Page 11 of The Good Vampire’s Guide to Blood & Boyfriends

HANGRY

brENNAN’S PHONE

Cole

Please confirm if you are dead ( ) or alive and well ( )

Brennan

bloodsucking memes for immortal non-teens (new england clan)

SOON-HEE KIM

Hello vamps and vamplings,

Nellie and I will be doing our normal rounds again this month.

Check out the schedule attached to see when we’ll be in different areas of New England. Set up any meetings for questions/concerns/etc for when we’re in your area. DM me, not Nel, she’s still trying to figure out the phone I got her.

As always, dates are subject to change if something urgent comes up.

Sunny, xxx

3 comments / 12

NARRISSA: you two owe me a round of laser tag still, I need revenge on Sunny for last time

SOON-HEE: bet. i’ll book us the arena.

QUINN: extra big shipment this month, the 8th for pickup works for me! See you then!

QUINN MILLER

We’re still seeking volunteers to join the committee planning this year’s annual NEW ENGLAND VAMPIRE BALL! The vampire ball is the one night each year where the New England clan can gather in person and party our faces off, so join me in making this a night to remember!

Either way, save the date for this March 1, 2025 to dance the night away with your fellow vampires!

12 comments / 28

MAX: wouldn’t miss it for the world

EDMUND: um you better put me on the planning committee, no way we’re getting a terrible DJ like last year

CRYSTAL: Agreed, let’s do live music. So much classier.

QUINN: Love this energy! Please DM me!

Brennan had been to three elementary schools, two middle schools, and five high schools in almost a dozen different cities, and if there was one thing he’d learned, it was how to recognize when someone with authority was going to give him a talking-to.

Many a well-meaning school guidance counselor had tried to check in on the new kid who moved around a lot, but by the fourth move, Brennan had realized the best approach to school was to be invisible and stay out of people’s way.

By age twelve, he’d gotten skilled at dodging concerned questions from adults, and with his good grades, they let him.

Nellie walked next to Brennan in silence as they left the café and walked down a busy street.

The jumble of conversations and noises from traffic made Brennan’s headache stab a steady rhythm into his temples.

He felt like he was being walked to his execution, and each passing moment of Nellie’s silence made it worse.

She turned down a less busy side street and Brennan followed, weaving around a group of students in Boston University gear eating tacos from a truck. She turned once more and stopped near a quiet subway entrance.

“Is this where you kill me?” Brennan joked. But also, did not joke. He wondered how quickly he could get to the silver knife if Nellie did try to kill him. He still didn’t know these people, and they talked so easily about death.

“You’re hangry,” Nellie said.

“Uh.” Brennan blinked. Nellie started digging inside her jacket. “What?”

“Hangry? Did I say it wrong? Sunny taught me that. Hungry and angry. You need blood.”

Brennan shook his head. He’d been taking his daily rationed amount, and he hadn’t felt anywhere near approaching the overwhelming thirst that had taken over before.

“I’m not hangry. I’ve been drinking.”

“Not enough.”

As soon as she said it, Brennan knew she was right. His senses had been dull and slow, in between asleep and awake. His head had been out of sorts in a fog he’d thought was anxiety for days, but when he thought about it, the haze was different, had a sharper edge to it.

“I was rationing,” Brennan defended. But the thirst, now that he’d identified it, burned. And Nellie had picked up on it effortlessly. The idea that Brennan could handle this on his own suddenly seemed absolutely batshit, but the idea of accepting help terrified him even more.

Nellie’s hand emerged from her jacket with a simple metal flask, and she presented it with an encouraging smile. Brennan felt frozen. What if this was a trick?

Something about her reminded him of one of his old half-friends triumphantly presenting a flask of cheap vodka with a grand flourish back when they were freshmen. Something about the familiarity of it—or the sharp smell of blood filling his nostrils as Nellie twisted off the cap—relaxed him.

He took the flask, and he drank.

It never stopped being strange, how utterly not strange it was to drink blood.

Each time, in the moment, felt right. Warm and thick and sticky and delicious, consuming him with the fervor of a child with chocolate.

It was only afterward that the shame would kick in, the reality of You just drank human blood, you absolute freak ringing in his head.

(Intrusive thought, his therapist would say.

Recognize it, but don’t engage with it.)

Even with the shame, it was impossible to deny that Nellie had been right.

A few swallows, and he felt a warmth settle over his body like a cat stretching out in the sun, the fog in his head clearing until everything was crisp and sharp and real.

Brennan nearly gasped with it. It was like the first day of not feeling like crap after a weeklong depressive slump: he hadn’t realized how heavy he’d felt until the weight lifted.

“Good stuff, is this organic?” Brennan tried for a joke as he handed the nearly empty flask back to Nellie. His hands fell to his sides with nothing to hold and fiddle with, and he felt bare and exposed under Nellie’s watchful eyes.

She kept looking at him, concern twisting into wide eyes and dawning horror.

Brennan cleared his throat. “Thanks.”

The lack of thanks was not what Nellie was afraid of.

“You were starving,” she said. “You didn’t RSVP or get the welcome package, so you didn’t know about the blood caches.”

Brennan kicked at an empty can on the ground to avoid her earnest, dark eyes. He kept having to remind himself she wasn’t human. (He wasn’t, either.)

“I wasn’t completely on my own, I—” Brennan paused, shrugged. “—I knew a guy.”

“What kind of guy? Do you need us to cover anything up?”

The ease with which she made that offer threw him.

“No, it’s not—it’s just this guy that volunteered with the school blood drive? You don’t need to worry about it. I can take care of myself.”

“Don’t downplay it, Brennan,” Nellie said. She lifted a hand and let it drop, like she wanted to comfort him but knew better. “We messed up. I mean, we usually get to new-turn orientations faster, but Travis didn’t get the paperwork in on time.”

“Travis?”

“Travis is, like, Vampire Jesus,” Nellie said, waving her hand dismissively, as if that wasn’t the single most interesting thing she’d said all day.

Brennan made a mental note to add that to his growing list of questions.

“He’s the oldest and most powerful vampire in the New England clan, and he always has some sob story for why he had to turn someone even though we have strict rules in place for population control and—”

“Sorry, Travis is the person who turned me?”

Nellie blinked. “Yeah. You and Dom. We don’t allow new turns often, but yours were special situations.”

“What are special situations?”

“Well, like yours. If someone would otherwise die and turning them is a second chance at life. There are some exceptions for turning loved ones or friends. All of this is outlined in the pamphlets, and there’s typically an approvals process. Travis tends to ask forgiveness instead of permission.”

A second chance at life? That was a weird way to look at ruining Brennan’s life. Brennan didn’t know how to process that he now had a name for the person who turned him. That girl, Dom, was like… a vampire sister. Nellie and Sunny were vampire bureaucrats. It was a lot to unpack.

“Does Travis lead the clan with you guys?” Brennan asked.

“Oh god, no.” Nellie laughed. “Well, he used to, ages ago, but now he does his own thing.”

“Can I meet him?”

“That’s not the best idea,” Nellie said. Before Brennan had the chance to protest, Nellie continued, “But look, one of our stations is near here. I can show you how the blood caches work, and then you can go, if you want. None of us are going to force you to do anything.”

Brennan wanted to say no, gazing longingly at the steps leading down to the subway. But he also took in Nellie, a person who needed blood to survive, like Brennan. Like Brennan always had, technically.

“Fine,” Brennan said.

Nellie pressed her lips together, not satisfied, but maybe a bit appeased, and she tucked her flask into her bag before leading the way out of the alley.

“It’s only a few minutes’ walk,” she said, conversational, and in the same breath, “You really didn’t hurt anyone this whole time?”

Brennan flinched like she’d slapped him, his steps faltering while she turned to look at him over her shoulder. “ No . I’m not—I’m not a monster. ”

Unless I am, a part of Brennan’s brain offered, thinking of the girl who had gone missing the day he turned. But before he could go down that line of thinking, Nellie’s eyes went fierce and narrow and when she spoke, her voice was low with warning.

“Watch it with that word,” she said.

Oh my god, Brennan thought, there’s vampire discourse. His life was a nightmare.

But more importantly—

“There’s this girl missing at my school,” Brennan said instead. “Was it vampire-related? Should I be worried?”

“I’ll make sure Sunny looks into it,” Nellie said. “That’s her jurisdiction. She makes sure no one suspects vampires in anything.”

“But what about the girl? What if Dom killed her?”

What if he killed her? No, nope, no.

“Brennan, this stuff you’re stressing about? That’s what we’re here for! We’re your clan. We’ve got your back.”