Briar

by Ripley Proserpina

Online bookstores, with their price matching, hadn’t prepared her to come face-to-face with the required-reading, full-price, textbook.

  “You can rent them.” A young man reached a hand past her, picking up one of the books she’d been staring at in disbelief.

  “Rent them?”

  “Yes. Did you read online? Some of these books, like the one you’re eyeballing there for one-hundred and six dollars, can be rented and returned after finals.” The man stepped away, picking up another book and folding his arms around them. “It’s a good idea. Things get expensive.”

  “They do.” No more twenty dollar yogurt breakfasts for her. “Thanks.”

  “No problem. Look for the sticker, it’ll tell you whether or not you can rent. It saves time to do it online.”

  It would. She knew when deciding to come to the bookstore that all of it could have been accomplished online, but she was picky when it came to books. It wasn’t until she saw the book, held it and skimmed through the pages that she could decide if it was the book for her. She cracked the spine of one in her hands. It was a used version, highlighted everywhere. No, thank you. Placing it carefully on the ground, she chose another book. This one had no highlighting, but underlined paragraphs in ink, along with notes.

  I’ll make my own notes, thank you very much.

  This book joined the first at her feet. Each subsequent book went into the discard pile, and she shook her head. This was going to take a while.

  Eventually, she became aware of someone watching her and glanced up. The young man was gone, and in his place was Professor Nors.

  “Oh!” She dropped the book, but he was faster, catching it before it could drop and topple the tower of textbooks she’d made.

  “None of them make the grade?” he asked, kneeling and arranging the books back in place. She didn’t say anything, even though she wasn’t finished looking. There was a pile of books behind the pile she’d just made, and another one behind that. Somewhere in there was the perfect book, no highlighting, no notes, maybe the spine hadn’t even been cracked.

  “I have this book.” He made a face at the title. “You can borrow it.”

  “Thank you,” she replied, “but I need my own. I want to write in it.”

  “Then you can have it,” he countered.

  A strange anxiety twisted her stomach. He’d be saving her a lot of money, but the idea of taking something else from him after what happened the other day, didn’t seem right. “I can’t.”

  “Why not?” His blue eyes narrowed. “I have it. I’m never going to read it. I know everything in it. In fact, I believe I edited…” his voice trailed off as he opened the cover. “Yes. I did. I edited it.”

  “Are you sure?” she asked, and he sighed.

  “I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t sure.”

  He was as snippy as Sylvain! What was in the water in Boston?

  “All right then,” she said, meeting his glare. “Thank you very much. I accept.”

  “Good,” he answered gruffly and rubbed the back of his hand against his jaw. “What other books do you need?”

  Briar knelt, transferring her pile back beneath the shelf. “I need to find the selected journal articles for my Recombinant DNA Technology class and the books for my DNA Viruses and Cancer class.”

  “Searching for a cure?” he asked, and she ground her teeth together. Maybe he didn’t mean to be, but he was condescending. Everything about him, from his crossed arms and glare, to his tone, was belittling.

  “What’s wrong with that?” she countered, mirroring his body language. “You said yourself I had good ideas. But I don’t know enough yet. Who’s to say if I discover why my genes mutated, it wouldn’t lead to other discoveries for things like cancer or—”

  “You’re going to discover the cure for cancer.”

  “Maybe,” she replied. “I don’t know.” Spinning, she grabbed the book off the top of the pile. “Forget it. I don’t want your book. Thanks anyway.” Southern manners dictated she say thank you and, “It was nice to see you again. Have a good day.”

  “What are you doing?” he asked when she ignored him, striding purposefully to another aisle. “I asked you a question.”

  Crossing her arms, she turned. She bit on the inside of her lip and looked anywhere but at him. “I’m finding my books.”

  “I’m trying to help you.”

  “No, you’re not,” she replied. She never thought she’d be disappointed after meeting her hero. “You’re making fun of me and making me feel stupid and small.”

  His eyes widened, and he took a step back, as if she’d dealt him a blow. “I—” He stuffed his hands into his pockets, and then removed them before stuffing them back again. Pacing, he scuffed the back of his hand against his face. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that. You’re right. I was very rude.”

  He did look sorry, and a little bit sick. Briar mashed her lips together, biting the side of her lip with her teeth and dropped her arms before sticking out her hand. It was a little awkward because she’d burned her right hand, and had to shake with her left. “Apology accepted, Professor Nors.”

  He stared at her hand for so long Briar wondered if he wouldn’t take it, but as she was about to draw it back, his hand shot out and gripped hers. His hand was cool and gentle as he squeezed once and released her. “Thank you, Briar.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  His gaze dropped to the book in her hands, and he reached for it, glancing back up at her before taking it. “Will you accept my book instead of buying this one?”

  Briar was going to cut her lip with the way she was gnawing on it. Professor Nors made her head spin, but like with Sylvain, it seemed more to do with his own discomfort than how he really felt about her.

  “Do you think I’m stupid?” she asked.

  “No,” he answered. “I read your admission application for graduate school. You’re anything but stupid. Naive, not stupid.”

  “Why naive?”

  He reached for a paper-bound book and held it up. At the bottom it read, Section One, Recombinant DNA Technology, and she nodded. He opened it, skimming the pages and snorted before he continued to walk.

  “You’re very hopeful, perhaps that’s a better word to describe my impression than naive. I’ve been working at this a long time—”

  “And you haven’t given up,” she interrupted.

  “No,” he allowed. “I haven’t, but I recognize discoveries are made gradually, over decades or even centuries.”

  “You think I expect too much of myself.” She understood now. Her mother and father had said something similar to her when she informed them of her major and her plans for graduate school. They wanted to know what she possibly thought she could accomplish, a girl who had to stay inside all the time.

  Well. Look at her now. Not only was she out, in the daytime, but she was buying books with Professor Hudson Nors.

  “Yes,” he agreed. “Partially. I think you expect too much of science. There are some things even science can’t explain, at least not yet.”

  She nodded, facing him. “That’s the thing, though,” she began. “So what if it doesn’t happen in my lifetime. I could make a discovery some other scientist uses to solve the mystery of my condition. Maybe, one day, when I’m old, I’ll be walking in this bookstore with one of my students, and she’ll be the one to discover how to cure EPP. You never know.” Tapping him on the arm, she then pointed to a book on the top shelf. “Can you get me a used copy, please?”

  He stared at her, shaking his head. Dismissing her for the moment, he twisted, snagging the book. “How old do you think I am?” he asked, handing it to her.

  Opening it, she fanned the pages, and found it was full of highlighted sections, and even worse, doodles. “Try the next one, please,” she directed.

  He got it and gave it to her, waiting.

  “I don’t know, not much older than me. Your articles go back about ten years, so I assume you’re in your thirti
es.”

  “Something like that,” he muttered. This book wasn’t much better than the first, and without her asking, he grabbed another one, opening it for her and thumbing through the pages. “This one looks good.”

  “Thank you.” She added it to the pile of books she already had and gestured with her head to another aisle. They walked silently until she found the department she needed.

  “Art history?” he asked. “Do you really think you’ll have time for an elective?”

  “Sure,” she replied. “It’s what I’m here to do. What am I supposed to do with my time?”

  “Don’t you want to go out and do college kid stuff?” He stared at her so intently, she broke away and chose the glossiest, newest book in the pile she could find. She choked a little at the price, but ignored it.

  “For this you’ll pay full price?”

  Sighing, she set the pile on the floor and reached for a used copy. “Look.” Sitting cross-legged, she opened one book and then the used copy. “Are you going to sit?”

  Professor Nors glanced around before hiking his pants to sit. She smiled at him. Wearing a tailored suit, he made quite a sight, criss-cross applesauce, next to her.

  “Now, look.” Placing the new book on his lap, she arranged the used book above it. “This book has been bought and resold so many times the pages are folded and the pictures are faded. Art doesn’t change, though our interpretations might. The Mona Lisa is always the Mona Lisa, so these books exchange hands a lot. I want a brand new copy to keep so I can see everything. Every detail.”

  Adjusting her position, she knelt and bent over the page, staring. Professor Nors cleared his throat, and she glanced up. She hadn’t meant to get so close to him, but they were a breath away. His eyes, she thought they were blue, but she could see now they were blue around the outside, with a ring of gold around the pupil. His skin was so pale, it looked like porcelain. His lips were blood red, and she smiled. He was the male version of Snow White.

  “What?” Those red lips spoke.

  “Nothing.” She tore her eyes from his lips and sat back, laughing a little.

  “Tell me.”

  She gathered her books, standing on tiptoes to place the used copy back on the pile.

  “Briar.” His tone held a warning. He wasn’t going to give up.

  “You remind me of Snow White,” she said, walking away toward the register.

  “Excuse me,” she heard him say to someone, and then he called after her. “Wait.”

  The line to the register was long, and she stood in place, arms wrapped around her books, perusing the pens and shot glasses nearby.

  “I said, wait.” Brushing his hands down his suit, he sighed. “Why am I like Snow White?”

  “Hair as black as night, skin as white as snow, lips as red as blood,” she repeated the line she’d heard a million times during her childhood.

  As soon as she’d said the word blood, his eyes went hard and cold. He didn’t like that.

  “Stop by my office when you’re done here,” he said. “I’ll get you the book.”

  Guilt swamped her. She hadn’t meant to hurt his feelings. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t making fun of you.”

  “I have things to do, Briar. It was nice to see you again.” Now he was doing what she had earlier, dismissing her with distant politeness.

  “All right,” she whispered. “It was nice to see you, too.”

  Shoulders straight and back stiff, he left her. Mentally, she kicked herself. What had she been thinking? She really needed to learn how to talk to people.

  Chapter 10

  Hudson

  It wasn’t Briar’s fault. Hudson knew, when he left her so abruptly, she thought she’d offended him. She thought she’d sent him beelining for the door, but that wasn’t it.

  She did, however, get him thinking about blood, and he didn’t trust himself around her.

  He’d sought her out. Knowing she ventured to campus and hoping to run into her, he’d spent the last two days fairly haunting the bookstore, library, and biology department. This morning had been dumb luck. He’d stopped by the bookstore on his way to his lab, not really expecting to see her there. But there she was.

  Blood. Blood. Blood. Lips as red as blood.

  Hudson had taken a risk today. He didn’t wear his nose plugs, trusting the sheer number of humans would help him control his beast. It had helped, but what helped more was Briar.

  She was a fascinating combination of sweetness and fire.

  Sweet poison.

  That was what Marcus called it in the old days when they’d spent a decade or so in Savannah, Georgia. The ladies were able to whip them with their tongues all while smiling genteelly.

  But there was nothing wily about Briar. Rather than verbally lash him, she fell back on manners, choosing to retreat and not attack.

  Do you think I’m stupid?

  The question came from her heart, and he could tear out his own throat for insinuating as much.

  Her scent had called to him. He wanted the flash of memory again, but there was more to her than an intriguing scent. It may have been what lured him to her, but it was her mind that kept him by her side.

  Hudson took his ID out of his pocket, swiping it on the keypad to unlock his lab. His white lab coat hung by the door, and he shrugged into it as he walked to his computer.

  The lab was quiet, empty, the way he liked it. Usually.

  Today, however, the quiet pressed in on him. The hum of the processors, irritating.

  After opening his email, he scanned his inbox, part of him hoping for an email from Briar with more ideas. There was nothing.

  An award he had to travel to Europe to accept, an offer to lecture at Harvard, another offer, this time of tenure at Oxford. He forwarded them to his personal assistant, a human he’d never met, but with whom he corresponded solely electronically. All events and awards were managed by his PA, he just needed to wait for the itinerary.

  Hudson closed the email, calling up a model of a double helix, and drumming his fingers as he stared at it. With a click, he zoomed in on one section, again, and then again, finding the chromosome pair and then the section he wanted.

  Chromosome 18. All it took was a slight mutation, a gene unable to encode and suddenly, a baby was born who couldn’t walk in the sun.

  But why? What was it about this little thing, right there, that made the difference between walking in sunlight or hiding in the shadows? And why couldn’t he make a medicine for him and his brothers that would translate to humans?

  He studied the model in front of him, considering the enzyme at the heart of the mutation, FECH, or ferrochelatase. This enzyme was important for a lot of reasons, not the least of which was its role in converting organic compounds into heme B, an oxygen carrier in blood.

  It all comes back to blood.

  Could blood be the answer? Did it start or end with blood?

  Hudson tapped his fingers on the table before spinning away from his computer. Working quickly, not allowing his mind to ponder Briar, he instead considered blood.

  He found his samples from people with EPP and placed them under the microscope. Adding a compound, he watched, waiting to see if it converted.

  The day flew by. Hudson didn’t think about anything except blood and sunlight. He worked like a fiend, like a beast. A beast like him didn’t need breaks, or to use the bathroom. He didn’t need sleep.

  Even though the sun no longer controlled his body, he still felt the tug, deep inside him, to obey. His kind, like the myths of old stated, did sleep during the day. The discovery he’d made, and the one which brought his brothers back to him twice a year, not only allowed them to walk in the sun, but made resting unnecessary.

  At times, he would crash. Awake for days and nights on end, the sun would rise one morning, and he’d collapse. Hours later, as the sun went down, he’d awaken, lying wherever he’d fallen. No one had the code to his lab besides his brothers, and no one checked on him.


  Like the emptiness earlier, something about the idea of lying, unmoving, no one knowing or caring he’d collapsed, bothered him. There were no windows in the lab, no possibility of him sleeping all night only to be burned to ash when the sun rose, so it wasn’t that.

  It was the loneliness. It was no one caring.

  Hudson pushed the microscope away, pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, and stretched his neck from side to side.

  For the first time, he allowed himself to think about his brothers living similar lives. Marcus lived ten miles away, and the only time he saw him was when he dosed him with medicine. What did Marcus do all day? What if something happened to him? What if he died and Hudson never knew?

  He’d know, wouldn’t he?

  His brother’s laughing face filled his mind, and Hudson gasped at the pain the thought of a world without Marcus gave him.

  If there was anyone he should worry about, however, it was Sylvain. Sylvain’d been harboring a death wish since Annie, even if he’d never admit it.

  Annie.

  Remember her?

  Over time, her face had grown hazy, but the pain he associated with her hadn’t. It was as sharp as it had been the day Marcus arrived to tell him of her fate. He hadn’t believed it.

  They’d told her they loved her and given her eternal life. Who threw that away?

  Hudson knew their kind was immortal, but he didn’t know they could live without their souls. In the instant Marcus informed him of her death, he’d gone cold inside. The warmth he’d felt for Annie and his brothers retreated and hardened. It crystallized and froze.

  “Thank you for telling me,” he’d said. “You can go now.”

  Valen’d come next. Sylvain had disappeared, and Valen wanted Hudson’s help to find him. “This is our family!”

  If Valen thought his pleas would move Hudson, he was wrong. Nothing would move Hudson to act. He couldn’t bring himself to dig up emotion when everything he thought he’d cared about was gone.

  Time had passed, and Hudson stayed the same. He recognized it now. All vampires had the potential of freezing. Why interact with the world when it would only change? Humans died, even the gods disappeared. What could Hudson do to change that?