Page 114 of Road Trip with a Vampire

“It’s true,” Lindsay insisted. “At least in this case. The last thing she should be doing is texting the same man who just broke her heart.”

“He didn’t break my heart,” I said, before realizing I’d just confirmed I’d been texting Peter.Shit.“At least, he didn’t mean to. It was just…”

I trailed off, struggling to find the right way to end that sentence.

“It was just what?” Lindsay asked, one eyebrow raised.

“It was just…a confluence of unfortunate circumstances,” I finished. Now that I stopped to think about it, this was the crux of it. Which made me even sadder. We’d gotten along well, and our mutual attraction was undeniable. Had we met under different circumstances, maybe we could have had some sort of future together.

Now, though, it was impossible.

“He’s not a bad person,” I went on. It was important that my friends understood this. “We just can’t be together.”

I could tell Lindsay wanted to ask more questions. Becky likely saw this, too, and put her hand on her cousin’s arm before she could.

“Our chief concern is that you’re all right,” Becky said. “Are you?”

I thought about that for a moment. Was I okay? Not really.

WouldI be, though? Probably. In my four hundred years, I’d weathered more than my fair share of heartbreaks. I’d survived those; I would survive this.

Even if it would hurt like hell in the meantime.

“I will be,” I said, mustering a smile. “Promise.”

Once my friends had left,I collapsed onto the loveseat, exhausted from the long day at work and the evening spent socializing. I still had to do my nightly ritual, but first I needed to work up the energy to get off the couch and get started.

I’d changed things up after returning home, retiring the candle ritual in favor of moderately more advanced uses of magic twice per day. The experiments I’d conducted on the road had helped me land on the perfect amount of magical energy I could expend daily without running the risk of anything going haywire.

Every night before bed I conjured a small ball of light, just like the one I’d made in that frigid Nevada field. In the mornings, I created a warm, vigorous breeze that was better at drying my hair than any blow-dryer. These two spells had been my daily combination since returning home—and to my relief, the panicky, clawing sensations that had plagued me in the months leading up to my trip across the country had all but vanished.

I went into my bedroom, drawing my new moss-green curtains closed so that no one who might be outside at this hour could see what I was about to do. My old curtains had been prettier, but these were intact rather than a pile of lacy ash. On balance, it was an improvement.

I absently picked up my phone from my dresser before I got started and saw that Peter had texted again after I’d set down my phone and gone back to watching television with my friends.

Zelda:You could have said literally anything at all and you would have had my full attention

Peter:You have my full attention, always.

Twenty-Six

Recipe for Cookies That Cassie Told Me She Loves—by Frederick J. Fitzwilliam

A lot of flour

Some sugar

At least a cup of other powders

Whatever liquid foodstuff you might have on hand (except for blood; do NOT use blood)

Mix together in large bowl. Arrange dough on tray. Bake until done.

I slept fitfully that night,tossing and turning for hours before finally drifting off shortly before dawn.

When my alarm went off at six, it felt like I’d been awake all night.

Morning classes started in an hour, though, and it was my turn to open the studio. Somehow I managed to dress and drag myself downstairs. I’d need to sneak in a nap at some point just to survive the day.