There was one thing I disliked more than being treated like a child. And that was being observed and babysat like one.

“I don’t need a bodyguard, Dad,” I said into my phone late in the afternoon. Marcel glanced away from the road with a shocked expression. “Besides, Haze has his son to look after.”

“M'ijo. I never said Haze was going to take care of you. Your bodyguard is a little closer to your age. You’ll see when you arrive,” my dad replied in authoritative Spanish. That meant his decision was final. “He’s going to drive Haze’s RV and make sure you don’t get into any trouble.”

His last statement brought a whole new wave of disappointment. “The old RV?! Does that thing even have a working toilet?”

“You can ask Haze that,” he said with a chuckle. I scowled. That thing had been around since I was a toddler in the 90s. Probably longer. Brown with tan lines and ugly rust spots, the RV looked more like a giant artifact. Imagine how uncool it’d be to have Katherine roll-up with her friend and see that.

And thinking of Kat, I said cautiously, “Dad, I invited someone to join along. Two somebodies to be precise. I don’t think the RV is big enough.”

Marcel shakes his head and laughs. He already knows what I’ve done, the absolute shittery I have committed. But in order to keep him quiet, I throw him a hush sign as my dad speaks again.

“Well, it’s two more than we planned but if their parents are fine with it, then I’m fine with it too. Haze will ask someone to make some accommodations.”

I swallowed thick nervousness-induced saliva. There’s no way I was going to explain to Kat and her friend how Haze’s RV was basically a magical Tardis, bigger on the inside than the outside.

“Fine, Dad. I’ll talk to him," I lied. "Also, um, my friends aren't into the whole political part of the process, so is it okay if they go sightseeing while we’re campaigning?”

Here, he remained quiet. I should have felt good about the fact that my dad wasn’t there to see how apprehensive I was. He wasn’t some werewolf lie detector, but he was my father.

“That’s unusual for our community. Are they part of a religious denomination?”

Let it be noted. He provided the lie, not me. I said, “They’re all around the south, you know.”

“Then I understand, though there’s never a wrong time to talk to them about their future.”

I rolled my eyes. Kat and her friend were never going to get the vote speech from me. And I’m sure they’d thank me in the long run, if they ever found out why.

When my dad and I ended the call, Marcel slowed to a stop in front of Haze’s property. The first thing to great us was the bulky and rusty RV from our childhood road trip days. Then would have been a good time to call up Katherine and cancel. But I was stubborn.

And I was also caught off guard by a new presence.

Marcel whistled, “Holy terminator.”

He was referring to Haze’s conversation partner, a blonde man who wore aviators over his eyes, torn-up jeans as his bottoms, a red flannel tied around his midriff, and a loose white t-shirt that didn’t hide the fact that he was ripped. Not really terminator style, but definitely nothing like us.

“I shouldn’t skip arm day, bruh.”

“You don’t even go to the gym, Marcel.”

He pointed to his feet. “Well, yeah. Vamps are more leg-people anyway.”

His was an interesting theory, but the moment we left the car, we could tell that it was proven false. When the guy turned, in his hand was a clear cup filled with what I could only assume was thick, red blood. Haze placed a hand on the aviator-glasses dude's shoulder and gestured with a chin directed at us.

I tried to contain my surprise.

Vampires didn’t go into something as risky as private protection. My tutors had taught me that Vampirism made Marcel's people hemophiliacs to a degree that no Full-human could experience. Small cuts and bruises could be fatal if blood wasn’t in a Vampire’s system for more than a month. In a way, my best friend lived a dangerous life by fasting for so long.

We stopped just before I reached them. The new stranger pushed back his glasses, revealing cold blue eyes. And something else.

A jagged scar ran across the left side of his face, but that alone didn’t make him intimidating. His scowl was one clearly born out of habit. If I had said that he didn’t seem like the friendliest man in the world, I would have been understating.

“Boys, meet your new bodyguard, David Taldeo.”