"That was fun!" Maria said with a gleeful smile, her voice carrying that unmistakable post-gathering glow, along with her Scottish accent, which was heavier than Heather's. She brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she sat down once more, still riding the energy of laughter and conversation.
"I wish you'd let me hang out with them more," she added, almost sheepishly, her fingers absently tracing the edge of the table.
Heather, halfway through gathering up the used plates, glanced over her shoulder. "Mum, you were with us the entire time. You even hijacked the playlist."
Maria grinned, unbothered. "Aye, and the music was much better for it."
Heather rolled her eyes but couldn't help the smile tugging at her lips. "You're lucky they like you."
"I'm delightful," Maria said, mock-offended, placing a hand over her shoulder. "What's not to love?"
There was a pause. The room, once buzzing with voices, felt a little too quiet now. The pizza boxes were stacked, the last of the Tozzkell cans empty. The only sounds were the gentle ticking of the kitchen clock and the occasional creak from the cooling pipes in the walls.
"Are you thirsty, Mum?" Heather asked as she made her way to the freezer, her tone casual—almost routine.
Maria paused, turning slightly, her expression neutral.
Heather opened the freezer and reached toward the back, pulling aside a bag of frozen peas to reveal a hidden compartment. She lifted the lid on the cooler tucked inside.
Rows of neatly packed blood bags rested on ice, their deep crimson hue catching the light in a dull shimmer.
For a half-vampire like Maria & Heather, this stash would last at least around two weeks—measured, manageable. But for a proper vampire? Four-five days, maybe less.
Heather grabbed the cooler and held it up without flinching. "I got you some 'O-' last I was at the hospital"
"You're a good girl, but I'm not thirsty." Heather knew that was bullshit. As she barely drank any blood, and any amount she did drink was less the a few millilitres at best.
There was a beat of silence as the bag crinkled softly in Maria's hands. Something unspoken hovered between them—familiar, but not comfortable. "You okay?" Heather asked.
Maria gave her a natural look, a soft smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Just tired, love. That's all." But Heather didn't buy it.
She studied her mother for a long moment, then turned back to the cooler. And she pulled out a bag marked O-, the label smeared slightly but still clear. Without a word, she dropped it gently onto her mother's lap. Maria looked down at it, silent.
"You've barely drunk anything since then," Heather said, her voice quieter now, edged with worry. "You'll starve, Mum."
Concern etched deep across her face, Heather crossed her arms, watching for a reaction.
Maria stared at the bag in her hands, the rich, dark red sloshing softly as it settled. Her fingers curled tighter around it, the cool plastic warming slightly from her touch. But she didn't drink.
Instead, she let out a slow breath and passed it back to Heather without a word.
"Come on, honey," she said gently, rising from the couch with practised grace. "Let's head back inside."
Heather frowned, glancing down at the bag now resting in her palm. She didn't push. Not tonight.
Maria was already moving toward the door, her steps light but deliberate. "Your father would've been worried if you stayed up this late…" she added over her shoulder, voice fading into something more thoughtful than chiding.
Heather sighed, then followed, the night air cool against her skin as she stepped through the door behind her mother. The house welcomed them back with the soft hum of silence and shadows that stretched just a little longer than they should.