by Sloan Archer
“It was black lacquer with a glass top and—wait for it—in the shape of a panther,” Liz laughed. “It had green glass eyes and everything!”
“Don’t forget the white marble teeth,” Joseph added.
“I don’t know why you’re mocking it,” Liz smirked. “You’re the one who almost bought the hideous thing.”
“It was a temporary lapse of judgment, my sweet. Thankfully, I had you there to stop me,” Joseph cooed, kissing Liz on the nose. The two of them were so great together—about a million times greater than Liz and David had been as a couple, and those two had been pretty sweet, too. (Before the divorce, obviously.) I really hoped it worked out between Joseph and Liz.
“I’ll make you a deal, Joseph,” I joked. “If you end up getting the panther coffee table, I’ll trade you our amoeba rug for it—since I know how much you like it. I’m telling you, getting rid of that thing would be a true Christmas miracle.”
Robert, feigning outrage, posed a question: “Why does nobody like that rug?”
Joseph, perhaps trying to engage in male bonding said, “You’re not alone in your taste, Robert. My maker, Luther, has a rug just like it.”
Liz, Robert, and I nearly fell out of our seats.
“What? What did I say?” Joseph was abashed. “I didn’t mean to offend you about the—”
“Your maker’s name is Luther?” I asked slowly.
Joseph frowned. “Uh . . . Yes, why?”
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Liz gasped. She knew the tale involving Luther, Violetta, and the rest of Sebastian’s village only because I’d told her in confidence. It wasn’t something Sebastian or I had wanted to become public knowledge. Liz, awesome and trustworthy girl that she was, had clearly kept her promise to remain quiet.
“It never came up, did it?” Joseph said.
“Where is Luther now?” Robert demanded.
“Austria. Why?” Joseph answered. “Will somebody please enlighten me as to why you’re all gawking at me like that?”
That hideous rug, the ugly amoeba-looking abomination that I loathed so much, was the devil in the detail. Had we not been discussing it, things may have turned out differently for the entire vampire race.
With my new theory in mind, I said to Joseph, “You might want to get in contact with Luther. Immediately.”
“Why?” Joseph asked, confused.
“Because I think he might be the key to solving the epidemic,” I explained.
Robert agreed and then said to me, “You might want to call Sebastian, too.”
Luther was exactly how I’d expected him to be: deep, sensitive, and handsome. He had long golden brown hair and hazel eyes, which gave him the look of a lion-man. According to Joseph, Luther was a recluse. He lived in the Vienna Woods, in a very private, very sprawling chateau. He didn’t say much, rarely uttering a single word unless a question was posed directly to him.
Despite his private nature, I didn’t find Luther unfriendly. He had an air of placidity about him that I found soothing. Ironic, since he’d wiped out an entire village of humans, Sebastian’s parents—my great-grandparents—among them.
I was hesitant to place Luther and Sebastian in the same room. However, they were fine in each other’s company. I didn’t envisage that Sebastian and Luther would begin exchanging Christmas cards any time soon, but they did conduct themselves cordially. It was all I could really ask for, given their history.
It helped matters that Sebastian and Luther both wanted the same thing: to find a cure for the vampire epidemic. Luther wanted a cure since, obviously, he was vampire. I had no doubt that Sebastian’s motivation for finding a cure was different from Luther’s altogether, because he, a non-vampire, didn’t have to worry about becoming human. I figured that what Sebastian wanted most of all was to spite the Nolans, though they were long dead and gone. At the end of the day, I didn’t care what anyone’s motivation behind finding a cure was. I only cared that one was discovered.
I’d always thought it was strange how Joseph was immune to the effect of my blood. It never made sense to me—Joseph’s immunity—when Robert, Jerry, and other VGO vampires would temporarily become human after drinking from me. It was also odd that some vampires were untouched by the epidemic while others who’d drank from the same source were turned human instantaneously . . .
And that’s why I was appalled that the solution to the epidemic hadn’t occurred to me sooner. Robert said I was too hard on myself, but it should have dawned on me when Sebastian was telling me the story about Luther and his village. But, as Robert reminded me, a vampire epidemic wasn’t happening at the time I’d heard the story.
Though it did take some trial and error—Joseph’s blood combined with my blood combined with Sebastian’s, my blood combined with Sebastian’s, my blood combined with Luther’s—a cure was found. It didn’t take long at all, about a week. Sebastian’s blood combined with Luther’s blood was what ultimately did it, and the VGO finally had an antivenin to the epidemic Richard and Maxine had created.
The VGO had an explanation as to why some vampires were unaffected by the epidemic: They were descendants of Luther’s bloodline. Similar to how my blood worked because of my lineage—my relation to Sebastian more specifically—vampires who had been made by vampires who had been made by Luther (and so on) were immune, even if they weren’t an outright cure.
The antivenin was first distributed to water sources throughout the world, particularly in areas that had the largest areas of newly turned humans. Once again, human populations had no idea that their water had been doctored. But just like the serum the Nolans had created, the antivenin wouldn’t hurt them.
A stronger antivenin was then distributed in the blood banks that catered to immortals. This was a serum designed for new humans who wanted to revert back to vampirism. After receiving the serum, they only needed to be turned again, which meant subsequently going through the whole painful changeover process: a vampire would bite them and then they would drink from that vampire.
The new humans (like Jerry) also had the option of not changing back if they wished, which was as simple as not receiving the blood bank serum. The antivenin in the water would not reverse the effects of the epidemic—heaven forbid a new human turn back into a vamp in broad daylight—but it would stop new cases from occurring.
VGO scientists made another breakthrough while they were running tests: Luther’s blood made mine turn vampire. To be positive of this fact, my blood was tested against Luther’s numerous times, the result the same each time. At last, the one vamp on the planet that could make me vampire had been located. And since Robert was the king of backups, Luther allowed us to take a few vials of blood from his veins, should something happen to him before I turned thirty-five.
Like everything else related to vampirism, we had no clue as to why it was the combination of Sebastian and Luther’s blood that succeeded, or why Luther’s blood could make me immortal. Maybe it was because they were the original vampire and human that had created the altered bloodline—my altered bloodline. Maybe it was because their friendly union had finally broken the curse Caterina had bestowed upon Luther. Everyone had their theories.
I liked to think that it was pure magic.
It could have been fate. What were the chances that my best friend would be in love (and Liz did love Joseph) with the vampire who was the ‘son’ of the vampire who’d also made my grandfather what he was? One could get dizzy just thinking about it.
Michael Graves had been right when he said that my involvement with vampires was destined. But he was wrong about the outcome being negative. The crisis had been adverted, and the ending for vampires had been a happy one, because there hadn’t been an ending at all. Humans and vampires would live on together, forever, for better or worse.
19
Andrew Sebastian Bramson was born at exactly 12:01AM on New Year’s. That was how I’d rung in the year, giving birth. The delivery had been painful and scary, but there
was nothing else I would have rather been doing.
Our son was named after Robert’s human father, Andrew, and my grandfather, Sebastian. I know all mothers believe this about their child, but in my case it was true: My baby was absolutely perfect in every way a baby could be perfect.
From the very instant Andrew was born, and each and every time I’d looked at him since, I felt a love so intense and complete that it made my heart ache. My husband told me that he felt the same ache and I believed him. All anyone had to do was look into Robert’s moony eyes whenever he held his son to see that he was a man in love.
When Andrew was created, it was like my DNA and Robert’s DNA had been spliced right down the middle. Andrew’s hair was chocolate brown and wavy, like mine, and his eyes were blue-grey, like Robert’s. And the baby was happy and giggly, just like both his parents had been from the moment he’d come into their lives.
Robert was the best father in the world, which I knew he’d be. It worked out perfectly as far as scheduling was concerned. Because Robert was naturally nocturnal, I never had to get up during the night to tend to the baby. Well, unless I had to breast feed. Robert couldn’t help with that.
Now the VGO, completely reverted back to their original vampy splendor, were hosting a birthday party to celebrate Andrew turning one. Robert and I were actually looking forward to the party, believe it or not. During our flight to Scotland in the light-tight airplane the VGO had sent for us, we’d discussed how strange it was to feel that way. The last time and only time we’d ever been to VGO headquarters was when we’d come to beg for our lives. And now here they were, throwing our human son a party.
Life was strange. And magical.
Little Andrew was a bit of a celebrity amongst vampires. He was a symbol of hope for them, because he’d been born from a vampire-human union. Finally, my blood was going to be used for something positive. With the help of a new serum the VGO were developing, vampires who dreamed of parenthood would be able to turn human long enough to procreate.
Vampires were indebted to me for all of eternity, so they said, for not only inspiring the “procreation serum,” but also for devising the theory that led to the ultimate remedy to the extinction they’d faced. Whenever they reminded me of this, I always told them that it was my pleasure. I said that anyone in my position would have done the same thing, and that I’d come up with the theory without anticipating reward or recognition.
Still, it was nice not being hunted for a change.
Robert and I had initially declined the VGO’s party offer, stating that a birthday card would suffice as a gesture of their appreciation. We knew that they’d insist anyway, and thus we hadn’t been at all surprised when they had. As we’d learned from experience, the VGO did not take no for an answer. Not that we minded the trip to Edinburgh. It just seemed kind of . . . grandiose for a child’s first birthday.
On the plane to Scotland, I thought of my own one-year party. I’d seen photos of the event only a couple times and it had made me feel bad looking at them. For my party, my young parents had taped a few balloons and limp streamers around the duplex we were living in at the time, before we’d been evicted and had to move into Grams’s trailer. The neighborhood kids were there, none of whom I’d recognized in the photos—we moved around a lot when I was a kid. A cake had been purchased from the local grocery store. You know the kind, about twenty percent spongy vanilla cake and the remaining eighty blue sugar frosting. The baker had gotten the spelling of my name wrong: Happy Birthday, Marcy! My mom had tried to fix it with a butter knife, but the smudge was still there.
I imagined Andrew’s party would be different, because if the VGO were anything, it was grandiose. They, plus other vampires Robert and I had never met, had been spoiling Andrew rotten since the night he was born. Each gift we’d received had been grander than the previous: cashmere receiving blankets, designer baby clothes, handmade leather baby shoes from Italy, sterling silver baby rattles, a vintage rocking horse with real horsehair, a hand-carved mahogany crib . . . The list went on and on. For the first six months of Andrew’s life, I must have written hundreds of thank you letters to vampires.
All of our closest friends and my one remaining family member were going to be at the party: Liz, Sebastian, Joseph, Marlena, and Andrew’s godparents, Jerry and Tim. We’d even invited Leopold, who’d somehow managed to weasel his way back into the good graces of the VGO. Robert said that inviting Leopold would be the polite thing to do. I’d agreed because I knew it would make Robert happy having his maker at the party. I’d also promised Robert that I’d be pleasant to Leopold. (But that didn’t mean that I had to like him.)
I’d worried that Liz would be offended by our choice of godparents—that maybe she assumed that I’d naturally pick her, with her being my best friend. Liz, in true Liz nature, understood. She assured me that she didn’t really want kids, anyhow, but that she’d love and protect Andrew, no matter what. Besides the obvious reason, which was that Jerry and Tim were kind and decent people, Robert and I selected them because we’d wanted to ensure that Andrew would still have human parents in his life, should anything ever happen to me. Jerry and Tim had applied for adoption themselves but red tape was holding them up. They’d babysat for Andrew oodles of times and were so good with him. They were honored that Robert and I had nominated them.
So everyone was happy. Which made me happy.
Liz was meeting us in Edinburgh. She’d been spending much of her time there as of late because things were getting hot and heavy between her and Joseph. The rest of the party was waiting for us at the castle that served as the VGO headquarters. The VGO had gone all out for the party, according to the text Liz had sent me, and had even set up a baby room for Andrew for the two days that we were going to be there.
I felt like a rock star when we arrived. I figured the party attendees would be just our friends and those who were members of the VGO’s Scotland faction, but it seemed they’d invited every vampire living in the country.
After we’d said our hellos and stowed our luggage, our number one host, Joseph, pulled me aside. “I do hope you are happy with the motif,” he smiled. “If you aren’t, it’s my fault. I’m the one who picked it.”
I grabbed his arm and gushed, “Are you kidding? It’s absolutely perfect!” I gazed around at the castle in astonishment. They’d hired animal handlers, who were walking through the room with various exotic creatures: striking rainbow birds, lemon-colored snakes, tarantulas, a puma, and even a couple lemurs. The handlers wore matching tan safari outfits, net hats included. “But what made you think of it?”
“Liz told me that Andrew is an animal lover, so I made a donation to the zoo here in town on behalf of the VGO. They showed their gratitude by offering to exhibit a few of their critters.” That must have been some donation.
“And the decorations, Joseph!” I beamed. “I love the cake. It’s so cute!” And it was big enough to feed an army. It was layered like a wedding cake, but the fondant icing had been tinted to look like animal skin: zebra stripes on the bottom layer, leopard spots in the middle, and then zebra again on the top. Perched on the top tier was a sugary giraffe; it was sitting back on its rear playfully, its long legs splayed out in front. It even had its little tongue sticking out and one ear cocked. Only a handful of the guests were human; there was going to be a whole lot leftover. “And how in the world did you get palm trees in Edinburgh—in the middle of winter? I mean, it’s snowing outside! And orchids? And coconuts?”
“We have our ways,” Joseph said cryptically.
I gestured toward the vampire band, playing an upbeat reggae song. “And they sound so great! Love the steel drums. Andrew seems to love them, too.” Emi, the Japanese vampire who’d used my blood to go on a human vacation to Majorca, was now holding my son. They were dancing along to the music. Thankfully, the band was mindful that they were playing for a baby. I’d been worried that the music would be too loud for Andrew when they first started up, but they we
re playing softly enough that it was enjoyable.
“Look at Andrew, clapping along. Your boy is so very sweet, and he looks just like you. He has your nose. He’s going to be such a heartbreaker. You’re going to be fighting the ladies off with a stick,” Joseph grinned.
“Oh, no, Andrew isn’t allowed to date until he’s thirty,” I joked. “Until then he has to stay home with his mamma.”
“You let me know how that works out,” Joseph teased. “We flew the band in from Jamaica, especially for the party. They’re friends of Linus’s.”
“Remind me who Linus is,” I said. I’d met the VGO as a group just the one time that Robert and I had been there, and the gathering had been a distressing (to put it lightly).
“He’s over there,” Joseph said, pointing to an older man with dreadlocks down to his waist.
“Oh, yes. I remember him being really nice,” I said. “And, look, he even wore more clothes for the occasion.” Last time I saw Linus, he was wearing a vest with no shirt and black leather pants. He was still dressed like a rocker, in platform boots and shiny skintight leggings that laced up the sides. But now he was wearing an actual shirt. It was sheer and had a skull hand-painted on it—but it was a shirt.
Joseph chuckled. “Yes, Linus does love his fantastical fashion.”
“If I remember correctly, Linus is Irish, no?”
“Yes and no,” Joseph answered. “He lives in Dublin now, but his roots are in Jamaica.”
“Got it.”
“So listen, Mercy, there’s something I want to talk to you about.”
“Uh-oh,” I said suspiciously. “You look so serious. You aren’t going to ask me for more of my blood, are you?”
Joseph laughed. “Oh no. No, it’s nothing like that.” He craned his neck and located Liz far on the other side of the room, giving her a cheeky wave. She blew him a kiss and then turned back to her conversation with Robert.