See that title up there at the top of the page? Yeah, it’s basically a lie. Because, if there’s anything that doesn’t exist in the world of fiction, it’s a vampire that’s average.
They’re all pretty much unique. Seems like everyone who writes in the genre has to put their own,
individual spin on
everything from sunlight, to garlic, to holy water, to reflections in mirrors, to whether or not vampires have to sleep in coffins And anyone who reads about vampires is likely going to have a very strong opinion about each and every one of those endless iterations.
I once
read a series where the vampires didn’t drink blood. They subsisted largely on rare
meat. And I don’t mean raw meat either. They cooked their steaks, just not very
much. Speaking as someone who
hails from a very-rare-steak eating
family, that’s straight out heresy.
For the most part, however, I
find all these various distinctions kind of neat. It’s fun to discover all the myriad ways
in which one set of vampires might differ from another. Although. I have to say, no one’s ever going
to sell me on the whole sparkling thing. Just sayin’
One of the weird things that make my Children of Night vampires different from other vamps is cookies. And I don’t even know how that came about, because that was long before the dark side/cookie meme came into being. Or, at least, long before I'd ever heard of it. I was only midway through chapter one of the first book in the series (In the Dark) when Damian suddenly went off script, and I ended up with this:
One of the weird things that make my Children of Night vampires different from other vamps is cookies. And I don’t even know how that came about, because that was long before the dark side/cookie meme came into being. Or, at least, long before I'd ever heard of it. I was only midway through chapter one of the first book in the series (In the Dark) when Damian suddenly went off script, and I ended up with this:
Finally they were alone. Damian sighed as he let go of their wrists.
Reaching for the tiny strings that fastened his kimono he drew the garment
around himself and secured it in place. “Now, then,” he said as he threw an arm
around each of their shoulders and propelled them from the room. “Let’s go down
to the kitchen and have something to eat while we talk, shall we?” Drawing them
both even closer, he pressed a kiss against the side of each of their heads. “I
baked cookies. Who wants chocolate chip?”
“This is so great.” Julie beamed at Damian as he slid a plate of
freshly baked cookies onto the pristine surface of the antique kitchen table.
She looked and sounded far more enthusiastic than Marc thought anything about the evening warranted. “I
can’t believe you made us cookies. It’s been years!”
“More like decades,” Marc grumbled, resisting the force of habit that
almost had him reaching for one. What was the use, after all? When they were
children, Damian had made it a point to bake some kind of treat whenever the
twins had a play date. It was for the sake of the other children, mostly, but
also so that Marc and Julie would feel more comfortable, would know what to
expect and how to behave on those rare occasions they were allowed to accept an
invitation to play at someone else’s house.
But what was meant to be a comfort had backfired in his case. It had
only made him feel more different
from the other children, rather than less. The fact that they could eat “normal” food had finally
convinced the then thirteen-year-old Marc to try and wean himself from his
dependence on blood. After five days, he’d collapsed in the middle of a routine
fencing lesson and a distraught Conrad had gone ballistic and had to be talked
out of completely disassembling the kitchen. From that point on, there’d been a
ban placed on any further attempts at cooking and any foodstuffs other than
blood were strictly forbidden from even being brought into the house. It was a
line drawn in the sand—very deep, very definite, very distinct. A line Damian
had never once dared to cross. Until now. Which only made his actions tonight
seem even more alarming.
“Does Conrad know about this?”
It’s actually turned out to be
one of my favorite things about the whole Fischer-Quintano vampire family. I
love how the never-been-human Fischer twins are often the most human of the
bunch. I figure it’s a testament to their awesome upbringing at the hands of Conrad and
Damian.
But really, when you think about it, vampires who like to snack on junk food just makes sense, you know? Why wouldn’t they get nostalgic,
every now and again, for a taste of home, or for childhood memories? Who doesn’t like comfort
food? Plus, people eat a lot of things that
have no nutritional value. Why should that change, simply because they’re
undead?
If you're interested in reading more about my cookie-eating (and baking!) vampires, In the Dark will be on sale for only .99 from October 22 through November 5. In the
meantime, you can check out my Cooking With Vampires Pinterest board with fun
pics of Vampire-themed baked goods.
San Francisco, 1969. Vampire Conrad Quintano has
been around for centuries—long enough to know that falling for a human is a
terrible idea. Much less falling for adventure-seeking hippie Desert Rose. An
even more terrible idea? Agreeing to raise her babies and protect them with his
life.
Present day. Marc and Julie Fischer have always known
they’re vampires. Raised in virtual isolation, they’ve never known their
parentage or their unique status in the world. But once their uncle comes to
take them home, the family reunion is nothing like they anticipated and they’re
thrust into a world they’re completely unprepared for.
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