After The End by Melissa Gibbo

box of cookware at my feet floated up to
his arms. I trailed behind Cal as he marched to the storage shed,
mentally reminding myself not to play cards with him in the future.
Once the packages were put away, the elder Undead blocked the
doorway. He ran a hand through his blond-gray hair before
speaking.
    “Squirrel, I know there is a growing affinity
between Daemon and yourself. To become romantically involved with a
vampire, particularly with a young one, is perilous. I encourage
both of you not to pursue this as it can only end badly.”
    I opened my mouth to pretend I didn’t know
what he meant, but couldn’t find any words.
    “You don’t know the obstacles to such
relationships; the most basic being that he could kill you if he
relaxes his restraint. Remember the steel rod during our training
sessions?”
    I was blindsided by this birds and bees
speech. I think I nodded or something because Caelinus continued
his warning, each word making me acutely more embarrassed.
    “It takes years and even decades for an
immortal to maintain control with emotions. As soon as we become
enthused by a person or idea, the hunger grows with each pump of
our blood. Whether it’s due to anger, or passion, or actual
starvation, the hunger is a dam waiting to burst.
    At this point, Daemon’s dam is made of twigs
and mud; it will be a long time before he can build it into
concrete and steel. Do you understand what I am attempting to say
to you?”
    He stood straight and his anxiousness was
visible in the pained expression he wore. It appeared he spoke from
experience and not from an arbitrary code of vampiric living.
Shadows of his own life fluttered in his eyes and sorrow walked in
the lines of his frown.
    “Yes. You’ve made your worries clear. I
wasn’t even aware how attached we were becoming until you called me
on it. I won’t do anything stupid; you know I’m a survivor. Daemon
and I are good friends and that’s all. You’re probably right, it’s
mostly just our having been so close these last couple of
nights.”
    He moved to exit the room and I followed.
Walking back to the pile alongside him, I asked,
    “Do me a favor and when you talk to Daemon,
leave this part out of it. I want to be able to keep the friendship
and I can’t do that if he’s uncomfortable around me.”
    We lifted two more bags while the children
were being shown into their cabin for bed.
    “Of course. It would be my pleasure.”
    After three more trips, the supplies were all
in place and the party was raging. Although the sentries were only
allowed one beer max, everyone else was sharing the bottles of Jack
Daniels. I witnessed a riotous game of charades around the fire pit
as Cal took his protégé to check the perimeter and discuss the
prior night’s activities.
    I got a sinking sensation in my navel,
knowing that it was going to be an awkward conversation. When my
turn came around, Chase had to prompt me to stand for my improvised
mime session.
    The rest of the night went by quickly. I
traded guard shifts and sat on the tower with my binoculars after
failing miserably at charades.
    Seriously, how do you pantomime Forrest
Gump?
    They gathered around the illumination,
telling stories and jokes below while our fangy friends soared
overhead. For an instant, the world seemed simple.
    Then all the thoughts that had been
compressed into a tiny box in my mind rushed out and overwhelmed
me. I tried to keep busy by scanning the edge of the woods, but got
distracted when it occurred to me that that pointing at the forest
would’ve been a useful way to win that round of charades.
    Even though I was sober, a kind of mental
drunkenness overtook me as I perched on the platform. Things were
getting so complicated, despite our lives getting more secure;
vibes of foreboding rippled within me.
    As suddenly as the impulse began, it turned
to mist. The woods were dark but not overtly dangerous, the camp
was in high spirits, a couple was finding use for those