CHAPTER 10 #2
This chamber, with its proximity to the surface, is perfect. No wild vampires lurk today—a fact that frustrated me during the bounty hunt with Faye the other day—but now the emptiness feels like a small gift.
I slide my backpack to the ground and remove the blanket, spreading it across a smooth section of cave floor, away from the shaft of sunlight streaming through from above.
“Watch out for those light spots,” I caution, pointing to where the sunbeams touch the ground. “They’ll burn you.”
But Max’s hand is already there, his fingertips passing through the light. He jerks back with a hiss of pain as the skin on his fingers reddens and smolders.
“Shit!” He cradles his hand against his chest. “That really hurts!”
I sigh, retrieving a bloda from my backpack. “I tried to warn you.”
“Curiosity killed the cat,” he says, making us both laugh. “I figured since it can’t technically kill me, it can’t be that bad.”
“Well, there’s a reason why that boundary is never crossed.
” I gently take his burned hand in mine, the blisters already healing.
“Once the sun touches you for long enough to truly burn, which is usually after five seconds, give or take, you become paralyzed. Your body locks up and becomes completely immobile, while your skin continues to sear until sunset.”
His eyes widen with horror. “You mean I’d be conscious the entire time?”
I nod, keeping my voice calm despite the gravity of what I’m telling him.
“The pain is excruciating. My friends described it as being flayed alive, layer by layer, for hours. That’s why most vampires caught in the sun don’t survive.
Not because sunlight kills them, but because they’re helpless until nightfall.
Even if you survive past that point, depending on how long you’ve been burning, healing could take days. ”
Sitting down, I arrange everything picnic-style on the blanket. Max stands at the edge of it, watching me with an unreadable expression.
“Do you do this often?” he asks, catching a bloda I throw at him.
“Not exactly this, picnic and all,” I admit, “but I know these caves are safe havens for vampires during the day.”
He snaps the can open reluctantly. “I still can’t believe this is my life now.”
“I know,” I say softly, patting the space beside me, “but you’re not alone.”
He sits down next to me, sipping the bloda with a grimace. “This tastes… artificial.”
“Better than the alternative,” I point out, pouring us a glass of wine.
“That’s true,” he says with a chill.
As we snack, the tension slowly ebbs from Max’s shoulders. He begins asking questions about vampire physiology, the hidden parts of Penn City, and how his life will change. I answer as honestly as I can, neither sugarcoating the challenges nor dwelling on the negatives.
“I won’t age anymore, huh?” Max stares at his hands, trying to fully grasp his new reality.
I give him a reassuring smile. “No.”
He contemplates this, rolling the empty can between his palms.
“What about you? How fast do dhampirs age? Faster than vampires, slower than humans, right?”
We’ve gone over this specific topic before, but I understand the nuance is different for him now.
“Probably.” I shrug, still unsure myself. Aside from my brother and me, no records of any other dhampirs exist, so no one really knows. Decades might pass before there’s any changes, or there may not be changes at all.
“I’ll watch you grow old and die,” he says, the realization dawning in his eyes.
I place my hand over his. “Seems like the roles have reversed.”
The afternoon sunlight filters through the opening above, creating a pool of golden luster that stops several feet from our blanket. Max watches it with both fascination and apprehension.
He gestures to the sunbeam. “You’re lucky to be a dhampir.”
This is the first time he’s said that to me, but not the first time I’ve doubted it. Being a dhampir means that I can walk in sunlight without burning, but it still wears me out. That in itself isn’t the actual struggle, but the fact that I don’t quite belong anywhere, is.
Humans see the vampire in me, while vampires sense the human in me. I’m always treated with suspicion, with caution, like I’m a ticking time bomb.
“I suppose I am,” I say, knowing he won’t understand me anyway. He thinks too unambiguously for that.
Max nods, then looks down at his hands again. “My friends think I should stay away from you.”
The words sting, still, though I’ve been expecting them. “And what do you think?”
“I think…” He pauses, struggling to find the right words. “I think I need time to figure out who I am now, what I want. Everything I knew about myself, about my future, has changed overnight.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “I understand.”
“You’re the only one who truly does,” he continues. “You’ve lived with this your whole life.”
“Not exactly,” I correct him gently. “I never had to transition.”
“Still, you know this world in a way they don’t.” He looks me in the eyes. “In a way I’m only beginning to.”
I reach for my wine and take a quick sip to steady myself. “What do you need from me, Max?”
He considers the question, looking out at the stars visible through the cave entrance. “Patience,” he finally says. “And maybe… a guide.”
“I can do that,” I offer, relief washing over me.
It’s not a declaration of undying love, but it’s not a goodbye either.
Max’s expression softens. “Thank you for bringing me here. For the first time since I woke up, I feel like I can breathe.”
I smile, leaning back on my hands. “The caves have always been my sanctuary. When the world gets too loud or demanding, I come here to reset.”
“I see why,” he says, his eyes sweeping over the serene space as his nostrils flare. “What’s that smell?”
I follow the scent, then point to where the rock wall meets the floor.
A cluster of pink, ghostly mushrooms grows in a perfect circle, their caps luminous even in shadow.
“Moongills. They’re edible for humans, disgusting to vampires.
Though, they smell delicious to us because they contain compounds similar to plasma. ”
Beside the moongills, delicate ferns unfurl in spirals, their fronds a vibrant emerald against the stone. Strange fungi and plants here thrive despite the limited sunlight, having perfectly adapted to this twilight existence between worlds. They remind me, in some ways, of myself.