"Come, we'll do other lessons tonight," Merrill helped me off the sofa. I followed him on unsteady legs as he walked toward his study. Brock and Franklin turned toward the stairs lying in the opposite direction.
"I know Gavin gave you rule four," Merrill began, once we were seated in our usual spots. "Rule five is this: You cannot attempt to turn anyone unless you are past your five year apprenticeship. After that, you may only attempt ten turns over your lifetime. This rule played a large part in Edward and Sergio's death sentences; they'd turned nearly thirty between them. I think you were twenty-eight or twenty-nine. Another died while they hunted you. They'd also killed all your predecessors, playing their sick games. You were the only one that lived."
"Wow. I had no idea." I was shocked. No doubt, there were missing persons reports on many a detective's desk, and all because two fanged morons thought it was fun to play with people's lives.
"There are other stipulations as well," Merrill steepled his fingers and gazed across his desk at me. "First, it must be a viable candidate, in a place where the turn may be completed without interruption or observance by other humans. By viable candidate, we mean that they must be dying or near death, of good character and over the age of eighteen. Obviously, if they are a criminal as a human then they will be a criminal as a vampire. The commutative property taking effect as it were." Merrill was smiling slightly. "You will be considered rogue and subject to the death penalty if you ever drink from or attempt to turn a child. And once you do perform a turn, you must monitor that individual, watching over them every night until the transformation is complete. You must do this so they will not wake unsupervised and in confusion as to what they are. You must take responsibility for your child from the beginning, making sure he is carefully taught everything he should know to become a member of the vampire race. If your child disobeys, he must be punished. If he becomes unmanageable, then you are expected to notify the Council, who will order the child brought in for questioning. If the Council determines that the child is unfit, they will order the death of the child and that death will come swiftly."
"I don't think I'll be trying it," I whispered, stunned over Merrill's explanation. The thought of taking responsibility for an adult vampire gave me the shivers.
"I've only turned five and two of those are dead," Merrill informed me, the emotionless mask sliding into place across his features.
"I'm sorry," I said. Merrill inclined his head in silent acceptance.
* * *
We parked several blocks away and walked to the popular nightclub in London—Merrill, Brock and I. There were young people everywhere outside the brick building, talking, laughing and standing in a long line. It was Friday night and the place was crowded, with loud music thumping through the air from a live band playing inside.
"I will select your target and you must get him alone and drink from him," Merrill instructed quietly as we approached the club and the spillover of humans outside it. He'd deliberately kept me from eating before we left the house. Now it was after midnight and I was definitely feeling hungry. I'd had regularly scheduled meals since coming to live with Merrill.
"No," I whispered, as Merrill pointed out the one I was supposed to target. The young man had short, spiked hair, black roots with blond tips, piercings in every visible body part and additional piercings that I could make out beneath his thin shirt and low-riding jeans. What wasn't pierced was tattooed—everything from skulls to spider webs. I think he even had a gun and knife tattooed on each of his biceps.
"Lissa, you will not always have the luxury of picking and choosing. Go get that one and be done with it," Merrill ordered sternly when I shook my head and attempted to back away.
Disliking my surrogate sire for the first time ever, I squared my shoulders and stalked unwillingly toward my target. Merrill had instructed me to dress casual chic, as he termed it, and I'd found a sleeveless tank top in cranberry and my short, black skirt with sandals. I was overdressed for this crowd, I discovered.
"Hi, handsome," I said to the young man, a strong desire to gag making its presence known as I trailed a finger suggestively down his tank-top-covered chest. He was probably stoned along with being drunk; a faint scent of alcohol was on his breath. With blue eyes unfocused and pupils merely pinpoints, he smiled at me. Since I didn't smell much alcohol on his breath, I figured it was drugs. And as heroin or opioid addiction causes the pupils to contract, it was likely he wasn't new to his habit. Resigning myself to impending and subsequent impairment, I placed the initial compulsion, suggesting that we walk toward a nearby alleyway. He agreed eagerly, draped an arm around my shoulders and tried to kiss me once before we reached a dark spot where we wouldn't be seen. I took his blood quickly, following Merrill's instructions to the letter before placing compulsion to forget me and the act I'd just committed. Merrill was somehow behind me when I finished and he and I walked toward Brock, who now leaned against the car, waiting for our return. I was wobbling by the time I arrived.
"What's wrong with you?" Brock asked as I nearly fell into him. He managed to catch me with one hand while opening my door with the other.
"Lover boy was stoned," I giggled a little. It doesn't take much to get me drunk; that's how I got vampirized to begin with, I thought to myself. Is vampirized even a word? I giggled again.
"Let's get her out of here," Merrill muttered. He and Brock herded me into the back seat of the car. Brock was driving while Merrill leaned over the back of the passenger seat, keeping a watchful eye on me as we made our way through the outskirts of London.
"I used to go through the drive-through window of my favorite donut shop and say 'gimme a half dozen, I want to commit a sin'," I threw a hand in the air and giggled at my own joke. Donuts were a favorite form of gluttony back then. Merrill remained watchful and silent, choosing to lift an eyebrow at my antics instead.
Brock pulled into valet at a popular London restaurant and Merrill ushered me inside, Brock following along behind. I was still behaving erratically and wobbling just a little. Merrill's hand was beneath my elbow to steady me after only a few steps. "You must appear to be human and completely normal," Merrill hissed in my ear. I stared at him briefly before exploding with laughter. "Lissa, do not force me tell you again," Merrill snapped. I straightened right up. The threat of compulsion had saturated his words and there wasn't any way I wanted more of that.