Page 95 of Thirsty
“Yes,” she agreed. “But he regrets that.”
“No he doesn’t,” Lorenzo hissed.
“I told you,” Isolde insisted. “I felt your shame when you were holding yourselves apart, each of you. And I saw that shame fade away, these last few weeks.”
“So?”
“So,” she said, blinking a bit. “That’s love.”
“That’s not how your powers work,” Lorenzo snarled. “Sensing purity and shame isn’t the same thing as—as—”
“Lorenzo—”
“You’re still new to human emotions,” he said sharply. “You said so yourself. This isn’t something you could understand.”
Isolde flinched—just a bit, just in the depths of her eyes where he could glimpse something other than otherworldly terror. “I guess I don’t,” she said quietly. “I just...”
He held his breath, but she merely shrugged. “You seemed happy.”
He clenched his teeth as she walked away.
Lorenzo returned to the small indignities of hosting until it became clear that it was once again time for him to kick things off, so to speak.
Only this time, Charlie wasn’t there to prompt him.
He cleared his throat and shoved those thoughts out of his head. “Welcome everyone,” he said. “Thank you for coming. I, um...I talked about this a little bit at the—the last party, but I just...want this to be a place where people feel...”
He looked around the room at everyone who’d come—werewolves and necromancers; demons and succubi; a unicornand a human poltergeist; even one of Sebastian’s vampire flunkies had shown up, looking hesitant and a bit ashamed, but Lorenzo hadn’t had the heart to make him leave.
They were all here, looking to him.
“A sense of community,” he said. “And...I’m not sure exactly what that should look like, but...I’m open to suggestions.”
He sat. There was a slightly awkward silence.
Then Eugene—the teenage druid who was actually a necromancer—spoke up. “Well, I’m glad to be here!” he said. “Hi all. I’m uh—well, my coven thinks my powers are scary. But Idon’treanimate corpses! Or—human corpses. Just small rodents.”
This silence was considerably more awkward. Lorenzo decided to push past it. “Great, thank you, Eugene,” he said. “Anyone else?”
Gray talked about the wrongful termination suit he was planning against his former pack. A young woman who hadn’t been at the first party spoke hesitantly about the fear and isolation that came with being a siren. Sal, the bartender, talked about the arguments he’d had with his fellow demons about whether to risk a potentially fatal trip to their home dimension or try to make a living here.
The loneliness and unease they described was never the same; sometimes it was big and intentional and harsh; sometimes they sounded just like Lorenzo—drifting. Listless.
But talking about it felt good—hefelt good, for the first time in a while. Like he was taking charge of his life instead of just letting it happen to him. Because these stories of sadness and loneliness were being met with nods and support, and he’d made it all happen.
I’m proud of you, he heard Charlie whisper. He shook his head to dispel it.
When the speeches seemed to come to a natural close, Lorenzo stood and toasted everyone. “Well, I think we can call our first formal meeting a success.”
From over by the drinks table, Roberta said, “The first meeting of—what are we calling this thing?”
They all looked at each other expectantly. “Paranormals Anonymous,” Eugene said.
“The supernatural squad,” the other vampire suggested.
“The supernatural support network,” Gray said.
“The Lupines,” Lorenzo said. He hadn’t known he was going to say it until it came out.
