“That’s a book.”
She frowned. “Are you sure?”
“Yep.”
“Fine, but they still need to find their true love, the one bright flame that will warm their cold existence.”
“Book. More than one, I think.”
“Forget romance. They need sex. It’s like Red Bull for vampires, boosting their powers to unimaginable heights. They need lots of it, in every way, shape and form imaginable, including a few you haven’t imagined.”
“Book,” I said. “I hope.”
“Maybe, but they’re still tormented creatures of the night—”
“They can walk around in daylight.”
“No way.”
“Yep. I’m not even all that sure about the tormented part. Sure, they have to drink blood and take one life a year, but once they work past that, they get a long life, eternal youth, near invulnerability and conga lines of swooning women fighting to get into their beds, eager to prove they’ll be their ‘one true love’. What’s not to like?”
She slumped in her chair, a sigh whistling out.
“Maybe we can find you a tormented one,” I said.
“How do you know so much about vampires anyway?”
“Wallace.”
She winced. “Sorry.”
Wallace was my latest ex, and the cause of the self-imposed celibacy I was now eager to break. Tall, dark and tormented fitted Wallace perfectly. He hadn’t been a vampire, though not for lack of trying. A Vodoun priest with an inferiority complex, Wallace had been obsessed with the undead. Our relationship ended the day I walked in to find him shooting up with black market vampire blood.
I wish I could say Wallace had been a blip in an otherwise healthy love life, but he was only the latest in a string of losers. Dating fellow supernaturals solved a lot of problems, and opened up a whole bunch more.
“Forget the vamp bar then,” Tiffany said. “Maybe there’s someone here.” She looked around. “Or maybe someplace else.”
I sighed. I was being a bitch, really. This bar sucked. I didn’t have another place in mind. And my friend really wanted to try this so-called vampire one. Was that too much to ask?
“All right,” I said. “We’ll check out this bar and find you a vampire. And if he’s not tormented, I’m sure I can fix that.”
A vampire bar. Now that we were on our way, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t just a little bit intrigued. And Tiffany wanted to go so badly that I could tell myself I was doing it for her sake . . . and almost believe it.
I’d met Tiffany three years ago in a support group for half-demons. As a rule, women don’t hook up with demons willingly and bear their children. Our mothers have no idea that we’re anything but human, and we don’t either, until our powers start to kick in. That power depends on Daddy. In my case, it’s enhanced hearing. Tiffany is a low-level ice demon. She can’t freeze a guy in his tracks, though she has a glare that does the trick pretty well. Mostly she just turns water into ice. Useful at parties when the freezer is broken. Otherwise not so much. She’s happy with it, though.
Not every half-demon is so content. Hence the support group. I’d first learned of my demon blood when I was “found” by a group that monitored medical channels and discovered I’d been trying to find an explanation for my super-hearing. They recommended the support group and I thought, Cool - I can meet others, then learn about my powers and how to improve them. Not exactly. As I discovered, it really was a support group - a place for half-demons to angst about the nasty blow life had dealt them.
Blow? Hello, super powers? They should have been celebrating winning the genetic lottery. Instead they whined about not fitting in, about having demon blood, about their slutty mothers screwing the forces of evil. I say, “Go for it, Mom.” She’d been single and I’m sure the demon was damned hot — metaphorically speaking, I hope.
I didn’t last long in the group, just long enough to meet Tiffany, who was every bit as puzzled by the “woe is me” sentiment. I also met Jason, my first supernatural boyfriend, who - as it turned out - wasn’t even a half-demon, but a druid who infiltrated the group to pick up chicks. And so I was introduced to the wonderful world of paranormal romance.
“It must get lonely being a vampire,” Tiffany mused as we walked down St James Street. “Just think of it. Centuries of watching everyone you love grow old without you, die before you.”
“That’s romantic?”
“Sure, don’t you think so?”
I wasn’t touching that one.