More silence.
"I didn't realize it was that different," I said, finally.
"It is. Just ask any vamp."
"Karl–"
"And here's something else for you to keep in mind, buddy. Both Christine and me, we're vamps because of you. Because of choices you made, not us. We weren't even consulted, remember?"
"Consulted? You were both almost dead. If I could've consulted either one of you, I wouldn't have needed to."
Karl reached in a pocket for his keys. "Time for me to head home. I wouldn't want to get you all upset by burning to death in front of you." He opened his car door and got in.
"Jesus fucking Christ, Karl – are you saying you'd rather be dead?"
"I dunno, Stan. I never got to find out what it's like."
He closed the door, started up, and backed out of the parking space. Then he drove away, without looking back.
I got in the Lycan and cruised around town for a while
before heading home. I had some things to think about. Just as well that a puppy didn't try to cross the street in front of me, though. I'd probably have run it over, then backed up to nail it again.
When I finally arrived home, Christine was at the kitchen table, reading a magazine. She put it down as I came in and said, "Hey, Daddy." She looked a little wary – maybe my face still showed something of what I'd been feeling after talking to Karl.
"Hey, yourself," I said.
"I'm glad it's not fifteen minutes later, or I'd have missed you again. You weren't here when I got up tonight." The way she said it wasn't an accusation, just a statement of fact.
"Yeah, there's a guy I wanted to talk to without Karl along. Karl and this guy, they don't get along too well. So I started my shift a little early."
"Oh, OK. How's Karl doing, anyway?"
"He's all right," I lied. I cleared my throat, which didn't seem to do a lot of good. "Listen, uh, I wanna say something, and I'd rather not have a discussion about it right now. But if you need to talk about it when you get up, we can."
She gave me a careful nod. "OK, sure. What's up?"
I'd composed this whole damn speech in my head while driving, and now I couldn't remember any of it.
"Christine, listen, I don't know what it's like to be a… vampire. I realize that. There's probably lots I don't understand about it, and maybe I never will. But I want you to be happy, babe – or as happy as you can manage to be."
"Yes, I believe you."
"So, look – whatever you do when you're out, whatever you need to do, is none of my damn business, as long as you're safe, and you don't hurt anybody else. That's what matters to me."
Another one of those careful nods. "All right. Thank you."
"What I'm trying to say is, what happens in the night stays in the night. As far as I'm concerned, it's don't ask, don't tell."
She gave a little laugh. "You mean like that policy they used to have for supes in the military?"
"Yeah, I guess. Something like that. I hope it works better for us than it did for Uncle Sam."
She got up then, came over, and put her arms around me. "I think it will. Those people in the service didn't love each other. And we do."
"You got that right, kiddo."
She let go and stepped away. "Well, time for me to hit the hay. Will you still be home when I get up?"
"I should be, yeah."
She gave me a smile that didn't show her fangs. She's gotten pretty good at that, but if the fangs appear now and then, I'm going to try not minding. "I was just wondering. I don't have any discussions planned."
"OK, fine. Goodnight, baby."
"'Night, Daddy."
After she left, I realized I was famished, the first time I could remember feeling hunger all day. I checked the fridge – good, we had eggs I could scramble.
As the pan was heating, I idly picked up the magazine Christine had been looking at, which turned out to be the "Super-Special Undead Issue" of Cosmo. I started to smile as I looked at the cover stories: "7 Clues He's Batty Over You," "Is Your Coffin Clunky?" "A-Positive Or O-Negative: How To Know If He's Your Type," and "Sharpest. Fangs. Ever." Then I saw the one on the top left: "That Secret Place He Really Wants You To Bite Him."
I haven't laughed so hard in quite a while. Too long, really. Too damn long.
The next night, I came in to work a little early. I was hoping to have a quiet word with Karl, but he didn't show up until our shift was due to start. When he plopped down at the desk opposite mine, I opened my mouth to speak but he beat me to it.
"You seen the paper today, Stan?"
"Just glanced through it. The comics, mainly. Why?"
"There was an article about some company that's found a way to sell blood in powdered form. Just add water, and you've got yourself a nice snack, if you're a vampire."
I didn't know where he was going with this, but I suspected I wouldn't like it when he got there.
"That right?" I said, just to say something.
"Yup. They've even got a name picked out for it."
He was waiting, so I said, "What's that?"
"Fang," he said and grinned at me, vampire teeth and all. "Gotcha!"
He made a fist and slowly extended his arm across the desk toward me. After a second, I reached out and bumped it with my own fist. "We cool?" I asked.
"We cool."
"If you two soul brothers are done signifying," McGuire said from his office door, "I've got work for you."
After last time, I knew better than to protest being assigned another case. Besides, a glance at the assignment board showed that every detective team, on all shifts, was carrying four or five open cases. Things were busy for the Supe Squad these days, and it wasn't even Halloween.