Page 43 of Resurrection
“Seiran strikes me as the jealous type.”
Mike laughed. “Yes, but only because you never did explain vampirism to him. He’s been learning from Sam. That punk is all attitude.” Mike parked and turned off the truck. “You’ll want to find donors who don’t irritate your Focus.”
“What about sex?”
“Blood and sex are nice together. Hell, it’s part of what being a vampire is. But it’s like regular folks and food foreplay. Not required, just an extra spice. You can enjoy your Focus that way, but your regular food sources don’t have to be sexual. And really, who’s got the time for all that? I have almost a dozen regulars I cycle through. I help fund their college education, and they are good.”
“Pay for blood.”
“Cibosare a regular thing. Common. There’s an entire application and interview process. Max has it streamlined on the network he built for us. I’ll have to make sure you download the app.”
“There’s an app? For vampires?”
Mike got out; his grin huge. “Of course. Welcome to the modern world, buddy. How do you think it makes it so easy for stuff like this?” He waved at the building. “Let’s go meet your people.”
They headed to the door and Mike greeted a woman who opened it. She appeared almost as a Viking, tall with hair in a thick braid, sides shaved, ice-blue eyes. “Hey, Zoe,” Mike said, stepping past her into the space of the bar.
Gabe made his way in too, the scent of alcohol and food strong in the air, as well as blood. The room was lousy with vampires, and a couple dozen humans. Maybe witches? He couldn’t really tell without getting closer.
Zoe closed the door behind him and locked it. “Heard you’re a bit out of sorts,” she said with a thick accent. Not Viking then, not unless Vikings were very British. And how he knew that was another puzzle piece falling into place.
“Yes,” Gabe agreed.
“Let’s get you a seat and we’ll go slow. Do you remember how this works?”
“No,” Gabe said.
“Each time you touch one of your get, it should trigger a renewal of the sire bond. Which should bring rise to memories. Too much at once…,” she shrugged.
“I sired all of you?”
“And many more. Only Max has more fledglings than you. And that’s likely only because he took Tresler’s get after Mueller killed him. Those that survived his destruction anyway.” She directed him to a booth with plush seats laid into carved mahogany wood. The outside of the building hadn’t looked quite this posh, but the inside appeared better than well-kept. Hardwood floors that gleamed as though they were cleaned and polished often, walls a pale blue, with whimsical art scattered around the room. The bar appeared to be something carved out of wood and topped with marble. All very high end, and almost none of it triggered memories. New perhaps?
“I’ve heard Mueller’s powerful.”
“Your first get in almost a century, so sure.”
Wait, he had created Sam? “Sam?”
“Yep. That little monster. The original bond was created by another, whom you killed, and not many vampires can take over that sort of bond to raise a vampire.” She shrugged. “I’m sure it will all come back. Mike says you’re getting the oldest stuff first? Maybe we’ll start with the oldest and work our way forward?”
“Okay,” Gabe said somewhat hesitantly.
“Each will offer you one of their servants. A nip from the wrist, usually. Nothing more intimate unless you negotiate with thecibo’s vampire. Then a touch to renew the bond. It should ease the memories to have a bit of blood first.” She looked around the room. Many of thecibo’swere eating, and drinking, though it didn’t smell like alcohol was on tap tonight. “All of these are well-bonded to their vampires. Most have been with them for years.”
“I’m not really hunting?” Gabe clarified. Perhaps he could explain that to Seiran and gain forgiveness. Though the idea that he would have to ask for forgiveness chafed. This all seemed to be part of what it meant to be a vampire. Maybe that was his fault too, as he hadn’t seemed to have educated the witch on how vampires worked. On purpose? Or had he been that lost? He wondered if he would know by the end of the evening.
“Only a little. You may find some among this group you wish to make your permanentcibos. Those you’ll have to make an appeal to, negotiate with their masters, seduce, if you will. But stalking the night as a shadow to feed? Very few do that anymore. Though I know Sam still does. He enjoys terrorizing people who hurt others. He’ll actually spend the wee hours of the morning stalking downtown, looking for car thieves or some other random crime, to feed on them and scare them into not doing that shit again.” She laughed. “Crime rate in the cities has gone down substantially. Politicians and media attribute it to cops, and law.”
“But it’s Sam stalking the night?”
“Seems to be. Anyway, let me send Waverly over. He’s got a handful ofcibosyou’ll like, and he’s almost as old as you.” She pointed out a mountain of a man who sat near the bar with a handful of pretty college-age girls. His gut clenched at the idea of drinking from them. Too young, his head said. Not Seiran, his gut chimed in.
“Will I have to drink from all the cibos?”
“No. Choose one from each fledgling. You won’t need more than a sip. In a few hours you’ll be near bursting with blood and memories, hopefully.” She gave him a friendly smile but didn’t attempt to touch him. “I’ll be by later with my picks.” She pointed to another booth filled with men who looked a little older, probably late twenties, early thirties, all seeming to be chatting about something on their phones as they were sharing pictures. “I like my food a bit more seasoned than some of these.”
Gabe nodded. “I think I do too.”