Suburban Vampire: Reckoning

Chapter 19

"You really want to help me?"

"Yeah, I really want to help you, Scott."

"Why? I mean, other than leaving a path of destruction in your wake for shits and giggles."

"That's not my sole motivation, and you know it. It's an added bonus."

Whether she intended the line as comic relief, Scott didn't know. He cracked a smile anyway, in spite of himself. "Okay. You can help, but let me do things my way. That means no killing unless it's absolutely necessary, okay?"

"You're no fun. All right, I'll let you try things your way. But you got to admit, my way worked, didn't it?"

"Admittedly."

"There you go. When are you going to take your next step in this investigation?"

"Tomorrow night. No point in putting it off."

"Groovy. So tomorrow night we'll have some Russian food."

"Phaedra!"

"Just kidding! Kind of."

*

Irene did not question Scott as to why he had come home so late, after all, he usually came home late. His tardiness was no longer much of a concern, at least not one that she voiced anymore, if for no other reason than she was overly familiar with Scott's usually evasive excuses. His running the washing machine in the middle of the night was, however, a bit more unusual. When drinking his usual ration of blood, Scott made sure not to dribble, and out of a thermos or a medical bag he was pretty successful (and here was a guy who, when he was much younger, couldn't drink juice from a juice box because he often made a mess). However, feeding from the living gets different results – fresh blood straight from a living human may indeed be much more powerful and delectable than stored blood, but there are nasty side-issues like arterial spray, and the fact that even a relatively immobilized food source will still struggle, making drinking from the living a more adventurous proposition than from a bag. Of course Scott had to wash his shirt, using the latest in stain removers (in fact, he used several different stain removers in combination). It worked well enough, but his mother's question remained. Scott opted for the truth, or at least an edited version of it.

"I got some blood on it," Scott said, actually somewhat glad that he wasn't lying – yet.

"Blood? My goodness, are you hurt? Let me see!"

Mom touched Scott's cheek as she started looking for an open wound, which of course was an exercise in futility for her and frustration for him.

"No, mom, I didn't get cut. It was at work. A coworker got cut on a piece of equipment. It was nothing big."

"Oh, my, you had me worried there! Well, I hope he's okay! It was a he, wasn't it?"

Yeah, sure, why not. "He's fine. It was nothing. Just a little bit of blood got on my shirt, so I washed it. Is that okay?"

"Of course, Scotty! No need to snap my head off, now is there?"

Scott hadn't intended to take such a tone with his mother, and now had to figure a way to pedal down from there. "I'm sorry, mom. It's just... I don't know."

"Scott, why does it seem like you're so frequently on edge these days?"

That's the money question, now isn't it? "I'm sorry, mom. I didn't mean to sound so snarly. It's just that I've had a lot on my mind the last year and a half."