“The community I grew up in was small, so we didn’t have a lot of organized information.”

I chew my bottom lip as I recall.

What little we had was old and contradictory, the same handful of horrors retold a dozen different ways, and I'd spent years sorting the consistent threads from the embellishments. Whatever stayed constant was probably true. That was the closest thing to a method I had.

The threads that held: demons, fast and strong, red-eyed, blood-drinking. Uncommon at first. Then increasingly common. Then organized — because alone they were dangerous, but together they were unstoppable.

"The Arch Order," Jonah supplies.

"Bingo.” I point my beer at him. “Organized under their illustrious Patriarch, they were called revenant. Once I had that, I went looking for where they came from, how they came to be.”

That part was harder. The records thinned out. But what I found suggested revenant were originally vampires who had gone mad with bloodlust.

I pick at the label on my beer. "Everything I read painted vampires as something almost noble once—allies, protectors, living alongside humans instead of hunting them. Helping them.”

But once the Order rose, the revenant became too strong and the vampires of old could do nothing to stop them. Fearing that all vampires would eventually turn to revenant, terrified humans stopped drawing the line between revenant and vampire at all. They burned both.

"The way I understood it, your kind was wiped out. Revenant are all that's left." I look at him across the rim of my bottle. "So either you're a few thousand years old, or one of your parents is a red-eyed leech."

Jonah lets the silence stretch a moment, considering. He's sunk low into his end of the couch, one ankle hooked over his knee, looking far too relaxed for a man being interrogated about his bloodline.

“Most of that is true,” he says finally. “Except not all vampires died back in the Great Wars. A few escaped and went into hiding.” He tips his beer back and forth over his knee. “With vampires no longer living amongst humans, they’ve become forgotten—nothing but a myth while revenant took on the role of nightmare.”

“So, vampires are still around?”

“Yes.”

“Just in hiding.”

“Right.”

“So… how old are you, then?”

“Twenty-four.”

I stare at him blankly and he laughs.

“I don’t age very differently than humans. If anything, I might live to be a little over a hundred, but not by a lot. My eyes glow, yes,” he gestures to said eyes, “but not all the time. And I do have fangs, but really, I would say I’m more human than vampire.”

I draw a knee up on the couch, wrapping my arms around it to lean on as I regard him. “So… what can you do? You must have some super power or you wouldn’t have been able to kill my dear demon last night.”

He rubs the label on his now empty bottle, idly examining the picture spread across it. “There are times when I can be more vampire than human.”

“Like last night?”

“Like last night.” Leaning over the armrest on the couch, he sets his bottle on the floor then looks up at me. “But those are few and far between.”

“Is there, like, a trigger?”

“Uh, yeah, kind of.”

“Like what?”

He looks at me curiously. “Blood.”

“Of course it is.” Duh.

“I usually carry a packet on me in case of emergencies, so when I saw you last night, I popped the pack and went after the revenant.” He shrugs. “But that was my last one, so try not to get yourself nearly killed again. At least until I can restock.”

“I’ll do my best.” I roll my eyes.

We both sit there a moment, pondering everything said between us. The fridge ticks on in the kitchen, and outside a cat yowls, startling a dog into barking a few doors down.

I pick at the label on my beer, now warm and abandoned. “So… what all can you do when you’ve got your vamp-face on?”

He frowns, thinking, “Well, when I’m not on blood I can still do just about anything a normal vampire can, just not as well. I’m faster, stronger than the average human, and all my senses are slightly magnified. And I can heal a little faster—cuts and bruises and the like.”

He uncrosses his legs and picks a piece of lint off his jeans.

“On the other hand, after I juice all my preternatural abilities become amplified. I haven’t done much testing, but I would feel fairly confident saying that I become stronger than the average vampire or revenant when I’m on blood.”

I blink at him, wide-eyed once again tonight.

He says it so casually.

He says something so absurd so… casually.

I look him over. His lean build. His messy curls. His… youth.

Stronger than the average revenant?

This guy?

Jonah eyes the microwave clock from where he sits. “It’s getting late. The linens on the bed are clean, I changed them while you were in the shower. You should probably get some sleep before those circles under your eyes become permanent.”

He stands, grabbing our bottles and moving them to the kitchen to be cleaned out later.

“Look who’s talking,” I scoff. But I get up from the couch anyways and stretch.

“By the way, the briefcase is under the couch, since you seemed so concerned before.”

I perk up at that, and move to retrieve the slim silver case from where it lays. To my annoyance, I discover that it, too, is smeared with my blood. I gingerly chip at some of the dried flakes with my thumb nail before testing the locks once more.

It’s still locked tight, unsurprisingly, but I have a few ideas as to how I might get it open. In the meantime I figure I can stash it somewhere in the bedroom with me till I’m able to test some of my theories.

That night, as I lie tucked into Jonah’s bed, the briefcase fitted safely under the dresser, listening to the sounds of him doing dishes quietly in the kitchen, it occurs to me that it’s been a long time since I’ve been in close company with someone like this.

Not since Julian left.

…I hadn’t realized how lonely I’d become.