Vampires Never Get Old - Zoraida Cordova Page 0,49

put us all at great risk. There are too many eyes on this park, too many stories birthed from its rolling hills and dark corners. Anyone who hunts here now will be expelled from the city.

I don’t have many rules. Just a few. Each is meant to protect my flock from a world that seems increasingly capable of understanding creatures like us and accepting that we are real. But the most important is this: No siring.

The city may seem large, but that could change in an instant. We must add to our ranks with care and exquisite intention. Anyone who disobeys this edict won’t simply find themselves expelled, but very dead.

I slip around the reservoir and my feet crunch against the gravel as I cut south, ghosting past the sandy-faced obelisk, illuminated from all four corners. Soon I leave the park behind, crossing the swift current of Fifth Avenue and diving into the clutches of the city.

A girl with dark, frenzied curls emerges with a laugh from a building directly ahead of me. Her mouth is red and her eyes are an autumn-leaf brown that reminds of me of Theo. It takes me a second to realize it isn’t her, but I’ve stared too long. The girl’s smile falters suddenly and she flinches as if something whispered into her ear: Danger. Her expression shutters when she catches my eyes, and she turns on her heel, swiftly moving away.

That unsettling feeling in my ribs expands again, that not-hunger hunger. If I were still human, I might have a name for this feeling. Unease? Frustration? Guilt? Something that puts me at odds with myself.

“Hey! Let go!” The voice of a young woman rises above the constant refrain of horns and engines and steam.

I find her immediately. She’s leaving a bodega on the corner, her arms full of groceries. Just behind her, a young man stands too close, his eyes as wide and wild as his grin. It’s a look I recognize. I have seen it on the faces of so many men over the years. It is an expression of sheer delight, of near-ecstatic joy at knowing his actions are wrong and unstoppable.

The young woman takes a brisk step forward, tugging the edge of her coat from his hand with a scowl and a curse. She hurries away and looks back only once to ensure he does not follow. Laughing, the young man steps back into the shadowy corner of the bodega, where he waits for his next victim.

He does not have to wait long.

The hunger that is not hunger expands again and I move in front of the young man. He blinks, certain I was not there a moment ago. To him, I slipped from between the shadows, a dream and a wish.

“Follow me,” I say, letting my voice sink into my chest like the purr of a lion.

“Yeah,” he says, eyes wide and helpless now, following the tether of my voice into the narrow alley where shadows are eager to receive us.

I find the shallow depression of a doorway, perhaps the back entrance of the bodega, and I stop.

“This will hurt,” I say, and he only nods in wonder. “Unbutton your jacket and don’t make a sound.”

He smells like lemons and sweat, and when I bite him, I relish his shiver of pain. Blood coats my tongue like the first juicy bite of a strawberry. It is tart and sharp and earthy all at once, and I drink until that strange not-hunger begins to recede.

The young man does not make a sound, and I do not drink recklessly, only enough to sate my appetite.

“There,” I say, digging a handkerchief from my pocket and dabbing the corners of my mouth. “Now go home and stop being such an entitled brute.”

He nods, eyes still wide even as he scampers from the alley.

Just then, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I swipe past the lock screen to the message waiting for me. It’s from Theo.

So … did I mention this is a surprise party and all your friends are here? Feels important to say that lol

For a moment, I think I’ve misread the message. My mind considers all the ways it couldn’t possibly mean what I think it means. Theo could not possibly have called together the vampires of New York City to throw a surprise party for me.

Could she?

And then all at once, I know the truth.

I run.

* * *

BRITTANY: i’m going to ask you a question. and you don’t have to