The Vampire's Pastry Chef (ONC 2022)

17 - Vampire 101

It was a miracle that they were here, Corbin thought as they lay tangled together in Autumn's bed. Even more so, because he didn't think he'd make it out of that fight with the Fallen.

He never considered himself a hero, nor a fighter. He was exactly what everyone saw him for—a boring, predictable professor who liked to paint and garden. But when he heard Autumn scream, it tore him out of his reflective state of mind and awakened a feral part of his nature he didn't know existed.

The part that supposedly separated Knowing from Fallen.

Even as Autumn fled, Corbin felt his reason retreat into the background, replaced by the beast that warped skin and bones. The Fallen was old and crafty, but starving; it was only through a combination of luck and fury that Corbin was able to disable it by tearing off two limbs until Neville arrived with a silver stake, a gallon of gasoline, and a barbeque lighter.

Even now, with Autumn's warm body curled against his, Corbin could still smell the putrid black blood and taste the venom in his mouth. For centuries, the masters were quite clear—Knowing were superior, Fallen were failures. But they both wore the same face in the end.

"So, when were you going to tell me you're a vampire?" Autumn asked, breaking Corbin's somber contemplations. "When I realized you hadn't aged?"

Corbin tilted his head down to where she rested her cheek on his chest. One of her legs was thrown across his lower body and he idly traced circles on the outside of her knee. "Honestly, I hadn't thought that far ahead," he replied, smoothing the hair back from her face with his free hand. He loved how beautiful she looked with it streaming out behind her—especially over the pillows.

She chuckled at that. "Okay. Now, how old are you?"

"Forty."

"Forty?" Autumn rose up just enough to look him in the face. "Really?"

His lips curled up at the edges. "Two hundred and fifty-six."

Autumn clapped a hand to her mouth, eyes wide; as she lowered herself back down to his chest, she was shaking with laughter. "Oh, my God. That's going to take some getting used to."

Corbin curled his arm around her. "Just think of me as forty. That's the age I was when I ascended."

With his night-sight, Corbin watched Autumn's eyes roll up as she did the math. "You were alive for the Revolution?"

"Yes."

"Did you meet George Washington?"

She asked the question with such excitement that he was loathe to tell her the truth. "No, I was ten when that happened and too young to enlist."

Autumn pouted slightly. "So all those things you told me about yourself—?"

"All true," he asserted, "but with some alterations. I spent quite a few decades bouncing around colleges and universities as a painting instructor. And it took decades to amass my fortune."

"So, there's an old Yale or Harvard yearbook out there with your picture?"

"I taught before photography was perfected, and after it was, I conspicuously made myself absent."

"Huh," she remarked thoughtfully.

They lapsed into a comfortable silence. Corbin busied himself with running his hand up and down her leg, making Autumn shiver.

"I do have to know," she said after a while, "is this illegal? You and me, I mean. Human and ... vampire? Your Russian friend made it seem so."

Corbin's hand paused and he briefly looked up at the ceiling. Damn Nastya. "She's not my friend and no, it's not. In fact, three of my guests have servant spouses."

"Servant?"

"It's an outdated term," he was quick to explain. "But no one has been able to agree on what the new one should be."

"What is a servant, exactly? Beyond the obvious."

"Servants are trusted members of a ... vampire's household." He decided to use the more popular term for Autumn's sake. "Like us, they're immortal and possess heightened senses and strength. But none of our healing ability ... or the other things you saw tonight."

Autumn nodded. "And how do you become a vampire—or a servant?"

"I can't tell you about the vampiric selection process or the Test, but I can tell you that we are able to nominate members of our households to become servants."

She studied his face and he could see dozens of questions flicker behind her eyes. He'd tell her everything she wanted to know except that. Not even he would break those laws.

Eventually, Autumn sighed. "There's just so much to take in," she admitted.

"I wouldn't worry about understanding it all at once," he told her. "I'll answer your questions as we go along."

"I'll have to tell Jordyn. If you and I are going to be a thing, I won't lie to her."

Corbin didn't expect anything less. He knew from the beginning that they were a package deal and he was more than willing to take care of them both. Besides, he genuinely liked the teenager; she was just the kind of child he wished he could have had.

"Are we a 'thing'?" he asked mischievously, sliding his hand up the back of her thigh.

Autumn squeaked as his fingers found a particularly sensitive spot and jerked her leg out of his grasp. "Yes!" she retorted with a mock slap to his chest.

Corbin grinned.

Autumn glowered at him but dissolved into giggles. "How anyone could say that you're boring is beyond me."

"I'm glad that you think so," he told her, kissing her forehead.

She reached up and pulled his face down, running the tip of her tongue along his lower lip. Corbin growled—the good kind—and rolled towards her. Smiling wickedly against his lips, Autumn let her hand trail down his chest, over his abdomen, and dip beneath the covers. His eyes widened, then he groaned as her fingers began to coax him to attention.

"You are a wicked woman," he murmured.

"A woman in bed with a vampire," she replied, working black magic with her fingers.

Corbin could not disagree.