I find Kerri in the dormitory lounge on the second floor, down the hall from our room. In the semidarkness, she's drinking a Diet Coke, smoking a clove cigarette, and staring out the window.
Not many people in the dorm use the lounge, especially on weekend nights. Most of us go out, either to clubs or parties, or stay in our rooms and drink. The lounge is rarely an option, which is probably why it's turned into Kerri's unofficial domain.
The lounge is charmless, just an empty room with a couple of tired sofas and a few chairs. There are no curtains, no games, no books, no TV, no pay phone When I first moved in, I thought it was a storage area.
But Kerri loves it here, especially at night. It's where she comes to think and smoke.
"Hey," I say softly, not wanting to startle her. She's stretched out on one of the sofas and the entire room smells sweet and spicy, the scent of her cigarettes mixed with her Calvin Klein Obsession perfume.
She shifts so she's sitting up, and I plop next to her on the scratchy blue sofa. The normally harsh overhead lights aren't on, but it's not totally dark, since the blazing red-white illuminating triangle on the CITGO sign in Kenmore Square pours into the room. Kerri basks in the glow of the sign like a cat with a sunbeam. One time I asked her if the strong glow didn't hurt her sensitive vampire eyes and she just laughed and laughed.
"Oh, Evan." She'd let out a giggle, and I could tell from her tone that I amused her.
Tonight I won't ask any stupid questions, but still brace myself for a reprimand. I'd seen the flash in her eyes when she burst into the room and gazed upon the beautiful, shirtless Matteo. It was a look I'd never seen on Kerri's face before. Was it one of recognition? Envy? Or something else? I'm certain she'll let me know, because Kerri never censors herself.
I rest my head on her shoulder, and the thought flashes through my mind that in many ways, Kerri is the mom I always wanted — despite the fact that she looks my age. She's older than my own mother, technically. Well, in vampire years she's older, because she was born before Mom. But Mom started aging after she had me, so now she's older than Kerri. Sometimes vampire math is tiring.
"Are you going to lecture me?" I ask.
"It depends."
"On what?"
"How far did you go with him?" She takes a drag and blows out a cloud of clove-scented smoke that surrounds us like fog.
"Just kissing. A little bit more."
"Okay, not as bad as I thought."
"He doesn't seem like a bad person." I realize I sound petulant, which doesn't sit well. My words are also patently wrong. Matteo might not be evil, but he's definitely not good, either. Even I know this. "I mean, he's hella sexy."
"He's dangerous." Her words hang in the air, mingling with the smoke.
I shift back so I can study her profile, trying to regulate my heartbeat. She's right, of course, but it's not what I want to hear.. "Why do you think so? Do you know him?"
She shakes her head. "Doesn't look familiar. But I've been in the States for a long time. What's his name?"
"Matteo. Said he's from Italy. Has the accent and everything." A truly alluring accent, one that sends pleasurable shivers up my spine just remembering its melodic cadence.
She twists her head to stare at me, and for a second, I spot the same red glimmer in her eyes that I'd seen in his earlier in the evening. "Italy?"
I hum a yes.
"I like this even less now," she mutters, almost to herself.
"Why? And are you sure he's a..."
"I'm certain he's a vampire. Surely you noticed that he was, as well. You're perceptive. You have the ability."
"Yeah, I thought he was. Because of his eyes. They're like yours only..." I allow my voice to trail off, thinking of the intense fire in those eyes of his, and how quickly they'd changed from red to blue, far quicker than I'd ever seen Kerri's shift.
"Only what?"
"Redder, more intense."
"That's because he wants you. Bad. I'm a little shocked that he was able to refrain from feeding from you, but him being from Italy explains a lot." She sighs.
"What does it explain?" My voice rises an octave, revealing my frustration. Sometimes Kerri was too cryptic.
"Generally, but not always, Italian vampires are enforcers. They punish those that want to harm the vampire clan. Most of them travel the world to seek revenge on another vampire, or a human, or another supernatural being that's gotten on the wrong side of the clan. They're dangerous as hell. They're also legends, because they have an enormous amount of self-control."
My breath catches in my throat. This is new information to me. All the research I'd done never mentioned this, and neither had Kerri in the years I'd known her.
"You never told me about these Italians."
"Why would I? Had no reason to. It's not like it ever came up in conversation."
"Well, I dunno about that." Now it was my turn to grumble. I'd grilled her about vampire lore in our first year as roommates. That was four years ago. When she discovered who I was—and who my ancestors had been—she'd helped me close some knowledge gaps. But clearly, she hadn't told me all she knew.
"Although the existence of these vampires, and the group they follow, isn't exactly secret. But it's also not common knowledge. Most vampires like myself have no contact with them. It's like the mafia in the human world. Do you know a mafioso?"
"No," I admit.
She finishes her cigarette and stubs it out in the little tin ashtray stolen from McDonalds that balances on the sofa arm. "Exactly. So why would I ever tell you about them? In all my years, I haven't spent much time thinking about the Italian vampires. I'm aware of their existence, like the way I'm aware of Ronald Reagan or something."
I sneer at the sound of Reagan's name. As much as I hate politics in general, I think I hate the Reagans more, with their stupid Just Say No bullshit.
"You're not going to see Matteo again, are you?" Kerri asks.
"Dunno. He said he wanted to hang out again. Take me to dinner."
Kerri lets out a strangled groan. "Please don't. I'm begging. I've literally never asked you for anything before, but I'm asking you now. Don't see him again. Pretend to be busy. Let me answer your calls. Did he give you his number?"
"No."
"Good. Did you give him the dorm pay phone number?"
"No, he just said he knew where I lived and that he'd see me soon." Come to think of it, that seems more nebulous now than it did a half hour ago. "Maybe he's not interested in seeing me again."
"Oh Jesus."
"What?"
"Do I have to spell it out?" She springs to her feet and she's a silhouette against the red and white neon sign out the window.
"Apparently. And why are you getting so pissed?" Now I'm annoyed, too.
"Because you want something and that particular thing isn't worth the importance you're placing on it."
"I'm an adult. I know what I want. And if Matteo gets me closer to my dream, then great. I don't see why you have a problem with me being... like you."
She paces against the window. "I don't have a problem with you becoming like me. Don't you think I want a friend for eternity? Do you know how hard it is to make friends when you're like me? Jesus. I spent all of the late 1800s alone."
"But you said you had a blast in the Roaring Twenties with Louis Armstrong."
An exasperated snort came out of her mouth. "Whatever. Listen. It's just not all that fun being undead. And you've got the whole thing about the mate looming over your head. That sucks most of all."
"And you don't think human women have something similar with boyfriends and husbands? Please. Ever since I was little, my Mom said I'd eventually meet a nice man, hopefully a doctor, and settle down with kids. It sounds boring and tedious. I don't want a husband or a mate. I just want what I want, and what I want is eternal life so I can spend the next ten or twenty or hundred decades finding a cure for various viruses that plague vampires. I'd think you'd want me to achieve my goals."
A thought crossed my mind that perhaps Kerri didn't believe in me. That she didn't think I was smart enough to become a top researcher that helped vampires. Maybe she thought I was ditzy, or unmotivated, or worse, not serious.
Kerri leans against the window, a perfect silhouette against the bright sign outdoors. "I think your goals are important, and noble. I also think they can be achieved in one lifetime. You've already got so much going for you, in terms of intellect, health, strength. You have the best of both worlds, and you'll live longer than most humans, at least until a hundred. That should be more than enough time to find a cure—"
"I want more time than that. I'm greedy."
"Are you prepared to constantly search for your mate? Because that's what life ends up being after several decades. You begin to search because you're just so sick of your existence in limbo, and you figure that mating and turning back into a human is far better than this." She waves her hand in the air.
"I'll deal with that when the time comes. There's plenty to occupy me in the meantime." Personally, I can't imagine having Kerri's attitude, wanting to find a mate so one could become mortal.
"And what about your parents? Aren't they going to be angry? Have you really, seriously, considered the fallout of that?"
I'm about to reply with something flippant, like "screw my parents," because that was how I feel most of the time. They've been emotionally unavailable at best for the majority of my life. But really, my parents don't factor in to my desires.
"It's my life, not theirs."
She heaves another sigh. "All right. I'm not going to worry about it tonight. Hopefully in the clear light of day you'll reconsider."
No chance of that, I thought as I recalled how Matteo had gripped my chin with enough force to make me notice his strength. Something in that one gesture inspired a tightness inside my body, a feeling of coiled anticipation, and I hoped to have the chance to experience it again.
All I wanted now was to climb into bed and think about that gesture, feel that coiling, over and over again. It wasn't the real thing, but it would suffice.
"I'm headed to sleep, I think." I tried to keep my tone soft and conciliatory, because after all, Kerri was my best friend and I didn't want to end the night on a bad note.
"Good plan." She threads her arm through the crook of my elbow and we walk out together. My shoulders relax with relief. We're parading down the hall, with her humming a Blondie tune. I'm about to belt out one of the lines in the song when we round the corner and almost run smack into the RA.
She's wearing a lumberjack, red-and-black plaid onesie, and Kerri lets out a giggle.
"I've been looking for you," the RA says.
We stop, but don't unlink arms. The RA eyes us. She's always so judgmental. Kerri taps her black, boot-covered foot.
"There's someone downstairs for you, Lana."
I frown. It's past midnight. No one ever visits me. "For me? Who?"
The RA snorts. "I dunno. He refused to leave his name. He looks like one of your friends, though."
My lips part in a silent gasp. Matteo? Why would he come back here?
"What's that supposed to mean?" Kerri asks in a haughty tone. "One of your friends?"
The RA pushes past us. "You know. Goth or punk or whatever. One of your type of freaks."
"At least we're well-dressed and interesting, unlike your boring ass," Kerri mutters. "C'mon, Lana let's see what the Italian loverboy wants."
She tugs my arm, but I'm rooted to the floor. Kerri's words echo in my brain, the ones about Matteo being an enforcer. What did that mean, exactly?
Something tells me that if Matteo's downstairs, it's going to be mortifyingly embarrassing, or possibly worse.
EDITOR'S NOTE: How are you feeling about this story so far? Do you like Evan and her motivation to be a vampire?
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