, deflating.
I should've known better.
"We got home when Mason was talking about doing things to you with more than just his hands," Leo said, nose wrinkled in a teasing sneer. Mason looked away, a dark red slowly blossoming under his freckles, "So how old are you?"
Anne smacked him upside the head in a blur. Leo grimaced, but neglected to rub the spot.
"Never ask a lady her age."
"The ghost that you banished today," Samuel started, hedging into the topic at hand, "You had someone assist you with it?"
"Mhm," I said, my eyes narrowed, "A local witch. Speaking of, I do need to pay her back. I promised payment by next Friday."
"What does she want?" Kira asked excitedly.
"Vampires are good ingredients. Witches can make anti-aging potions from vampire venom, for instance."
"Anti-aging potions," Anne echoed, "Wouldn't that make them vampires themselves?"
"It's not permanent. It only delays by five years or so. A witch wouldn't willingly become a vampire; she would lose her ability to spellcast. It's difficult to house multiple occult magics in one vessel."
"In that case," Kira gushed, popping to her feet, "I can donate a couple ounces!"
"Yes, but - "
She disappeared from the spot and Claire bowed to allow her passage, looking on worriedly.
"Carmen happens to be my number one suspect right now," I cautioned, knowing she could still hear me.
"Paul said that you didn't want to divulge your contact," Samuel pointed out.
"I won't protect someone I suspect of killing people. Margret, the ghost, practically accused her; frosting up the windows and yelling at me for bringing her. Margret also recreated a symbol that looked Celtic in origin. Carmen's the only Celtic witch - that I know of - in the area."
Kira had returned, bottle in-hand, "So she's probably evil... are you still gonna pay her?"
"I'm trying to stay in her good-graces to figure her out. Payment would help toward that end, but keep in mind that what you're giving her is personal. Your venom."
"If she's just making an aging potion - " Samuel started, but I shook my head.
"She won't," I admitted, my mouth growing taught with worry, "A personal clipping or secretion can be used to inform on, track, enchant, or curse that individual."
"Kira," Claire warned, her voice small and pleading, "I don't think it's a good idea."
Kira shrugged, holding the bottle up to her mouth. Her canines elongated, the paired sets on the top growing downward and pushing forward from the line to accommodate the extension. Likely by reflex, the lower two fangs also came forward. These were significantly shorter; they were for pinning a victim, not drawing blood.
Kira dipped her right upper pair into the bottle and flexed her jaw. Clear venom splashed along the grooves of the first and larger of the two fangs, dribbling from the tip in a near-straight line down to the base of the little vial. Kira settled contentedly, locking eyes with Mason and raising her eyebrows.
"She says she's not worried about it," Mason translated her thoughts through a frown of his own, "She's excited to learn more about witches; what better way than to be cursed by one."
"What's the worst that could happen?" Samuel asked solemnly.
"A curse," I said, bringing a finger up to my lower lip as I thought, "Curses are usually a temporary condition when cast on people; never lasting more than a week or so. They range from mere bad luck to death magnetism."
"'Death magnetism'?"
"We went up against a pretty nasty necromancer who liked his materials fresh," I remembered with a shudder, "Bruno was the one to land the killing blow, but was cursed by vengeance-magic triggered at death. We had to mitigate multiple life-or-death situations which he found himself victim to within the next week. The nastiest of which was nearly being decapitated by a falling bookshelf."
Leo let out a low whistle as Claire's lips became a thin line.
"What do we know about the witch in question?" Anne asked.
"Her name is Carmen," I said, sliding off Mason's lap to grab my notebook, "She works with a partner named Crimson. Carmen once said that they each have a few children to their name which indicates a witch coven.
"Carmen has the ability to read energies and banish ghosts. My energy is mostly cloaked such that I appear human to most energy-readers, but Carmen was able to sense something off about me, despite not being able to correctly identify my race, so she's skilled."
"Energy sensing...?" Kira repeated, eyes wide.
"A way of identifying supernaturals."
"So she can tell we're vampires on-sight."
I nodded then launched into my recap: how we'd encountered Margret with the ouija board, how she'd begun to escalate, and how I'd needed to call in Carmen herself.
"Like I said, I think Margret recognized Carmen, somehow," I murmured thoughtfully, "She went from being a disgruntled ghost to a near-poltergeist at the sight of her; like a switch had been flipped. She froze up the house like an icebox while we stood in the driveway."
"Do magic users have weaknesses we can use to identify them?" Claire asked, "The same way that vampires can't go out in sunlight, drink lamalis, or touch silver?"
"There's one definitive one across all black magic users - those witches who sacrifice or manipulate human life. These are unable to touch running freshwater. If we research further into Celtic witchcraft, we may find more. Carmen's incantation-language was Goidelic in origin, so the ancient Celts are the people to research."
"You recognized that?" Mason wondered.
"Some words, yes, from our interactions with Fae-folk, but not enough to specify."
Kira bounced on the spot and opened her mouth but Mason shook his head at her.
"So we've got to push Carmen in a river?" Leo wondered.
"Easier," I realized, snapping my fingers, "Rainwater. She was hesitant to come to my aid yesterday when it was raining and didn't want to attend the carwash if the weather was bad."
"So she could be a black magic user," Samuel surmised, still frowning, "How and why is she killing people out in the park?"
"Whatever the reason, she's also making it look like a vampire's doing it," I added thoughtfully, "At least, that was in Margret's case."
"The other corpse with Margret was found to be in a similar state," Mason recalled, "Of the four autopsies of mauling victims since March, three were found in running-water areas with significant blood loss.
"One was found with his abdomen torn-open and his heart missing. Aside from found-bodies, there are still about ten people missing. This made national news over the summer; we're likely going to see more headlines going forward."
"Hearts missing...?" I echoed, eyebrows disappearing into my hairline.
"A creature you know?"
"Sounds like werewolf," I murmured with narrowed eyes, "But werewolves are thought to be extinct. There were some heart-eating rituals in Aztec histories... but why would a Celtic witch use Ancient Mayan rituals? Mixing magics is fairly difficult, but possible. No, Occam's Razor; she's mimicking vampire and werewolf killings. "
"So this witch is making it appear that her victims are killed by vampires or werewolves; why?" Mason summarized, "If werewolves are supposedly extinct, you're not really covering up your tracks so much as creating loose ends by mimicking one. So why pretend? Or does it have to do with that monstrous creature we heard out in the woods?"
"Don't witches have familiars?" Kira asked excitedly, "Maybe she has a vampire or werewolf familiar."
"That's pretty risky. Contracts with familiars tend to be with those that have lesser intelligence than the witch contracting them; largely animals. Otherwise you can run the risk of the familiar rebelling.
"But Carmen did have supernatural healing, much like a vampire's now that I think of it. It's possible she risked a contract like that... but based on our conversations, she was disdainful of engaging with other supernaturals outside of obtaining ingredients."
"She could be a good actor," Mason reminded me, "If you can get me in-range of her, I can tell you for certain."
"Car wash!?" Kira posited.
Samuel rubbed her back, smiling hesitantly at her enthusiasm. Claire rubbed her own tightly crossed-arms.
"What about the symbol Margret drew?" Mason suggested, instructing wordlessly for Leo to lift it from his desk, "Maybe that can inform on the relationship between Carmen and this familiar."
Those gathered passed the symbol around, examining it with various expressions of confusion.
"We'll need to do more research," I sighed.
Kira flipped it on its head and held it up to the light.
"At the metaphysical shop, those symbols on the door were similar to this, but not exact," Kira remembered, still monopolizing the paper, "I took a picture; I'll send it."
"Those symbols agitated the pair of you," I recalled, looking at Mason, "But you have a cross in your home...?"
"We don't really know the reasoning behind it," Mason frowned, glancing toward Claire, "But we think that the less we drink from humans, the more we're able to tolerate religious symbols, silver, and sunlight. It's not by much, but I'd say the tolerance for religious symbolism is the most significantly affected by our lifestyle. Even so, those symbols at the shop put us on edge."
"What about this?" I pointed to the paper.
"Doesn't affect me."
"Then it does something other than ward against supernaturals..." I surmised, stifling a yawn, "The last thing you all should know, is that she was particularly interested in your rarity. She seems like a collector of sorts; she was interested when I'd mentioned your silver eyes."
"We'll keep that in mind," Claire assured me, straightening, "How about I order you some food?"
"I'd like that," I sighed, rubbing my forehead with the heel of my hand.
"It's mid-afternoon," Mason reminded the group, though his low, rolling voice directed at me, "There's still homework to be done."
I scowled, "I think high school chemistry is beneath us."
"Says the girl scraping by with a low C."
"That's passing."
"Let us do the research," Kira requested.
"Some of these symbols will be hard for you to look at."
"Hard, but not impossible - as it would be for our more murderous kin," she noted spiritedly.
I sighed, but conceded. There was a lot I needed to catch up on to maintain this human facade.