Sleeping during the day wasn’t exactly a new experience for Arthur. In fact, lying down on one of the surprisingly comfortable, small foldout beds they had in the office space in 17 Glasshill was a pleasant experience altogether. 17 Glasshill was the name of the building, and Glasshill itself was the plaza around the building that housed numerous businesses, which Arthur found out confused the navigation app on his phone. He wondered if that was a factor in choosing this place. Plus, it seemed blending into a professional setting was apparently one of the easiest ways to hide as a vampire. Work long hours at night, didn’t show up most of the time during the day, and had a private office space that was key card locked. And according to Persephone, the Baron had numerous safe-houses like this all over the city. Some of them did actual business she said, many did not. Arthur had asked why Persephone never seemed to be around Glasshill. Apparently this was just the regular suite. The deluxe was for the Baron and Claws only.

  Despite having changed allegiances for a second time now, Arthur felt content, and safe inside 17 Glasshill. And when he slept in the blacked out, air conditioned room specifically designed for a vampire to sleep during the day, he actually had dreams. It was the first time he dreamed in a long time. He wasn’t quite at the point of remembering anything other than the foggy snippets and strange faces dreams usually provided. When he would eventually wake up, he was shocked that apparently dead things could sleep, or at least perform some facsimile of sleep. And even more surprised that he could dream.

  The final surprise was that eventually, he did remember one of his dreams. And that it was actually pleasant. He saw himself walking along an old road he recognized as his childhood home, following along behind two obscured people who could only be his parents. It was late autumn, the cold air sweeping over their little neighborhood, and they were all wrapped up in jackets and sweaters. The smell of sweet cedar trees shedding their orange leaves and fresh cut grass was calming, and for a little while he believed that he was living in a better, simpler time. He felt like he could walk forever, and ever, all the way down this never ending road. And then that strange boundary between dream and reality occurred where Arthur became lucid for a few moments, and had a realization that even during the dream, this was the first time he had actually felt happy in a long time. And as many dreams do, this one seemed to end abruptly, and before he wanted it to. There was some sort of annoying, intrusive sound causing him to stir as his eyes flicked open again and he woke up.

  The annoying sound turned out to be someone was knocking on the door leading to the little office he’d been given as a room. He sat up, staring at the wall, wondering why after becoming a vampire, a blood sucking creature of the night, he’d had a dream that made him happy. Strange, he thought. The knocking continued and Arthur got up off of the bed. He realized he didn’t really feel the same sort of comfort from being under the sheets, the same sort of reluctance to slip out of them that he was used to. His body didn’t really feel warm, or cold. That was a new, weird sensation. Guess it makes waking up every day easier.

  Arthur moved to the door to stop the incessant rapping, and as he expected Persephone was on the other side. She was wearing a new outfit today, as most every other day; a dark green pencil dress with a black blazer over it, and short heels to match the coat. Arthur realized she never wore any kind of jeweler, wondering if that was a personal choice or some sort of esoteric reason that had to do with being a vampire. Arthur looked down at himself, wearing clothes he’d been loaned that fit poorly and made him look like a toddler with his arms poking out of a big T-shirt.

  “Sleep well?” She asked.

  Arthur nodded, “Yes, actually. Better than I have in a while.”

  Persephone turned and started talking as she walked. Arthur followed. “We don’t actually sleep, which you might’ve put together. Our bodies don’t need it anymore. Our brain doesn’t shut down. Our muscles don’t recuperate and grow. Sleep is just a kind of neutral state. Once you get more used to it, you’ll be able to train yourself to listen when you sleep, be aware of your surroundings, and wake whenever you want.”

  “I had a dream,” Arthur said drearily, only half paying attention. He didn’t expected Persephone to actually reply, just continue on lecturing.

  “Not uncommon. What was it about?”

  He was taken aback by the familiarity she was presenting, like they were actual friends. Maybe this was just her means of keeping him in line, but it was still comforting. But she was likely trying to teach him a lesson. No matter how much Arthur tried to convince himself he and Saint were friends, they weren’t. Not really. He barely knew anything about the man, and vice-versa. Persephone had laughed in his face when he said they were friends.

  “Something stupid, you wouldn’t care. About my family, when I was young. It was a nice dream, though.”

  “If it’s stupid then why did you tell me?” Persephone replied, leading Arthur to another, larger section of the office. “This is just personal advice from me, but, there’s no shame in holding onto things of your past, human life. Too many of us forget we were once humans too. Too many of us become something completely different. I’ve seen what happens when a vampire casts aside all the things that make them a human, and it’s not pretty. You need to stay grounded somehow.”

  In the middle of this new room was a plastic sheet on the ground, and three people, only one of whom Arthur recognized. One was a polite looking, if somewhat effeminate, well dressed man standing next to a wardrobe with a variety of outfits inside of it, and a large standing mirror aside him. The second was the bald, doctor-like figure that had been probing Arthur during his original incarceration under Persephone. The third was a slightly overweight, dark skinned woman with curly black hair, standing next to what appeared to be a barbers chair and a big smile. A big smile with two sharp fangs underneath.

  Arthur scanned the room, then said slowly, “You’re either planning on killing me in some sort of fucked up snuff video, or you’re giving me a makeover.”

  “Don’t be crass. You’ve already met Wesley,” she said, motioning to the doctor. “This here is Tameka,” Persephone said. She smiled like a little school girl and moved to go hug the woman. Another unusual display of emotion from Persephone. “And finally, my favorite, Lysander,” she said waving a hand towards the well dressed one.

  “Wesley, Tameka, Lysander. It’s nice to meet you all.”

  Tameka rolled her eyes, “He is dour, like you said. Don’t worry, we’ll get him looking clean and cool.” Tameka moved behind Arthur and began pushing him towards the barbers chair, asking him a series of rapid fire questions about how his hair worked. Which way he styled it, how long or short he wanted it, was it typically coarse or smooth. Arthur answered some questions and let her infer most of it herself. Instead she just sank him back in the chair and let the support sink backwards to begin.

  “Not that I’m not grateful, but why are you doing this?” Arthur asked, looking at Persephone over his own nose in his half-prone position in the chair.

  “What, making you look like you aren’t homeless? If you’re going to work with me, for the Baron, you aren’t going to do it looking like that.” That got some chuckles.

  Arthur sighed, the effect even more drawn out since he had to manually take in a breath and then blow it back out. But, he resigned himself to the pampering and over the next hour and a half Tameka gave him a fresh shave and cut his hair into a new style he thought looked terrible, but everyone else in the room apparently thought made him look modern and cool. She explained that his hair would continue to grow like normal, but if he wanted he could simply will himself to not allow it to grow using his blood. All the while, the other man, Lysander, had been displaying numerous outfits to Arthur asking him to pick and choose one’s he wanted. While all this was going on, Persephone was having discussions with the doctor, Wesley, until eventually she sat down in a nearby chair and began speaking to Arthur directly again.

  “So we’ve been over most of the basics. How to feed. How to survive. How to not get caught. All that’s well and fine, but we haven’t touched on one of the more important aspects of your new life.”

  “My Potential,” Arthur said.

  Persephone grinned. “That’s right. Good listener. Every vampire develops a sort of supernatural tool set when they’re turned. Most of the time, a freshly blooded like you will have no idea how to use or control them, and might accidentally stumble into using one by chance. But without guidance and practice it’s almost impossible to master them. Ninety-nine percent of the time, this tool set, called your Potential, is going to mirror what mine is. And mine mirrors my sire, and so on and so forth.”

  “I’ve seen what you’re talking about,” Arthur said. “Someone…froze me, once. Not literally, but I couldn’t move or anything. I’ve also seen a vampire toss a human around like a ragdoll.”

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  “Mhm. Think about it like this. When we drink blood, it doesn’t stay just blood. It turns into something else. It’s kind of like fuel, and fuel can do a lot of different things. Run a car, light something on fire, be refined. But the gist is, if it runs out, you wither. If it’s full up, you can do some pretty incredible things.”

  “So,” Arthur said, “Everyone in here more or less has the same powers?”

  Tameka laughed over his shoulder. “Not even close! What made you think we’re all from the same flock? Percy doesn’t just go around nibbling on every single neck she sees!”

  “Oh. I don’t know, actually, I just assumed. So everyone here was turned by someone different?”

  Tameka nodded, spraying some sort of smelly hair spray all over Arthur’s head. “That’s right. And believe me, you don’t want to meet some of our sires.”

  “But that’s neither here nor there,” Persephone interjected. “Generally speaking, every vampire has the same Potential as their sire. It can manifest in a variety of different ways, but generally speaking each of us has one sort of cornerstone that we can build off of. So if you know your stuff, you can generally deduce what kind of Potential someone has. But if someone is really old, or really practiced, their version of their Potential might look completely different than mine.”

  “So what is yours? And mine?”

  Persephone smiled, and Tameka just shook her head, “You two got one of the most dangerous ones there is.”

  Persephone stepped over to the young, effeminate looking man. Lysander. “Dearest, do you mind if I use you for a moment?”

  He smiled a little too enthusiastically, like he would somehow enjoy it. “Of course ma’am.”

  Persephone traced a finger along his jaw, and when she next spoke it was like everything in the room was drowned out but the sound of her voice, which came at a warbled, deeper pitch than normal.

  “Look at me,” she said. Lysander did so, immediately going slack and turning to face her. “Jump.” Lysander jumped. “All this time you’ve been in love with Tameka, and she loves you back.”

  Lysander turned his gaze to the other woman who now had her arms crossed and rolled her eyes at Persephone.

  “Wow…” Lysander mumbled, staring at her. Arthur laughed, Tameka was making a face at Persephone.

  “Now, it’s over Lysander. Forget everything I just said. But remember what happened.”

  As Persephone’s voice faded, Lysander blinked a few times and looked back up at her. A pout came across his face, “That was mean! Tammy is my friend!”

  “Oh come on, all in good fun,” Persephone soothed him.

  “Wow,” Arthur said, “So just with your voice you can control people?”

  “More than that,” she said as Tameka stood Arthur up out of the chair, and turned him to the mirror to show him his new hair. “Basic commands are simple. We can also make people feel emotions they normally wouldn’t. Entrance someone to listen to you and you only. Those are the most common uses. Like I said, with enough practice you can shape your Potential in new or interesting ways.”

  “Now, Lysander, fair is fair. Show Arthur what someone from a different blood line can do, please.”

  Lysander clapped his hands giddily. Arthur noticed that both Tameka and Wesley averted their gaze away from the boy, closing their eyes. Lysander took a step forward, closed his eyes for a second and then a moment later, the entire room changed. It was like everything had gone dark, except for him. His skin was practically glowing, his eyes shiny and gorgeous. He was like a marble statue taken human form, and Arthur felt completely and utterly in awe of him. Arthur felt a compulsion to move closer, be near him, just be in his presence. And then suddenly, everything turned inverted. The aura surrounding Lysander became dark, malevolent. It was like his eyes turned a deep, vicious red and his skin had taken on an evil, onyx luster. He appeared more large, and more threatening than he really was, and Arthur felt frozen in fear. He felt like he had to run, turn and get away as fast as possible, but then a moment later it all faded and he felt his normal senses return.

  Lysander hadn’t moved at all, but was back to his normal, thin, nonthreatening and unimpressive frame. He smiled widely at Arthur.

  “Holy shit,” Arthur said.

  “I concur,” Persephone said. “Although Lysander’s Potential is much more grandiose, and arguably more powerful, it’s less precise. He can’t give specific commands, and can’t choose exactly who he wants to control. At least as far as I know,” Persephone said, giving him a wink.

  “Me! I want to go!” Tameka said excitedly.

  “Tammy this isn’t a talent show,” Persephone protested. “Arthur still has a lot to learn.”

  “And what better way than to get a full showing of things he might see in his day to day?”

  Persephone shrugged, “Fair enough, but don’t take it too far.”

  Tameka walked in front of Arthur. She smiled at him, her mouth widening, and widening, and widening, far too large and far too stretched for any human, or vampire mouth. Arthur was afraid her jaw was going to snap open. Then her tongue came out, but it wasn’t a tongue, it was a snake. It even had little eyes, and a mouth, and hissed at him. Arthur took a step back abruptly, but as he looked down his foot was stuck in quicksand, and he couldn’t move.

  “What the fuck!” Arthur cried, looking back up. Tameka was completely gone, and in front of Arthur were a group of policemen, guns pointed at him, shouting. Arthur’s brain told him this wasn’t possible, and yet everything happening appeared as real as it could possibly be; until, one of the officers charged at Arthur and passed through him like a phantom, disappearing into mist. As the wispy smoke faded, the room returned back to normal.

  Tameka and Lysander were snickering to each other. Arthur realized how stupid he must have looked. Fortunately, at least, Persephone wasn’t mocking him, just waiting for him to gather himself.

  “That was all an illusion?” he asked.

  Tameka nodded, “Mhm. Sorry, that was mean. Check this out.” Tameka closed her eyes and pressed a palm forward into the air, and a second version of herself appeared in the center of the room. Arthur realized he wasn’t the only person seeing this, as everyone else in the room was watching as well. The illusory Tameka walked around, her shoes clacking against the floor, her clothes making swishing noises, before walking over to the real Tameka.

  “Girl you are looking good!” The first Tameka said.

  “Hey, ain’t nobody look like us,” the illusion said.

  “All right, all right,” Persephone interjected once more. Both Tameka’s made a sour face before the illusory one disappeared again and there was only one Tameka in the room.

  “I think he get’s the idea. We’ll have plenty of time to practice your Potential and show you how to resist, identify and combat other people’s. For now, let’s get you clothed in something a little more suitable.”

  Everyone else left the room while Arthur undressed and Lysander had him try on a few different outfits. One was casual, two a little more professional, but all three he ended up choosing, Lysander gave to Arthur free of charge. Arthur figured they must have been thousands of dollars each, but he Lysander explained it was a favor for Persephone. He also reminded Arthur that these were expensive, and gave his numerous tips and instructions on how to wash them. Specifically on how to wash blood out of them, too. Arthur nodded along and tried to pay attention, despite the fact he realized he no longer owned a washing machine. Eventually they finished up and Lysander called everyone else back into the room, but not before giving Arthur a business card where he apparently owned his own store. Lysander and Tameka began to pack up their things and say their goodbyes to everyone present, until finally it was just Arthur, Persephone and Wesley.

  “You look good,” Persephone said. Arthur’s current outfit was more or less what he always wore; a button down shirt, jeans, and a jacket. But this time everything was far better fitting and of far higher quality. Arthur was amazed how different he looked. He liked how he looked. More confident.

  “Wesley” Persephone said, “Care to go over the final touches?”

  The man nodded. “I had your blood tested, Arthur, just to verify that there were no complications in your turning.”

  “Complications?” he asked.

  “Sometimes, a newly turned vampire doesn’t take well to the turning and their blood doesn’t mix. It would leave you in a sort of half state of vampirism. We’re not sure why exactly this is, mostly just chalked up to a weak constitution. Secondly, sometimes a vampires bloodline somehow ends up differently than their sire. Very rare cases, but they do happen. Fortunately for you, your blood is as strong as Persephone’s. You should be feeling much better now…” Wesley trailed off.

  He unbuttoned Arthur’s shirt without his permission, exposing Arthur’s chest and pressing his cold fingers against him. Arthur looked down, now realizing that the gaping stake-wound in his chest was completely gone. No scar, no remnant of the wound, as if it hadn’t happened at all.

  “Good. Lastly, Persephone already touched on this, but when you are turned, your body will not react in the same ways. Your blood will do it’s best to keep you as you were when you turned. If you don’t feed, you will begin to wither, your hair will fall out, and so on. If you are constantly fed, your body might try to replicate growth. Your hair and nails will begin to grow again, for example. You will never age, though. Your body is in a stasis, adjusted one way or the other by the presence of blood. The only way to change that is death.”

  Wesley looked up at Persephone, as Arthur was lamenting the fact he still had a bit of a gut and wished he had exercised more in his previous life. Persephone nodded at the man, who looked at Arthur.

  “There are methods of changing yourself physically. Methods I am well versed in. These methods are not exactly natural, and many shun the idea. Think of it like plastic surgery. If your vanity and willingness to experiment precedes your concern for your health, you are more than welcome to come see me.”

  Arthur looked at Persephone, “Have you…gotten it before? This procedure?”

  “Me? No.”

  Arthur's eyes widened, "So you looked like that even before becoming a vampire?"

  Persephone’s eyebrows slowly rose, “I looked like what?”

  “Uh, good, not bad. I mean you look good,” he said awkwardly.

  Persephone blew air out of her nostrils and turned to Wesley, “The Baron told me to remind you about your prior obligation.”

  “Ah yes, of course. I must be going now. Thank you for your time Miss Persephone.”

  Wesley packed up his tools into a small leather bagged, and turned to leave before stopping on a heel. “Oh, I almost forgot.” He reached inside the bag, and retrieved a small vial of blood, before handing it to Arthur. “This is yours.” He gave them both a nod before exiting the room.

  “What do I do with this?” Arthur asked, looking at the vial. The blood, his blood, seemed more animated than usual blood. He couldn’t quite place why, or how, but it was almost like it was moving by itself.

  “Whatever you want. Drink it. Throw it away. I recommend getting rid of it one way or another. Some vampires can do nasty things with your blood.”

  He shrugged, uncapping the vial and drinking it down. Despite being his own blood, it tasted just as delicious as drinking from the person in the club had. Except without the tangy tinge of cocaine in it.

  “What now?” Arthur asked.

  “Well,” Persephone said, checking her watch. “We still have plenty of night left. Let’s go see if we can find some of the other Claws.”