Chapter 1 #3
“Oh, right,” Charlie said distantly. Honestly, he could barely remember much of anything about Olivia and Lorenzo’s relationship, because, well, it had been an extremely unimportant part of his life at the time, which was four—no, five years ago now.
He did vaguely remember talking to Olivia about Lorenzo right before graduation; she’d been unsure if she should try to make things work with him long-distance after she moved away from Brookville.
And she’d come to Charlie for advice about it, because that’s the kind of friend he was: the sensible, wise-beyond-his-years one who listened well and stopped his friends from doing stupid shit.
It was why he’d become an advice columnist. He sighed at the memory. It was nice to think about Olivia—he made a mental note to reach out to her, it’d been too long—but all those little moments he’d once viewed as pieces of his calling were tainted now.
Because maybe he’d been wrong.
Anyway, he was pretty sure he’d told Olivia to dump Lorenzo.
Lorenzo, who was now standing in front of him, clearly gathering himself up—and wow, he really was tall—to give Charlie some kind of stinging rebuke.
“Indeed,” he said coldly. “Well, as the Americans say, the best revenge is living well, and I assure you, since your duplicitous actions, I have been living exceptionally well. Or, rather, un-living, but the point is the same. Good day.”
“Wait—” Charlie said, taking a step toward him as Lorenzo turned to leave.
“Lorenzo, look, I’m sorry about, uh, everything that happened with Olivia, um, back in college, but—well, it was good to see you, and I’m glad you’re doing well, and holy shit you’re a vampire,” he finished, the words and his epiphany happening at the exact same time.
It was like putting on his glasses and having everything suddenly click into a new degree of sharpness. His pale skin. His stiff manner. His European accent—oh Christ, he was an idiot.
The guy was getting coffee in the middle of the night. With iron flakes.
Charlie’s eyes darted up and down Lorenzo’s frame, the truth now blindingly obvious.
Lorenzo was nonplussed, though his eyes narrowed after a moment. “Ah, I see,” he said. “You told her to break up with me because I am a vampire?”
Now that he was looking for it, the flash of his canines when Lorenzo spoke did look extra sharp. Charlie was distracted for one strange, confusing moment wondering exactly how sharp they were. How hard did he have to bite to break human skin?
Then he blinked and found Lorenzo staring at him, unimpressed. “Uh, what?” he said, refocusing. “No. I had no idea you were a vampire. Were you a vampire five years ago?”
Lorenzo rolled his eyes. “Yes,” he said, the you idiot part clear from his tone. “I have been a vampire since 1809. But you humans are so oblivious, you didn’t even notice we exist until we made a big fuss about it.”
“Whoa,” Charlie said. His friend had dated a vampire. That was weird. He was talking to a vampire, right now. That was weird too.
(Was it bigoted to feel so weird about it? Probably.)
“Yes. Whoa,” Lorenzo said scathingly, and turned to leave.
As he reached the door of the coffee shop, Charlie was gripped with another, far more important realization. The letters. The clicks. COLUMN DUE. “Wait!” he cried, and Lorenzo turned back to look at him. “Can you help me with something?”
If looks could drain blood, Charlie would have dropped dead. “Unbelievable,” Lorenzo pronounced, and stormed out of the shop.
The coffee shop was tucked onto a small, tree-lined street that sloped gently downhill, twinkle lights wrapped around the trees and a large, abstract mural painted onto the brick wall opposite them.
Charlie ruined the ambiance by flapping down the street after Lorenzo with no semblance of dignity.
“Look, I’m really sorry about all that stuff with Olivia,” he said, while Lorenzo kept walking and didn’t look at him.
“But I’m working on this project right now, and I really really really need a vampire to talk to me. ”
Lorenzo stopped, giving Charlie a chance to catch his breath. “Do you?” he said. “That is wonderful.”
“It is?”
“Yes, because now I have the chance to finally wreak my vengeance upon you.” He leaned forward. “No. Good day.”
“Fuck,” Charlie said, running after him as he once again tried to leave. “Listen, I’m trying to learn about, y’know—uh, relationships between vampires and humans—between humans and, and all supernatural beings. You’re the perfect person for me to talk to!”
“Yes,” Lorenzo said, still walking, “but I have already taken my revenge on you by denying your request.”
“Please?” Charlie asked. “I can’t get any other vampires to talk to me, and you’re . . . I mean, you hate me, but you’re still talking to me.”
“No, I am ignoring you.”
“Look,” Charlie said, jumping in front of Lorenzo and planting himself there, which at least got him to stop walking. “I’ll do anything.”
Lorenzo pinned him with a look of pure disdain. “Please,” he said. “Pathetic human. You think I would sleep with you after your betrayal?”
Charlie blinked. “Sleep with me?”
“No,” Lorenzo said immediately.
“No!” Charlie shouted, his voice echoing along the quiet street. He glanced around self-consciously and lowered his voice. “I don’t want you to sleep with me, I just—I want to ask you questions about your life. About what it’s like to be a vampire.”
Lorenzo narrowed his eyes. “You said you wanted to learn about the love between vampire and human.”
“Yes, but—not by—engaging in it,” Charlie sputtered.
“Hm,” Lorenzo sniffed. “Well, it is still more gratifying for me to deny you, whatever the nature of your request. Even if you are making it less gratifying every second you continue to bother me.”
“Come on, please,” Charlie begged. “I really need this. I’ll seriously do anything. I—” He broke off. He couldn’t afford to pay Lorenzo. What else did he have to offer?
A few steps away was the street corner, where a row of businesses sat quiet and dark—a small clothing store, a diner, and a bank. Charlie smiled as inspiration struck. “I could run errands for you during the daylight!”
Lorenzo frowned, looking taken aback by the idea, and didn’t respond right away.
The silence drew out as he simply stared at Charlie, maybe considering his offer, or maybe just mulling over the best way to insult him as he declined.
He had big brown eyes, long-lashed and bloodshot, sunken and stark against his pale skin.
They were such vampire’s eyes, Charlie couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen it before.
Finally, Lorenzo’s squint curved into a small smile, and he said slowly, “It would amuse me to see you dance to my tune.”
“Oh. Yeah!” Charlie said, happy to encourage this motivation. “It’ll be . . . super degrading. For me.”
“And what do you wish for in exchange?” Lorenzo asked. “What exactly is this project of yours?”
“I just want to interview you,” Charlie said. “Ask you about, y’know—vampire stuff.”
In an instant, Lorenzo gathered himself up suspiciously. “An interview?” he demanded. “To be published . . . where?”
“Nowhere,” Charlie said automatically. There it was again—paranormal creatures were all so private. He’d never agree to help him if he knew where the information he gave Charlie would end up; that was how he’d struck out with every other supernatural group he’d tried to contact before.
The answer came to him quickly. “No, no, not published,” he continued, doing his best to sound soothing. “It’s—I’m writing a thesis. I’m a graduate student here. At the university.”
“Oh,” Lorenzo said, and the suspicion in his manner drained away. “No one will read that.”
“Right,” Charlie said, relieved.
Lorenzo was smiling again in that strange, almost manic way.
He reached into one of the pockets of his long coat and handed Charlie what looked like an old-fashioned calling card.
“Come to this address next nightfall,” he said.
The card had his name embossed in elaborate script, and beneath that, a Brookville address written in what looked like Bic pen.
Charlie gripped it with both hands. “Thank you,” he said. “Thank you!”
“Oh, you will,” Lorenzo said, somewhat nonsensically.
And this time when he swept past, Charlie let him go.