In five centuries, Mircea had only turned a handful of Vampires and usually for dire reasons. Tuberculosis was a really nasty way to die. Long story short, he didnât have a ton of experience with young Vamps, but just enough to be dangerous--that is, helpful--and considering the circumstances, Lenore was progressing a bit better and more quickly than some of those heâd helped. There was always a worry regarding a new Vampâs inability to curb their hunger and to not run around snacking on everyone like they were a teenage stoner with the munchies, but at least she hadnât gotten that whole power mad thing heâd seen in a few of his own charges. That was a much harder problem to deal with.
Being one of the older Vampires on the island, Mircea felt partially responsible for her rehabilitation, considering her maker had just fucked off to who knows where--why make another Vampire if you werenât going to be responsible for them?--so heâd been very diligent bringing her entertainment, and of course Graham was terribly helpful as well, and far more charming than he, but it just so happened Mircea had a free night one evening on a night that was unseasonably beautiful, and it seemed a good a time as any to test some of Lenoreâs boundaries. So he popped on over to her place unannounced (because what was she likely to be up to, really?), shooting off a text message even as he stood outside the door, which read How would you feel about some ice cream? before knocking.
Lenore could only amount any success at a young vampire to the help she got from Summerview and her new friends. The hospital with its donation blood, and the other vampires that felt for her, went out of their way to help her instead of shunning her as she feared.
How could someone turn her like this if all the supernatural sheâd met here was far from evil? Just like any other person. Good and bad.
With Graham taking her out for more hunts and her gaining more control on stopping from the drink without killing anyoneâit still destroyed her, even if Graham only found âworthyâ peopleâshe felt comfortable allowing one friend over for a short while, taking a quick stroll outside. And if she had an elder chaperone? All the better.
Admittedly, Mircea was far more spontaneous than she was. And Lenore loved it. No quicker did she grab her phone did her door pound, nearly scaring the life out of her before peeping through the safety hole and opening the door with a broad smile. âI love ice cream, thanks for asking, have you brought me some?â He was always bringing her entertainment and snacks. Even if depressingly so...they just couldnât be sustained on them.
Any spontaneity in Mircea was born out of the ability to be out and about and not...Eat everyone. Of course, sometimes his feet got the best of him--not always a bad thing since he wouldnât have met Briar, delightful and strange creature that she was, had the scent of blood not brought him round to her her--but for the most part, heâd developed some pretty solid will power. He, personally, mostly relied on blood given willingly--that was, prepackaged and easily obtained--over hunting, because who was he to decide who was âworthyâ and who wasnât? Seemed like a rather bleak, black and white view to him. And having spent many centuries pre-Red Cross, he was sort of hunted out for the time being, thanks.
But ice cream. Ah, there was always time for ice cream. âNo, weâre going out,â he corrected with a toothy grin. âDonât worry, I have this⌠Uh⌠Fountain pen. And the keys to the shop if you misbehave.â Not that he really planned on using either. He liked Lenore. Felt a little bit of rage for her maker for turning her and leaving her like an infant in a basket on a doorstep, but that wasnât her fault. âThe diner is not too busy this time of night. I think you can handle it.â
For a moment the wall of cheerful sunshine on her face had faded at the thought of going out. To a diner, no less. Instantly her hands clasped together as the younger vamp went over in her head all that she had learned, the reassurances, to have faith in herself.
She eyed the fountain pen and her smile was back. Albeit less certain. She did appreciate the humor.
It was night time and there were likely less people. Less intereferring scents and stimulations. And she trusted Mircea not to let anything happen. With a meaningful nod she was off into her apartment at vampire speed to grab her sandals and handbag. She was in a light blue sundress..one that wouldnât see the sun, but a girl could pretend, right? She laced her arm around Mirceaâs both in a fun gesture and also as a rock to hold to. âI canât remember the last time I went to a diner. I used to go there to enjoy breakfasts and do morning warm up sketches...what draws you to this one?â
Ah, but what better place to pretend you were eating breakfast at a normal time and the sun would be shining when you stepped outside than a diner? They served breakfast all day, so it really preserved the illusion. He resisted the urge to remind her that it was winter, because, what? It wasnât as if she was going to catch a cold. He honestly didnât need his jacket either, honestly, but he was kind of about blending in. That wasnât the lesson of the day though.
No, this was really just a getting-her-out-of-the-house thing. Get her among the breathing again. âWell,â Mircea began, steering them away from her flat and toward the Vale Diner, âItâs the only game in town.â Which didnât make it sound very good, so he quickly added, âBut they do make a killer milkshake. And the burgers are phenomenally greasy, which is, Iâve discovered, the mark of a good diner.â Hmm⌠Maybe they should have brought her sketchbook. There were definitely some interesting faces at night for sketching. Maybe next time.
Lenore hadnât quite gotten used to the idea of having to keep pretending to be more human than she was. She just knew the temperature didnât affect her and she wore what was comfortable. Besides, they were in a haven, were they not?
âOh I could have told you that. Juicy burgers, and wonderful milkshakes. Also? An old jukebox. Thatâs usually the final touch.â And Lenore always had a sketchbook on her. Even if it was a tiny little moleskine in her clutch that sheâd brought along.
All the masters used them but that wasnât why Lenore brought them. They were perfect for quick ideas and sketches. Itâs where Da Vinci wrote most of his journals and oh were they beautiful. âSo youâre not planning anything troublesome? Just a lovely night of milkshakes?â She asked with a fond quirk of the eyebrow.
She had him there. Heâd forgotten all about the importance of the jukebox. âWell youâre in luck, because they definitely have one.â And he had⌠Maybe a couple quarters? He could probably get some more. See, this was a good idea.
âI figured Iâd take it easy on you. Baby steps.â Listen, he might not have had a lot of baby Vamps in in his care over the years, but it was about quality over quantity, wasnât it? He knew what he was doing. âWhy, were you expecting trouble?â He wasnât sure he could arrange trouble on short notice, and also wasnât sure it was such a good idea. With trouble came danger, after all. He was hoping that he wouldnât have to pull out that fountain pen.
Oh but she was joking, though wasnât she? Silly him.
Oh thank goodness. She didnât know if she could even endure the outing without a jukebox. But really, it was all cause for a distraction for herself. Lenore was already planning the âjust in casesâ and exit strategies. How best to keep her mind active. She was already well fed and made sure that would never be a slip up.
âWith you? Trouble? Of course not,â She chuckled, giving his arm a tight squeeze for reinforcement behind the teasing. âI just plan for it. Newborn paranoia and all that.â
Thankfully the diner wasnât very active once they reached it. Lenore didnât even ask before nodding at the waitress at the helm of the ship sheâd like the table farthest away from everyone else. At least it was close to the jukebox.
âFair enough,â Mircea said, nodding. There were definitely plenty of things for a newborn Vamp to worry about. The world was a lot more people than it had been when he had been turned which amped up the danger factor by about⌠Well, heâd never been that interested in statistics, but he was going to go with a lot. But music had always been a good distraction for him. And jukeboxes were usually full of relatively familiar tunes, which also made things easier. Familiar music was a better distraction than unfamiliar music.
So, once they were seated, he fished out a handful of quarter and slid them across the table. âPut something good on. Itâll help you relax.â He was honestly hoping for Queen, but he wasnât picky. It was her outing, after all.
âYouâre just the sweetest.â She was happy to take the quarter and the kindness--though of course it would all be paid in return with some sort of gift basket full of delights delivered to Books and Bins. Perhaps a collection of sketches to amuse himself with. Of course the box had Queen. But Lenore didnât feel like âWe Are the Championsâ or âUnder Pressureâ at the moment.
âRebel rebelâ felt more attune to the environment. And David Bowie had a way to sing and soothe the soul.
Lenore pounced back into her seat, enjoying the music and company, falling into the closest thing to normalcy that she could. Out at a diner. Not eating anyone. Not drinking their blood. Sharing time with a friend.
âSo how have you been? You and Graham enjoying yourselves in the book store?â She loved the books they both shared with her. Perfect for when she couldnât ease her mind.
If Mircea could summon up the blood in his face to blush (he couldnât) he would have. âNah,â he said, waving her compliment off, even if he really did appreciate it. It was certainly not a phrase he heard connected with himself very often, though so it was hard to hear it without feeling like a piece of toast (that is, buttered up).
Bowie as a-okay with him though. He folded his hands in front of him on the table, waiting patiently for Lenore to make her selections. âNice choice,â he complimented when she sat back down. Bowie reminded him of London and the record store. Simpler times.
âAh, well. I suppose. Everything is sort of business as usual. Canât say youâre missing out on much right now.â Though he was sure that was no consolation to her. âYour control is getting better though, I can tell.â She seemed less fidgety than she could be. Everyone managed to get a handle on the Vampire thing at different rates, but heâd definitely seen some take their sweet time.
It actually was of great consolation to Lenore. She was missing everything by not being able to control herself fully. Walk the streets with a clear conscience, interact with people up close, live and laugh with them. She was missing out on life...but now that she was dead, she supposed she had time. Not that it made her any less unnerved.
âI canât wait to actually come to see the store and bring you two treats.â Annoying comrades in a work environment with distraction was practically a rule! And sheâd always be in and out of a book store anyways.
At the compliment to her demeanor, she pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear, smiling genuinely. âThank you, that means a lot. I wouldnât be where I am right now if it werenât for Grahamâs teaching. Or the support of my new friends keeping me sane and taking me out to diners and bringing me books.â
âThat would be nice. Soon, I think.â Mircea grinned. It didnât seem like she was that far off from managing such a thing. âJust as long as you donât kidnap me to the breakroom in the process. The woman who owns the bakery barged in one night and force fed me cookies and tea while she ran the store.â Alright, so maybe sheâd missed out on that. But anyone was probably fair game to be assaulted with baked goods by Shara. It was only a matter of time before Shara probably showed up at Lenoreâs with a blood-laced cupcake, forced her to spill her guts, and then made everything better with tea.
He brushed off the offer of gratitude with a wave of his hand. âNah, itâs nothing. Just what weâre all supposed to do for each other, you know?â Technically, it was what her maker should have been doing for her--even Vasille had done a better job and he was sort of an asshole--but it was too late for that now, wasnât it? âWeâre not a very cohesive group, here, but we look out for one another.â Heâd never personally been part of⌠What were they? Nests? Hives? Whatever, something like that. Heâd always been solitary, or half of a pair. It was honestly strange being in a place with so many Vampires at once, but in many ways it was sort of comforting. Clearly sheâd come to the right place.
âOh dear, that sounds quite the scandal.â Lenore covered a bright chuckle with her hand, trying to imagine Mircea being âdraggedâ or forced to do anything. Much less fed tea and cookies and such. âI promise to do no such thing.â
Her face softened at his words. She hadnât expected the warm welcome and care she recieved from the vampires in Summerview. Perhaps it was just the trauma that sheâd endured with the others that shaped her view but she was not so naive to think that all people were the same. Not even monsters. It was that open mindset that had made her life so wonderful. And also how she got here in the first placeâŚ
âWell, one way or another, Iâm grateful. Now. Letâs order some milkshakes, and itâs my treat for coming to save me from my solitude.â
Scandal. That was a word for it. Mircea laughed along with her, shaking his head a bit. âItâs kind of like⌠You know how when humans get old they sort of lose touch with reality? Thatâs how this woman is. She means well, but sheâs kooky and sort of operates on her own plane of existence, but⌠She makes a mean cup of tea, so itâs easy to forgive.â His shoulders shrugged slightly. âYou might like her. Maybe weâll make that our next outing, hmm?â Nothing like getting out of the house for more sweets, right?
âOh, no, youâre doing me a favor. Itâs not often I take any time off from the bookstore. This is as much for my benefit as it is yours. Iâve got this.â This wasnât one of those manly pride things at all. He had none of that. This was more on the level of a proud uncle taking their niece out for fro-yo after a good report card. Still he signaled the waitress over to take their order. âWhatever you want. I got this.â
Lenoreâs disposition faded but she was able to keep the bright demeanor at a mention of âhumans getting olderâ. No. She didnât really know at all, and she never would. Her lips curled inward and she licked them as she stayed focused on her friendâs story. Analogy be damned, certainly wasnât going to ruin her night, she wouldnât let it. âShe sounds delightful and we absolutely must see her next time.â
She made a mock huff at his insistence. âVery well, but in return, you will let me paint you something for your office. And thatâs that.â The young vampire said matter of factly before ordering herself a delicious looking Mocha flavored milkshake with extra whipped cream.
Mircea was too old himself to have not notice the slight change to her demeanor. Sometimes he forgot the sort of five stages of grief that new Vamps (and even, he supposed, new Weres) went through. Personally, heâd wrapped his mind around never having to be touched by the ravages of age. That was one of the things he actually did appreciate about being turned, but then heâd also come from a time when growing old was a horrible, painful, and often short experience. Nothing like what humans lived through now, with medical advancements and more comfortable lifestyles in general. Still, perhaps heâd been insensitive. It didnât seem she wanted to discuss it though, so he merely nodded. âWe can make that happen.â
âWell Lenore, you drive a hard bargain,â Mircea said, chuckling lightly. âItâs a deal,â he agreed, and placed his own order for a butterscotch shake. âI wonât say no to something that might liven up the place.â