Oh, things weren’t all just hunky-dory once the vamps had stood up and said, “We’re here.” It didn’t take folks too long to find out that vampires’ blood is almost a narcotic for humans plus helps injured people heal faster. (I know that last part from personal experience.) Since America’s the land of free enterprise, before much time had passed scumbags were lining up to make money pushing vampire blood. And the vampires weren’t willing donors. Teams developed methods to subdue vamps and drain them. And if you drain too much blood from vampires and leave them out in the open, they die, usually from exposure to the sun. That first night that Bill came into Merlotte’s, I had to save him from a couple of Drainers who had trapped him outside the bar.
The humans who prey on vampires don’t care who they sell the blood to or how diluted or old it is. The addicts or recreational vamp-blood users can go stark raving mad when they drink the stuff dealers sell. And blood dealers have a short shelf life. Both the mainstream vamps and the rogues love to pick off the dealers.
I’m not sure what’s worse: knowing that there are Drainers out there or knowing about the rogue vampires. A rogue is a vamp who refuses to live by the rules that the human population has laid down. When the other vamps find out about one, it’s up to the sheriff of the area to deal with him. Eric is very thorough and isn’t bothered all that much if he has to put an end to a rogue. Rogues are bad for business.
Of course, since there are humans who live off preying on vampires, there are humans who live to be preyed on by vampires—fangbangers. They get off sexually from letting vampires feed on them. I’ve heard that some of them get off erotically from just being in the same room as a vampire. But loving to have your own blood taken is just as dangerous as taking vampire blood yourself. Even if you’re in a committed relationship, like I was with Bill and am now with Eric, the vampire has to be very, very careful about how much blood he takes.
The big problem with the fangbangers is that they can get really addicted to the bite and will keep coming back for more and more frequent feedings with any vamp they can attract. If the vampire isn’t careful, and some of them aren’t, the fangbanger ends up being accidentally drained or even turned.
You can’t be born a vampire. There’s only one way to become one. A human being has to be “turned” by a vampire, the way Bill was by that bitch Lorena.
Bill told me it isn’t easy to make a new vampire. The victim has to be drained of blood at a single sitting or over a period of no more than three days, till he’s almost at the point of the true death. Then the sire has to donate most of his or her own blood to the prospective vampire. After that, it can take up to three days in the dark for the whole change to occur, and it doesn’t always turn out right. Sometimes the vampire-to-be doesn’t make it. Sometimes they have to be destroyed, they’re so damaged. If the baby vampire survives, it’s the obligation of the sire to teach the child how to be a good vampire.
Just like a newborn child, the newborn vampire is hungry and doesn’t have a lot of control over his or her baser instincts. Amelia and I had firsthand experience with this when a shapeshifter named Jake Purifoy turned into a vampire and rose in a closet in my cousin Hadley’s apartment. We got lucky. We were able to call the vampire cops, who could control him during his hunger pangs.
That’s another reason the accidentally flipped fangbangers usually don’t survive. Not many older vampires are willing to take responsibility for controlling and educating the new vamp.
I’m always astonished when I read about someone who wants to become a vampire. There are actually people who are willing to give up the daylight for the night, who have no problem with the idea of watching all their loved ones wither and grow old. I guess they want the enhanced speed and strength and the glamour ability more than they want their human life. Are they just scared of dying? I don’t understand it. A wooden stake through the heart will take them out in a jiffy. They’re not stake-proof, and a beheading will end anyone’s existence, vamp or human.
It’s true that a vampire cannot cross the threshold of a private home uninvited—the resident has to say the express words to allow the vamp to enter. Even more interesting, that permission can be revoked, rendering a home safe from vampire intrusion. I’ve had a little fun with that rule myself in the past, and it’s good to know that it works.
All in all, there are times that I regret ever setting eyes on a vampire, or even seeing a six-pack of TrueBlood at the convenience store, but in the end you have to adapt to the world around you. I’ve become pretty good at adapting.
THE TWO-NATURED
When the vampires let people know that they were real, everyone thought that the world had been turned upside down. Heck, the first time I met an actual vampire, my universe did turn upside down. Of course, I fell in love with him. If I hadn’t, my life might have stayed on more of a predictable path.
Finding out shortly thereafter that some people can change themselves into other creatures was another serious shock. My favorite boss, Sam Merlotte, was the first person I saw in both forms.
There are apparently two kinds of the two-natured: shifters, who can change into any type of animal, and weres, who change into only one animal. By far the most numerous clan is the werewolves, and they’re so proud of that that they just refer to themselves as Weres, with a capital W. Of course, in the strictest sense, they’re all shapeshifters. They can change their physical form. But you wouldn’t ever hear a Were refer to himself as a shapeshifter, and Sam would never call himself a were-anything.
Within those two big divisions, there’s a caste. You’re either bitten or born. If you’re born, you’re the child of two pure-blooded two-natured humans. And you’re the first child of that particular pair. Your little brother or sister won’t be able to change. If you’re bitten, you had an unfortunate encounter with a two-natured individual when he or she was in animal form, and you got (of course) bitten. Most often, that won’t take, and you’ll be fine. But if it does take, you’ll start feeling weird at the full moon. You’ll assume a half-human, half-animal form when the moon is up. (Think Lon Chaney Jr. in The Wolf Man.) You’ll maintain your health and vitality longer than your regular human buddies, but sad to say you probably won’t live as long.
Sam’s a pureblood shifter, so he can change into any kind of animal form, though he prefers that of a dog. Most shifters tend to stick to a form they’ve become comfortable with, like a favorite shirt or a pair of shoes that fits just right. But Sam makes a great lion, let me tell you.
The wolves are a lot more secretive than the vampires. Let’s face it—not having to sleep in a coffin and remain unseen during the day lets them blend in a lot easier. I know a lot of Weres, and I’m still finding out things about them. If someone had told me there is a hidden shapeshifter bar in Shreveport, I would have thought they were nuts, which is probably the pot calling the kettle black, if you stop and think about it. Quinn took me to a drinking establishment called the Hair of the Dog, and it’s not a place for the fainthearted.
Most wolves group together in packs, with the strongest taking the role of packleader, a position that must be defended against challengers. I’ve been around Shreveport’s Long Tooth pack mostly, and it certainly isn’t a democracy. What the packmaster says goes. And if the packmaster needs backing up, the pack enforcer steps in.
There are some negatives to dating one of the two-natured, though the facts that they can go out in the sun and are physically warm are huge plusses as far as I’m concerned. But the icky part is that the necessity to keep breeding true can dominate mating choices. And if you’re a rare breed, like a weretiger or a werepanther, you’re kind of obliged to seek out a same-breed mate of the opposite sex and try to have a baby. Take Hotshot, for example. It’s a tiny enclave way out in the boondocks, and the werepanthers who live there form a nearly closed society.