I drained the cup because I figured it wouldn’t be so gross if I just took one long drink. I was wrong. It was still gross. “It’s just that those skills are so random, we don’t know what’s real and what’s hyperbole. You’re like Half-Moon Hollow’s Davy Crockett.”
I pulled a face as I handed him the empty mug. He nodded toward the consommé, and when I didn’t immediately drink it, he lifted the broth to my lips himself. It was considerably tastier than the barley tea. He said, “I met Davy Crockett once. He was a tool. Wore that stupid cap long after the joke stopped being funny.”
“Davy Crockett died at the Alamo, before you were even born.”
Dick squinted at me. “He did, did he?”
“Don’t do that. You can’t just claim a random historical figure is a vampire just because you think it’ll make your story plausible and somehow cooler.”
“I believe I can. For my future reference, have you ever thought about whether you’d be turned?” he asked, his tone intentionally light and teasing.
“I’ve waffled about this over the years, but I’m still undecided.”
Dick snorted, brushing my tangled hair back from my face. “That’s very helpful.”
I grinned at him. “I don’t want to die. I’m too young and beautiful and fabulous, obviously.”
“Oh, obviously,” he said, his face finally relaxing into a genuine smile.
“But I don’t know if I want to upset the natural order of things. I have no problem with the way vampires live. Hell, I already keep your hours. I clearly have no problems with your feeding habits.” I ignored Dick’s grumbling at that comment. “And I’m certainly not interested in having kids.”
“Really?” he asked. “I think you’d make a great mom.”
I laughed. “What about me screams ‘great mom’? I like my dry-clean-only clothes and my breakables too much for toddlers,” I told him. “I mean, I’m not antichild. I like the idea of children. But I spent a very long time trying to meet the needs and expectations of other people—people who couldn’t be pleased, by the way. And now I’m sort of going through a selfish phase. Healing, but permanent.”
“I can respect that.”
“Anyway, despite all that, I’m just not sure I want to be a vampire. It seems like a long, lonely road to walk. I suppose I’ll know the moment I’m faced with the decision to breathe my last or drink from my sire.”
“Well, I hope I’m there to see that,” he said softly. He paused for a long moment. “I’d like to rephrase that.”
I nodded, sighing as I sank against his side. “I’d be more comfortable if you did.”
“So, full disclosure, I went through your kitchen drawers looking for medical supplies.”
“OK.”
“And I saw the picture.”
I blinked up at him for a long time. “Oh . . . Oh.”
He’d seen the picture—the framed four-by-six photo of me wrapped in Mathias’s long arms, cuddling in his lap while he pontificated on some point in arcane history. Whenever I felt lonely for Mathias, I put that photo out on my coffee table. I didn’t use it to remind myself of happy times. I put it out so I could see the look on my face—the total, addlepated devotion, the eagerness to please. Meanwhile, Mathias’s whole body was oriented away from me, focused entirely on the person he was talking to. I might as well have been a potted plant in his lap for all the attention he was paying me. So whenever I felt like I was forgetting my righteous rage, I would stare at it until my spleen felt like it was on fire.
I hadn’t needed that sort of aversion therapy in a long time, because I hadn’t felt longing for Mathias Northon in a long time. And I hadn’t felt the need to bolster myself against vampire relationships. I hadn’t even thought about the photo for months.
“It had his name on the back. I Googled him. Good-looking, professional guy. I could see how breaking up with him would really do a number on you.”
I lifted an eyebrow at the uncertain tone of his voice. Dick never sounded unsure of himself. He was always frighteningly smug when it came to his own merit. It was sort of funny that he was intimidated by Mathias, who was awesome on paper and yet secretly a scumbag, while Dick was so inadequate on paper but sincerely kind in person.
“It did do a number on me, but I got over it.”
“How?”
“I had a collection of friends who helped me find a new life. And when I was settled into that new life, some of those friends contacted the IT department at the college where he worked to alert them to some inappropriate material in his browser history. Colleges really frown on that sort of material showing up on their servers, even if the professor in question claims to have no knowledge of how it got there. They particularly frown on it if the material also shows up as part of a PowerPoint presentation he’s giving at a trustees luncheon.”
Dick’s jaw dropped.
“I have very talented friends,” I told him.
“So I guess that’s why you’ve never mentioned him. There was no point. You destroyed him.”
“I don’t know about that. I never followed up, but I’m not sure he works at that college anymore.”
“I need to make some calls,” he said, digging his phone out of his shirt pocket. “Because while you were unconscious, I may have made some requests of some of my friends in the Chicago area that feel like overkill now.”