Page 5

Finn

It takes sixteen nights for me to get back to Bloody Temptations.

For the first couple of days after our last visit, I didn’t go back because it felt too soon and stalkery. I mean, “don’t be a stranger” doesn’t exactly translate to “come and awkwardly lurk at my place of employment” in any language I’m aware of.

Plus I was really hungover, and the idea of going back to a bar made me feel sick.

And I didn’t want to go on a weekend when the place was too busy.

And I didn’t want to go on a night when it was too slow and I’d stick out like a giant beacon of dork.

Then I got rostered on a string of long shifts when the flu went through the humans at work.

When that finally let up, Bedeer—who is usually really cool about not doing his emotional eavesdropping thing—managed to pick up on my feelings about going there and started to ask questions I really didn’t want to answer.

I’m not sure I even have an answer for him, it’s just a complex jumble of feelings driving a need to go back.

That meant I had to wait for a scheduled day off during the week.

At least my Crumbles app is getting a bit of a rest. Nearly all the time I used to spend getting sucked into those drama posts is now being much more wisely invested in searching every social media app for the Hot Vampire Bartenders.

And Kai. That’s his name, I found it when I found the videos of him and Nikolo at the bar.

There are a lot. And I’ve studied them all.

In depth. Repeatedly.

It’s become an addiction—my shameful little secret.

Every morning, I push my body to stay awake as long as I can to watch the videos again and again, seeing how many times I can make myself come.

Turns out, it’s a lot.

And that’s the other reason I’ve been hesitant to go back—the fear he’s going to take one look at me and know that I’ve nearly rubbed my dick raw while watching him and his friend dance around for the cameras.

But after sixteen very long nights, tonight is the night. I’ve finally managed to rally up the courage—and the day off—and I’m going to drag my pathetic ass back to Bloody Temptations.

But later, though. It’s only just gone six p.m. and I just woke up.

Shuffling out of my bedroom, I hit the bathroom and then make my way to the kitchen to heat up some blood.

I was never exactly a morning being, but being a baby vamp has made it a whole lot worse.

I learnt the hard way pretty early on that I have the emotional stability of an overtired toddler when I wake up if I don’t get blood straight away.

And I mean I learnt the hard way in the most literal sense.

Nothing about my change was by the book.

And while the magic that keeps us alive makes the transformation relatively quick and easy—once I got the help I needed I was all recovered in a week—it’s still a steep learning curve. Especially on your own.

Needless to say, it wasn’t great .

And my crappy apartment doesn’t help my mood in the evenings.

Shuffling along the cold, laminate wood floors across the cramped living room, overcrowded with furniture bought for a much nicer place, to the pokey little kitchen always adds a bitter touch to my evenings, when I don’t have the energy to put on a “positive mindset” about my abrupt change in circumstances.

I only signed a short term lease for my original apartment, and it came up for renewal not long after I was turned. When the time came, the leasing agents refused to renew it. They said it was because I’d lost my job and was temporarily unemployed.

But despite having enough savings to pay for the next six months’ rent and my parents willing to act as guarantors, my application was rejected.

They could say what they wanted, but just like I knew that my old job could have definitely accommodated my hours for my “new lifestyle” as they kept calling it, I knew the real reason was because they didn’t want to lease to a vamp.

Technically, they couldn’t not renew my lease, or fire me, for turning—that would be discrimination. But sucky people will always suck and because they never technically said that it was because I’m a vampire, they managed to get away with it.

And that is how I ended up in this place that smells like ogre feet and has an awesome view of the alley behind our building. I did see an old orc dude going at it with a banshee once. That was wild. And something I never want to see again, so I keep my blinds firmly closed.

Standing by the old stove top, I let my blood simmer in a saucepan and catch up on the Crumbles threads I’ve been tracking. There is a particularly juicy update about a human guy whose wife left him to go be in a throuple with a shifter and a cyclops.

It has to be fake because he’s giving way too many dirty details, but I still scroll through the updates.

I should feel bad about thriving on someone else’s drama, but I don’t—I’ve done my own time as the centre of the gossip spotlight.

I know for a fact that my turning spread through our community back home in Twin Heads like wildfire.

There was no other reason to get that many friend requests all at once.

Speaking of back home, I realise my parents tried to call. There are few missed calls from about midday. I have no idea why they would have phoned so early. I’m a couple of hours ahead of them here and they know I can’t exactly answer when I’m dead.

Pouring out my now warm blood, I fill my mug and carry it to the tiny lounge-slash-dining room and hit call on my mum's number. I curl up on the couch and have a couple of sips of blood while the phone rings. It’s not very good blood—it’s the generic ogre stuff that they cut with animal blood you get for basically free from the supermarket with your vamp registration card.

Tastes like shit, but it’s cheap and it does the job.

The better quality stuff tastes better, but you get what you pay for I guess.

Since I got fired, I’ve been hesitant to splurge on luxuries like pure being blood. It might be better for you, but so is having savings when shit hits the fan.

“Hello? Finn? Is that you?” Mum always, always, answers the phone like it is a total shock who’s calling—even though my name and photo is right there on her screen.

I put down my mug and inspect my nails, regretting not waiting to make the call until I finished my drink and had ten to a million minutes to let it digest.

“Yeah, Mum, it’s me. You rang?”

“Oh yes, I was just checking in to see how you are. But you didn’t answer. ”

Yeah, I really should have waited. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I squeeze my eyes real tight and clench my jaw. What I wouldn’t give for a really good sigh right now.

“Yeah, Mum. I was asleep.”

Mum can breathe, so she does get to make a huffy little sound on the other end of the line. “Yes, dear, but I wasn’t sure if you’d still be up or—”

“It doesn’t work like that. I’ve told you.

” I don’t mean to interrupt, or snap. But like I said—emotionally unstable toddler until I’ve had my blood.

And that blood is currently sitting on my coffee table.

So I snatch it up and swirl the mug, watching the red swoosh around the sides.

“I’m not… conscious during the day. Sun’s up, I’m out. ”

Thankfully, I managed to catch myself before I said ‘dead’.

She doesn’t need the reminder, just because I’m in a snit.

She sniffs and hums in a passive-aggressive way that could mean she’s mad or could mean she’s hurt.

Or both. So I keep my mouth shut by gulping down as much of the blood as I can, wincing at the gamey after taste.

“Yes, well, the Maybridges, their friend is a vampire and she can stay awake until all—”

She’s trying. I remind myself. And no, not just my patience.

She really is trying. My turning was a huge shock for my parents.

Having their son get turned into a vampire wasn’t in their life plans.

It’s been an adjustment for all of us. And considering the way I turned—unplanned, unregistered, in the legal grey zone of the Whisper Woods—they helped a lot dealing with the bureaucratic nightmare that followed.

I never would have been able to fill out all of that paperwork without her.

“She’s probably older, Mum. It comes with age.” The blood must be hitting my veins because I manage to get the words out kindly and the tension in my chest uncoils, letting me sink back into my cushions .

“Oh. Well. I’m sorry then. I just wanted to see that you’re okay.”

Our relationship never used to be this fraught. When I was a kid we were super close, but as I got older we just grew apart.

My parents are actually really great beings.

Really nice, incredibly kind, they never swear and I don’t think I’ve ever heard them raise their voice.

They just really struggle with things outside of the way they relate to the world.

By the time they were my age—twenty five—they had already found each other and were mated.

Ready to settle down in the suburbs and all the rest of it.

To them, I’m half a decade behind in things.

But they love me, and would do anything for me. Even if they don’t understand me right now. I just have to remember that. I mean, I barely understand myself. How are they going to manage it?

“Yeah, Mum. I’m good. What about you and Dad?”

She laughs, happily distracted from the touchy subject of my life choices. “Oh, we’re fine. Your father has been getting into it with Donatevic down the street again, but that’s just their way.”

My family are feline shifters—specifically domestic cats. Mr Donatevic up the street is also a feline shifter, a mountain cat. Ever since he moved in six years ago he and Dad have been at it over stupid territorial things.