“Of course not.”
“Usually the cops look first at the boyfriend, but she hadn’t been seeing any one guy exclusively. MPDC ruled me out quickly because everyone in my study group alibied me. Detectives asked me to submit a DNA sample, though, so they could run it against the DNA the crime scene unit collected, exclude me and Dana, and see what they were left with. When I did, all hell broke loose. They said there was something up with my DNA, that they had found something in it that didn’t make sense or didn’t belong.”
Bastien tightened his hold on her hand. “Are you a gifted one, Melanie?”
She nodded. “They wanted me to go to the hospital so they could run some tests. I was freaking out, thinking I had some sort of incurable genetic disease or something.”
“I’ll bet.”
“Then two men showed up and introduced themselves as Chris Reordon and Seth. All of the medical personnel got these weird blank looks on their faces, turned, and filed out of the room.”
“Seth erased their memory of you?”
“Yes. And Mr. Reordon took care of the physical evidence, both that collected by the police and any mention of it in their computers. I still don’t know how he did that.”
“He may be an asshole, but I’ve heard he can work wonders.”
“He did. They explained what I was, why I was different and, when I mentioned I was interested in studying medicine, Mr. Reordon asked me if I’d like a job. I said, hell yes. The network took over paying my college tuition and . . . the rest is history.”
Bastien wondered if Chris’s knowing her so long would be a plus or a minus now that she wished to pursue her attraction to him. Would Chris feel betrayed and be all the more pissed? Or would he be less inclined to extend his distrust of Bastien to include her?
“What is your gift?” he asked curiously. He hadn’t noticed anything during the time they had spent together.
She wrinkled her nose. “Precognition that’s really too weak to benefit me. Sometimes I know the phone is going to ring before it rings. Or that a package will be delivered. Or just when and where to swing a bar stool to break up a fight between a hardheaded immortal and his vampire friend.”
He smiled. No wonder she was so good at anticipating vampires’ moves.
“Sometimes I’ll get an . . . uneasy feeling . . . when something bad is about to happen. I felt it the night my parents were killed in an accident. I felt it the day Vincent had his last break. I felt it the night Dana was killed.”
He mulled that over while he finished the last few bites of pot pie. The younger the immortal, the weaker his or her gift. Seth said it was a result of the gifted ones’ bloodline being diluted many times over with that of ordinary humans. Sarah hadn’t even realized she had a gift, which was actually a little bit similar to Melanie’s. Sarah’s dreams were prophetic, just not literally so. According to what he’d heard at David’s, there were always symbols that needed to be deciphered. If, say, she and Roland were about to face a life and death situation, Sarah didn’t see it unfold in her dreams as it would happen in the days that followed. Instead she dreamed about tornadoes or some shit.
“Did you feel any uneasiness before we went hunting tonight?”
She hesitated. “Yes.”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“I thought it was nerves. And concern. I was worried about you and excited about spending time with you and nervous about hunting vampires for the first time . . .”
He was such an ass. Melanie had an internal shit’s-about-to-happen warning system and he was jumping up and down inside because she had been excited about spending time with him.
“I also wasn’t sure how to bring up the whole I’m a gifted one thing,” she continued. “I didn’t want it to seem like . . .” She gave an embarrassed laugh and started to withdraw her hand.
Bastien didn’t let her. “Tell me.” He could feel her reluctance to tell him and wanted to know what was causing the flush to creep up her neck.
She sighed. “I knew you were aware of my attraction to you and didn’t want it to seem like I was . . . I don’t know, trying to make myself seem more appealing to you, like I was saying, ‘Hey, you should totally date me because I can be transformed,’ or something.”
That’s right. She could be transformed. If he actually thought she could fall in love with him and that she could do so without facing pretty damned dismal consequences, he would be bouncing off the walls right now.
“Have you . . . thought about being transformed?” Subtle.
She nodded. “Down the line sometime. I’m not really ready to give up the sun.” She smiled ruefully. “Or my favorite foods. That sounds pathetic, I know, but there you have it. I know all of you immortals only eat organic, and most of my favorite foods and snacks are anything but.”
“Well, I hate to tell you this, but those favorite foods won’t taste the same to you after your transformation.”
She frowned. “They won’t? Why?”
He motioned to his nose and his eyes. “Our sense of smell and our vision aren’t the only senses that were heightened during our transformation. Our sense of taste was, too.”
Cool. “Then my favorite foods will be even yummier.”
“A hundred years ago, I would’ve said yes. But now . . . We can taste every individual ingredient.” He nodded at the pot pie. “I can taste every spice and every vegetable in this pie and tell you in what proportions they were used.”
Melanie may not be able to judge the proportions, but she could taste many of those flavors, too. “And . . . ?”
He gave her an apologetic smile. “And I can taste the difference between vanilla and synthetic vanillin. Or the difference between an organic chocolate bar made with seventy-three percent cacao and one of the chocolate bars I’ve seen you eat that contains twenty-five percent cacao and makes up the difference with vegetable oil and artificial flavoring. It’s as obvious as the difference in taste between turkey and tofurky would be to you.”
Melanie stared at him. “Are you telling me that all of my favorite foods are going to taste like crap after I’m transformed?”
“Not the organic ones.”
“I don’t eat organic!”
He motioned to the pie. “That’s organic. You like the taste of that, don’t you?”
“Yes, but . . .” Crestfallen, she said, “That sucks.”
“Not as much as you might think. I heard Sarah say making the switch isn’t as hard today as it would’ve been forty years ago because there’s an organic version of most of her favorite snacks. And, on the up side, you gain near immortality and never age or get sick again.”
“Which is why I’ll probably ask to be transformed at some point in the future. Just not now.” She winked. “I like junk food too much.”
He laughed.
Squeezing his hand, she sobered. “Listen. Since we’re spending more time together, and considering my near-death experience earlier, I feel like I should tell you that if something should happen to me—”
“It won’t. I won’t let it.”
Lowering her fork, she covered their clasped hands. “Let me finish.”
He nodded, silently vowing to do everything he could to keep her out of danger in the future.
“If anything should happen to me, if I’m fatally wounded and the network can’t save me and no immortal healers can be reached, I want to be transformed.”
Her trust and her confidence that he would see that her wishes were carried out flowed into him via his gift, making his heart pound. “You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.” Her lips tilted up in a small smile. “I may love junk food, but I don’t love it enough that I think life isn’t worth living without it. And I can still enjoy the sun from a distance. I may not be able to go out and frolic in it—”