Page 24 of Vampires of Eden

I draw back from the blatant absurdity of this question. “What?”

“You look down on them, but how are you better?” she asks again, examining me. “Instead of facing their situation head on, they avoid conflict. The environment stays the same because they run away. They protect themselves?—”

“This is utterly ridiculous?—”

“You’re exactly the same, Danny. You walk around here, spouting on about your healing and acceptance. You do your knitting and your yoga?—”

“Crocheting,” I correct her. “I crochet. How many times do I?—”

“Fine. You keep yourself busy with all these projects. But youstillavoid the piano, and as soon as you’re forced to interact with a purebred who isn’t me, you lose your shit. You unravel because your sacred purebred-free world is disrupted. Look at the way you avoided Oliver like he was a literal disease!”

“I didnot. I talked to him a little bit more before he left—and what piano would I even be fucking playing around here?” I ask, frenzied. “The invisible one in the non-existent ballroom?”

“That’s not the point, smartass.”

“Isn’t it?” Indignation floods my chest and every inch of my body tenses. How can she say that I’m the same as these arrogant purebreds? These cowardly fugitives.

“When I heard about how you treated Alexander today,” Leoni continues, her voice calm and level. “I remembered something—a quote from that book you told me to read last year. I’m paraphrasing, but it went something like, ‘The thing that you most detest in others is almost certainly inside of you.’ It’s like holding up a mirror and being angry at the reflection.”

I scoff, folding my arms, because she’s effectively using my own tools for healing against me. For the second time today, the wall of my righteous indignation is being assaulted. Broken down and called into question.

When she pushes me to acknowledge these blind spots in the journey of my emotional healing, it’s embarrassing and vexing in ways I can’t easily express.

I know that growth and self-reflection are like this. A process. Like dough being pounded, rolled and kneaded before it’s able to rise.

Taking a moment, I focus on my breathing to calm myself. To ease the pressure in my head and heart. Above all, I resist the very real urge to scream and argue with her.

My voice comes out strained, as if I’m gritting the words through my teeth. “What should I be doing then, Leoni? Nothing will change if I start beingnicerto purebreds. You say that I’m like them. I understand your point, and yet, I disagree, because I don’t have the influence that they do. I can’t change a damn thing about Eden.”

She leans back, easing up on her defensive seating position. “You don’t know that, cariño. Kindness can go a long way.”

I laugh. “That’s excessively optimistic.”

“Listen—It’s obvious that underneath all your Zen ethos and what not, you’re still very bitter. You’re angry and you have a right to be. My sister… my entire family put you through hell. It’s hard, but like I told you when Oliver showed up, this is good for you and your healing journey. It’s a sign! I really believe it.”

Again, my own words are being used against me.

I believe in signs and I do try to be Zen… when I’m not detonating and clearing everything in my path like a rage grenade.

Sighing and slouching against the cushions, I cover my face with my hands. I’m tired. I don’t want to fight anymore. “Alright, alright. I’ll try to do better. All I can do is try.”

“That’s a start,” she says. “Anyway, you don’t need to worry about it for now. Kathryn said she’s going to have Alexander come on days when you’re not there.”

I drop my hands, smirking. “Seriously? Are we children that need to be separated?”

Leoni shrugs. “Apparently? Unless… you want to apologize to him?”

At this, I snort. “Me? Apologize to a purebred?” I cross my ankle over my knee in my awkward, slumped position and glance toward the fire. My posture is the answer to, “Tell me what’s not going to happen without telling me what’s not going to happen.”

“See?” She points, making a circle to indicate my entire body. “That right there? Arrogance. The same quality that you allegedly hate about purebreds.”

“Alright that’s enough, goddammit.”

Leoni laughs. I don’t, but I stifle a grin and stare into the burning, lively embers of the fire as they dance and spark. When I close my eyes and breathe again, the warmth is like a soft caress to the exposed skin of my face and hands.

“Be nice to Puercoespín,” she says softly against the crackle of the fire. “I think he’s really sad right now, even if he doesn’t let it show.”

Behind the dark infinity of my lids, those same intensely golden-brown irises flash once more—the same vision I saw in my bathroom earlier.