“That’s assuming he hasn’t been keeping tabs on the rest of us,” Antun pointed out when we came over hours later. We all looked at Syla. “You’re the one who knows him best, what do you think he’s done?”

  She looked contemplative, then shook her head and answered, “He’s too proud to keep an eye on peasants like us now that he’s become a god. The narcissist probably thinks he’s even more superior to others than he did before. If anything, he probably doesn’t consider us worth his time anymore. I mean, the bond broke – I felt it. Like scissors cutting a taut thread. I’m no longer someone he needs, obviously. And he probably doesn’t consider either of you strong enough to worry about. If there was a Dracula, then maybe–”

  Michael interrupted, “Wait, what do you mean by a Dracula? He was real?”

  “Oh, yes,” Syla nodded solemnly. “Some suspect that he was the one who became a vampire god in the past and was defeated. Some say that he’s worse than what Hollywood could ever depict.” She shivered. “Either way, he’s long gone and good riddance.”

  Antun asked, “So what you’re saying is Nikola has probably ignored us?”

  Syla nodded, “He’s too self-centered.”

  “Okay, let’s focus. We need to come up with a plan.” Antun pulled out a laptop, connecting it to his projector.

  I tried not to compare Nikola to Dracula, fearful of what I’d discover.

  “We’ve bounced some ideas around regarding our yew weapon. My friend has the yew, and it is a long enough piece if we want to make a sword out of it, or a few daggers. The sooner we decide, the sooner we’re armed.”

  “If we go with a sword, I’d say to make it a short sword–” Michael started.

  “Oh ha ha, mister funny man,” I interrupted.

  “It’s not a short joke,” he countered. “A short sword is a thing. I know you were more impressed by the claymores but let’s be realistic. A claymore would be bigger than you! You need something that will fit your size.”

  Now that he mentioned it, I vaguely remembered something about short swords from one of the shows we had watched. But I wasn’t gonna admit that, not in a million years. I was already blushing from my outburst.

  Like mother, like daughter I suppose.

  “Plus, that way we can make the sword thick enough that the wood won’t snap. If we tried to make a rapier out of yew? It’d be a giant poisonous toothpick and about as dangerous as a normal toothpick against a godly being.”

  That made sense, I had to concede it.

  “Thoughts?” Antun looked around then said, pointing, “I like the short sword idea. We might be able to get a dagger too. Should we try both?”

  Everyone gave their various approvals.

  “Okay then. Wanna look at short swords and get some ideas for our woodworking friend?”

  We pulled up Pinterest, projected for all of us to look at the same thing. We scrolled through a blur of blade styles – big guards, narrow hilts, straight or gently curved edges – pinning anything that seemed functional… and cool.

  I personally kinda liked the gladius, where the width of the blade almost matched the width of the guard. I’d make the guard just the tiniest bit bigger but other than that, I thought it would hold up well as a wooden weapon.

  We had to break for sleep, and Michael and I opted to accept Antun’s offer to stay the night. Syla and I were to share the bed, as there was only one guest room and she had been occupying it. That was fine, there was plenty of room for the both of us.

  Michael got the couch again but didn’t seem to mind in the least, setting his bed up as if this was what he did every night… Well, it kinda had been every night, since he had been staying at my place.

  When was the last time this guy slept on a real mattress?

  I suddenly felt guilty for having him stay at my home for so long. Maybe I should’ve gotten him a proper mattress for the floor at least–

  “Drew?” Syla was trying to get my attention.

  I blinked my surprise, shaking my head “Sorry, lost in thought.”

  “That seems to happen quite a bit,” she remarked. “Have you ever been tested for ADHD?”

  “What? No, I’m not hyperactive. I more resemble a sloth if we had to pick an animal, or a very lazy cat.”

  Syla laughed. “I read recently that it’s a common misconception and that a large percentage of people who have ADHD have the “inattentive” type, or the kind where the hyperactivity is more in your head than through your limbs. And there are quite a few people out there who have no idea because ADHD is ‘just for hyperactive little kids’.”

  I was taken aback. And I knew ADHD could be hereditary, and Dad had ADHD… “Huh, that’s really interesting. Do you mind sending me that article?”

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  With a smile, she asked, “You mind teaching me how to do that first?” I taught her what her search history was and how to access it and share links, figuring she was plenty smart enough to figure out the rest if she was finding articles on the internet without aid, or if she wasn’t, she was confident in asking for help. She sent me the article and I bookmarked it to read later.

  “It might be worth looking into,” she said. “You seem to spend a lot of time inside your own head.”

  Right now, she wanted to braid my hair and have girl time. I only had one hair tie, but that was enough for a simple French braid. I don’t know what she did, but it was not a simple French braid, although she did manage to tie it off with one hair tie. It was almost as if she had basket weaved the back of my head.

  She was so dexterous and quick, I was genuinely surprised when she took a picture for me to see. My hands flew to the back of my head, feeling the weave-like pattern. I could not stop touching it.

  Syla laughed at me, “You’re acting as if no one has braided your hair before.” Besides my mother when I was young and that one time Michael braided my crown, no one had ever braided my hair, or really played with it. I relished the touch I felt when I’d go to get my hair done, but I thought it was just from the feeling of being pampered when they wash your hair and massage your scalp. It was yet another indicator of how touch deprived I had been without even realizing it.

  Maybe it wasn’t just the vampire thing that had changed me. Maybe it was this – learning how to let people in. Letting myself feel closeness – trust. I hadn't known how much I’d needed it.

  I hugged Syla, and she hugged me back. Whatever her reasons for wanting girl time, I was selfishly having a great time.

  But we did need to sleep. We shut off the lights and stopped talking, having turned in opposite directions to go to sleep.

  “Oh, how I missed having a friend,” she sighed contentedly.

  It had to have been so lonely for the past 100 years with Nikola. And with how social she was now, I could only imagine the kind of butterfly she was before. No wonder she had been caught at a speakeasy; she seemed like the kind of girl who wouldn’t mind going out for drinks and dancing. I know I certainly planned on getting drinks with everyone once everything was over. As long as we all make it…

  No, stop that! You need to sleep and you can’t do that if you’re depressed as hell.

  I shifted, trying to get comfortable in an unfamiliar bed. I tried to relax my muscles and slow my breathing, trying to trick my body into resting…

  I just could not fall asleep. I checked my phone for the time. I’d been laying there for over an hour. Not wanting to disturb Syla, I quietly snuck off of the bed and out of the room. I thought I had closed the door behind me quietly, but Michael lifted his head and looked at me as I shut it.

  “Hey,” he whispered in a sleepy voice. That low, rumbling voice did things to my knees but I pretended I needed to go to the restroom to cover the shaking.

  Really, body? Way to call me out. Of course, hearing a low, sleep-graveled voice saying ‘hey’ was bound to do that. But why did it have to be so obvious and awkward?

  I spent extra time in the bathroom to give Michael a chance to fall back asleep, but when I came out, he was sitting up, his arms stretching behind his head and a blanket across his lap.

  So much for subtle.

  “Hey,” I said as a very belated response to his earlier greeting. “Can’t sleep either?”

  “Nah, just not the night for it, I guess.” He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, then patted the seat beside him, still covered in a blanket. “If you’re up anyway, you may as well have some company, right?”

  I could not deny the logic in his words, so I walked over and sat down, angling my body towards him as I did. He leaned his head back on the back of the couch, staring at the ceiling.

  I looked up, “Anything interesting up there?” I asked him.

  He turned to me then grinned, “Nah, just thinking.” I gave him an inquiring look. “I used to crash on Cara’s couch all the time. So couch surfing is down to a science for me.”

  I grinned, “Are you trying to ease my conscience or guilt trip me?”

  He laughed quietly. “Midnight snack?” he suggested.

  I nodded and we headed to the kitchen. He grabbed an ice cream out of the freezer, offering one to me. I opted for a banana and a small glass of chocolate milk instead; I was cold enough without adding frozen food to my system.

  I shivered, a chill rolling through my body in an unpleasant wave. Michael suggested we turn on the electric fireplace. It was set up across from the couch, moving the other couch out of the way to provide warmth for the room during the colder months. We sat down, snacks in hand.

  He pointed to my hair, mussed but still intricate. “Cool braid.”

  I smiled, “Syla did it, said that she took up braiding as a hobby sometime in the early 1800s. You might need to up your braiding game even more.”

  He jabbed my side, making me squeak in surprise.

  “Shh, Drew, you’ll wake up everybody. So rude…”

  I punched his arm and he rubbed at it, jutting out his bottom lip in a fake pout. I grinned and a small laugh escaped me.

  “You didn’t cover your smile,” he said softly. “It lights up your whole face.”

  My stomach fluttered, and I tried to change the subject. “Night sure seems to last forever in the winter.”

  “I’m sure a smart lady like you already knows why,” Michael decided to play along.

  “Something to do with the tilt of the Earth and its rotation around the sun. I don’t recall all of the specifics.” Michael nodded along as if he remembered that particular science lesson too. “Do you like the winter?” I asked him.

  “I’m more of a summer guy, that’s when Ren Faire season is – peak me.” He winked and my stomach fluttered. “What about you?”

  I gave it a quick thought. “I like autumn. The smells, the holidays, the colors in the trees. The only thing that sucks is here in Seattle, the persistent rain makes autumn particularly wet. But, I get to break out my favorite scarf after it’s been packed since late spring.” I added at the end.

  He glanced at my throat, then asked with a somewhat sleepy smile, “Should we try to get some more sleep?” His voice was gentle. Too gentle.

  “Voice of reason? No fun.” I stuck my tongue out at him, trying to lighten the mood. “Just as well, I suck at keeping my volume down.”

  I stood but he held my hand, making me stop. “That doesn’t mean that I don’t want you to stay here until I fall asleep.” I smiled, knowing he’d done exactly that for me before. Even though we were both quite awake, he moved where he was laying down so I could sit with his head in my lap.

  He laid down, and I threaded my fingers through his hair. He purred, a low rumble in my lap. I tried to ignore what that sound did to my insides and kept stroking his hair. His eyes fluttered open and he looked up at me, soft as ever. “Thanks.”

  I brushed his hair gently. “Any time.” He drifted off quickly beneath my hand.

  We’ll need more than charm and braids if we want to face Nikola. He's still out there, sharpening his teeth. But for now, we have each other.

  The repetitive motion soothed me too, and before I could get up, I fell asleep as well, Michael’s head in my lap and my hand in his hair.

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