Chapter 5 #2
“He what?” David asks, eyes wide. “What did you do?”
“Nothing!” I tell him about the chair and my short-lived experience as a flying vampire.
It hurts me a little that responsible, reliable, caring David is almost pissing himself with laughter when I’m done.
But not that much, because it’s funny. Like I said, embarrassment is for humans and young people.
Too bad there’s no surveillance in the conference room—I bet I looked awesome soaring through the air.
“I knew I liked him,” David finally says, swiping tears from his eyes. “He’s a little hard to get to know, but he’s definitely our people.”
I look over to the table where Noah is cutting and serving cake, wielding the knife like he wishes he could stab someone with it.
“He really is.” He and Gideon would probably get along like a house on fire if he could get over his fear of…
whatever he thinks Gideon would do to him.
They’re both assholes who don’t like people.
“I’m going to grab some of that cake,” David says, taking a step forward, and I remember what I wanted to ask him and grab his arm.
“Wait—”
He huffs. “Fine, Andrew, you can go first. There’s plenty of cake, though. You won’t miss out if I get my piece before you.”
Oh. I hadn’t thought of that. I glance longingly at the cake table, but David’s right. There’s plenty, and this is important.
“No, that’s not it. Although thanks, I will go first. No, what you were saying before about Noah manipulating the magic…”
He turns around properly and looks at me. “Yeah?”
“He did something today that I thought might be a precursor to charisma, but honestly, it seems odd to me that that’s the only vampire ability he’d have. He hated blood—absolutely hated it.”
David’s brows rise. “He hated blood? Interesting. I know it’s not exactly the same, but generally anybody with vampire genes needs blood—or at least has a taste for it.
There was a study once that found even those whose bloodline was so diluted after generations that they didn’t need blood to survive still enjoyed the taste of it. ”
I nod. “I remember that study.” I’m not usually into the sciences, but that one was fascinating.
“Maybe the difference there was that none of the other genes were human? I mean, technically, nobody with any community lineage should have human genes. It’s only because of Tish’s insane science experiment that it’s possible, and Noah’s the only survivor—if we don’t count Sam.
” Sam’s not human anymore, and he doesn’t have any vampire lineage, so he doesn’t factor in.
“Sure, but my point is, needing or at least liking blood seems to be the dominant vampire trait. It’s highly unlikely that he’d hate the taste of blood but still have the ability, however weak, to use charisma.
Charisma only evolved because of the need to feed, after all—and none of the subjects in that study who liked but didn’t need blood had any other vampire abilities. ”
I turn all that over in my mind. “So it’s more likely the events of today have something to do with the magic than any dormant vampire ability?
” It makes sense… but I’m a little worried that this isn’t the best outcome for Noah.
He already struggles to feel a part of our community, and having a connection to his vampire lineage, however vague, might have helped him with that.
Being the lone human at CSG and also one of the few humans in the world with an ability to wield the magic would basically make him “different” in both worlds.
But that’s a problem for another day.
“The only way to really know is to have Noah replicate what happened today while Percy is watching,” David suggests.
“Percy will be able to see if it’s the magic reacting or not.
And if it is, then we definitely need to get Noah started with some training, because he shouldn’t be able to impact the magic like that.
Humans usually need ritual and instruments, even for little things. ”
I rub my forehead—then wince, because my hand hurts. Of all the nights for Percy not to be here. “Okay, let’s get some cake. We don’t mention this to Noah for now, and tomorrow we can talk to him and Percy. Would you be able to train him, if it turns out you’re right?”
David’s grimace is not reassuring. “Theoretically… maybe. There are some basic exercises I can show him, and I can definitely get some notes from a friend of mine who’s Wiccan—remember, I called him when we thought Sam might be able to use the magic?
But my abilities are different from what humans can do.
It’d be like teaching him to speak Italian when I only speak Spanish myself. ”
Great. “Would it be best to bring in your Wiccan friend, then? You said he was married to a community member, right? So he already knows all about us.”
“Maybe.” He shrugs. “That’s something we should talk to Percy and Noah about.
Phil’s husband could teach him the principles of using the magic, but Wicca is a religion, so they don’t use it to its fullest extent.
I haven’t done too much research on this, but I have a sneaking suspicion that back before the species wars, humans didn’t need so much ritual and spellcasting to use the magic. ”
Oh, now that’s really interesting. And it would explain why Noah was able to use it today—if that’s what he was doing—just by concentrating.
“You think that when humans began rediscovering the ability to use magic, the first few bound it up in fancy words and gestures and the rest and then convinced everyone else it was necessary? Like a placebo of sorts?”
He squints. “I don’t think that’s the right word, but basically yeah.
Like I said, I haven’t had the chance to do any research—I never thought it would be important, since so few humans even believe in the possibility of magic.
But it’s a theory, and trawling through some old histories would probably get us an answer. Which I will do if Noah needs me to.”
Too bad there’s nobody around who was alive back then. But it’s been nearly nine thousand years since the species wars, give or take a few centuries, and the longest-lived being I’m aware of only made it to 1,486 years before slipping away to the spiritual plane.
Still, the benefit of living for hundreds of years is that we’ve got plenty of time to index and update records—and we desperately appreciate our history.
After all, for some of us, the species wars weren’t that many generations ago.
There’s been a dedicated push in the community over the last twenty years to digitalize records and old histories.
So it might be easier than I fear to find the information we need.
Even if it is about humans, whose history nobody really cares about.
“Cake,” I declare. “It’s definitely time for cake.”
David takes a step toward the cake table, and I grab his arm again.
“Me first, remember?”
He mutters something under his breath about the universe testing him. I ignore it and make a beeline for the cake. The good bit about having gotten distracted is that there’s nobody waiting. And fortunately, there’s still plenty of cake left.
Sam and Noah are standing there, eating cake and talking quietly, when David and I reach the table.
“Andrew,” Sam says, “I thought maybe you’d gotten locked in the bathroom or died or something.
It’s not like you not to be first in line for cake.
” He reaches out and takes the frisbee plate from my left hand.
“Thanks for this, by the way. I still haven’t met any of Gideon’s family, and I really don’t want that to happen with the shadow of a broken gift hanging over me. ”
“Consider yourself lucky,” I warn him. “Put it off as long as you can.”
He pales. “They can’t be that bad.”
David makes a sound, and Sam’s gaze shoots to him.
“Really? Oh, fuck.”
He’s starting to look panicky, and David’s the nice one, remember, so he tries to reassure him. “They like each other, and you’re with Gideon now, so that’s a point in your favor.”
Yeah. David sucks at reassurance. Sam’s eyes bug out, and Noah makes a face.
“You’ll be fine,” I say soothingly, a little concerned that my plate still has no cake on it. And it’s in Sam’s hand, so I can’t even help myself. Would it really be that bad if I just grabbed a handful?
Probably.
“Think of it this way, Sam,” I try, wondering where Gideon’s got to. This is really a problem he should be dealing with. “They’re all the same level of asshole as Gideon, and he adores you. Even before you guys hooked up, you managed him just fine. So it’s all good.”
The panicky shock turns to a glare, which is an improvement.
“I spent five years avoiding Gideon because I was afraid he was going to murder me,” he gets out through gritted teeth—but he grabs the knife and viciously cuts into the cake, so it’s all good.
“The only reason that fear became manageable was because I joined the team and I knew Percy and Lily”—his voice falters slightly, even as I feel the familiar pang in my chest—“would stop him from killing me.” He shovels the cake onto the plate in a very unattractive heap, but it’ll still taste good.
“And Gideon will keep his family from killing you when you meet them.” I reach out to rescue my dessert and whisk it away before he can change his mind about giving it to me.
Once it’s safely in my hands, I feel inclined to be generous.
“Tell you what, Sam, when the time comes, I’ll tag along and distract them for you.
They all loathe me, so they can only love you in comparison. ”