Teeth

Chapter Fourteen

The second night with Thomas went a lot faster than the first. It was also much more enjoyable seeing as he didn't have to spend two hours tracking the guy and three hours convincing him that he was in fact a vampire. Thomas seemed much more at ease since this time he'd chosen a woman to bite. Spencer had to admit that he was surprised when Thomas had been perfectly charming with the woman and managed to get her outside. He had an easy, self-deprecating humour that she'd found endearing. Hell, Spencer figured he'd have found it attractive if it had been directed at him.

He'd made a mess again, pulling away far too much flesh. Spencer tried to show him how to get a clean puncture but he couldn't remember exactly how August had shown him when it had been his first kills. He didn't remember ever making that much of a mess of someone's neck but then again he didn't remember much of his first days at all. Nothing except August.

"So, how does it work?" Thomas asked, swilling his beer around the bottom of the bottle. "Turning?"

Spencer lifted his head to look at him. They still had a couple of hours until sunrise and, having both fed, they'd decided to head back to the house. Thomas, however, was still finding rooms stuffy and uncomfortable, so they'd retreated to the back garden, sprawled out on the grass with cold beers.

"Physiologically?" he asked. "No idea. And I ain't about to sign up to be the lab rat that helps them figure it out."

"Practically, I mean. How does someone do it?"

Spencer pushed himself up, leaning back on his hands as he surveyed Thomas thoughtfully.

"Well, first of all, you don't."

"I don't follow."

"We're not allowed," he explained. "There are very strict rules to living here. We all chip in with work and money, get blood if people can't get out for themselves, and we don't turn people."

"That doesn't make any sense. If you're not allowed to turn people, then why am I here?"

Spencer looked away from him, staring into the black shadows of the trees that lined the garden. He'd not considered having to be the one to explain all this to him. Explaining the practical lessons of how to feed was one thing, but he didn't think he was the best person to tell Thomas about Cleo.

"Sometimes people break the rules."

"And what happens?" Thomas asked casually.

"Do you remember much about turning?"

"There are gaps. That guy, August, said I'd been there three days, but I don't remember it being that long."

"You remember being with someone?"

"The woman, yes," Thomas answered. "She was there for me to drink, right? To complete the process."

Spencer shook his head.

"Her name was Cleo," he said quietly. "She was the one who turned you."

Thomas stared at his beer for a long time. Running his finger around the mouth of the bottle, he licked his lips and gulped.

"You knew her?" he asked finally, his voice no more than a breath of a whisper.

"We all did," Spencer said. "Cleo was one of the oldest of us. She..."

Spencer fell silent. He grabbed his beer from where he'd stood it in the grass and took a large gulp, focusing on the soft taste.

"She what?"

"She was like a mother, or a big sister, something like that, to a lot of us."

Thomas sat silently, his lips parted, his eyes staring at nothing. The taste of alcohol on his breath danced in the breeze. Spencer held his breath.