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It had been three decades since the fall of Oakhurst when Drift realized something that made her peaceful life crumble around her.
She’d been angry after being turned. She hadn’t been the one attacking the vampires though she was a part of the battle through technicality, and yet she’d been the one to bear most of Scott’s blows. When she had asked him why he’d done it, newly a vampire and flooded with unfamiliar sensations, he’d had the gall to tell her it was easy. So yeah, she was angry.
Drift had tried to bring this up with Scott afterward. He had responded by blaming Drift for coming along with the militia group, complicit in the violence. He said she couldn’t be mad because she had aligned with the vampires. It had been simple to let it go then, faced directly with Scott’s silver tongue, but three decades later, it was apparent how flimsy the dismissal was.
And Drift had been living in his proximity. She’d given him kindness after kindness, protected his life when he’d given no thought to hers. He had murdered her. His making a conscious effort to be better now didn’t erase that. She felt sick.
Drift left in the middle of the night when neither Shelby nor Scott were around, flying to the only person she thought might be able to help her without telling Scott where she was. She only knew where they were because Scott had insisted on keeping an eye on them in case they were causing trouble. Keeping an eye on his victim. Like he kept an eye on Drift.
Drift was just short of crash-landing in front of Apo’s house, transforming back into her human form and tumbling to soften the impact. She sat up, wiping her face with her forearm.
A sheep dog came barreling at her, sniffing. It seemed to find her harmless enough and licked her hair. Drift giggled and pushed the dog’s face away, petting along the white fur on its back. That was when Apo arrived.
“Appy, no. You’re not supposed to be—“ Apo cut herself off when she saw exactly who the dog was focused on. “Drift.”
Drift waved sheepishly. “Hey, Apo.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Just needed to get away from Scott.”
Apo buried one of her hands in her hair, sighing. “We’re having this conversation? Okay. Give me five minutes.”
Apo disappeared inside the house, leaving Drift with the sheep dog. Appy. Appy was a very pretty dog, with nice soft fur. Drift made sure to tell them that, scratching behind their ears. Appy’s tail was wagging rapidly by the time Apo returned, cradling a few bottles of crimson in her arms. She raised one of them up to show Drift. “I got snacks. Follow me. Appy, stay.”
Drift got to her feet, brushing the dirt and grass off her pants. Apo led her into the surrounding forest, en route to a gravestone in the middle of a clearing. Apo sat first, patting the ground next to themself for Drift to sit. She did, reading the gravestone as she settled.
Pyro | Roommate and Pig Owner
That name still rubbed Drift the wrong way, even after years of accepting Avid’s death. The murder had been an act of senseless cruelty. Maybe she should’ve been used to that, considering her time as a detective, but this one had been against Avid. Though she hadn’t known him long in the grand scheme of things, he had become someone she cared about deeply. Someone she relied on, even when he believed things that didn’t fit her worldview.
Then, Avid was gone as quickly as he came, with one of his murderers delivering the news callously. She had to fight not to collapse then and there, and Shelby didn’t seem to be much different. It had been vindicating to hear about Pyro’s death, especially when Shelby recounted it to her once they were out of Oakhurst. Bloody and harsh and unrelenting, Shelby had given Pyro as good as he’d given Avid. Even worse, likely.
“You made him a grave?” Drift asked.
“He was my roommate once. Besides, holding onto old grudges was only hurting me.”
“Shelby made him a grave eventually.”
Apo stared at Drift for a moment, eyes soft. “They were close.”
“Yeah, they were close. And Pyro still—“ Drift was unable to continue, choked by a sudden influx of tears. “Sorry, I thought I was over this.”
“I get it. Just thought if we were talking about Scott–” (this was said with enough venom to kill a horse) “–Pyro should be a part of it as the first to be turned. We don’t have to talk about him. It’s your choice. You’re the one who just realized what Scott did to you.”
“Does that make me stupid?”
“No,” Apo rushed to reassure her. “Scott shifts the blame. He’s talented at getting you to believe you’re the one who was in the wrong.”
Drift’s mind was supposed to be analytical and sharp, and she started to despise how long it took for her to apply that mind to her situation. If only she’d figured it out sooner–
Blame. Shifting the blame. The tactics a perpetrator used.
Drift’s voice was quiet when she said, “I was turned because I came along with the militia. I wasn’t using my weapon. He focused his blows on me. And then–and then it was my fault, because he was just defending himself. I was the one with the violent militia, even if I didn’t do violence. My fault.”
“It wasn’t.”
“I know that now. What did he tell you?”
Apo clenched and unclenched her fist in her lap. “I choose this.”
“You didn’t?”
“No,” Apo denied emphatically. “No, I didn’t, and I wanted to hit him every time he said that. Scott, Pyro, and Owen cornered me at the crypt. I bargained with them. If I brought someone else to be turned, they’d leave me alone. Otherwise, they would kill me. But I couldn’t bring anyone else.” Apo barked a laugh, harsh. “I tried to kill Scott for good. It would’ve worked if only I had a stake. But I didn’t. I killed him four times, and he kept coming back, kept saying things about how good being a vampire was and how I couldn’t tell anyone about this without sounding insane. So I finally said yes. I thought it would mean no one else would be turned.”
Drift took her turning and lined up the pieces with Apo’s. Drift’s ‘in self-defense’, Apo’s ‘choice’. Drift wasn’t allowed to be mad because she liked being a vampire. Apo wasn’t allowed to be mad because she had made a choice. It was a pattern of behavior. Consistent. If Drift were in the business of mapping out evidence on a corkboard, she’d have quite the knot of colored string connecting the items.
Drift’s eyes landed on Pyro’s grave, a voracious curiosity consuming her. “Did Pyro ever tell you what Scott told them?”
“Not exactly. I know they were convinced that turning was inevitable and that it didn’t have to hurt as much as theirs did if people just accepted it.”
“I see.”
Pyro wasn’t allowed to be mad because he ran. It wasn’t the full story. Drift would likely never get to know that, with Pyro dead and gone so long. Drift was glad for it if only because Pyro couldn’t hurt any more of the people she cared about. But there was a person beneath the murderer coldly telling her about the friend he’d stabbed for being a liability. A flawed person, who’d once stood in front of the gates to Oakhurst, desperate and scared of something. Of Scott.
Victim #1. That would go on her corkboard.
“It wasn’t your fault. Or my fault,” Apo said. She nodded to Pyro’s grave. “Wasn’t Pyro’s fault either. Scott was just really good at manipulating us.”
“I’m not going back to him,” Drift swore.
“Good. I have a hut around here somewhere. It’s not much, but you can stay there as long as you like.”
“Thank you.”
“It’s nothing. Blood bottle?”
Drift accepted the bottle she was handed, uncorking it and draining it in a single gulp. It had been a while since she’d eaten, so caught up in her realization and abrupt departure. Apo seemed to notice this and handed her another one. They sipped their own slowly, making a face.
“You don’t like the blood?” Drift asked.
“No. I was hemophobic before becoming a vampire, and though I’ve mostly gotten used to it, the taste remains horrible.”
“Oh,” Drift shrugged. “I think it tastes great.”
“You and every other vampire,” Apo said, pulling her knees to her chest and resting her chin on them. “I’m just different, I guess. Made wrong.”
“Don’t say that about yourself.”
“I’m not ashamed of it. It’s a part of me.”
“Okay.”
After a few minutes, when the blood bottles had been drained and set aside, Apo asked, “What was your life like before?”
That required taking a trip back to the very scared person Drift had been before and sometimes still was. It was easy to look at danger and shrink away. That was the part of her being a vampire was supposed to fix. “I was a detective. There was a case giving me trouble, the Orchid Killer. I couldn’t figure it out, so I ran away. I was a coward.”
Apo dug her fingers into the fabric of her skirt. “I’ve been a coward too.”
“Really?” Drift said, surprised. “You’ve always seemed so brave.”
“Not because I haven’t been afraid. Impulse just wins most of the time.”
“How were you a coward?”
Apo wouldn’t meet Drift’s eyes, staring down at their lap. “I was stationed at a place called Fernsfield before Oakhurst. I got up to get water in the middle of the night, and by the time I returned, the military encampment had been wiped out completely. An officer told me to go to Fernsfield and warn them. I turned and ran the other direction. There was too much blood. I failed Fernsfield, and then I failed Oakhurst.”
Drift placed a hand over Apo’s, giving it a squeeze. “You didn’t fail us.”
“Six people died, Drift. More became vampires. And then I didn’t even stick around afterwards. I left.”
“No one expected that to happen.”
“I don’t think that’s any better,” Apo said. “It happened, and now I’m here after shirking my duties to be with my girlfriend while the military thinks I’m dead.”
“I never solved that case,” Drift pointed out. “Sometimes life happens. Sometimes we make mistakes. That’s just part of existing.”
“Sometimes vampires are real and cause problems?”
“That too.” Drift laughed. “The point is, we move on and try to be better the next time around. Braver.”
“How did this turn into you comforting me?”
“Because you needed it too.”
Apo looked at Drift for a few moments, considering. “I guess I did.”
There was still a lot to talk about. Drift had three decades’ worth of memories to undo, even if the majority of those were spent with the newly improved Scott. But for the first time in a long time, Drift had the space to heal. That was something to be hopeful about.
She only wished Shelby could be along for the ride.