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“We’re not on speaking terms.”

“Why?”

I never pried. But I suddenly needed to know all the things that made this woman who she was.

“A couple of years ago, probably starting right before my mom passed, but then just escalating from there, he fell into some anti-vampire propaganda. He used to call, ranting and raving when I was at school, telling me to make sure I wore the the crosses and had holy water on me at all times.”

“The holy water thing is a myth.”

“Well, I know that. And you know that. But he’s really deep in the anti-paranormal forums. It’s just an echo chamber of fear and insecurity that they warp and label superiority. I couldn’t take it anymore.”

“That must have been difficult—to cut off the only family you have left.”

“It was at first. But then I moved across the country. I met Tess. Then Margo. I got my job.”

“He must hate your chosen profession.”

“At this point, I’m sure he’s disowned me. But that guy… he’s not my dad. Not really. I keep hoping maybe one day he will deprogram. But until then, I can’t be around all his ignorance.”

“That must be difficult.”

She shrugged.

“What was your family like? Or is? Did you turn any of your family?”

“I never had family.”

“Everyone has family.”

“Everyone has blood relatives, but not everyone has family. I was found abandoned as a newborn. I was taken to a temple where I was raised. Fed, clothed, educated. But not…”

“Loved?” she asked, voice whisper-soft. “But not loved?”

“Let’s not open that can of worms again,” I suggested. But she was closer to the truth than I would ever admit.

“What happened then? Did they just kick you out when you got older?”

“I became a temple servant. And, eventually, when it became clear I’d taught myself to read and write, I became a scribe. I copied texts and kept records. When the temple fell—”

“It collapsed?”

“No. Fell as temples often fall in times of unrest and war. Once the temple fell and war eventually gave way to famine, I fled my homeland and worked as a scrivener.”

“I’m not sure I know what that means.”

“I was a professional letter writer. Since most people couldn’t write, I worked to transcribe letters for lovers, soldiers, and families.”

“Oh, wow. That’s such an interesting career. Did you do it for long?”

“Until I was turned.”

“Did you know what was happening at the time?”

“No. There were stories, of course, about evil creatures. But no one truly believed them. Until I woke up underground with a thirst for blood that overtook everything else.”

“Did your sire hang around?”

“Yes. At first. But I was not the obedient acolyte that she was looking for. We parted ways, oh, fifty years after I turned or so.”