The Boston skyline glitters like a jewelry box full of diamonds as Emily's car descends into the underground parking garage beneath Maeve's downtown penthouse. The concrete walls swallow us whole, replacing the city lights with harsh fluorescents that flicker.
My brain has been churning since we left the hockey game, trying to process this bizarre reality where women dominate everything from hockey to government. But there's an even more pressing question that's been burning a hole in my mind since I discovered vampires exist.
As Emily pulls into a parking space and cuts the engine, I decide it's now or never.
"Hey Emily, quick vampire question," I say, turning toward her in my seat.
She pockets her keys and glances over. "What's up?"
"Do vampires like period blood? Will they feed on it?"
The silence that follows is so complete I swear I can hear dust particles settling on the dashboard. Emily's face goes through a fascinating journey, shock, disbelief, resignation, and finally something like exhausted acceptance. She sighs for what feels like an eternity, her shoulders slumping as she pinches the bridge of her nose.
"This is one of the biggest questions I get from non-vampires, I swear to god," she finally says, composing herself. "No, we don't feed off it. It's not really valuable blood. It's deoxygenated and mostly just shed uterine wall tissue."
"Damn," I say, genuinely disappointed.
Emily narrows her eyes at me. "Why 'damn'?"
"I was just curious if it was like... a delicacy or something. You know, like how some foods are an acquired taste?" I shrug, unbuckling my seatbelt. "Plus, wouldn't it be convenient? Like a monthly delivery service."
"Yeah, I get it," she says with forced patience. "I'm sure some vampires do it. But they'd need to feed on regular blood as well."
"That's too bad," I sigh.
Emily rolls her eyes and reaches for her door handle. As she steps out of the car, something blurs in my peripheral vision, a shadow that shouldn't be moving that fast.
Before I can even shout a warning, a figure in black launches from between two parked cars, slamming into Emily with enough force to send her crashing against the concrete pillar. The attacker is slim but moves with inhuman speed, a black hood pulled over their head and a mask covering the lower half of their face.
"Emily!" I yell, fumbling with my seatbelt as I watch them grapple.
The attacker has Emily pinned, one hand clamped firmly over her mouth. There's a glint of metal, a knife or some kind of blade, pressing against Emily's throat. Despite being caught off guard, Emily isn't going down without a fight. She twists violently, driving her knee upward into her assailant's ribs with a sickening crack.
The hooded figure barely flinches.
I finally manage to push open the car door and stumble out, my heart hammering against my ribcage. My eyes lock on Emily and her attacker still wrestling against the pillar. Without thinking, I grab the first potential weapon I can find, Emily's metal travel mug from the cup holder.
The hooded figure sees me emerge and reaches into their pocket, pulling out what looks like a small glass vial filled with red liquid. They smash it against Emily's face. The liquid splatters across her skin and Emily's struggles immediately weaken, her body going slack as her eyes roll back in her head.
"Fuck!" The word escapes my lips as pure fear floods my system. Emily collapses to the ground, completely unconscious, and the attacker turns toward me.
I raise the travel mug in front of me like it's some kind of shield, which is probably the most pathetic defense in human history. The hooded figure freezes, studying me. As our eyes meet, I notice they're a piercing gray color, cold and calculating, until something shifts in them, softening almost imperceptibly.
"You're a man?" The voice is female, slightly muffled behind the mask but unmistakably shocked.
"Yeah..."
She stands from her crouched position beside Emily's unconscious form, movements slow and cautious like she's approaching a frightened animal.
"It's okay," she says, her voice gentler now. "I'm not going to hurt you. You're free to go."
I blink at her, confused. "I'm not being held captive."
She tilts her head. "Oh," she says slowly. "Are you being compelled right now?"
"What? No…"
"Listen," she interrupts, stepping closer and gripping my shoulders. "You are safe. It's okay."
She gives me a little shake, probably meant to be reassuring but actually just jarring. As my head whips back, I feel the telltale warmth of blood trickling from my nose, another bloody nose at the worst possible moment.
The woman's gray eyes widen dramatically as she spots the blood, pupils dilating so fast it's like watching ink spread through water. Her entire body seems to vibrate with sudden tension, her fingers digging into my shoulders.
"What are you?" she whispers, her face now inches from mine as she pulls down her mask completely. I notice her teeth. Sharp fangs now extending as she stares at the blood dripping down to my lip.
Fuck.
"I don't know."