The Twilight of Lake Woebegotten (16 page)

“Bonnie,” he said. “We really need to talk.”

“Sure,” I said. “The whole following-me-to-Bemidji thing is kinda stalkery. I assume you were tracking me the whole time?”

He scowled. “Well, yes, but—”

A waitress—pretty college girl, black hair, big boobs, but Edwin didn’t even glance at her bosom, so that was a point in his favor—came by and took our order. Edwin just asked for water and soda bread, but I ordered a burger, making a point to say, “As bloody rare as you can make it.”

When she was gone I gave Edwin a dazzling smile. “Sorry nothing on the menu appeals to you. If this were an English pub we’d be able to get some blood sausage, I bet.”

Edwin sighed and leaned forward. The candle on the table cast his face in flickering shadows. “All right. Fine. I tried to avoid this, but you’re a lot smarter than you let on, Bonnie Grayduck. How did you know? It’s not as if I’ve been leaving fang holes in the necks of our classmates. My reflection shows up in mirrors, garlic doesn’t bother me, I walk freely in the daytime—what exactly about my existence screamed…” He looked around, and no one was in earshot, and the loud bar atmosphere would muffle our conversation anyway. “The
V
-word.”

“Ah, well, I had a little help,” I admitted. “I knew there was
something
weird about you, but I didn’t know what—mutant, superhero, alien? I admit, the
V
-word wasn’t my first guess. But then I went with some people from school to the lake. Over in Pres du Lac.”

He leaned back in the booth, half disappearing into the shadows. “Ah.”

“I saw an old friend of the family—Joachim Noir. His dad Willy and my dad go way back.” I frowned. “This isn’t ringing any bells?”

“I don’t think I know them,” he said.

“Willy is apparently some big tribal deal on the reservation. Joachim and I got to talking, and he let slip some of the, ah, weirder stories the tribal elders tell. And, funnily enough, the name of your family came up. Weird, huh? And something about a treaty.”

“Oh. That.”

“Of course, Joachim doesn’t believe any of it. Thinks it’s silly superstition.”

“But he told you I’m a… that the elders think I’m a…
V
-word.”

“They say you’re a wendigo, actually. You know—flesh-eating, inhuman monster. But Joachim says that’s just because there’s no precedent for vampires—oops, I said it—in Ojibwe mythology. I did some research on the internet, though, and it’s all rivers of crap. So how does it work
really
?”

“There are secrets I shouldn’t tell,” he murmured. “But you already know the major secret… Bonnie, if you know what I am, why are you sitting here with me? Shouldn’t you be running away from me screaming?”

I raised an eyebrow. The waitress returned with our food, and I ate a french fry slowly while she tried to bat her eyes at Edwin. He never stopped staring at me. Once we were alone again, I said, “Have you not read a book or seen a movie in the past century? Vampires aren’t really scary—they’re
sexy
. Why would I run away?”

“Vampires should be scary,” he said emphatically. “They—we—we
kill
people, Bonnie. We use them for food. Drink their blood and discard the body, like, like—”

“A kid tossing away an empty juice box?” I said. “But you’re not going to do that to
me
.”

He picked up his glass of water, sniffed it, and put it back down again. “I—my family—we don’t do that to anyone. Argyle decided a long time ago that he couldn’t prey on humans without giving up his own humanity, and he stopped hunting sentient creatures. His wife—my adopted mother—agreed with him, and so do the rest of us. In fact, I’ve never harmed a human. Argyle… made me what I am, now, and raised me, you might say, in his faith.”

“Whoa,” I said. “Vegetarian vampires. Teetotalers. Well, sure, there’s lots of precedent for that in movies and TV shows too. It’s how you can tell who the
good
vampires are. Or sometimes they just eat criminals and murderers.” I said the last kind of hopefully, and Edwin shook his head.

“They say if a tiger tastes the flesh of a human, it becomes a man-eater,” Edwin said. “I don’t know if it’s true or not, but Argyle says our kind are similar. It’s like being an alcoholic. Nothing compares to human blood—they say pig blood is closest, but it’s close the way saccharine is close to sugar. Not quite right. There’s an aftertaste. To taste human blood is to crave it more, and to risk losing control, so we avoid it.”

So much for my fantasies of Edwin and I as a continent-crossing team, me luring victims and helping to dispatch them for his supper. And here I’d been looking forward to doing my part to put dinner on the table.

“Okay then.” I took a bite of my burger—not rare enough, nobody makes them rare enough, but juicy enough to dribble down my chin. “So what do I have to worry about?”

He sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Bonnie, you don’t understand. I’ve become attracted to your personality, and certainly your beautiful looks, but the first thing that drew me to you was your
smell
. Humans have flavors. Vintages. Bouquets. Most of them are neither offensive nor inoffensive to me, but occasionally, one smells
especially
good.”

“So I’m like fresh baked cookies and you’re in overeaters anonymous, huh?”

“Indelicate, but apt. I greatly fear I might lose control around you, Bonnie.”

“So drink up.” I took a sip of my soda. “I don’t mind. If it’s consensual, where’s the harm? Turn me into one of you—we can be together forever.”

His eyes widened. “You… want to be with me?”

“You’re the hottest guy I’ve ever met,” I said, honestly—see, I can be honest sometimes. “And you have the whole awesome superpower thing going for you. Of course I do.”

“You’re young, Bonnie. Forever is a
very
long time. You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“So how old are you, then, grandpa?”

He smiled. “Biologically? Around seventeen.”

“And in calendar time?”

“Well. Argyle turned me… a long time ago.”

I rolled my eyes. “Enough with the vague. When?”

Another sigh. Clearly he was not happy giving up his mysteries—or maybe he just knew he was all cute and broody when he sighed. “1906.”

“Ah. And
you
were only seventeen, just like
I
am, when you got changed, so why hesitate to do for me what Argyle did for you?”

“You don’t understand. It was just after the great San Francisco earthquake. Argyle was there, working in what passed for a hospital in those days. After the earthquake, and the fire, he found me, trapped under rubble, my whole family dead, my own injuries grievous. I would not have survived, and he made the decision to give me a semblance of life, rather than letting me die entirely.”

I considered. “Whereas I’m all young and healthy.”

“Yes.”

“And not in need of such desperate measures.”

“Correct.”

I considered. Suicide attempt? Would cutting my wrists prompt him to turn me in order to save my life? Then he’d think I was crazy and might let me bleed out. I could maybe fake an accident… but what if he didn’t come and turn me into a vampire? I’d be dead, and while being a vampire would be vastly preferable to being alive, being alive was vastly preferable to being a banquet for worms. “Fair enough,” I said, though it wasn’t; I was just tabling the discussion. I’d bring it up again. I’d work it in. Maybe next time I’d ask him after screwing his brains out or sucking him off (assuming vampires could, you know,
function
sexually—that was a topic for another time). I find guys are in a more responsive and accommodating frame of mind after they’ve just gotten off. “If you don’t mind me asking, if you’re more than a hundred years old or whatever, why do you go to
high school
?”

He laughed. “I suppose it might seem… untoward. But I look young, Bonnie. Where else should I spend my time?”

“Why spend time with humans at all? No offense, but, well, I like this hamburger, but that doesn’t mean I want to go hang out with a bunch of cows.”

“Bonnie.” He reached across the table, and touched me with his cold, cold hand. He basically had no circulation. Not promising for the prospect of him getting erections. His face was so earnest I wanted to laugh. “You must
never
think I believe your kind to be cattle. I consider
myself
a human, or at least kin to humans. I
was
human. I like to still be among humans, to be in their company, to remind me of what I once was. Of course, there’s a certain degree of standoffishness—it’s dangerous for us to get too close to humans, because we’re so strong, it’s easy to hurt them accidentally. You don’t know how many times the coach has begged Hermet to sign up for the football team, and my brother
loves
such sports, but he’d kill everyone else on the field, quite by accident. But being in the company of humans is essential to retain our
own
humanity.” His perfect lips quirked in a half smile. “Plus, have you ever spent a century with the same six people? It gets a bit tiresome. Being out in the world helps ease
that
as well.”

“Okay then. I’m going to help you get in touch with your humanity. And since you’re impossibly ancient, I’m going to do this the old-fashioned way: Edwin Scullen, will you be my steady?”

He laughed, and it was a wonderful laugh. I usually hate it when other people laugh—they’re a
source
of amusement for me, so they shouldn’t
be
amused—but Edwin was different. “It’s not traditional for the
woman
to ask that. Bonnie, do you really want to be close to me? Knowing I will never age, that I can never be entirely like a human boyfriend would be?”

“Are you telling me this doesn’t feel epic to you, Edwin?” I said. “That you don’t feel like someone in a storybook? Have you ever felt this way about anyone before?”

He shook his head. “No, Bonnie. Never. Not vampire, not human, no one. Since the moment I met you, there has only
been
you.”

“You could have fooled me. You seemed to hate my guts at first.”

“Ah. That. Well.” He took my hands. “I was afraid of the intensity of my feelings. Afraid of what I might do. That’s why I missed that week of school—I left town, went back to Canada. We have some friends, another clan, who are—vegetarians, as you say. I planned to stay away forever, but I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and I decided I would be strong. So I returned… and was besotted with you all over again.” He sighed. “Do I dare to be with you, Bonnie? Despite the risks?”

“I’m a big girl,” I said. “I say, yes. Let’s do it. Let’s be together. Or at least
try
. I think we owe it to these feelings to try.”

“You are extraordinary,” he murmured. “I can’t believe you aren’t…
afraid
of me.”

“You’ve never given me reason to fear you,” I said. “Are you planning to?”

“Never.”

I figured as much. I just hoped I could avoid giving him reason to fear
me
. Because though I saw Edwin partly as a means to an end—my ticket to superpowers and immortality and becoming an apex predator—I also had feelings for him. I don’t know if it’s what other people mean when they say “love” (I don’t know how most people, being the stupid wastes of flesh they are, can possibly be capable of love or worthy of being loved), but I felt something profound. He was interesting like nobody else has ever been interesting, and so pretty I didn’t think I’d ever get tired of looking at him.

Edwin paid the check—I assumed he was rich, because of the sports car, and because how do you not get rich when you’re part of a clan of vampires?—and we went out to his car. He drove me back to Lake Woebegotten, and he drove very damn fast. “Aren’t you worried about crashing and killing me?” I said. “I’m just a fragile mortal weakling, you know.”

He laughed. “I always drive this fast. My reflexes are phenomenal. You have nothing to worry about.”

“Um, except for the laws of physics. It doesn’t matter how fast
your
reflexes are, really. They’re limited by how responsive the
car
is. And given the physical limitations of, you know, brakes and steering wheels, your superhuman powers won’t be a lot of good if a deer runs out in front of us. You see what I mean?”

“Hmm. You make a good point.” He slowed down. “I don’t usually have people in the car with me. I mean—
people
. If I get in a car accident, well. I’ll miss the car, but it wouldn’t inconvenience me too much.”

“Turn me into a vampire,” I said, “and you can drive as fast as you want.”

“I’m not sure the drawbacks of turning you into an undead, blood-drinking creature of the night are worth shaving a few minutes off the drive to Bemidji,” he said.

He got me back to Harry’s house, and we sat in the driveway, looking at each other. After a moment I said, “Are you going to kiss me?”

“I… want to. I haven’t kissed anyone in… well. It’s been some time. But I’m afraid, Bonnie, being so close to you, the
scent
of you, it’s overpowering…”

“Okay,” I said, leaning in quick and pecking his cheek. “We’ll give you some time to get desensitized or acclimated or whatever, but there’d better be vampire-human make-out sessions in our future, all right?”

Before he could respond, I scooted out of the car and went inside. Harry was on the couch, still in his uniform, playing some kind of Xbox game where he ran around with an assault rifle slaughtering zombies. “Hey, hon,” he said, glancing at the clock on the wall. “You’re home early.”

“Oh?” I’d assumed it was late, past midnight, but that was just because time with Edwin had a tendency to stretch—it was barely nine. “Guess it doesn’t take that long to hit every store in the mall in Bemidji.”

“True enough.” He yawned. “You eat?”

“I did.”

“You have fun?”

“I did. Dresses were acquired. Mission accomplished.”

“Good, good.”

“I’m going up to my room to study a bit, then I guess I’ll go to bed. Good night, Dad.”

He mumbled a response, and I went upstairs to my room and called J—I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten to do that.

“You’re alive!” she said.