Elizabeth Culmer (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
edenfalling) wrote2004-12-30 08:03 pm
edenfalling) wrote2004-12-30 08:03 pm
Entry tags:
[Fic] "More or Less the Same," part 4 -- BtVS
Voila! I have edited (as well as walked the dog, eaten dinner, and done some general putting away of random household stuff), and here is chapter 4 of "More or Less the Same," in which I explore what might happen to a new vampire during season 4 of BtVS. No Mary-Sues, I promise; Anna is about 85% me and her human family is about 70% my family, but I'm doing my absolute best to write people realistically, flaws and all.
I've had several years worth of therapy for depression and related issues. I think I have a pretty good grasp of my flaws. :-)
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More or Less the Same: Chapter Four
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Now that I'd gotten my first taste of vampire politics, courtesy of Tyler, I decided I was damn lucky Juliana turned me instead of someone from another gang. Tyler ran his gang like a little kingdom, all ceremony all the time. Other gangs used fledglings as play-toys, and not in games that were much fun for the toys, if you see where I'm going.
My gang wasn't like that -- we were a family. Yeah, Fang could be kind of a jerk and Todd was like the annoying older brother I'd never wanted, but Juliana compensated by being the cool older sister or young aunt that I had wanted. Jaycee was wild, Murchison and Oliver were good for having serious conversations, and Scuzz and Danny were fun to hunt with -- the three of us could lure out victims at any of what passed for cool night spots in Sunnydale.
But, y'know, I'd had a human family first. And I missed Bridget. I missed the way she'd drag me around the mall, when I'd pretend not to care about the clothing stores, she'd pretend not to care about the bookstore, and we'd both lust after candles, stationery, and ridiculously expensive knick-knacks. I missed the way we'd sit up and talk about secrets until three in the morning. Hell, I even missed the way she dumped her clothes all over the bathroom floor, and her kleptomaniac streak when it came to my jewelry and anything else of mine that she wanted.
I missed Mom. I missed Dad. I missed my dog.
I was a vampire now, but, y'know, a vampire's made by the combination of a formless demon and a human host. The human shapes the demon. The demon loves what the human loved, hates what the human hated. Yeah, you lose your morals and some of your inhibitions, which can cause some pretty wacky twists on suppressed desires, but basically you're still you. Just, y'know, with fangs and bloodlust.
And 'cause you're still you, your old human family's a tricky issue. Todd told me about Angelus, the Scourge of Europe, who was famous for killing not only his family but his whole damn village on the night he rose. He also told me about Lena and Juliana -- when Lena rose, the first thing she did was go home and turn her sister so they'd never have to lose each other.
I don't have the foggiest idea what sort of family issues would make you kill everyone you ever cared about, not unless you were a bit nuts or were trying to be the opposite of everything you were as a human. I don't see the point of that; I liked myself as a human, and all I wanted to change was to be less awkward around strangers.
I didn't want to turn my family either, 'cause Todd said that the amount the human influenced the demon varied from vampire to vampire. I'd already noticed I wasn't exactly the same as before I died, and I didn't want to risk changing my family so they weren't my family anymore. Also, Bridget wanted to be a teacher, or a minister, or a translator at the UN, or a member of the Peace Corps, etc., etc. Which, y'know, she couldn't do as a vampire. Hell, if she were a vampire, she wouldn't even want to do any of that. Her goals made even less sense to me than before I died, but I didn't want to steal them from her -- and I wouldn't know who Bridget was if she didn't want to help people.
So after two weeks, when Juliana declared my basic hunting education finished, I took my free night and went home. I knew nobody would follow me -- they were out laying a trap for one of Tyler's minions, figuring we'd given Tyler enough time to relax -- which was good, 'cause I was kind of embarrassed about missing my human family so much. I didn't want any of the gang to watch me watching them.
It was weird to walk past my house and realize that my family was in there, thinking I was kidnapped or dead. It was weird that I couldn't just walk up, ring the doorbell, and walk in like I'd just been away on a long vacation. Well, technically I could've done that, but I didn't want to tell them I was a vampire. I didn't want them to look at me, realize I killed humans now, and be horrified. I saw nothing wrong with killing, y'know, but I knew they would.
And maybe I can't feel a lot of human emotions anymore, but I can still feel guilt. Oh, I never feel bad for doing something wrong just 'cause it's wrong, but I feel all kinds of horrible if I hurt someone I care about. Just the idea of my family realizing I was a murderer was giving me a sick, swimming feeling in the pit of my stomach.
I couldn't do that to them. Which, y'know, sounds weird coming from a vampire -- grr, argh, chaos, mayhem and all -- but if you think about it it's really a selfish thing. They were my family, and nobody hurts what's mine.
I wanted to keep them safe, y'know, wanted to warn them about the underground, about the dangers lurking in Sunnydale -- except how the hell was I supposed to do that without revealing myself? They'd never believe an anonymous note and it wasn't like I could send the gang around like anti-missionaries. They had no reason not to hurt my family.
Bridget would probably be safe for a while -- she was too young to be at the really dangerous hunting grounds, and her friends though the Bronze was totally stupid. Mom and Dad were never really big on going out at night either. But they did like to eat out on weekends, a sort of romantic pretend-we're-still-young-and-childless thing. Which was great when I was alive and wanted to have friends over, but now I wanted them to stay home, 'cause vampires could get into restaurants or lurk in parking lots. What if they went out and never came home?
And this was the worst thought: what if some vampire walked up to the door and asked to use the phone, or used some other random story to get himself inside? They'd let him in. I knew they would, 'cause we'd always let people borrow the phone back in Jersey. They'd let him in, and then he'd slam the door, shift to game face, and tear them to bloody shreds.
I couldn't decide if it would be worse for everyone to die in one shot, or for somebody to come home and find a savaged, bloodless corpse by the door.
I had to warn them. Somehow.
But until then, I'd settle for a peek on how they were coping without me. I'd walked around the block a few times while I was thinking, and the street was empty now, all the shades pulled down in the neighbors' houses. This was as good a chance as I was going to get.
I snuck up to the kitchen window, which for some reason didn't have a shade -- Mom had been nagging at Dad to get off his ass and put up curtains, but he still hadn't gotten around to it. I stood on my tiptoes and peeked in over the sink.
They were sitting in the breakfast nook, all three of them, eating a late dinner. We used to eat in the dining room, but with only three people the breakfast nook made more sense. And, y'know, maybe they just didn't want to see my empty place at the table.
Bridget was talking, fork in one hand and her other one slashing and dancing through the air, painting and emphasizing her words. Dad was trying to break in, with his you're-being-completely-illogical expression, but Bridget was on a roll, not letting him string more than three words together before she was off on another tangent. Mom I couldn't see so well 'cause her back was to the window -- but now and then she nodded or shook her head at whatever Bridget was saying.
I wondered what they were talking about. Bridget's day at school? Her plans for a new get-together with friends? A visit back to New Jersey? Or something weirder, something Dad brought home from work? You never could tell in my family, 'cause, y'know, we could spend an hour arguing over ancient Greek philosophy as easily as we hashed out the details of what Bridget was and wasn't allowed to do at a friend's weekend party.
Now Dad was sitting up straight, getting his hands into the conversation as well. Mom pointed around with her fork like she was conducting the argument.
We all talked with our hands, my family. People used to ask me all the time if I was Italian 'cause I waved my hands so much. I'd tell them I didn't think so, but Dad was adopted so there was no way to be sure. Then they'd smile and say he must be Italian. The funny thing is that I don't think gesturing is a genetic trait, and my grandparents were all kind of stiff and German so it can't be environmental either.
Anyway, none of the gang talked with their hands, not like my family. Jaycee used a lot of body language, Danny bounced and wiggled all over, and sometimes Juliana moved her hands like she expected to have a cigarette in them and was surprised to find them empty, but it wasn't the same. They didn't grasp the air for words when an idea escaped them. They didn't slash and stroke and twist and wave and point, y'know? They didn't conduct little private accompaniments to their voices.
It was funny -- I couldn't hear my family at all but I could follow the conversation just by watching their hands. It was a little subdued from normal, which, y'know, was probably my fault for dying, but all the patterns were there, down to the occasional pauses where I was supposed to jump in and laugh, make a sarcastic comment, or call them a bunch of idiots.
Except, y'know, I wasn't there. And they'd kind of stumble when nobody said my lines, when nobody reached over and swatted Dad on the shoulder or flicked a finger at Bridget's nose. But then they'd pick up the threads again, move on past the gap. They were learning how to talk without me.
I looked down at my hands. I still talked with them -- Todd laughed at me sometimes, told me to watch where I swung my arms -- but they weren't the same hands. They were vampire hands, not human hands. Killer's hands.
I couldn't take it anymore, watching them be a family without me.
They hurt you, demon-me yelled. Hurt them back, make them pay! Throw rocks, knock on the door and kill them all. Make the night red and screaming.
It was like craving chocolate, like the tension before opening Christmas presents, that wanting to smash things. I wanted to give in, wanted to stop thinking and just, y'know, be, even if it wouldn't do any real good. At least blood might shut up the piece of my heart that felt like someone was stomping all over it with soccer cleats.
And, y'know, I guess human-me did a damn good job shaping vampire-me, 'cause I turned around and walked away. Didn't listen to demon-me. 'Cause then I wouldn't have been Anna Metzger anymore. Anna Metzger didn't hurt her family. Not even as a vampire.
It hurt like fucking hell, but hey. If the hard choices weren't hard, there wouldn't be much point in making them.
There's all different levels of evil, all different levels of amorality and bloodlust. Just 'cause I'm a vampire doesn't mean I have to sink to the lowest, vilest things I can think of. 'Cause like I said before, I am Anna Metzger, soul or no soul, and I'm the one who decides what I do. Not the Hellmouth, not my demon-instincts, not even Fang and Juliana, ultimately.
Me.
Free will in its ultimate form.
Honestly, what the hell else do you think being a vampire is about?
I was kind of quiet when I got back to the lair, still feeling mixed up about seeing my family. The gang was in the middle of getting drunk and partying -- they'd knocked off one of Tyler's lesser minions and laid a couple hints pinning it to a gang on the other side of town. I smiled when they told me, and I played a few hands of poker with Murchison, Todd, and Jaycee -- Murchison won, as usual -- but I cut out early. I didn't feel like celebrating.
Murchison walked down my sleeping tunnel a while later and found me sitting on my mattress, thinking.
"You went to see your human family, I assume."
I blinked, 'cause while I knew she was scary smart, I didn't think she thought I was worth paying attention to. "Yeah."
"It won't do any good," she said, unbending enough to lean against the wall. "You belong to different worlds now, and trying to bridge them will bring nothing but pain and inconvenience to both sides. They can't accept you as you are now, and if they could, they wouldn't be the people you remember. It's best to move on and forget. We're your family now."
"I guess. I just... I just wish I could warn them, y'know? Tell them to be careful after dark, to not invite people into the house. I don't care about humans dying in general, but they're my family, y'know? Yeah, sure, I'll outlive them by centuries if I'm lucky, but I don't want them to die before they have to."
Murchison nodded. "I understand. I was a bit luckier than you, I suppose -- I was able to warn my human parents and pass it off as one of the psychic messages that my mother was constantly claiming to receive. If you're truly worried, I might be willing to knock on the door and scare some caution into your old family; slipping into game face and beating against invisible barriers does tend to leave a vivid impression on humans."
I bit my lip, considering. Murchison was the most level-headed person in the gang, as smart as Oliver and as no-nonsense as Juliana. She'd certainly be able to pull off a show without going overboard.
The question was whether I trusted her to do it without getting an invitation to my family's house, 'cause knowing them, they'd probably invite her in before she could go all 'grr' in their faces, and then a vampire would have permanent access to my family. Sure, I didn't think Murchison would go after them just for the hell of it, but it would always be in the back of her mind that she had an emergency food source if she wanted it. And she'd be able to hold it over my head forever.
"No, not now," I said, trying to sound calm, like I didn't really care one way or the other, 'cause I really didn't want Murchison deciding my family was a weakness and doing something permanent to fix it. "They're usually pretty careful about stuff, and Bridget's not out in public places at night. If we could go around in daylight I'd be more worried, but after dark even my parents get a little cautious about letting strange people through the door."
Murchison shrugged. "It's your choice. The offer still stands, though." And she walked away, just like that.
Murchison gave me the creeps sometimes. She didn't even seem like a proper vampire, y'know, didn't seem like she had the bloodlust and the killing instinct. Then you'd see her toying with a human, making him think she was safe, even an authority figure, only to keep slipping little barbs and threats into her words until the poor guy didn't know which way was up and was almost grateful when she killed him.
I had a hard time picturing her caring enough to warn her family about things that go bump in the night. Come to that, I wasn't sure why she'd bothered to tell me about it -- I knew it wasn't out of the nonexistent goodness of her heart.
A warning, probably. 'Drop your old family before they get you into trouble, and you drag us in after yourself. Or else.'
Which, come to think of it, was good advice. We were in the middle of an undeclared gang war with Tyler, the Slayer was out there somewhere, and the new demon hunters were still in town -- they hadn't touched us recently, but Fang was still kind of spooked from losing a batch of fledglings the gang had picked up last spring. This was no time for distractions. I had to let go of my old life, had to move on.
I just wished it was as easy to do as it was for Murchison to say.
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End of Chapter Four
Back to Chapter 3
Continue to Chapter 5
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Am now off to work some more on "Apartment Manager."
I've had several years worth of therapy for depression and related issues. I think I have a pretty good grasp of my flaws. :-)
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More or Less the Same: Chapter Four
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Now that I'd gotten my first taste of vampire politics, courtesy of Tyler, I decided I was damn lucky Juliana turned me instead of someone from another gang. Tyler ran his gang like a little kingdom, all ceremony all the time. Other gangs used fledglings as play-toys, and not in games that were much fun for the toys, if you see where I'm going.
My gang wasn't like that -- we were a family. Yeah, Fang could be kind of a jerk and Todd was like the annoying older brother I'd never wanted, but Juliana compensated by being the cool older sister or young aunt that I had wanted. Jaycee was wild, Murchison and Oliver were good for having serious conversations, and Scuzz and Danny were fun to hunt with -- the three of us could lure out victims at any of what passed for cool night spots in Sunnydale.
But, y'know, I'd had a human family first. And I missed Bridget. I missed the way she'd drag me around the mall, when I'd pretend not to care about the clothing stores, she'd pretend not to care about the bookstore, and we'd both lust after candles, stationery, and ridiculously expensive knick-knacks. I missed the way we'd sit up and talk about secrets until three in the morning. Hell, I even missed the way she dumped her clothes all over the bathroom floor, and her kleptomaniac streak when it came to my jewelry and anything else of mine that she wanted.
I missed Mom. I missed Dad. I missed my dog.
I was a vampire now, but, y'know, a vampire's made by the combination of a formless demon and a human host. The human shapes the demon. The demon loves what the human loved, hates what the human hated. Yeah, you lose your morals and some of your inhibitions, which can cause some pretty wacky twists on suppressed desires, but basically you're still you. Just, y'know, with fangs and bloodlust.
And 'cause you're still you, your old human family's a tricky issue. Todd told me about Angelus, the Scourge of Europe, who was famous for killing not only his family but his whole damn village on the night he rose. He also told me about Lena and Juliana -- when Lena rose, the first thing she did was go home and turn her sister so they'd never have to lose each other.
I don't have the foggiest idea what sort of family issues would make you kill everyone you ever cared about, not unless you were a bit nuts or were trying to be the opposite of everything you were as a human. I don't see the point of that; I liked myself as a human, and all I wanted to change was to be less awkward around strangers.
I didn't want to turn my family either, 'cause Todd said that the amount the human influenced the demon varied from vampire to vampire. I'd already noticed I wasn't exactly the same as before I died, and I didn't want to risk changing my family so they weren't my family anymore. Also, Bridget wanted to be a teacher, or a minister, or a translator at the UN, or a member of the Peace Corps, etc., etc. Which, y'know, she couldn't do as a vampire. Hell, if she were a vampire, she wouldn't even want to do any of that. Her goals made even less sense to me than before I died, but I didn't want to steal them from her -- and I wouldn't know who Bridget was if she didn't want to help people.
So after two weeks, when Juliana declared my basic hunting education finished, I took my free night and went home. I knew nobody would follow me -- they were out laying a trap for one of Tyler's minions, figuring we'd given Tyler enough time to relax -- which was good, 'cause I was kind of embarrassed about missing my human family so much. I didn't want any of the gang to watch me watching them.
It was weird to walk past my house and realize that my family was in there, thinking I was kidnapped or dead. It was weird that I couldn't just walk up, ring the doorbell, and walk in like I'd just been away on a long vacation. Well, technically I could've done that, but I didn't want to tell them I was a vampire. I didn't want them to look at me, realize I killed humans now, and be horrified. I saw nothing wrong with killing, y'know, but I knew they would.
And maybe I can't feel a lot of human emotions anymore, but I can still feel guilt. Oh, I never feel bad for doing something wrong just 'cause it's wrong, but I feel all kinds of horrible if I hurt someone I care about. Just the idea of my family realizing I was a murderer was giving me a sick, swimming feeling in the pit of my stomach.
I couldn't do that to them. Which, y'know, sounds weird coming from a vampire -- grr, argh, chaos, mayhem and all -- but if you think about it it's really a selfish thing. They were my family, and nobody hurts what's mine.
I wanted to keep them safe, y'know, wanted to warn them about the underground, about the dangers lurking in Sunnydale -- except how the hell was I supposed to do that without revealing myself? They'd never believe an anonymous note and it wasn't like I could send the gang around like anti-missionaries. They had no reason not to hurt my family.
Bridget would probably be safe for a while -- she was too young to be at the really dangerous hunting grounds, and her friends though the Bronze was totally stupid. Mom and Dad were never really big on going out at night either. But they did like to eat out on weekends, a sort of romantic pretend-we're-still-young-and-childless thing. Which was great when I was alive and wanted to have friends over, but now I wanted them to stay home, 'cause vampires could get into restaurants or lurk in parking lots. What if they went out and never came home?
And this was the worst thought: what if some vampire walked up to the door and asked to use the phone, or used some other random story to get himself inside? They'd let him in. I knew they would, 'cause we'd always let people borrow the phone back in Jersey. They'd let him in, and then he'd slam the door, shift to game face, and tear them to bloody shreds.
I couldn't decide if it would be worse for everyone to die in one shot, or for somebody to come home and find a savaged, bloodless corpse by the door.
I had to warn them. Somehow.
But until then, I'd settle for a peek on how they were coping without me. I'd walked around the block a few times while I was thinking, and the street was empty now, all the shades pulled down in the neighbors' houses. This was as good a chance as I was going to get.
I snuck up to the kitchen window, which for some reason didn't have a shade -- Mom had been nagging at Dad to get off his ass and put up curtains, but he still hadn't gotten around to it. I stood on my tiptoes and peeked in over the sink.
They were sitting in the breakfast nook, all three of them, eating a late dinner. We used to eat in the dining room, but with only three people the breakfast nook made more sense. And, y'know, maybe they just didn't want to see my empty place at the table.
Bridget was talking, fork in one hand and her other one slashing and dancing through the air, painting and emphasizing her words. Dad was trying to break in, with his you're-being-completely-illogical expression, but Bridget was on a roll, not letting him string more than three words together before she was off on another tangent. Mom I couldn't see so well 'cause her back was to the window -- but now and then she nodded or shook her head at whatever Bridget was saying.
I wondered what they were talking about. Bridget's day at school? Her plans for a new get-together with friends? A visit back to New Jersey? Or something weirder, something Dad brought home from work? You never could tell in my family, 'cause, y'know, we could spend an hour arguing over ancient Greek philosophy as easily as we hashed out the details of what Bridget was and wasn't allowed to do at a friend's weekend party.
Now Dad was sitting up straight, getting his hands into the conversation as well. Mom pointed around with her fork like she was conducting the argument.
We all talked with our hands, my family. People used to ask me all the time if I was Italian 'cause I waved my hands so much. I'd tell them I didn't think so, but Dad was adopted so there was no way to be sure. Then they'd smile and say he must be Italian. The funny thing is that I don't think gesturing is a genetic trait, and my grandparents were all kind of stiff and German so it can't be environmental either.
Anyway, none of the gang talked with their hands, not like my family. Jaycee used a lot of body language, Danny bounced and wiggled all over, and sometimes Juliana moved her hands like she expected to have a cigarette in them and was surprised to find them empty, but it wasn't the same. They didn't grasp the air for words when an idea escaped them. They didn't slash and stroke and twist and wave and point, y'know? They didn't conduct little private accompaniments to their voices.
It was funny -- I couldn't hear my family at all but I could follow the conversation just by watching their hands. It was a little subdued from normal, which, y'know, was probably my fault for dying, but all the patterns were there, down to the occasional pauses where I was supposed to jump in and laugh, make a sarcastic comment, or call them a bunch of idiots.
Except, y'know, I wasn't there. And they'd kind of stumble when nobody said my lines, when nobody reached over and swatted Dad on the shoulder or flicked a finger at Bridget's nose. But then they'd pick up the threads again, move on past the gap. They were learning how to talk without me.
I looked down at my hands. I still talked with them -- Todd laughed at me sometimes, told me to watch where I swung my arms -- but they weren't the same hands. They were vampire hands, not human hands. Killer's hands.
I couldn't take it anymore, watching them be a family without me.
They hurt you, demon-me yelled. Hurt them back, make them pay! Throw rocks, knock on the door and kill them all. Make the night red and screaming.
It was like craving chocolate, like the tension before opening Christmas presents, that wanting to smash things. I wanted to give in, wanted to stop thinking and just, y'know, be, even if it wouldn't do any real good. At least blood might shut up the piece of my heart that felt like someone was stomping all over it with soccer cleats.
And, y'know, I guess human-me did a damn good job shaping vampire-me, 'cause I turned around and walked away. Didn't listen to demon-me. 'Cause then I wouldn't have been Anna Metzger anymore. Anna Metzger didn't hurt her family. Not even as a vampire.
It hurt like fucking hell, but hey. If the hard choices weren't hard, there wouldn't be much point in making them.
There's all different levels of evil, all different levels of amorality and bloodlust. Just 'cause I'm a vampire doesn't mean I have to sink to the lowest, vilest things I can think of. 'Cause like I said before, I am Anna Metzger, soul or no soul, and I'm the one who decides what I do. Not the Hellmouth, not my demon-instincts, not even Fang and Juliana, ultimately.
Me.
Free will in its ultimate form.
Honestly, what the hell else do you think being a vampire is about?
I was kind of quiet when I got back to the lair, still feeling mixed up about seeing my family. The gang was in the middle of getting drunk and partying -- they'd knocked off one of Tyler's lesser minions and laid a couple hints pinning it to a gang on the other side of town. I smiled when they told me, and I played a few hands of poker with Murchison, Todd, and Jaycee -- Murchison won, as usual -- but I cut out early. I didn't feel like celebrating.
Murchison walked down my sleeping tunnel a while later and found me sitting on my mattress, thinking.
"You went to see your human family, I assume."
I blinked, 'cause while I knew she was scary smart, I didn't think she thought I was worth paying attention to. "Yeah."
"It won't do any good," she said, unbending enough to lean against the wall. "You belong to different worlds now, and trying to bridge them will bring nothing but pain and inconvenience to both sides. They can't accept you as you are now, and if they could, they wouldn't be the people you remember. It's best to move on and forget. We're your family now."
"I guess. I just... I just wish I could warn them, y'know? Tell them to be careful after dark, to not invite people into the house. I don't care about humans dying in general, but they're my family, y'know? Yeah, sure, I'll outlive them by centuries if I'm lucky, but I don't want them to die before they have to."
Murchison nodded. "I understand. I was a bit luckier than you, I suppose -- I was able to warn my human parents and pass it off as one of the psychic messages that my mother was constantly claiming to receive. If you're truly worried, I might be willing to knock on the door and scare some caution into your old family; slipping into game face and beating against invisible barriers does tend to leave a vivid impression on humans."
I bit my lip, considering. Murchison was the most level-headed person in the gang, as smart as Oliver and as no-nonsense as Juliana. She'd certainly be able to pull off a show without going overboard.
The question was whether I trusted her to do it without getting an invitation to my family's house, 'cause knowing them, they'd probably invite her in before she could go all 'grr' in their faces, and then a vampire would have permanent access to my family. Sure, I didn't think Murchison would go after them just for the hell of it, but it would always be in the back of her mind that she had an emergency food source if she wanted it. And she'd be able to hold it over my head forever.
"No, not now," I said, trying to sound calm, like I didn't really care one way or the other, 'cause I really didn't want Murchison deciding my family was a weakness and doing something permanent to fix it. "They're usually pretty careful about stuff, and Bridget's not out in public places at night. If we could go around in daylight I'd be more worried, but after dark even my parents get a little cautious about letting strange people through the door."
Murchison shrugged. "It's your choice. The offer still stands, though." And she walked away, just like that.
Murchison gave me the creeps sometimes. She didn't even seem like a proper vampire, y'know, didn't seem like she had the bloodlust and the killing instinct. Then you'd see her toying with a human, making him think she was safe, even an authority figure, only to keep slipping little barbs and threats into her words until the poor guy didn't know which way was up and was almost grateful when she killed him.
I had a hard time picturing her caring enough to warn her family about things that go bump in the night. Come to that, I wasn't sure why she'd bothered to tell me about it -- I knew it wasn't out of the nonexistent goodness of her heart.
A warning, probably. 'Drop your old family before they get you into trouble, and you drag us in after yourself. Or else.'
Which, come to think of it, was good advice. We were in the middle of an undeclared gang war with Tyler, the Slayer was out there somewhere, and the new demon hunters were still in town -- they hadn't touched us recently, but Fang was still kind of spooked from losing a batch of fledglings the gang had picked up last spring. This was no time for distractions. I had to let go of my old life, had to move on.
I just wished it was as easy to do as it was for Murchison to say.
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End of Chapter Four
Back to Chapter 3
Continue to Chapter 5
---------------------------------------------
Am now off to work some more on "Apartment Manager."