Outside, Doug and Jay shuffled through wet grass, aware of the gazes of two or three guys standing guard on the front porch to make sure they didn’t double back, sneak in through a window, slide down the chimney. Crash the party and get dork all over everything.

"Don’t take this the wrong way," said Jay as they reached the car, "but that would have been a great moment for you to turn into a wolf or command rats or something."

"Yeah. And then you could have gone and done recon in the bathroom again. Everything secure in there? Did they have enough guest towels?"

Jay didn’t reply.

They drove off into the dark street.

"I have to feed soon!" said Doug. "I feel like I’m starving and going crazy at the same time. I’m curs — damned! I’m damned to forever yearn for the…vile…"

"Vile crimson ichor?" offered Jay.

"No. For the vile…for the sweet, vile…" Doug trailed off. Damn it, "vile crimson ichor" had been pretty good.

"Will you die?" asked Jay. "If you don’t…feed? Will you die again?"

Doug exhaled and watched the houses pass.

"I don’t know. It was bad enough the first time."

"You said it was awesome," said Jay. "Before, you said that getting turned into a vampire was better than sex."

"Yeah…but—"

"You said it was like your penis went bonernova—"

"Can you not say ‘penis’? Please? It’s like I get the exact opposite of a bonernova whenever you say it. Say ‘dick’ or—"

"I don’t swear," said Jay. "You know I don’t."

"Look. Okay. Obviously…" said Doug, "obviously the getting-turned-into-a-vampire part was great, and the vampire chick was hot and everything, but the actual dying part sucked. Obviously."

"Oh. Sorry."

"’S okay."

Doug rolled down his window a few inches and wedged his nose into the gap, inhaling the thick, salty air. Anything to keep from smelling the one hundred and fifty pounds of blood and best friend in the driver’s seat next to him.