Chapter 1: Bad Decisions

Delia:

The first thing to know about me is that I'm a walking disaster who makes problems for herself.

My older brother Baz is well known in our world. He was the first vampire of the family, and not by choice- he was bitten as a kid during the attack that killed his mother, who was headmistress of Watford, at the time. She died but he was saved, and the family hid his vampirism and taught him socially acceptable practices like not hurting humans and preying on small animals (not pets). They raised him with manners and kept him in magical society, and when our father remarried and our mother had us, he was a normal brother. Maybe he didn't play with his little sisters as often as we'd like, but he was ten+ years older so even that wasn't odd.

I looked up to him. He was good at things, attractive, and charming. Maybe because I admired him so much, I didn't see the harm in joining him… in becoming a vampire myself. I knew it would give me additional powers, and being a vampire hadn't stopped Baz from finishing school (he was valedictorian, in fact), finding love, making his way in the world, travelling… I'm sure in retrospect my parents wish they'd have anticipated the effect his success would have on me, and emphasized the down side of being a vampire more.

For I was a gutsy little risk-taker… always playing with fire. Literally. Our family's specialty is fire magic, and as a child I would rub my hands together till I kindled a lick of flame. I would grow that flame until it was palm-sized and toss it up, like a ball. It would levitate around the room and I would experiment: What melts? What turns a different color? What smells funny when it's burned? Getting into trouble for it a few times just taught me to be sneaky. I never stopped doing it.

Which was all harmless fluff, really, till I turned fifteen. By then Simon and Baz were together and gone, living in New York City. Baz used family money to buy a building in Greenwich Village. He and Simon live in the flat upstairs and run a shop below... a magic shop. Simon writes on the side and Baz does occasional interior decorating jobs for friends, but mostly they work together in the shop. They travel to far-off places a few times a year to buy inventory for the store.

But anyway, I was starting to tell you: something happened when I turned fifteen. It was bad.

I was like a lot of people my age… kind of angsty, awkward, always locked up in my room drawing pictures or reading books or casting spells.

More on a whim, then anything, I found my way to London: just took the car and what money I had and set out. I knew Baz would never consent to turning me into a vampire himself, but there were others who might… in particular, there was one I intended to ask. I'd heard my parents talk about him and knew he was of questionable morals and willing to cross lines.

Nicodemus.

I am amazed, looking back, how little time and thought I put into pursuing the whole vampire venture. I didn't consider all the ways my life would change or what I would lose. I didn't reflect on how it would hurt others, including my parents and Baz. My mind was occupied with daydreams of glory, power, and notoriety. I could have a longer life. My senses and reflexes would sharpen and I would have a new athleticism… I would be able to hunt and blend in with night creatures. It was rebellion—my ideas about being a vampire were romantic and immature.

It was with these thoughts in my head that I found Nicodemus, and persuaded him to turn me into a vampire. I gave him money and let him pet and paw at me a little, which was disgusting, but he followed through with a bite and the desired transformation took hold.

Ironically, and as a secondary afterthought, he gave me my first taste of magical green absinthe that night.

I say "ironically" because the absinthe didn't seem important at the time but it became even more destructive to my life than vampirism. It agreed with me and I enjoyed it… a great deal. It dulled the edges of what I had done, on that night and on many other nights, and it made me twinkle with a kind of mischievous energy. Over time and with continued use, I became more fearless and diabolical. My personality changed… where I had been reclusive before I became outgoing and socially adventurous.

By the time my parents found me and brought me home, I was a committed drinker of absinthe and had learned to do the "again" spell over a bottle; magic could squeeze out twenty good refills for me. I didn't waste a drop.

But of course there was a catch. The green potion started to rot me from the inside. I wasted days and nights in a drunken stupor. I was cruel and careless. I forgot to do things I was supposed to do and I forgot things I had said. I betrayed relationships. I got involved with people I shouldn't have and lost a succession of friends. I caused my parents much grief. They were always getting me out trouble, and I would reward them by stealing trinkets from around the house to sell for more absinthe. One time I accidentally sold a horcrux that had been in my mother's family for generations.

My parents got sick of it, eventually, and took me to treatment.

The addiction led to four different stints in rehab, and I missed a lot of school. It actually took me two years longer than others my age to graduate from Watford. But I'm clean now and because my family is who it is, I still have a chance at college. I've been clean (well, as "clean" as a vampire can be) for only two months, but I know I'm never going back to that life. For what it's worth, I really mean it: I'm done drinking the absinthe.

Before I entered rehab for the first time, when he first learned I'd turned into a vampire, Baz flew back to see me. He arrived like the wrath of God, eyes flashing and cold, spitting out quiet words. Very like our father, really. He had suffered over his own vampirism after it was forced upon him; my seeking it out willingly was like making light of everything he had gone through. It was a painful slap in the face to him. He was also convinced that it would be the end of me, because he didn't see me as having the necessary self-discipline to get through my vampirism decently. He was very afraid I was going to become one of those vampires who murder humans.

He was relieved to find that I hadn't violated that taboo yet, nor was I inclined to. I was a selfish idiot, yes, but I wasn't really cruel. Baz told me that there would be moments when it would be hard to refrain, but if I could just power through it and resist, the effort would be worth it. It was a moral line in the sand, and crossing that line would cut me off from friends and family in the magical world. I would be struck from the book, like Nicodemus. If I kept the hunting to animals, what I had done could be forgiven as a youthful transgression.

That day I promised him I would never take unwilling human blood. I apologized for being so impulsive, and causing him and the family pain. I told him not to give up on me… I would do better.

But me being me, I had to push boundaries. I kept my word but I also played with a sort of loophole I'd found in the words "unwilling human blood."

My focus was on the word "Unwilling". I determined to find myself willing human blood to drink. If a human drains some of their own blood, puts it in a chalice, and offers it to me, who am I to say no? Where is the evil in that?

The opportunity arises because normals don't think vampires are real, though some of them like to play at being vampires. They dress in black and have a sort of blood-letting / blood-drinking fetish among themselves. All the big cities have clubs devoted to this sort of practice. It's just a matter of me finding those places and approaching someone at the bar. So, unlike Baz, I've actually tasted human blood, and I wish I could tell him it's MUCH better than rat blood. But though I haven't been struck by lightning, cast out of society, or technically violated my promise to Baz, I am not confident enough about the appropriateness of what I've done to bring it up as a topic of conversation with anyone.

As far as I know the fondness for human blood is my secret.