Chapter Twenty-Four Reginald Amelia

TWENTY-FOUR

Minutes from emergency board meeting of The Collective

Present: Guinevere, George, Giuseppe, Philippa, Gregorio, John, Miss Pennywhistle, Patricia Benicio Hewitt

Absent: Alexandria, Maurice J. Pettigrew

Called to order: 9:15 PM

Memorial Hymns sung to The Founding Eight: Led by Philippa

NEW BUSINESS:

The Search for Reginald Cleaves : We had him, and then lost him again just when vengeance for our ancestors appeared within reach. Devastating! One bright spot: while in Wisconsin we gleaned through context clues that R.C. now has a human paramour. This knowledge may be of use. Committee formed to think through options.

Nonprofit Business : J.R. will soon meet with our accounting firm to get the “Wyatt Foundation’s” tax filings in order. Giuseppe once again argued that having a nonprofit arm “is stupid,” given that we are vampires. Remainder of board reminded him that the more layers of legitimacy The Collective can acquire, the more likely it is the rest of the vampiric world will finally take us seriously. Plus, our accountant says it will save us on our state tax bill and lower our marginal income tax rate (whatever that is).

J.R. polled board members on what additional information to send the accountant handling our affairs.

Meeting adjourned: 10:15 PM

Next meeting: April 15, 9:15 PM. Philippa to provide refreshments.

Reginald

Everything hurt.

I liked to think of myself as every bit the flyer I’d been in my youth. But I had to face facts: I was slipping. A hundred years ago I could have made it from Amelia’s cabin to Freddie’s home as quickly as a car could make the trip today, but yesterday’s trip had taken me nearly ten hours.

Of course, it hadn’t helped that I’d suffered an injury to my right biceps from that idiot vampire’s pathetic attempt at staking me outside the cabin.

That flock of Canada geese that assaulted me en route hadn’t helped, either. Vicious creatures. How the hell was I supposed to know my flight path would intersect with their spring migration?

I closed my eyes and settled back against the pillows in Freddie’s spare bedroom, unable to stop the smile from spreading across my face despite my physical injuries. My body would heal soon enough. But if Amelia hadn’t forgiven me for taking off when I did, that pain would have lingered much longer.

I’d have to ask the bullet journal Discord ladies for suggestions on a gift I could get her to make up for what I’d done. So far, all of their relationship advice had proved remarkably sound.

A knock on the bedroom door. “Are you decent?” Freddie’s voice filtered into the room from the hallway.

I sat up in bed, wincing at the ache in my side from yesterday’s overexertion. “Yeah.”

He opened the door and poked his head in. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I just flew hundreds of miles with an injured arm while fending off angry birds.” I shrugged. “Could be worse.”

Freddie hummed sympathetically. “Cassie’s warming something up for you if you’re hungry.”

My eyes went wide. “I am hungry. But Cassie’s warming it up for me?”

“This surprises you?”

The first time Cassie and I met, I’d just introduced her to the existence of vampirism by drinking a bag of blood directly in front of her, outing her roommate Frederick as a vampire in the process. It had admittedly been a dick move on my part, even if her reaction had been one of the funniest things to personally happen to me in decades.

“I thought the only thing Cassie hated more than me was being exposed to what we eat,” I said, honestly.

“She is unlikely to chair the Reginald Cleaves Fan Club anytime soon,” he acknowledged with a wry grin. “But she’s coming around to the idea of what we eat. Which is good timing, given what we have planned.”

His grin was so brilliant it made my chest ache. “Wow. So you’re going through with it? You’re going to turn her?”

He nodded. “She beat me to it and asked before I did.”

When he left the room again, my mind drifted to Amelia. Again. I’d thought about her endlessly since leaving Wisconsin, no matter how hard I tried to think about anything else. For the first time in over a century, I thought I could see the appeal of getting close enough to another person to risk the pain of eventually losing them.

My mind spun with possibilities of what a future with Amelia might look like. Weekend trips to her family’s cabin, preferably in the summer when there was no risk of snow. Breakfasts at her apartment, where I’d make her pancakes (with the correct amount of baking soda next time).

Nights in my bed, where I showed her exactly how much she meant to me.

I could never ask her to make the same choice Cassie was making and become what I was. But I could no longer lie to myself and say I didn’t want her. Amelia hadn’t flinched that night in the snow when I’d told her exactly who I was and what I’d done. Instead, she took me into her arms like I deserved to be there.

Her acceptance and understanding weren’t anything I’d be able to forget. In this lifetime, or the next.

It was probably irrational for me to think Amelia might want to be with me beyond what we’d already agreed to. But I was nothing if not irrational. I was greedy and selfish, too. I’d take any amount of time Amelia was willing to give me and be grateful for it.

And I was just presumptuous enough to believe that maybe, just maybe, I could make her happy, too.

Amelia

When I made it back to my apartment the following afternoon, I was greeted by Gracie, curled up on the sofa, and a note from Sophie.

Ame,

Gracie and I had a lovely time while you were away. Your mail is on the kitchen counter.

I want a FULL report on what happened in Wisconsin when you get home and no, I’m NOT talking about the snow.

—S

I’d wanted to see Reggie as soon as I got home, but he’d used Frederick’s phone to call again while I was on the road to tell me I shouldn’t come over until that night.

“I want to be sure The Collective isn’t tracking me first,” he’d said, sounding apologetic. “An old witch friend of Frederick’s is setting up his apartment with wards. You can come over once she’s finished.”

So witches were real too, then? I guess nothing should have surprised me by that point.

After unpacking, I put the extra time to use by seeing what I could find about The Collective online. I had low expectations, though. Vampires were apparently very real and living among us, yet aside from a few conspiracy theories I’d seen over the years, vampires hadn’t even been a blip on my radar until now.

But there had to be something online outside of conspiracy theories. It defied credibility that a gang of undead creatures could parade about without someone on TikTok putting visual evidence out there.

I started with Frederick’s claim that they liked to stage blood bank break-ins the morning following stadium concerts, Googling first stadium concerts worldwide since 2015 and then blood bank break-ins worldwide since 2015 . I got two different enormous lists of hits, most of them containing links to local newspaper articles. I had zero confidence either list was complete, and didn’t know what I would even do with them if they were. But it felt good to be proactive.

I desperately needed to email the Wyatt Foundation confirming our upcoming meeting. I’d gotten no work done while I was in Wisconsin, and this was time sensitive. After that was handled, I’d start cross-referencing these Internet lists and see if there was a pattern I could put together from the results.

·······

“Are you sure it’s okay if I drop by?” I asked when Frederick called to tell me his ward-casting friend had left.

“Please do,” he insisted. “Cassie made photocopies of the sections of The Annals relevant to The Collective. And God’s thumbs, please take Reginald with you when you go. He’s been here ever since leaving Wisconsin and he’s annoying me.”

Frederick and Cassie’s apartment wasn’t hard to find. It was in an affluent part of Lincoln Park close enough to the lake that it was buffeted by winds in both winter and summer. Temperatures had mellowed after the blizzard that had hit Wisconsin, but by the time I got to Frederick’s fancy brownstone, the wind chill was enough to make me pull my scarf more tightly around myself to ward off the cold.

I hesitated when I got to the third floor and stood facing their apartment. Suddenly, the idea of entering a vampire’s home had me on edge. Reggie would never hurt me, and if Frederick posed a threat, Sam wouldn’t be as okay with Cassie living with him as he seemed to be. Even still, now that the moment was here, I was nervous.

What if I interrupted them while they were eating or something? Reggie had made oblique references to eating, and I knew they drank blood. I’d been okay with it in theory. But seeing it in person?

I didn’t think I could handle that. Not even if they drank their dinners from blood donation bags.

In the end, my desire to see Reggie won out over fear.

I knocked on the door.

Cassie opened it.

“Amelia.” She smiled at me, though I couldn’t tell if she was happy to see me or not. We’d never been close, and although I’d never said anything to her about it, I’d always assumed she knew I hadn’t thought much of her when we were younger.

It was immediately obvious that she’d changed over the past several months. Her stance was confident, poised. For the first time since I’d known her, she looked like someone who believed in herself. I didn’t know if it was from Frederick’s supportive influence or from the new teaching job Sam had mentioned she’d just started. Whatever the cause, it was a good look on her.

“It’s nice to see you, Cassie,” I said, smiling back at her. I hoped she read the sincerity in my expression. “Is, uh…is Reggie here?”

She opened the door wider and motioned for me to come inside. “He’s in the spare bedroom, working on his bullet journal.”

“Working on his what?”

Cassie’s smile grew. “His bullet journal. It’s something we suggested he try when this whole mess started to process his feelings. It seems to be helping a lot. Have you ever tried bullet journaling?”

I shook my head. “I don’t even know what it is.”

“Oh, I think you’d like it,” she said. At my skeptical look, she said, “Reginald was skeptical, too, at first. Now he’s hooked. Even Frederick has decided to give it a try.”

For one mad instant I thought to ask her what it was like, dating a vampire. Living with one. Loving him. I thought she might be about to volunteer this information without my asking, but then in the next minute, she was making her way into the kitchen, leaving me to find Reggie on my own.

It was just as well. This whole situation was already strange enough. I didn’t think I was ready for a heart-to-heart about it with Cassie Greenberg.

The apartment was like someone had taken an antique, formal living space and splashed it with multiple coats of Disneyland. The living room featured an ornate Oriental rug, matching leather couches, and dark mahogany furniture, as well as several framed landscapes to which neon-painted beach trash seemed to have been glued. One of the couches, which looked like it must have cost thousands of dollars, had a bright green Kermit the Frog throw draped across the back.

Even before I knew Frederick was a vampire, I had a vague recollection of Sam telling me that Cassie and her boyfriend had little in common. The decorative evidence suggested that their differences went far beyond diet.

When I got to the end of the hallway, I knocked on the door to what I assumed was the spare bedroom.

“Go away,” Reggie shouted from within. “I’ve finally got the stickers where I like them.”

Stickers? “It’s me.”

A pause, and then the unmistakable sound of a person trying to shove a bunch of things underneath the bed. “Just a minute!” he squeaked.

When he threw open the door several awkward moments later, his hair was standing nearly on end, as though he’d spent the whole time since I’d last seen him tugging on it with anxious hands.

I hadn’t even realized until that moment just how worried I’d been. Without thinking about it, I reached up and tried to gently smooth some of his hair back down again. It was a lost cause, but Reggie didn’t seem to mind. His eyes slid closed in reflexive pleasure at my touch. I took in the way he was favoring his right leg, and the bandage that covered a good portion of his right forearm. “Are you all right?” I asked, alarmed.

“I am now that you’re here.”

“I mean it,” I said. “How badly are you hurt?”

“I’m not hurt at all. I promise.” I could tell from the way he wouldn’t meet my eyes that he was lying. But then, if whatever was wrong with him had been serious, Frederick would have said something.

For the moment, I decided to let it go. In an echo of all the times Reggie had asked me the same question, I asked, “Can I come in?”

He grinned, all straight white teeth and boyish charm, clearly glad for the change of subject. “Please do. Let me give you a tour of the place where I’ve been crashing while Frederick’s friend wards my apartment.” He waved theatrically to the room we were standing in. “Actually, this is it.”

The bedroom had a similar vibe to the rest of the apartment. Which was to say, the furniture was gorgeous and very obviously antique, while the art on the walls pushed the definition of eyesore .

Reggie caught me staring at the canvas that hung over the bed. It was covered in what looked a lot like soda straws. He said, by way of explanation, “Cassie loves making this shit. I guess that means Frederick loves it, too.”

“How do they manage it?”

He frowned at me. “Manage what?”

I shrugged, then gestured vaguely to our surroundings. “You know. The whole vampire-human-relationship thing.”

“Ah. That.” Reggie reached up and rubbed at the back of his neck. “Honestly, even leaving that part aside, I can’t think of two people who are more different. But I know they’re happy, and almost disgustingly in love. So they must manage well enough.” He paused, then added, “I don’t think it’s going to be a vampire-human relationship for much longer.”

My mind shorted out. “You mean he’s going to— She’s—”

He nodded. “Frederick told me just before you came over, though I know they’ve been talking about him turning her for a while. Last night there was a copy of What to Expect When You Become a Vampire on the dining room table.”

I stared at him. “That cannot be an actual book.”

“It is,” he said. “It’s apparently the seminal work on the subject. I flipped through it last night and although I’ve been a vampire for centuries, even I picked up a few things.” He shook his head ruefully. “Wish it had been around back in the 1740s when I was full of questions.”

My head was spinning.

Cassie was becoming a vampire because she’d fallen in love with one.

It was too much to process.

Suddenly it was difficult to look Reggie in the eye, so I averted my gaze. I spied a strip of lacy pink ribbon sticking out from beneath the bed. I wouldn’t have noticed it, given that it wasn’t out of place with the rest of the apartment’s eclectic decor, if I hadn’t for sure heard Reggie trying to hide something in here before I came in.

“What is that?” I asked, pointing.

His eyes went wide. “Oh, it’s nothing.” He jostled me in his rush to get to the bed, then kicked whatever it was further beneath it.

Okay, now I was really curious. I bent down and, before Reggie could stop me, extracted something that looked like it was part journal, part art project made by an exuberant fifteen-year-old who’d just learned how to work a hot glue gun. It was so full of scraps and bits and bobs that the cover barely closed.

“Is this your bullet journal?” I was tempted to start leafing through the pages. But if a bullet journal was anything like a regular journal, this had Reggie’s private thoughts in it. It wasn’t my place to pry.

He swallowed. “How do you know about my bullet journal?”

“Cassie told me.”

“Great,” he muttered. He eased the thing from my hands, then set it carefully down on the bed. “Yes, it’s my bullet journal. It’s helped me. Emotionally, or mentally, or whatever. More than I thought it would when I started.”

The vulnerability in his voice was unmistakable. “It’s none of my business what you write about in here, of course,” I said. “But if it’s helping you process what you’re going through, I think it’s a good thing.”

“Most of the entries aren’t about The Collective.”

Reggie opened the journal’s cover. And then he began to slowly turn the pages, one at a time, giving me a few moments to look at each one before turning to the next one, and then the next.

The first entries were very short, the multiple cross-outs and terse lists making it obvious he’d at first been full of disdain for the entire idea of keeping a journal. That changed quickly, though. The entries soon became more vibrant? incorporating bits of fabric and markers and brightly colored stickers to track his thoughts.

“How long have you been keeping this?” I asked, marveling at the sheer attention to detail in some of the later entries. Flowers that must have taken hours to draw. Stickers that came in every color of the rainbow. “Where did you even find pipe cleaners in that shade of purple?”

“I found this website where bullet journalers share tips,” he explained. “You wouldn’t believe how well-resourced these people are. Not to mention how freewheeling some of them are with life advice.”

I stared at him. “You chat with people online?”

“Not people,” he clarified. “Bullet journalers. But yes. And to answer your other question, I started this project right before I met you, though the timing on that is just a coincidence. But let’s not get sidetracked. I want to show you this page at the back. I spent a lot of time on it.” He paused. “It’s what I was working on when you knocked on my door.”

He closed his eyes and seemed to gather his courage. Then he flipped to the last completed page. It was, in truth, a bit of an eyesore. He’d festooned it with pink and purple ribbons, and written the passage in blue, glittery ink that reminded me of the eye shadow I wore in seventh grade.

But when I read the words, I gasped.

Mission statement: these are still stupid, I wish the journal didn’t include this option on every page

Dating Amelia Collins for real: Pros and Cons

PROS:

Efficiency. I can’t stop thinking about her so keeping her with me would save time

I would always make sure she has food she can eat

She needs to laugh more. I’m good at making her laugh (I love making her laugh)

She makes me forget the terrible pointlessness of my existence (as well as all the other terrible things in this world) ( she is so lovely)

I haven’t made love to her yet and I REALLY want to. (I think she would enjoy it tbh)

I would devote the rest of my existence to making her happy and I think (???) she would enjoy that

Continued proximity to a real live historian (her dad)

CONS:

The whole immortal / not-immortal thing presents legitimate logistical challenges (sidenote: consult with Frederick re: what it’s like to date a human, but don’t tell him why I’m asking because he’ll be insufferable for the next century if I do)

I don’t know if she’s afraid of me or not and that also seems like it could be an impediment to a real relationship

I don’t know if she feels the same way about me that I do about her

Dating her and then losing her might break what’s left of my heart

As it had in Wisconsin, Reggie’s playful mask had slipped just enough to show the vulnerability he hid from the rest of the world. His heart might not beat anymore? but my own heart was full enough in that moment for both of us.

I placed the journal on the bed and took his hands. I couldn’t tell whether it was his that were shaking or if mine were. I rubbed my thumbs back and forth across the backs of his to try and calm us both.

“I don’t do risks,” I said. “Not ever. I went to college, became a CPA, and then got a job at a big accounting firm. Because I was good at that kind of work, yes. But also because it was safe.” I shook my head. “I need to know a book’s ending before I start it. I cannot handle surprises. Anything that isn’t a predictable, sure thing terrifies me more than I can say.”

His jaw worked. “I understand,” he said. He started pulling away, the hurt and rejection in his eyes telling me he didn’t understand at all.

So I grabbed him by the lapels of his shirt and kissed him. It was just a quick press of my lips to his, over as soon as it began.

“Will you let me finish, please?” I asked, grinning.

Reggie regarded me with a stunned expression. “By all means.”

I leaned in again and pressed another featherlight kiss to the corner of his mouth. His eyes slipped closed.

“What I’m trying to say is that I want to try this, despite how out of my usual comfort zone it is.” I paused and gathered my courage. He’d shown me his heart by sharing this journal entry, hadn’t he? I could find it within myself to do the same. “I want to try us. Because I like you. A lot.”

He cracked open one eye. “You’d be willing to try this even though the ending to our story would be the opposite of already written?”

I hesitated, but only for a moment. “I’ve never tried storytelling before. Might be fun to write our own ending, don’t you think?”

He beamed at me, his hands coming up to cradle my face an instant before he leaned in and kissed me.

I’d never known that it could feel so good, being held and kissed by another person. I wound my arms around his neck to pull him closer and urge him on? though he seemed to need no encouragement. He parted his lips to deepen the kiss, sending a frisson of delicious warmth right down my spine.

I slid a hand down his broad chest. No heartbeat; only stillness. Could he tell how much my own heart was racing? Or somehow sense the rapid pulse of blood through my veins?

“I am what I am,” he said a moment later, our faces still so close we were breathing the same air. “I would never, ever hurt you, but before we go any further, you should know the history books are full of examples of romantic entanglements between vampires and humans that…um.” He trailed off and pressed another quick kiss to the corner of my mouth. As though he couldn’t stop kissing me long enough to complete a full thought. “Historically, this sort of thing hasn’t always ended well for the human.”

I leaned back, resting my head against the wall behind me. Reggie regarded me nervously, like he was afraid I would disappear if he let me out of his sight for an instant.

“I thought I already told you,” I began, letting the corner of my mouth quirk up into the sort of half smile he was always giving me. His eyes tracked the movement of my lips. God, he was adorable. “I think history books are boring. Who needs them?”

I tried to elaborate this point by telling him about all the history documentaries I skipped out on watching as a kid, but then his mouth got in the way of more words for a while.