I hesitated, unsure if asking would tear open something painful – but the need for answers clawed louder than my discomfort. “Antun, would you mind telling us your story? Do you know who turned you, or why they did?” I wanted to make sure we got to the root of our visit before we ran out of time.

  “May as well get to the good stuff, eh?” he said with a cheeky grin, drawing smiles from both Michael and me.

  “I was born in the 16th century, the same century as that old guy Shakespeare, in what is now called Kosovo.” He sat back as he began his story. “I was raised in a convent by nuns, my mother having abandoned me due to, well,” he indicated to his pale face, pink eyes, and white hair.

  “She had thought me a cursed child, a “white demon,” so she took me to the sisters, hoping to be rid of me but wanting to stay right with God by not abandoning me on the streets or killing me.” He grinned and chuckled at the mention of staying right by God. I couldn’t help but smile myself.

  “I was raised well regardless; most of the nuns were kind to me, never making me feel out of place or overly different, but others… their prayers felt more like charms against misfortune when they looked at me. They were mindful of my delicate skin, having noticed how quickly it would burn in the sun. I was kept indoors all day; I only ever saw the sky at night after a time.

  “I was a quiet child, having learned early on that children were to be seen and not heard. Don’t give me that look,” he turned toward Michael, who looked perturbed by the adage. “It was a different time, different place, different everything. Sometimes I find it hard to believe that this is the same planet that I was born on so many years ago for how much it has changed.

  “But I digress.”

  A quiet child? He is one of the loudest people I’ve ever met.

  “As a young adult,” he placed his hand on his chest, “I did as all young people do: rebel. I say rebel, but all I ever really did was sneak out at night to go see the city. Besides the nighttime being safest for my skin, night was also the only time people weren’t out, the only time people wouldn’t see me and fear the white demon.

  “One night, I was sneaking out again, wondering what awaited me in the city that night. Little did I know that that would be my last night alive.

  “The alley smelled of rot and stagnant water. A shadow lunged at me. I didn’t even have time to scream. My world narrowed to the pressure on my throat, then blackness… until it didn’t stay black. I gasped, not breathing before, but now I was again, cold and unsteady. He looked at me like I’d crawled out of a crypt.”

  Accidentally turned? Whoa. Was Michael accidentally turned, too?

  “He had no qualms about hurting others in order to sate his thirst. But as we all know, there is more thirst than just for water or blood. He was thirsty for power, to what end I never found out, but as a short detour on his path of destruction, he took me under his wing and tutored me on how to be a vampire. He’s who taught me about mana and its most basic mechanics.

  “He didn’t survive long after I had met him, perhaps fifty years. Bloodthirsty in more ways than one, he kept killing without restraint, until he was decapitated and burned by villagers who had hired a hunter to snare him.

  “I have always been on the side of life, so I did everything I could to get by on as little as needed so that I’d never get caught. Here I am now, just over 500 years old. I’d say I’ve done pretty well for myself. Drew, do you know how vampire teeth work?”

  I nodded, a bit surprised by Antun’s random question.

  “Kind of like hypodermic needles, right?” That’s how Michael had described them to me, anyway.

  “Exactly. But needles don’t only draw, they can also deposit. For us vampires, we have, for lack of a better word, a parasite-like venom that we can give to others, turning them into vampires. It only works when all the mana has been drained, like I was. Partly turned vampires, those who still have mana in their blood when the venom enters their system…”

  He shuddered, a haunted look entering his eyes. “It eats them from the inside, feasting on what mana is left before fully draining the body of blood in an attempt to feed itself. Blood runs from every orifice; it is excruciatingly painful but luckily rather short lived. I’ve never seen a partly turned vampire survive for more than a couple of hours.”

  I yelled, “That is disgusting! Why on Earth would you tell us about something like that?!”

  Both Michael’s and my jaws had dropped. I felt like I was going to be sick.

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  Antun glared at me, “Because I don’t want Michael to find out the same way I did.”

  He took a deep breath, his eyes closing for a moment. His voice was raw when he spoke again.

  “It was a mistake, but one that still haunts me to this day. I don’t like hurting people, and it was an accident – a young vampire testing out his fangs to see what they could do. Foolish young man that I was, I went out without my mentor, needing to feed and feeling impatient. A young lady was walking by herself in the darker part of town, a perfect target. I had begun feasting on her delicious mana when the thought occurred to me about snakes’ teeth, how they deposit their venom, so I tried it.”

  He sighed deeply, his head hanging.

  “I’ve never regretted a decision more in my life. It was obvious that she was in pain, but I couldn’t risk discovery. With my supernatural strength, I twisted her head, severing it from her spine internally.”

  Oh my God!

  “I couldn’t just leave her to die alone after what I had done. I laid her on the ground after she passed and closed her eyes with my hand. I had nothing, not even a cloak, to cover her with, so I left her there like that. The best I could do, and far from enough.”

  We sat in stunned silence, the only sound the sucking of a nearly vacant straw from Antun as he finished his water. He set it down, his hands resting atop his crossed knee.

  Nausea roiled in my gut thinking about the story we just heard. Damn his good storytelling, I could visualize everything. The blood, the convulsions, Antun…

  Sweat ran down my back despite the AC. Oh Lord, I think I’m gonna be sick.

  Michael’s voice broke the silence, but it came out somewhat strangled. “That, uh was… really intense.”

  Antun sat back, waiting for more response.

  I clutched the throw pillow in my lap, grounding myself against the nausea twisting my gut. I eventually asked, “What was your mentor’s name?”

  “Davor Mjese?evi?. He was an awful man, but he is the reason I’m here today.”

  “And you said he died? Then it couldn’t have been him to turn you, Michael. That’s one name off the proverbial list.”

  My words had no effect on him. Michael looked forlornly at his hands, fingers twined together, his elbows on his knees.

  “When you died, what happened? Was it anything like my story? Any voice or choice in the matter?”

  “I’m sorry, my friend, but for me, death was like stepping from one room to the next. One moment I was breathing my last, and the next I was gasping for air once more.” Antun looked truly sorry that he couldn’t give Michael a different answer.

  “Your story is completely different from mine. I was being actively fed on while you were bleeding out from an accident. Perhaps that might have something to do with it?” he proffered. “Whoever turned you either knew what they were doing – or you were one of the lucky ones.”

  “I feel like I have even more questions now. And we are still no closer to figuring out who turned me and why.”

  Michael was so downcast that my heart felt tight in my chest, any tighter and it would be crushed.

  “That’s not true,” I said. “We have so much more lore now, we understand more of how vampirism works and how one is turned into a vampire. So we now know it was most likely another vampire that turned you.”

  “But why? Why me?” he interjected, his voice cracked. He cleared his throat, continuing, “I was bleeding out, I probably had little blood to give once the wounds were open so I shouldn’t have been an appetizing target. The guy in the other car was a better candidate for becoming a vampire, wouldn’t you say?”

  Michael was especially frustrated at the question that kept rolling around in his head, his mouth screwing to one side and his brows deeply knit.

  “Does it matter?” Antun threw out.

  Michael tried not to look offended, only partially succeeding. “What do you mean?” he tried not to growl.

  I backed away at the tone, my body automatically wanting to distance itself before he did something rash.

  “What does it matter why you were turned? You’re a vampire now, no going back. The ‘why’ feels a little irrelevant to me.”

  Antun seemed to be truly curious as to why this bothered Michael so much.

  “Because… well because… It might not matter to you but it matters to me.”

  Michael was at a loss for words, not in agreement with Antun but trying to really give the question some thought.

  He took a deep breath, holding it for a few seconds before slowly breathing out. “Why matters because if I was just some rando that got “lucky” to be able to become a vampire, then there is nothing special about it. No mentor to look for, nothing. I feel… abandoned. I want to know who turned me and why they did, and why they didn’t stick around.”

  I supposed that made sense. If I were in his shoes I’d want to know everything about my turning, including who did it and why. “What are Antun and I, throw pillows?” I asked, trying to lighten the mood as I picked up the cushion on my lap.

  Antun bumped Michael’s knee to get his attention. “We’ll find your answers. They’re out there, your answers and your sire.”

  Michael’s face was clouded, deep in thought, probably still turning those questions over in his mind. The sympathy on Antun’s face couldn’t be properly described with words. I was reeling from all of it.

  “I do hate to do this,” Antun said after a moment of silence, “but we’re going to need to wrap up pretty soon. I’ve got a sponsor coming by to see if I want to promote their product.”

  After everything – murder, mistakes, five centuries of guilt – he was already smoothing his shirt and prepping for a product pitch. I was still stuck on the image of that girl, blood pouring from her eyes. We went back down the stairs and stood by the door.

  “I already scheduled an Uber to– Oh! There they are now.” A green sedan had pulled up in front of the door.

  Being kicked out like this, after those revelations. Talk about whiplash.

  “I already paid, this Uber will take you back to the city. We need to do this again sometime, it was really lovely to chat with you both.”

  “Indeed,” Michael said, somewhat distracted still. “Thank you for your story, there’s a lot for me to think on…”

  He fist bumped Antun and walked to the car, his face unreadable.

  I watched him, his tall figure slightly hunched, before turning to our host. “Thanks Antun, for everything. I’m sure Michael will be in touch with you again very soon.” I shook Antun’s hand, icy cold but firm, and went to the car.

  I think I need to find a therapist.

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