Chapter 2 #3
Rachel scoffed at him. “Now who’s being rude?”
“It’s her poltergeist,” Maggie explained.
“Hey!” Rachel said, smacking Maggie lightly on the arm. “I told you, I’m not interested in being studied like a bug by some human scientist.”
“I’m not a scientist, I’m just a grad student,” Charlie said hesitantly. “And—you’re a poltergeist?”
“No, I’m Haunted,” Rachel corrected him.
“What does that mean?”
She took a precise step toward Charlie, her features darkening. “You really want to know?”
“Actually, y’know what,” Charlie said, turning toward Lorenzo a bit desperately, “I need to get Lorenzo’s clothes—”
“Oh, I have more,” he said, smiling when Charlie’s face fell. “I think there are a few more things in the laundry room. I will return.”
“Okay,” Charlie said. He cleared his throat, and as Lorenzo walked away, he heard Charlie saying, with an admirable attempt at breeziness, “So . . . you’re haunted. Aren’t we all?”
He’d heard Rachel’s speech on the benefits of being Haunted dozens of times before, so he tuned them out as he reached the back of the apartment.
He wasn’t even sure he had any clothes in the laundry room; he’d only left to prolong Charlie’s discomfort.
His revenge scheme was off to an excellent start so far.
He was enjoying seeing Charlie out of his element.
When they’d known each other before, Charlie had always seemed in his element; always confident and just a touch smarter than everyone else.
He hadn’t been popular, exactly, at least from what Lorenzo could glean of the university’s social dynamics.
But he’d been personable, witty, and almost—wise. The kind of person others listened to.
He’d known exactly how to turn Olivia against Lorenzo.
He dawdled one extra moment, hoping that Rachel would scare Charlie properly, and then returned to the living room.
He found Rachel, Maggie, and Charlie huddled together on the sofa, laughing uproariously. His stomach dropped.
“What did you say?” Maggie demanded, stifling giggles.
Charlie grinned. “That I don’t own a giraffe.”
Maggie and Rachel pealed off into laughter again. “What did I miss?” Lorenzo asked tersely.
“Oh, we’re doing worst first date stories,” Charlie said.
“I thought you were doing research,” he said. “For your thesis.”
“Well, yeah, but I’m also getting to know your roommates,” Charlie said with a big, giddy smile. “Did you know that Maggie can grow her limbs back if they’re cut off?”
“Yes,” Lorenzo said testily. “She is my roommate, and this is a well-known troll power.”
“Half-troll,” Maggie said reflexively. “And I dunno, full trolls can grow back arms and legs and stuff. I’ve only ever tried it with fingers. I’m not very brave.”
“I think you’re amazing,” Charlie said fondly. Lorenzo twitched with irritation—he’d met Maggie all of five minutes ago.
“And you,” Charlie said, turning to Rachel. “I can’t believe I didn’t know you could be voluntarily possessed.”
“Well, there’s not a lot of information out there about it,” Rachel said, taking a swig of her drink.
“How did you find out about it?” Charlie asked.
A cool wall fell across Rachel’s features. “I don’t talk about that.”
She stood up from the couch and cleared her dinner things away, as Maggie turned to Charlie. “So, will you publish your thesis? Get the word out there about the supernatural?”
“Oh, no,” he said with a quick glance at Lorenzo. “It’s just a student thing.”
“Okay,” Maggie said. “Well, I’d still like to read it.”
Charlie smiled at her. “That’s really nice.” Maggie beamed right back at him, her lower tusks peeking out delicately from her wide smile.
Abruptly, Lorenzo said, “I think it’s time for Charlie to be going.”
Now he had the gall to look disappointed. “But what about the rest of your clothes?” Charlie asked.
“This is it,” Lorenzo said, shoving the drawstring bag at him.
“Okay,” Charlie said, and began gathering up his things. “Uh, it was great to meet you all.”
“Sure!” Maggie said. “Come over any time.”
“No. Don’t,” Lorenzo said, beckoning Charlie toward the exit. “Only come here when you are invited.”
Rachel laughed as she came back into the living room.
“Oh, you know what you should do?” Maggie prattled on, ignoring Lorenzo’s warning look. “You should come back when Isolde is here.”
Charlie turned around, his face lighting with curiosity. “Isolde?”
Rachel scowled at them. “Seriously, Lorenzo, are you going to trot us all out in front of your human?”
“He is not my human, he is a human,” Lorenzo snapped. “And he is leaving.”
“Who’s Isolde?” Charlie asked, peeking around Lorenzo’s shoulder as he attempted to gently muscle him toward the door.
“Our third roommate,” Maggie said, grinning. “She says she’s a—”
Before she could finish, a loud thunderclap seemed to split the room, and they all blinked back to find Rachel having thrown a hand up angrily, thick black smoke billowing all around her. “Don’t even,” she said threateningly, pointing at Maggie.
“I just—”
Rachel rounded on Lorenzo with an evil smile. “You know where you should take him? The wolf thing at Carter’s Point tomorrow night.”
Lorenzo fixed her with a murderous glare. Charlie said, “The what?”
Rachel was unmoved by Lorenzo’s fury. “The werewolf party! Y’know, all the little pups get out and socialize. You should totally go, and talk to people for your thing.” With a pointed grin directed straight at him, Rachel said, “Lorenzo’s working as security there. He could take you.”
At times like these, he was intensely irritated that poltergeists and their hosts were not the natural prey of vampires. Their blood tasted of corruption, which some vampires didn’t mind but Lorenzo found to be soapy. Charlie looked giddy. “A werewolf party? Really?”
“No,” Lorenzo said firmly.
“Why not?” Maggie asked.
“Charles, our transaction is concluded,” Lorenzo said. “Thank you.”
He shoved Charlie out the door and slammed it in his face before his roommates could cause any more trouble.
“Rude,” Rachel said, walking away with a self-satisfied grin. Maggie, however, followed Lorenzo as he went into the kitchen for a large mug of blood to calm his nerves.
As he busied himself pouring, she said, “He seemed cool.”
“He’s not,” Lorenzo bit out.
“Clearly,” Maggie said, leaning against the counter. “How’d you meet this guy again?”
“We met a few years ago,” Lorenzo said, staring down into his mug. “He was a friend of Olivia’s.”
“Oh, okay,” Maggie said with faint recognition. “I liked Olivia.”
Lorenzo said quietly, “Me too.”
There was a faint ache in his chest, the hollow pang of loneliness. He knew it wasn’t Olivia he longed for, though. He thought of her from time to time, as he thought of others he had loved and parted ways with. But he knew that she wasn’t his soulmate.
It was only that no one was his soulmate.
He was 239 years old, and he still didn’t have a partner in his undeath.
He was a vampire—a powerful and handsome vampire, thank you—but he didn’t date that often.
It wasn’t as easy to meet people as it seemed in all the humans’ stories.
For one thing, he had no interest in high school students.
Where was the vampire version of When Harry Met Sally?
Why couldn’t vampires meet their soulmates on Hinge?
Becoming a vampire had imbued him with many powers, but inherent charisma was not one of them.
It wasn’t particularly easy to make new friends in your third century; supernatural creatures were all distinct, and some quite prickly, both literally and figuratively.
And the older he got, the faster he felt time slipping away from him; the harder it was to keep up with the latest cultural language, the pulse of human camaraderie.
He knew himself to be handsome and brooding, but the handsome brooding types spent a lot of time alone, lurking behind things.
He retreated to his room, put the mug of blood on his mantel, and perused his records. He was in the mood to let music do his thinking for him.
He pulled a thin sleeve off the shelf and smiled at the warm wash of yellow.
“At Last” was her most famous song, but he preferred Etta’s “A Sunday Kind of Love.” It was all about getting past the thrill of Saturday night passions and into something like the kind of love he wanted: Predictable. Comfortable. Warm.
He sighed, realizing he’d become the worst kind of cliché—a vampire dreaming of love in the sunlight. How pathetic.
He put Etta back on the shelf carefully. Olivia had smelled of sunlight, somehow—he’d nearly tasted it on her skin when he’d touched her. They may not have been soulmates, but she’d brought warmth to his life. She had been lovely and kind to him.
He would get his revenge on Charlie for ruining their happiness.