Be Careful What You Wish For

Chapter Twenty-Two

1 "You told me that not all of these half-breeds are as powerful as Re-name-me," Leah said, right out the gate, as Demetri joined her in the kitchen.

From the certified sheepish expression on his face, she could tell that he wanted to talk about Charlie, and that was the last thing she wanted to talk about. Therefore, while Creepula and Bell-Bell were working out their relationship problems or whatever next door, and Maria was talking strategy with her creepy underlings, Leah had absconded to the kitchen to make herself some coffee. Yeah, this was basically theft, but they were here to save the Earth, Captain Planet-style, and she was the only one who needed this kind of sustenance, anyway, so it shouldn't make too much of a dent in the house owners' pocket. No, didn't make it better. Wrong was wrong, no matter what. Thing was, a strict moral compass only ever worked in theory. Real life had a tendency to get in the way of personal philosophy, and then some. Sometimes, the world needed rescuing from unholy demon-spawn. Some fallout in the form of pinched coffee was to be expected. It was a transgression Leah could live with. Hell, if she couldn't live with something this trivial, how was she supposed to ever sleep again, having several deaths on her conscience? Nothing was ever as easy as it seemed.

Well, bummer for her.

"That's correct," he said, blissfully unaware of her internal brooding, and took a seat at the round, white, metal kitchen table. It had those curved, ornamented legs that Leah usually associated with the Roaring Twenties. Maybe it even was that old. This was obviously a very pricey humble abode.

"How many of these things are there?" she said, rinsing the coffee-maker's glass carafe and then pouring water into the machine. "When me met, you told me most vampires shoot blanks." Despite herself, she had to snigger. "Which makes for a weird first date conversation, but at least I know you're honest." She cast a look over her shoulder and saw that he was smiling. The coffee started brewing. She leaned backwards against the kitchen counter, grasping its smooth, cool edges with both hands.

"There aren't many," he said, and she saw that he was remembering to blink every few seconds, which had to be purely for her benefit. "I was telling you the truth: most of us can't reproduce. It's estimated that the number of male vampires who can impregnate a human woman is about one in a thousand."

She arched her eyebrows. "Christ, how many of you are there? Is there a census?"

"Kind of, yes," he said, smirking a little. It didn't look at all malicious and therefore not even in the same ballpark as Jasper's douche-baggery – at least she thought so. Then again, she wasn't the most objective of people; she never had been. "We have people positioned all over the globe, keeping an eye on the vampire population, preventing most of them from attempting to turn others. Usually, the deliberation alone falls under the rule of secrecy umbrella. In any case, there can't be too many of us smugly strutting about, as I'm sure you'll agree."

"Oh, I agree, all right," she said, and scratched her forehead. "Vampire population control. Who'd a thunk it." She chewed on the inside of her cheek and then frowned. "Wait, attempting to turn?"

"It's difficult. Oftentimes, the vampire trying to turn a human will end up killing him or her. There has been the exception of people using syringes to infect humans, but the odds of that working are slim to none."

"Worked with Bell-Bell."

He shrugged. "It seems like Edward was like the perfect storm of improbable catastrophe: powerful gift, the ability to reproduce biologically , and lucking out when turning his wife via proxy."