"Don’t take this the wrong way," said Jay as they reached the car, "but that would have been a great moment for you to turn into a wolf or command rats or something."
"Yeah. And then you could have gone and done recon in the bathroom again. Everything secure in there? Did they have enough guest towels?"
Jay didn’t reply.
They drove off into the dark street.
"I have to feed soon!" said Doug. "I feel like I’m starving and going crazy at the same time. I’m curs — damned! I’m damned to forever yearn for the…vile…"
"Vile crimson ichor?" offered Jay.
"No. For the vile…for the sweet, vile…" Doug trailed off. Damn it, "vile crimson ichor" had been pretty good.
"Will you die?" asked Jay. "If you don’t…feed? Will you die again?"
Doug exhaled and watched the houses pass.
"I don’t know. It was bad enough the first time."
"You said it was awesome," said Jay. "Before, you said that getting turned into a vampire was better than sex."
"Yeah…but—"
"You said it was like your penis went bonernova—"
"Can you not say ‘penis’? Please? It’s like I get the exact opposite of a bonernova whenever you say it. Say ‘dick’ or—"
"I don’t swear," said Jay. "You know I don’t."
"Look. Okay. Obviously…" said Doug, "obviously the getting-turned-into-a-vampire part was great, and the vampire chick was hot and everything, but the actual dying part sucked. Obviously."
"Oh. Sorry."
"’S okay."
Doug rolled down his window a few inches and wedged his nose into the gap, inhaling the thick, salty air. Anything to keep from smelling the one hundred and fifty pounds of blood and best friend in the driver’s seat next to him.
"You’re the one with family here," said Doug. He and Jay were staying with Jay’s aunt and uncle during the convention. "Are there any farms close by?"
Jay thought a moment. "I don’t think so. Maybe some citrus orchards. Ha! Maybe some blood oranges."
"Jay—"
"No. No farms."
"Well…there has to be something," whined Doug, "someplace with big animals. Big enough so I won’t kill them."
Jay was quiet. Then he made a turn toward the freeway.
2
Endangered species
THE SAN DIEGO ZOO is located within a twelve-hundred-acre expanse of garden and cultural attractions called Balboa Park and encircled by lush palms and meticulously trimmed topiary elephants. Its outer wall is thirty feet high and can be scaled by an out-of-shape vampire carrying a friend if he sits down for a while afterward.
"Just a sec," Doug huffed for the second time. His head was spinning, and the first verse of a song he didn’t like was going around and around in it. Jay cast his eyes about with his hands over his nose and mouth. He flinched at every noise. Finally he went to stand behind a cart that sold T-shirts.
"We should meet back here if we get separated," he whispered. "Right at this cart."
"Why would we get separated?"
"I don’t know. If guards chase us."
"Jesus, there won’t be any guards in here. Why would they be on the inside? No one else could climb that wall. If there are guards, they’re probably all out there."
Jay said nothing, but after a minute he stepped out into view.
"Okay, I’m ready," said Doug. "You know, if I was full of blood, I bet I could have hauled ass over that wall. I could have carried two of you. I could have carried a whole cheerleading squad."
"Why a cheerleading squad?"
"I dunno…girls like animals."
They chose a path at random past the gift shops and snack stands, and wended their way into the heart of the zoo.
Jay looked at a sign nearby. "‘Capybara,’" he read.
"Too small."
"It’s the world’s largest rodent."
"Good for the capybara. I hope it has a coffee mug that says so. I’m not putting my mouth on it."
They continued down the winding path, peering into the dark, quiet habitats. Doug sang under his breath, "‘What the world…needs now is love, sweet love. It’s the only thing that there’s just…too little of’—Oh, great. Perfect."
"What?"
"Why can’t I have a good song stuck in my head?"
"My uncle doesn’t like people messing with the radio. He says he has it just how he likes it."
"It’s a terrible song."
Jay shrugged.
"No, seriously," said Doug. "It’s stupid. I mean, love is the only thing that there’s too little of? What about…uh…coal? Or trees?"
"‘Jaguarundi.’"
"What?"
"‘Jaguarundi,’" said Jay, reading a sign. "They’re endangered."
"Right, see?" said Doug. He looked at the sign. "I probably shouldn’t feed on something endangered, right? Plus it’s too small."
"How about the…Bornean bearded pig?"
"No."
"It’s over three hundred pounds," said Jay. "It’ll be okay."
"No. I…" Doug searched for the right words. "I don’t want you to think I…this is going to sound kind of weird, but…"
Jay looked up at him.
"I was hoping for something a little more…sexy," said Doug.
"Sexy?"
"Not actually sexy! Not, like, I’m into animals or anything. Just…it’s bad enough I have to drink from an animal in the first place, you know? There has to be something more…elegant than the whatever bearded pig."
Jay read the next sign.
"What about the ‘Southern bush pig’?" he asked. "That’s sexier, right?"
"You really don’t know the answer to that question, do you?"
Jay blushed the color of raw meat. Doug had to look away. An awkward moment passed between them like a cripple.
"At home you feed on cows," said Jay finally. "Cows are sexy?"
"No, it’s all…In my head the blood drinking is about either romance or food. It’s complicated. The perfect animal…would be, like, a real pretty doe."
"Or a unicorn," said Jay.
"Don’t be stup—" Doug began. "Okay, yes. Or a unicorn. But this zoo doesn’t have any unicorns, and I don’t know if a doe weighs enough. I might kill it."
"A tiger?"
"It might kill me."
"Um," said Jay, casting about for an idea. "Ooh! This way."
"A panda?"
"Sure," said Jay. "It’s at least sexier than those pigs, right? And it’s big and gentle. They’re like huge babies."
"Huge bear-shaped babies." Huge, endangered bear-shaped babies, Doug realized with a pang. But what with all the bamboo-eating and never-mating-in-captivity, he thought they might be endangered because they were just kind of stupid.
"Yeah, but they’re not really bears, are they? I think they’re more closely related to the raccoon or something," said Jay, but he didn’t look sure.
The raccoon comment was undoubtedly meant to reassure Doug, but it only made him think of rabies and bandit faces and those sharply determined little hands. He leaned forward, his stomach against the railing, and searched the enclosure.
"I don’t see it," he said.
"They probably have someplace in there where she stays at night," Jay said, pointing to a sort of cave opening in the back wall.
Doug stared at the cave. A light breeze tickled his skin and made him shiver — a by-product of being so low on blood, he thought. After a feeding he could barely feel temperature at all. Suddenly his ears pricked at an unexpected sound.