North American Vampire Council & Past Calling (Hypernaturals 12 & 13)

Especially Horrible

"Morgan: It is not only all of that extended family thing. You have changed." Sam said. "Look at you! You are not that much younger than me! In your forties now. You never used to wear makeup. Still don't that I can see. No earrings. Nothing. Did you decide to get plastic surgery? Maybe because all of your family is so young, and you wanted to not look a different age?"

A cop making a human assumption. Also, he already noted Angel looks young, so off the mark. Sam knows Angel is in his and Morgan's age range. Sam spent years looking at Morgan, so he knows what she looked like back then with a much higher level of intimacy.

"Sam, Sam, Sam: Still me here." Morgan chided and tapped herself on the chest. "I have not had any work done. Not anything. Not ever."

Not counting one neck and boob chomp that turned her.

This is the number one thing Morgan worried about. Sam knows her. From a while back. He has aged. She hasn't.

"Well. Look at you. You look like you are the same age as when we worked together. Even younger, maybe. Hard to remember exactly, of course." Sam sounded frustrated.

"Sam: Every adult in that picture is at least in their thirties." Morgan said. I raised my hand, as that is me. I am a child bride. "Women of course do not like to talk about their age, but Denise is the oldest and fifty or so. We don't celebrate adult birthdays. Just the kids."

Because Vampires tend to count by decades and then by centuries. An annual birthday would feel like all you ever do is have birthdays. By that reckoning, Helen and Denise are almost six. I am not one yet.

Morgan hopped off the desk, leaned into Sam's face. With her index finger, Morgan made a circle of the perimeter of her face running along her hairline, in front of her ear, down and under her jaw, across, and back up to her hair. "Sam: surgery like you are describing, no matter how good the surgeon, would leave scars you could see up close. A facelift. Also, hair die would be visible at my roots after mere days of coloring it. Look. Really closely. You know my face: You sat at a desk opposite it for years. You see anything other than my normal skin? My natural brown hair?"

Not counting her white strip. Right now that looks like hair processing gone wrong.

Morgan offered her chin, the side of her face. She pulled her hair apart on her scalp in case they buried the line of surgery up beyond the hairline.

Sam was taken aback by her proximity but studied Morgan's face closely when offered.

I would.

"OK. You have not had any work done. You really look like that." Sam said, slightly dumbfounded. "So... Diet? Exercise?"

Still close in near Sam's face, Morgan gave Sam a very warm smile. "I am, as you said, in my forties. I know I looked like death warmed over when I left Houston, from the stress of it all. I felt like I was over one hundred. Now? I am happy. So very happy. For the first time in my entire miserable life, I am happy. Look at Angel. Same thing. She is older than I am."

"Be... Damned." Sam said.

Morgan's sales pitch plan to Sam and Ken was now revealed to me. I am not sure when she decided on this path. She looks the way she does because she is happy. I'll take it.

Morgan resumed her perch next to me. Added: "I know you are thinking: What did I have to be miserable about? Youngest detective ever, not to mention the youngest female detective. You and I had a closure rate that no one could even come close to. I had Dad. Angel. Eunice. Lisa. Ken. Why was I miserable? Because I am me. I hated being told who I could make love with. I hated that I changed some of what I did, as a person, based on the pressure. I have apologized to DeWayne about that. It was wrong. It got Wendell killed, and while I made them pay, to the point that I killed one of them, that did not bring Wendell back. I should have taken them on sooner and kept that between myself and them. Wendell died because I stupidly hoped they would tire of their game."