Mile High with a Vampire - Episode 8

Post coital... or rather heavy mutual petting to completion, Quinn is forced to confront herself and why she's been the way she's been for four years. This episode shifts focus to a much more in depth exploration of Quinn's character in a way I did not frankly expect but it also raises way too many questions that I don't think will ever be answered. 

Transcript

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On this episode of Storytime with Uncle Beanbag, will Cordelia ever admit her love for Angel? Will Spike and Buppy finally become a pair? Did Rupert Giles do more than just sleep with her Buppy's mom once? That and more in episode eight, which I will be covering absolutely none of that. Buppy the Vampire Slayer is a pretty good show. Angel, it's hit or miss for me. But since I started later on in the Buppy universe and then went back and watched the original episodes, I think I got a fair good uh shake with it. I bring all that up though. Because I'd much rather be watching Buppy the Vampire Slayer than reading Mile High with a Vampire by Lindsay Sands. Chapter 8. Well, I guess this answers the question who the fuck Mary is. Are you tired or would you like to watch a movie or something? Quinn turned to that question from Mary Bonner and watched as the blonde walked into a cooler and plugged walked into a cooler, plugged into the wall next to the first of the two double beds in the room. She wasn't surprised to see the neatly stacked bags of blood once it was open. Quinn also wasn't surprised when she felt the shifting taking place in her mouth as her fangs descended. Okay, I was wondering about that because in true blood, the fangs are like spring loaded, so they just who come out like that. Uh in other ones they kind of descend from the mouth, and I think in some of them they just grow and then retract really weirdly. She'd been experiencing cramps for the last hour and a half since she and Jet had boarded the helicopter to leave the fly-in fishing lodge. I was expecting a little bit more scenes between her and Jet, a little bit more of a scene between her and Jet. But I guess their kitchen escapades was enough for them. I'm sure somebody did walk in on them. Movie or sleep, Mary asked again, straightening with four bags of blood caught between her hands. Movie, Quinn decided as she watched Mary nudge the cooler lid closed with her knee. Unless you're tired and just want to go to sleep. No, I'm good, Mary assured her as she set three bags of blood on the desk beside Quinn and then handed her the fourth. You go ahead and get these down while I go to the bathroom, then we'll see what's on the idiot box. Thank you, Quinn accepted the bag Mary was holding out and then simply held it as she watched the blonde recross the room to slip into the bathroom by the entry door. The moment the door closed, Quinn slapped the bag to her fangs and closed her eyes briefly as they started to draw in the blood her body needed. I can't stand the taste of blood. I believe I said that before in another episode of the podcast. But to me it's absolutely disgusting, and I don't mind it cooked into things like blood sausage or whatnot, but and blood pudding. But by itself it's horrifically bad. I live in the Mojave Desert and I get nosebleeds a lot 'cause it's so damn dry here. So I'm well acquainted with the taste of my own blood. As radioactive as it might be. It wasn't until she replaced it with a second that Quinn bothered to look around to the motel room she was to share with Mary for her her eh for however long they were in Cochrane. Her gaze slid over to the double beds, the couch and the desk behind her that ran along the wall under the row of curtains hiding whatever view the wall the windows offered. What the fuck? Hiding whatever view Nope, I read it 100% right. Let me let me come back a little bit on that line. And the desk behind her that ran along the wall under a row of curtains hiding whatever view the wall. What's really funny is the way it's printed, it's right on top of each other. It just the spacing happened to work out that way. So I thought I'd read it twice accidentally, but no, it's it's there twice on the page. A windows offered and finally to the lawn belt in kitchenette opposite the side of the beds. There were upper and lower cupboards, a purchasing, a curry machine, and a selection of curg copies as well as bowls holding packets of both sugar and creamer. The whole room was decorated in earth tones from the rust-colored bedspreads to the dark brown leather couch. So my dad used to have esophagal problems. He would have to have hot drinks to kind of help ease his esophagus to swallow a lot of stuff if it wasn't like really hot food. My sister one year and I believe it was her and her husband, I think it was for Christmas, can't quite remember. She bought him a Nestle version of the Kerrag machine. And he used it maybe twice. He always had hot tea, but he didn't like using the machine because it was too complicated. It couldn't have been, you know, easier. You just pour the water in the back, pop open the top, put the pot in, close it, and hit the button. But he didn't want to do that because it was too damn complicated. He'd rather sit there forever and boil water and then walk down the hall with his teaspoon shaking in his mug because he he would shake a bit. But that's a sound that when every once every once in a while when I hear like a teaspoon hit the side of a mug, I think of my dad. But it was a nice gesture. I used it for a little while and then it just kind of sat dormant after we ran out of the pods. And uh there's no other need for it because I'm not a coffee drinker, I never use that stuff really. So it was the Nestle knock-op version. Well, I shouldn't say knockoff because it was still pretty expensive, but it was the Nestle version of the curg machine. Switching out the now empty second bag for another, Quinn sat down on the couch, her thoughts immediately going to Jet. He was in the room next door. She wondered what he was doing and how he felt about what had happened in the kitchen at the lodge. So they didn't take it any further than the kitchen, I see. Quinn had woken up on his chest on the kitchen floor sometime later to the sound of someone shouting their names. So I guess they both came so damn hard they passed out. Alarmed as the voice drew closer, she leapt off Jet, snatched up his jacket from where it lay on the floor, and just managed to pull it on and zip it up before Anders had appeared in the kitchen door. There you are, he said with exp exasperation. Dante searched every room in this place for the two of you. His gaze had dropped then to Jet just stirring on the floor, and the man shake his head before raising his gaze back to quit unlecturing. Lesson number one for new life mates. Always seek out soft services before risking lifemate sex, especially if one of you is immortal. Jet could have cracked his head open while you both fainted and you wouldn't have wanted that. Oh, okay. There's an entire new part of information just injected into the story from Anders. Apparently, lifemate sex is so fulfilling for both of them that they do quite literally pass the fuck out. Interesting. Colored me intrigued on that one. I want to see if it goes further than that, though. So the singer Sting used to claim that he would have tantric sex with his wife. I believe for 48 hours. I don't know if that was the claim or not, now that I think about it, because forty-eight hours seems to be pretty fucking long. Maybe twelve. Some derivation of twenty fours, so maybe it was half that, maybe it was double that, I don't remember. But he used to claim that they would have tantric sex for that long and then only come at the very end of it, and it was a orgasm so powerful that it would knock him completely the fuck out. Quinn was pretty sure she'd blush like a schoolgirl. Quinn was pretty sure she'd blush like a schoolgirl at those words. She'd also immediately glanced at Jet to see what had given them away, but he was fully closed. She hadn't figured it out until Andrew said, Grab your bra off the floor and help your life mate up. Let's go. The helicopter's here. Quinn could feel her blush deepening now at the memory and reached into the pocket of Jet's jacket to tug out the scrap of white lace she'd shoved in there as she was snatching it up off the floor. She hadn't had to help Jet up. She hadn't had to help Jet up though. By the time he she grabbed the bra and moved to him, he'd been on his feet. He hadn't said a word, just bent to kiss her cheek, and then took her arm and followed Anders outside to where the helicopter was waiting. Talking on the helicopter had been impossible, and Quinn had never been on one before. Really? Okay. Well, okay. I would have thought though in the four years that she'd been part of the Arginaux clan, that she would have been on a helicopter. Well, my dad was part of the Utah National Guard. One of the earliest memories I have is being about seven or eight. Like the earliest clear memories. A lot of my childhood's extremely fuzzy. We there was flooding down in the Four Corners region, and we were going to go down there, and he got permission for me to tag along in the helicopter. So they loaded up several Hueys from Camp Williams and with relief supplies, and we flew from just north of Lehigh, Utah, all the way down to the Four Corners area. And it took us a while, but as a kid, it was the coolest thing seeing the Canyonlands from the air in military helicopters with a bunch of soldiers around. But I've also got a picture somewhere, my sister has it, of me as a really younger kid, too, on my dad's shoulders while we were down there. So it's it was a good time. You know, it was really cool, some of the experiences I had with the National Guard and my father's position. Because he was an engineer for a while and then was a medic, and that got me into a lot of places to tag along with him to see some really cool stuff in the early 1980s. Even the noise cancelling headphones she'd been given hadn't helped that much, though she suspected that was because of her mortal hearing. Jet hadn't seemed to be bothered by the noise, but she'd been grateful to escape it when the helicopter landed in Cochrane. He's probably used to it being a naval pilot. Cochrane was apparently a relatively small town of 5,000 plus people, and was 160 miles from the fly-in fishing lodge. That's got me curious. I know they're on the east coast. So yeah, Cochrane is a s actual small town in Ontario. I like to know the geography of the places that people are talking about, especially if they talk about certain things. Ontario, though, is still a little inland. I need to figure out here. Canadian clay bed clay belt? Okay. So they would quite literally be where I was expecting them to be. So I just looked it up. The Canadian claybelt, which I believe they mentioned in chapter one or maybe chapter two, is in the middle of northeastern Canada between Quebec and Ontario. Cochrane is a small town in Ontario, so over the border with Quebec. So is it a real place? And wasn't she going to Toronto? Yeah, Toronto is really far south of Cochrane. I like to know the geography of places that people talk about things, especially if it's a real area that I can look up more information on. I'd never heard of Cochrane, Canada. Why would I have you know it's a 5,000 population town in the middle of Ontario, you know, well, northeastern Canada on near the border with Quebec in Ontario. But it's kind of interesting to actually look up that stuff and figure out exactly where they're talking about. So back to the story. Mary had told them that. The friendly blonde Okay, let me go back. I know I read this part already, but to give more context after my Googling Cochrane. Cochrane was apparently a relatively small town of 5,000 plus people. Yeah, the current population says 5,300, so that's accurate. And was 160 miles from the fly-in-fishing lodge. I'm assuming to the north, but I don't know. I don't uh the lodge probably doesn't actually exist. Lindsay Sands being Canadian, though, probably is well familiar with well familiar with the area. Mary had told them that. The friendly blonde had been the one waiting to collect them from the airport and bring them to this motel. Mary Boner Nott was married to Dante Nott, the twin brother of Abigail's husband, Tomato. Tomasso, but tomato. That family connection was part of the reason that she and Dante were up here in northern Ontario, involved in the search and rescue operation. The couple had been visiting Marguerite when Mortimer had called them with news of the missing plane. If I remember correctly, I think Mortimer's the enforcer. See, I'm almost halfway through the book, and now I'm starting to take an interest in this ridiculous story. Fuck you, Lindsay, for perking my interest now. God damn. Where was all the rest of this shit before, though? I mean, like the first few chapters is an absolute slog, but now by chapter eight, I'm like, oh, I'm I'm kind of invested a little bit in this story. I want to see where it goes. I am never gonna read any of the other ones, though, and I'm going to hold to that. But now that you're throwing all this information at me that I can relate to other things, I'm like, oh, okay, yeah, I understand this, I understand that. Quinn had no idea why Marguerite had been contacted unless the woman had been keeping tabs on her, but on hearing the news from Marguerite, Dante immediately called his brother. He'd known that with Abigail's connection to Jet, she'd want to know. He'd spoken with both Tommaso and Abigail and assured them he'd help with the search and rescue operation and would contact them as soon as Jet was found. After explaining all of that, Mary had handed the phone to Jet and told him to call abs. Dante had already called her and let her know that he was found and fine, she'd said, but she was sure Abigail wouldn't fully relax until she'd heard his voice. When Jet was making his call, Mary then explained the other reason for the couple's presence here. Apparently, after calling his brother, Dante had followed that up by calling his cousin Santo, spoken with him and Quinn's sister Pet, telling them what was happening, and then he'd made the same promises to them as he had to his brother, that he and Mary would head north at once and join the search party, and that they'd all call when she was found. Once Jet had finished reassuring abs that he was fine and he'd promised he'd phone her again. When he was home, he'd ended the call and passed the cell phone to Quinn so she could call her sister. Despite having already heard from Dante that she was fine, Pet had been relieved to hear her voice and had had had had yes, had twice. Parker joined the call on the other line, but they'd only talked briefly before Mary pulled them in uh pulled into the motel. Okay, so they were talking in transit. Quinn had told them both she loved them, asked them to give Santo her love, and promised to phone again once she was settled in Toronto, and then ended the call to follow Mary out of the car. Quinn didn't know which of them had been more surprised she or Jet when Mary had explained that they'd rented several of the motel rooms in a row, and then handed Jet a key saying, This one's yours, you'll probably have to have it to yourself unless Dante gets back before you two leave. There's coffee I can tell she's an easterner from this. She didn't say solemnly yet. Pop. I'm Westerner, I'm a southwesterner. We don't say pop, we say soda. Pop to us is like popsicles. When I was in Ohio visiting well, I we went out there for my sister's Ohio ceremony when she got married 17 years ago, if you can believe it. And my brother-in-law's mother asked if we wanted polar pops. Polar pops in Utah in the southwest is a brand of popsicles. And we said, no, you know, my mother and I were with her in the car. We're like, no, we don't really want a polar pop. And she kept insisting, oh I always get a polar pop. I'm like, okay, well, that's great. So we get to the Circle K and she goes in and gets a giant soda that's labeled polar pop on the thing. And I'm like, well, forget. You know, that was like my first time in Ohio, and I'd forgotten that the Easterners had said pop instead of soda. But I it's not pop, even though that's the sound it makes when you pop the bottle. Yes, I'm aware of that. That go only that only goes back to the okay, so that's before the crown caps. I own thousands of bottle caps. Bottle caps to me are one of the most amazing inventions in the history of the world. Each one of them, with their labeling and everything, is a piece of art that I collect every time I can find them. I've got a bunch of them that I'm never going to do anything with because they're so interesting. It's like little pieces of pop art to me. I use them in crafts though all the time, doing bottle cap wind chimes, bottle cap stinks. I'm actually currently hammering out and punching out a bunch of them to make bottle cap chain mail armor. I've done that before with a couple other vests and I've sold it. Now I want bottle cap chain mail armor to go with my license plate conical hat. So I will be a total wasteland warrior, basically, or a wasteland trader that has armor. But the crown caps came about because the bottles that were there before were the ones that either were corked or they had the lockdown uh mechanism on them. That's all the wires, and then like it was a cork at the time, but nowadays it's plastic where it kind of seals the bottle up. You can reuse them that way. But when they're under pressure, when you pop that, it goes pop, and when you pop it, it pops. That's such a fucking redundant thing to say beanbag. Anyways, that's why it became soda pop, because soda water would pop and they call it soda pop. For some fucking reason, the eastern United States focused on the pop part of it, the western United States focused on the soda part of it, and because it came from Atlanta, the south the southern states focused on coke. So to them, coke is any soda. There's coffee, pop, food, clean clothes in there. Go on, take a shower and relax. You probably have several hours before the plane gets here to take you to Toronto. As she turned her head toward the next room, she added, Quinn and I will be just next door if you want company. I know it's not meant that way, but it sounds very lascivious. Interesting. Quinn hesitated briefly to the managed weak smile for Jet before following the other woman into this room. She had no one else to do. It wasn't like she had a right to expect to stay with Jet. They weren't a couple or anything. You could be. Well, aside from that whole lifemate business, but she admitted to Jet that she didn't think she was ready for a lifemate and one that uh and one make out session under a tree in the woods, and then something a little bit more than just making out in the kitchen of the lodge did not make them a couple, did it? No, but it you could you could go that way. Oh dang, you probably want a shower or bath. Quinn looked around those words to see that Mary was out of the bathroom, eyeing her with a frown, eyebrows raising in her expression. Quinn tugged the now empty fourth bag from her fangs and glanced down at herself. Jess's jacket was still in good shape, but her black dress and slacks were a mess. They were wrinkled and torn in spots and covered with dirt and even a couple drops of blood. She supposed the blood was from when she'd hurt her stomach on the tree and then noticed her leather dress shoes were ruined, and that her hands were just as dirty as their slacks. How long has she been running around looking like a kid who'd been making mud pies? She wondered. I ran out and bought both of you and Jet clean clothes the minute I got here. It's just a t-shirt jeans, cotton panties and a bra. But I figured they'd do until you had your own clothes back. Mary said, smiling wryly, and then she added, I wasn't even sure you need fresh clothes. They hadn't located the plane yet when we arrived and we didn't know what to expect. We had no idea what was happening. If the plane had been forced to land early at another airport or on a highway or she ended on a shrug. But Quinn suspected what she wasn't saying was that Nope. But Quinn suspected what she wasn't saying was that they hadn't been sure if the plane had hadn't gone up in a ball of flames on crashing. And she wouldn't need clothes at all because she'd have been in ashes. Oh that's right. Okay, so beheading and fire are the two ways to kill one of these nanobot fucking vampires. Standing Quinn gathered the empty blood bags and deposited them in the garbage, and she said, A shower and clean clothes would be great. Thank you for thinking of them. My pleasure, I was happy I was able to do something useful while waiting for news, Mary admitted, moving to the desk under the curtain windows and scooping up a department store bag that she then handed to her. There's a hairbrush, soap, shampoo, cream rinse in there too, and razors and blades. So it makes me kind of wonder and speculate why Mary's actually in the room with her. They could have done the entire hotel. I mean, I've got the money for it. But why is Mary staying with her in the room? Is she there to make sure Jet doesn't do anything? Or is she there to make sure Quinn doesn't do anything? I don't know. Is she a chaperone? She's gotta be. There's no reason for Mary to be in the hotel room with Quinn. But she's gotta be like a chaperone or something. Thanks, Quinn smiled warmly and took the bag really appreciating appreciating her thoughtfulness. I'll be quick. No, take your time if you want. You might enjoy a soak and everything after you've been through. Nodding, Quinn turned and headed into the bathroom with a bag, but had no intention of a lawn soak. She rarely had a time in her life for soaking in a tub. At least she didn't used to, she thought unhappily. Dr. Quinn Peters, Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman, had always been too busy to waste time on a soak. She'd done nothing but shower for a good twenty years, and thanks to her schedule, versus an intern and then as a surgeon, and while she'd had more time these last four years, she hadn't changed her habits. A shower would do. At least that's what she thought until she got a good look at her hairy legs. Quinn immediately squawked with alarm and then dropped and the stopper in the tub, then pushed in the button to switch the water from the shower head to the tap to run a bath. Quinn, is everything all right? Mary called through the door. You made a funny sound. I'm okay, Quinn called out and then grabbed one of the large towels hanging over the towel bar, wrapped it around herself, and opened the door to explain. I just got a glimpse of my legs and realized the bath might be better so I can shave. That was another question I had though too was does their hair keep growing? Because a lot of vampire lore, once they die, they're either locked into what they were at death. Death, like in Interview with a Vampire, Claudia doesn't want to look like a doll, so she cuts her hair and it comes right back. Or in other ones, it's they can still grow some parts of their body, but hair is rarely one of them that they can grow. So it looks like they still have all the functionality of a human, they just have the nanobots coursing through their veins doing the nanobot shit to them. Ah, Mary nodded wisely. It's so much easier to shave sitting down than standing. I once had a friend who slipped in the shower while shaving and sliced a chunk of her ankle. A real mess, she pronounced, and wrinkled her nose. I've shaved in the bath ever since. I got it in my mind about twenty four years ago when I was dating, I believe, the second woman that I was with. Maybe it was a little longer than that. Anyways, I had it in my mind to shave my balls. And I'd never done that before. I thought, oh, I'm pretty good at shaving with a razor. I shouldn't be nicking anything. No, it nicked everything. It was a mess, and I bled profusely. Don't shave your balls with a razor. Haven't shaved my balls since. Hm, well, I normally don't bathe, but I haven't shaved my legs in four years, so sitting down for it seemed like a good idea. Four years? Okay. I wonder if she's only shaving her legs now because of jet. Quinn said grimly, glancing down at her hairy legs. God, a person could be forgiven for mistaking me for a Sasquatch. She's Asian though. Does she really have hairy legs? I don't know. That's a question like I'm just about as white as you can get, but I really have an extremely hard time growing body hair, which is weird because my dad and my grandfather could grow it, like no tomorrow. My uncles can grow extremely full beards and are hairy, but not me. And I wouldn't think Asian women would be that hairy. Maybe they are. Maybe I mean I don't know. I never was never with an Asian woman, so Mary's eyebrows rose. I don't know whether to ask you why you haven't shaved for so long or why you're bothering to now. Yeah, see, that's my question too. And it's all because of Jet. You know it's Jet. Oh, er, Quinn flushed with embarrassment, but didn't know what to say, so she just shook her head and started to close the door. Shot if you need anything, Mary said, turning away. Thanks, Quinn murmured as the door closed. She then leaned her forehead against it briefly before moving to check the tub. Even within four years of uh even with four years of body hair to remove, Quinn was quick at her bath and then spent several more minutes rinsing out the tub before getting dressed and running the hairbrush through her wet tresses. There was no makeup in the bag, but Quinn didn't mind. She hadn't worn makeup since waking up after the turn. So once she'd finished brushing her hair, she dropped the brush in her bag with the other items and then glanced down at herself in the jeans and t-shirt. I'm also assuming from the cover that Jet doesn't have a beard. Quinn hadn't worn jeans in a very long time. She didn't even own a pair anymore, and she hadn't since med school. Her daily outfit was made up of dress pants, blouses, and she her daily outfit was made up of dress, pants, and blouses she had had since graduating. Patients expected a certain professionalism from the doctors even when they spotted them outside the office. At least that's what Patrick had always said. Now she peered down at the jeans and tried to decide if she liked them or not. Yeah, Patrick's a fucking idiot, though. They seemed heavier to her in comparison to dress slacks, and they were definitely snugger, hugging her body almost lovingly. But then so did the white t-shirt, she acknowledged, wondering if her bra was visible through the white cotton. She didn't bother looking in the mirror to see, it didn't matter anyways. The bra was white like the t-shirt and she didn't have anything else to put on. So she grabbed the bag, stuffed her dirty dress slacks and panties into it, grabbed Jet's jacket, and headed out to join Mary for that movie she'd mentioned. Are you all right? Quinn pulled herself from her thoughts and glanced around at Mary at the question, sitting up a little straighter where she sat on the double bed closer to the window and nodded quickly. I'm fine. Mary nodded slowly and then said, You don't really appear to be interested in this movie. Should I find something else? I'm gonna pop in for a second here. I'm gonna soda in for a second here, and say that one of the last times, the last gasp of me trying to be intimate with anybody, it was this woman who was about my size, and I was fat at the time. So mechanically, things didn't really work out, but that's neither here nor there. I met her at her place, she cooked some really good food, and she was telling me about her trip to India that she'd been on for the past year, because she went to India for I believe overstock.com as part of an acquisition thing, and she was showing me a lot of the the um little photos and like some snippets of video and stuff, and then she's like, Oh, we do you want to go watch a movie? And I was thinking, yeah, you know, I'm still not wanting to fuck at this point. I'm I'm still trying to kind of figure out can I make things work? I just want to be friendly, but like snuggle friendly, if that makes sense. So we're watching this Bollywood movie. 20 minutes into it, I'm like, uh, I don't know about it. But by by the 40-minute mark, I'm really kind of interested in it, and I'm kind of seeing where things are going. But there's a lot of scening and a lot of dancing and a lot of overly dramatic shit, but it's kind of like parking my attention, and I'm like, oh, okay, I'm kind of into this movie. About the 45-minute mark, she turns off the TV and I kind of look at her, I'm like, what's going on? And she's like, Are we gonna fuck? And I'm like, but the movie, and she's like, What? And I said, But I thought we were gonna watch the movie. She's like, Eric, do you want to fuck or not? And I'm like, uh, I guess she was utterly confused by that. I think that was the first time anybody had told her no, they didn't want to actually fuck, or was like pushing it off because I was legitimately into the movie. I wanted to see the rest of it, never figured out the name of the movie. You know, I looked for it for a little bit for like a year, and I just gave up on it. By this point, I wouldn't even remember what the hell had happened in it to begin with. But uh, like I was saying, mechanically, when you get two people of a big mass and trying to come together that way, it doesn't really work unless one of them is extremely well endowed, and I did not get that from my grandfather's side of the family, I got that from my side of the family. So I wasn't you've ever seen two beached wells try to go at it. Yeah, it's not a pretty sight, didn't really work. I was okay with that, she wasn't, she freaked out about it, and I'm like, okay, you know what? That's fine. I'm just gonna go. She you know, she's like, well, give me a call, and I tried calling her the next day and she wouldn't respond. So long story short, that was the last time I was ever in a situation where sex was on the table. And I'm glad it didn't work out because that was after all the issues that I'd had. But it's a funny story to tell twenty-something years later. Especially since I was more into the movie than I was into fucking her. But I hope she's alright. She was very she was like the one person who was actually nice to me um through everything, so I don't remember her name at all anymore. But yeah, I hope she's got a good life. No, no, Quinn said quickly and grimace before admitting. I was just thinking this is fine. She focused on the screen where Indiana Jones was talking. You could say that was sharing too much information for me, but I don't think so. I think it's fucking funny. I'd much rather talk about this type of stuff and laugh at it than be embarrassed by it. Because I wasn't embarrassed by it. It's not like I hadn't had sex before and things had worked out. It's just that she was my mass and there wasn't a lot of room to work with there. Okay, Mary said slowly. And for my sister listening, yeah, deal with it. I know you probably don't want to hear brother talking about that, but fucking deal with it. I know our Finnish sister talks about that shit, but she's fucking retarded. But at least you can you can laugh at it with me. I mean, you know what happened with the spider. Fuck. Okay, Mary said slowly, and then asked, Is there something troubling you? Do you want to talk about it? No, I'm good, Quinn said at once, turning her offer into a smile. And Mary nodded but said, If you change your mind, just let me know and we can have a natter. A nadder. I haven't heard that one for a while for a chat. Quinn nodded, turned towards the TV briefly, and then swung her head back around to Mary and asked, What do you know about LifeMates? Okay, so we're gonna get the lore dump on life mates here. We're gonna figure out exactly what the fuck Lindsay Sands has set up in the rest of the books. Mary hit the mute button on the television and shifted to the bed facing uh shifted on the bed to face her sitting cross legged. She raised eyebrows and asked, What do you mean? Are you asking if I know who lifemates Wait, what? Are you asking who I know are lifemates? Or No, Quinn interrupted and explained. I mean, what are they exactly? Mary seemed startled by the question, and Quinn supposed she, like Jet, would have expected an immortal who had turned more than four years ago to already know this. But Mary didn't ask about that. Instead she said, Well, life mates are what the name suggests. They're life partners for immortals. Yeah, because Mary uh Quinn never did her training. Mary paused briefly, a dissatisfied expression on her face, and then shook her head. That doesn't really do it justice, I suppose. They're much more than life partners. I'm g I can't believe I'm fucking saying this. I'm glad for Quinn's sake, for the narrative of the story, since this is the only book I've read on this, that she didn't go through any of the vampire training, so she knows as much about being a vampire as I a Nanobot vampire as I fucking do. So that Lindsay Sands can actually explain to me what she set up in the other fucking books, even though I'm never going to go back to any of the other fucking litter. I almost called it literature. Literature might be too phrasing of a word for what this is. The rest of the schlock. But schlock is self-aware. Schlock knows it's schlock. Is this self-aware? Or is this just trying to be slightly highbrow? Like Fifty Shades of Grey was came about from Twilight. It was a Twilight fanfiction that E.L. James decided that she could actually put her own characters in, rename things, change up stuff just a little bit, and publish it. And she fucking made millions, just like Stephanie Meyer made fucking millions. But E.L. James was aware that Fifty Shades of Grey was schlock. I'm not so sure Lindsay Sands is aware how schlocky this is. But like I said, to be schlocky, you have to kind of be self-aware of it. So I don't know. Somewhere along that line, this book sits. Don't know exactly where yet. Maybe in another 150 pages, or at page 147, I'll figure it out. So we're almost halfway through the book, which is not bad. How, Quinn asks. Well, immortals, as you know, can control or hear the thoughts of mortals, and even immortals who are younger than them. I didn't know that. You mean read them, Quinn suggested. They read our thoughts. Mary's eyebrows rose. You've been an immortal for more than four years, Quinn. Surely you notice that you don't always have to read thoughts from people to hear them, at least with mortals. Really? she asked with surprise. Quinn's a fucking idiot, man. Mary stared at her for a minute and then frowned. You haven't learned to read and control mortals yet. When Quinn shrugged uncomfortably, she glanced down at her cross legs to avoid her gaze. Mary sad and said, Okay, I've only been immortal for a year longer than you, but I found while they call it reading thoughts, that isn't always what's happening. Quinn's eyebrows rose at the snooze. She hadn't realized Mary had been born immortal. What the fuck? Hadn't realized what? Quinn's eyebrows rose at the snooze. She hadn't realized Mary hadn't been born immortal. Can you be born immortal? This what I talked about a few episodes ago. If you have nanobots in your system and you come, do those nanobots transfer? Can you create a fetus that has its own nanobots? This is line right here. Hadn't realized Mary, she didn't. Yeah, okay, I read that right. She hadn't realized Mary hadn't been born immortal. Unless she's talking about one of the undead type of vampires, which is hinted at that long in the story too. That means that the nanobots are transferred through bali fluids like cum. So what the absolute fuck am I reading right here? Or is Quinn just so fucking retarded? Yes, I'm going to use that word. Because it's very appropriate here. That she thinks that nanobot vampires can be born as nanobot vampires. How long have the nanobots been around, Lindsay? Mary's got to be twenties, thirties, has it been around that long? Is Tommaso a nanobot vampire? Over a hundred years old, and the nanobots have been around that long? Lindsay. I really hope in your entire Arjuno universe you didn't have the nanobots come from the future or be alien tech and then crash land in the past 100, 200 years ago, and create scientific vampires. Because if you did, that would be fucking insane. What the fuck? What is happening then? That's what Quinn's asking in that same line, right after Mary hadn't been born immortal. Oh my god, the implications of what the fuck I just read is just mind-boggling. I'm probably never gonna get an explanation for that either. Well, Mary said, sometimes even when not trying to read a person's mind, their thoughts come at me. They're usually disjointed, just fragments, but they still come without me trying to read them. Really? Quinn asked with surprise. I wonder if it's like a radio though, where you kind of have to tune your mind to listen to that type of chatter. So if you never get to the point where you can tune your mind to listen into it, you don't ever hear it. Quinn obviously does not know what the fuck she's doing, so she's not hearing any, but Mary, it's kind of like a ghost box, you know, which cycles through different radio frequencies, and then, you know, you can hear sounds. Maybe it's a ghost talking, most likely it's not. I wonder if it's that type of thing. Where Mary's always got it on, but Quinn has never turned on that set in her mind. Yes, it seems even though a thoughts read it right, man. Come on. Yes, it seems to be with thoughts with strong emotion behind them. Anger, hatred, fear, she shrugged. I would guess their emotion is spilling over. They're having trouble containing the emotion connected to the thought, and so it spills out too. She tilted her head. You haven't experienced this around mortals? Quinn shifted uncomfortably admitted, I haven't been around mortals since I was turned. Oh, interesting. Except for like the occasional stuff with the pilots as they board the plane. Mary's eyes widened. Not even to practice and train with feeding with and her voice chilled off when Quinn shook her head stiffly. I see, Mary murmured. She was silent for a minute, then set up a little straighter and said, Well that can happen. Thoughts coming at you free flow without your attempting to read them, she explained and then added, It can be a bit distressing at first, especially if you're in a public spla public splace. What the fuck? Public space where there's a large crowd of mortals, you'll have these thoughts and feelings coming at you from all directions. A word here, a fragment of a thought like they're accompanied by anger or pain or grief. It's like standing in a room with several radios on. That's what I just said, radio. It's the best way I can think of to describe it because I used to go camping with my dad out in the middle of the desert, and we would have the AM radio switched on, and on perfect nights, you could get signals bouncing off of the ionosphere from Japan and from Australia, and it was fucking phenomenal to listen for like half an hour or so until there was too much interference from like some broadcast from Japan or Australia. It was super cool. Each with a different I believe I read this, but I'm just gonna read it again. Each with a different station playing and not one of them properly tuned in. It's all just squawking around you, she explained. It could drive you crazy if you didn't block it, but constantly having to block other people's thoughts and feelings can get exhausted pretty quick. Exhausting pretty quickly. Something to look forward to, Quinn muttered unhappily. Yes, well, it can be worse for older immortals. I'm sure they pick up more, Mary pointed out. And on top of that, there's the need to keep your own thoughts to yourself and try to block others from reading them, or yourself from broadcasting them to others. Quinn doesn't have a filter on any of this. She hasn't been training on any of this. Is she driving all of the other immortals absolutely fucking nuts by her despair and everything else? It's been four fucking years, dude. The fact that she's been completely unwilling to put in any of the effort to any of this just really does not have me liking her at all. We can stop others from reading us, Quinn asked with interest. She did find it annoying not to have a lick of privacy when everyone around her could read her thoughts. Yes, it takes practice and it doesn't always work if the immortal near you is really old, but we can put up a sort of mental wall like a privacy fence between our thoughts and the world at large, Mary assured her. Of course, having to do that for hours is exhausting too. Of course, Quinn said dryly. Or you could just regulate your fucking thoughts. I mean, just get super disciplined in how you think and how you approach things. I know that takes a lot of work. Or just constantly have like the calliope, uh what is it called? I can't remember, but it's the Calliope song. You could have that going constantly. They wouldn't tune in to you at that point. One of the coolest experiences I ever had in New Orleans though was on the riverboat when they were playing the Calliope as we were going down the Mississippi. Well, I guess technically up the Mississippi River. Um, for I believe it was an hour up and an hour back, and they would play it for part of the journey, and then have the jazz band on the bottom. That was so cool though. I love listening to calliope music, especially in person. I don't want to listen to recordings of it because it's a very different thing hearing it from the steam pipes themselves. It's so nice. I know a lot of people don't like a calliope, but I really do. Of course, Quinn said dryly, what about being an immortal wasn't hard? She thought grimly. Drinking blood was disgusting. Hey, she shares my thoughts. Although she's probably just weirded out that it's blood. I'm not weirded out that it's blood. I just hate the taste. Losing everything you had ever known and loved was unbearably hard, and that's why life mates are so important, Mary said now, distracting Quinn from her inner griping. Life mates can't read or hear each other's thoughts and can't control each other. It gives an immortal someone they can be with without having to have their guard up. And that's important. That's kinda interesting. Is there gonna be an explanation for that part of the lore, Lindsay? The Oh man, that word popped up again. We almost made it a chapter without the word solemnly. There's not really an object around me on my desk that I can beat my brains out with reliably. I have a hammer in the next room, but it's a little too far to go get. I guess I'll have to postpone bashing my brains out over solemnly, you hack fraud Lindsay Sands. Fuck you. She assured her solemnly, a lot of older immortals tend to withdraw from society and avoid all of that, and that can lead to their going rogue. But with a life mate, they don't have to be alone. They have someone they can be with and relaxed and at peace with, and that person, their life mate, is more important to them than life itself. I see, she murmured, and kind of did. At least she understood what Mary was saying, but it didn't really have any relevance to her. She couldn't read minds. She hadn't noticed picking up on any of Else's thoughts or feelings. Of course, every mortal she'd met since she'd been turned was ages older than her, except for Pet and Parker. Is Pet turned at the same time? I know Parker was turned at the same time. So if Parker fucks a mortal or an immortal. Whatever the case may be. And he impregnates them. None about baby vampire. Right? And she'd avoid being around mortals since the turn. She didn't go shopping or well anywhere. She mostly stuck around Marguerite's home in Toronto and then Santo and Pets. When she moved out of their place to the small cottage she rented in Italy, she'd stay there avoiding people, both mortal and immortal alike, as much as she could. Really until getting on the plane in Italy for Toronto. She hadn't seen anyone but Pat Santo and Parker for three and a half years. She became a shut and she realized unhappily. It kind of Okay, so this is probably the first book that actually focuses on Jet Lassiter, Jet Thunderbun's Lassiter, and Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman Peters. I'm sure the rest of the books cover everybody else. But I don't think they've featured in any of the other books. Because if they had, well, in Quinn's case, it would be extremely fucking boring. Sighing, she asked, How do you know if you met your life mate? Surprise again flickered on Mary's face, but she cleared her throat and answered the question. There are several signs with an old older words. There are several signs with an older immortal. Apparently, after a century or two of life, most immortals tend to weary be wary. What? Most mortals tend to weary of more sensual pursuits. I'm assuming that's proper sentence structure. But that is in a way I've never quite heard applied to that. They tend to weary of the more sensual pursuits. I know what she's trying to say, Lindsay, is. And I'm assuming it's correct. I mean she's written thirty-two other books before this one. But I don't know. You can't mean sex, Quinn asked. Sure she couldn't. While her interest in it had dropped off with Patrick by the end of their marriage, Quinn couldn't ever imagine getting tired of it with Jet. God, just thinking about it make goosebumps rise over all over her body. Yes, sex is one of the things they tire of. Food is another, Mary told her. So they don't need food. Or do they? Older vampires, though. Older nanobampires, older undead vampires? What the fuck does that mean, Mary? What the fuck does that mean, Lindsay? I asked Dante's older sister Bellella. That's her name. About it once and she said, Imagine one thousand soulless one nightstands in a row that were just passable or alright, or imagine eating steak for the thousandth time as well. Everything becomes boring eventually, even living. So off yourself. Don't off yourself. If you're a real person, don't do that. But if you're a fictional person, yeah, just do it. One of Connor McLeod's friends offered his head up during the French Revolution because he was tired of living. Highlander. Great film. What's really funny to me though is they have the Frenchman playing a Scot, and they have the Scotsman playing an Egyptian who went to Japan and fell in love with, I believe it was Masamune, the swordsmith's. Well, Masamune technically wasn't really a swordsmith. Fell in love with the Japanese swordsmith's daughter. Akiko, I think her name was. Holy cow. Is that right? I don't know. And then they made a sword, which technically the style wouldn't exist for another thousand, fifteen hundred years. I don't know. Sean Connery is Ramirez. Great actor. Highlander 2, horrible. Highlander 3, pretty good. I won't say it's bad. Highlander Endgame, mixed feelings. Duncan McLeod, he's alright. Not really sure what the fuck's going on there though. Queen though. Fangastic soundtrack. Still listen to the Highlander soundtrack from Queen. Freddie Mercury, amazing vocalist. Goddamn. Quinn grunted that. She used to like salad and such at one time, but after ten years of salads and seeds and little else, it all just tasted like direct to her, so she supposed everything would get boring eventually. But what has that to do with lifemates? Well, while a single immortal can weary and start abstaining from such pleasures, I'll meet a life mate and immortal's desires are reawakened, including their desire for an enjoyment of food and sex, she explained. Oh, Quinn side. I guess it would be more of like, oh. While she grown bored with salad, she hadn't stopped enjoying muffins and yummy things like that. She just hadn't allowed herself to eat them. The symptom did not help her at all. Another symptom is that all immortals, even really old ones, who no one can usually read, are suddenly easily readable by everyone. Okay, that is basically she's just broadcasting everything that wasn't a context clue that Anders picked up on from the bra. Pretty much everybody fucking knew immediately. And are suddenly easily readable by everyone. Although again, I wouldn't say that the reading part is really necessary. Their emotions are so new and raw and powerful that I think they're projecting them big time. That is another system symptom, exactly what I just said. Quinn shook her head since she had no idea about how to block the thoughts from being read. And with such a new turn on top of that, basically every mortal she'd encounter could read her, so again, this wasn't help for her for her. And then there's the shared pleasure. That's why they passed the fuck out because they're linked and they're coming doubly hard or triply hard or something like that. Quinn glanced at her sharply. Shared pleasure. Hmm, Mary nodded. You share each other's pleasure during sexual pursuits. Touching him brings pleasure to yourself as well as vice versa. But you also share the pleasure you're both experiencing. It merges and builds and mounting waves that grow bigger with each pass until it feels like you're drowning in it. That's why new life meets paint the first year or three after finding each other. Their minds have to adjust to such heightened passion and excitement. Quinn bit her lips. She wasn't sure about sharing the pleasure part. She had touched Jet, but both times she'd only done it after he was already caressing her. So she just thought about what she was experiencing was didn't read that right. I'm not gonna go back from what he was doing. They had fainted though, after finding their release. And shared dreams are another. Quinn set up straight at the announcement. Shared dreams are a symptom of life mates? That's what Jet fucking told you, Quinn. Yes, only lifemates can share dreams, Mary said, eyeing her with interest. You and Jet have shared your dreams. I Quinn hesitated briefly and then admitted. I think so. I mean, I know we did, but then it kind of spilled over into reality, and I don't sighing Quinn simply described her dream to her, including the sexual parts in the ending. She did so about as clinical as a manner as possible and ended with a little plentative, but I don't know when the dream ended and when reality started, or even how it happened for certain, though Jet seems to think I must have turned him during the dream, and because we're so close it started acting out as real life as we were as if we were dreaming. I suspect he's right, Mary said with a nod. I've never heard of it happening before, but from what I understand, usually when life mates have shared dreams, they aren't in the same bed or grassy knoll. But if he was spooning you when you fell asleep and you were face to face with him when you realized you were biting him, it would seem to me that you must have rolled towards him while dreaming, and the two of you started acting out what you were doing in the dream. Here's that fucking word again. Quinn nodded solemnly, and then released her breath on a dispirited pup and asked, So he is my lifemate? Because of the attitude of Quinn, and this probably being the first book that's featured her, I'm really hoping Lindsay Sands doesn't populate the rest of the books with solemnly. Because that would be stupid. I can see through Quinn's depressive attitude and everything, four years that she's been grieving all of her losses and all that shit, and still has not pulled herself out of it, that she's very solemn. I'm holding back my absolute ranker towards that word. So I hope this is the first book that it appears in. But I've read that word more in half of a book than I have ever read cumulative in the rest of my entire fucking life. Including when they talk about the oath in Harry Potter, I'm solu I solemnly swear I'm up to no good. I believe that's what it is. And I've read those books a few times. We're probably at like 50 solemnlies now, or somewhere near that. What the fuck? Yes, that seems obvious, Mary assured her and then smiled crookedly. When Clint when Clem the fuck is Clem. When Quinn just slumped unhappily, she pointed out gently. Most immortals would be grateful to have met their lifemate, especially so soon. Many have to wait centuries or even millennia before finding their life mate. Oh, what's that fucking soulmate shit popping up again that I really hate? It should be like a board of options. It shouldn't be one person. And they're hinting very strongly that it is just one person for your entire eternity that you're supposed to be with. I don't fucking agree with that. It should be an option system where people are close enough that they meet enough parameters that yeah, you can be life mates with them. You're gonna have conflict, you're not always gonna get along. There's gonna be tension, there's gonna be times where you fight, there's gonna be times where you drift apart and you come back together. That's perfectly fucking normal. But to lock somebody into a lifemate type of situation permanently without having other options available to them is an erasure of free fucking will. And I am huge about the ability to choose and not be enslaved to have no choice. That's why I don't like imprinting from Twilight. That's why also why I think it's really kind of weird that Stephanie Meyer had Jacob imprint on a baby. Just saying that's I was gonna say that's not part of Mormon doctrine, but if you look at the earlier history of the church, that kind of is not baby, but adolescent stuff, and yes, you could say, oh, it's kind of normal-ish that girls are married off by the time they were twelve in medieval times, but that's not exactly true to the history of the situation. Yes, they were betrothed by the time they were twelve, quite often, but they weren't actually married until they were closer to an actual adult. Normally, I don't like all this mess. I don't like life mates, I don't like anything else. Would it be easy if I had a life mate? Yeah. Because then I wouldn't well, not now, because I'm perfectly comfortable being alone now, but at the time I was pursuing things, constantly looking for my other half. It would have been easy had I had a life mate, but what if we didn't meld well together? What if I progressed and matured and she did not, or he did not? I mean, bisexual. At the time I would have gone either way. Mormon Church kind of told me that I was a sinner for having Congress with a guy, so I felt extremely bad about that. I just don't like it. It's an erasure of free will. It's an enslavement bereft of choice, and I hate that. Yes, well, most of them probably aren't as screwed up as me and don't have a boatload of crap to sort out before they could even be considered before they could even be considering taking on the life mate, Quinn said bitterly. Mary actually grinned at that, but wiped the expression from her face when Quinn scowled at her. Sorry, she murmured, but I'm afraid you're wrong about that. Quinn blinked at those words and then asked uncertainly, about what? Quinn, I haven't met a single solitary person in my life, mortal or immortal, who hasn't been just as screwed up as uh as you feel you are. Yeah, stumbling over it because I'm flipping a page and I lost my place in the sentence, even though it was the beginning of a new page. Come on, beanbag, get the fuck with it. They may be as screwed up differently or they may have already sorted out their boatload of crap, but nobody gets through life without trauma and tragedy touching them and bending them one way or another. Everyone just hides their bent parts from others because they want to seem normal when the truth is there is no normal. Abnormal is really no the normal, which is kind of true, and there's a lot of stuff that I will talk about in the progression of this podcast that's happened in my life, and I've been through quite a bit of stuff, but I'm able to laugh at all of it, except the extremely heavy stuff, which I'll never talk about to anybody. But for the most part, I find it endlessly entertaining that my life has been extremely chaotic. Starting from the giraffe and going through a myriad of insane things over the next near five decades of life. That's why I claim at times I'm the most interesting person I know. And it's not a boast because, oh yeah, you know, I'm so great. It's a boast because my life has been fucked up and it's been amazingly funny in retrospect. At the time a lot of it hasn't been, but makes for great stories, and I've got no problem sharing any of them. But I also like to talk with people and I also like to share stories, which is why I'm doing this podcast. Quinn shook her head. I worked with a lot of people from the hospital who are perfectly normal without trauma and said, No, you didn't. No, you fucking didn't, Quinn. Fuck. Do you really think so? Mary asked with amusement. And what do you think they thought of you? What? Quinn asked with confusion. Don't you think they saw you the same way? Beautiful and brilliant cardiothoracic surgeon? I thought we were done with that word. Equally brilliant son and a handsome oncologist oncolog no, I it's Friday night. I'm tired, man. And handsome oncologist husband, the happy nuclear family, supportive and loving. You always presenting a put-together professional front, but I'm sure they had no idea your marriage was crumbling and your son was ignored by his father, or that you were struggling to hold it all together. You've read my mind, Quinn said stiffly with resentment. No, she assured her quietly. You're projecting, and have been since I picked you up from the airport. I am. That's why Mary is in the hotel room as a chaperone. It's not to prevent her from doing anything to Quinn. It's not per to Quinn. Jesus fucking Quinn. It's not pre true fuck me. It's not to prevent Quinn from doing anything to Jet. It's not from Jet. Uh not because I just can't get the fucking words out, man. It's not to prevent Quinn from doing anything to Jet. It's not to prevent Jet from doing anything to Quinn. It's because Quinn's been projecting so fucking much, she felt that she would be there for when Quinn decided to ask about things. Because Mary knew Quinn would ask. Now, I know I said Abigail last episode, I believe, was the one that I was invested in and interested in knowing more. I'm heavily leaning to the side of Mary now. I want to know more about her, but through organic exposition. I don't want it to be an entire lore dump immediately. I'm kind of liking Mary right now. So we'll see what happens with that. Oh yes, very loudly and very strongly, Mary assured her. I'm not just being bombarded with a word here or there or a fragment of thoughts or feelings. Your mind is shouting whole chapters out to the world and your emotions are all over the place. Oh God, Quinn moaned, wondering who had all heard her shouting. The Russians, Lucian, Lucian, Buck, Anders, Dante, any mortal who's encountered you probably heard it, Mary assured her. Even Pet and Parker? she asked with alarm. They were turned at the same time as me. Perhaps they were. But I suspect they haven't been neglecting their training and practices. You obviously have, she said quietly. So yes. I'm sure they've been bombarded by your thoughts and feelings, whether you wanted them or two or not. Quinn scowled at the suggestion. She hadn't neglected her training. She simply refused it outright. Okay, thinking about Parker though in life mates type of situations, would it be very interesting if Parker was lifemates with a thousand-year-old vampire? There's a lot of anime that will especially Isakai anime, but they'll bring out a character who's like a Logita type character. So a very young 12, 11-year-old looking girl, but they'll be like, oh no, it's okay, because she's like 900 some odd years old. Gate is a prime example of that with Rory. Rory, I think, is almost a thousand years old, but she looks like she's fucking 10. But it's okay because she's that old, her body just stopped growing at that point. It's not fucking okay, guys. It's really weirdly pedophilic. But the reverse would be exactly the same, pedophilic, but especially since Parker's not an adult yet. But it would be really weird if his life mate was like a thousand-year-old vampire. I don't even know if we're gonna meet Parker in this story. I just realized Parker's last name is Peters. Peter Parker. Parker Peters. Lindsay! What you fucking hack? Quinn scowled at the suggestion she hasn't neglected her training. She sh she'd simply refused it outright. I think I just read that. Maybe, I don't remember. She hadn't asked to be turned into a damn vampire. She didn't want to be one, so she refused to learn anything she that had to do with immortals. That's a very dangerous attitude to take, Mary said. Third times not the fucking charm. Solemnly. Not just for you, but for any mortals you encounter, and even for immortals, which includes your son and sister now. Being able to read mortals helps us know if they're a threat, if they mean it's harm, but also if they've seen or heard something that might give away our existence. And being able to control them helps us prevent their doing so or saying anything to harm us or give away our existence until their memories can be changed or wiped. Interesting. So if I was a nanobot vampire and I had completed my training, you're telling me I could implant false memories into people's heads of the God Emperor of Mankind and make them completely believe that he was the one shining beacon of humanity, and he sits on his golden throne, basically a corpse that needs to be fed a thousand psycher souls per day just to keep the astronomicon beacon lit so humanity can guide itself through the entity of the warp. That would be fucking hilarious. Or, since I'm more like a tech priest, I could make them believe in the omniscient. Same guy, different aspect of the emperor, kind of. I mean, you get deeper into the lore, it's really not the omniscient is the prophet of the machine god, and all machines have machine spirits, and the machine god is the one that controls all of them, or is like the basic deity. Anyways, I'm not gonna get into that right now because if I do, I could go on for like six hours just about Adeptus Mechanicus, Omnisciate, you know, machine god, and all that stuff. These are abilities that protect all immortals from exposure and eradication and are very necessary. She shook her head. I'm amazed that you've been allowed to mingle with mortals when you haven't had the proper training. Quinn waved away that and Quinn waved that away imp fuck. Quinn waved that away impatiently. I told you I don't mingle with mortals. I hadn't mingled with a single one since Pet Parker and Santa three and a half years ago until the plane crashed. She told her, but was more concerned with the possibility that Parker might have been able to read and hear her thoughts. She never considered that and didn't like having to now. Though it would explain why he'd avoided her as much as possible in the last couple years or better. Frowning over that she said, You don't really think Parker could hear or read any of my thoughts, do you? I mean immortals aren't supposed to be able to read older immortals, and I'm almost thirty years older than him. That's not how that fucking works, Quinn. God damn, you're fucking stupid. When she said older immortals, she means ones that have been turned longer, have better control over everything. If that's not what she meant, then what the fuck? But I mean that's gotta be what she meant. Yeah, see, okay. Next line explains it. I should have just read it. The older The older immortal bit isn't representing biological age, Quinn, but how long a person has been an immortal. A twenty year old born So there are legitimately born immortals in this world. Nanobot! Everyone has been confirmed. The older immortal bit isn't referencing biological age, Quinn, but how long a person has been immortal? A 20-year-old born immortal would have had no problem reading a newly turned 50, 60, or even 80-year-old immortal. It's all skill level. That's the other question, too. I have because they said Quinn, no, not Quinn Jet told Quinn about her bony ass in the last chapter that the nanobots, an off-handed comment was that they keep the person at their physical peak, or ideal or whatever. So if you got turned into a nanobot vampire at 80 years old, would your body revert to prime age? Quinn being in her 40s, is she physically actually look like she's in her 40s? Asians, though, a lot of them tend to age very gracefully. I knew an Asian woman that I worked with who was in her 50s and looked like she was in her early 20s. These are all questions I got. I don't know if any information is going to come up about them. I'm hoping so, because that would be really ridiculous to have somebody who's incredibly aged be turned into an immortal and remain in that aged body. And you and Parker are the same age when it comes to when you returned. Only he has no doubt been training and practicing while you haven't, so yes, I'm sure Parker can read and hear your thoughts. Mary told her, and then added, But I'm more concerned about you, Quinn. You're a walking bundle of pain and rage. You're furious and hurt by what you see as your husband's betrayal, and you're soaking in guilt and not being able to save your son from him. You're howling so loud inside that it would have been impossible not to hear it, and I suspect you have been for the last four years because she never fucking dealt with any of it. She paused briefly to shake her head and then said, I don't know how you bear it. Why haven't you arranged to talk to someone? You don't have to feel this way. You shouldn't have to feel this way. It's actually a really nice thing for Mary to say. And I think she's the only one that's ever actually told her that. Quinn felt tears sting her eyes as she lowered her head to hide them, but her mind was repeating Mary's words to her head. A bundle of pain and rage, damn right she was, Patrick had taken everything from her. Her home, her career, her friends, and even her humanity. P and then the bastard Wynne got himself killed, leaving her to deal with a fallout. Your humanity? Quinn lifted her head at Mary's words. What? Your husband stole your humanity, Mary asked quietly. Quinn's mouth tightened. It was damn annoying not having your thoughts to yourself. Is that how you see yourself now? Inhuman? A monster? Mary asked softly. An image of Nika flashed through flashed through her mind, neck twisted, body emaciated, fingers almost locked in bird like claws. Quinn couldn't even hear her voice. Quinn could even hear her voice, like grated glass in her ears. Come, Jot Nika was sick, Mary said quietly. She was in the thrills of bloodlust, Quinn countered. She was scary as hell and would have ripped Chet to shreds. She even looked like a monster across between a zombie and funny, because the image that flashed through your mind when you thought of her looked more like a picture I once saw of those poor victims of concentration camps like Oshwitch. Oswich, whatever the fuck. You said it right the first time, man. You're okay. I just stumbled over fucking words. Or maybe even like one or two of the cancer patients I counseled who were at death's door, emaciated and colorless. Four times now. Mary said solemnly. Mary said it twice, so maybe I'm not liking Mary anymore. Well, she hasn't said solemnly, she's just said things solemnly. Quinn looked away, her mouth tightening because Mary was right. Working in the hospital, she'd been she'd what? She'd seen more than one cancer patient who had looked not unlike Nika. Same with me. It's always so bad to see somebody waste away like that. It breaks my heart. But turning back, she said solemnly, Cancer patients don't have bangs. We do. And we feed off the blood of mortals. We need to take in bad blood to survive, just like hemophiliacs occasionally need, or people with Hmm. Alright. Thrombocytopenia. I hope that's how you say that. Anemia, kidney disease, liver disease, sickle cell disease, and countless other illnesses. She raised her eyebrows. Are they monsters too? They don't have fangs, Quinn said stubbornly. Okay, so you're a monster, Mary said with a shrug. What about Pet and Parker? What about them? Quinn asked squaredly. Are they monsters too? No, Quinn gasped with horror. Why not? They're immortal. So if your being immortal means you're a monster, so are they, Mary reasoned. Quinn frowned at her logic and then shook her head. But but Quinn Quinn? There's no Quinn. It says Parker. Why did I fucking read Quinn? Parker isn't a monster, he's a victim, she said miserably. And you aren't? I'm the idiot who married Patrick, sighing as she closed her eyes briefly and then added she's blaming herself for absolutely everything. Which is a sign of someone who is so deep into the abuse she believes her own bullshit. I married him rather than divorced him when I should have. Oh, I married him and then rather than divorce him when I should have, I just let things go because it was easier than having to deal with it, and Parker paid the price. I see, Mary said quietly. So is that what the last four years have been about, punishing yourself or what happened to Parker? Quinn blinked her eyes open with surprise. I haven't been punishing myself. Yes, you fucking have, Quinn. Yes, you fucking have. Haven't you? she said softly. You certainly haven't done anything to make yourself happy or to help you move past this. You haven't even considered what you want to do professionally, or where you want to live permanently. You rented a house in Italy close to your sister and then shut yourself into it, stewing in your misery. You haven't done a thing for yourself. You haven't even shaved your legs in four years, Quinn, she pointed out and then admitted. Mary's probably not saying it with as much vitriol as I am, but I'm fucking saying it with vitriol. I originally thought perhaps it was depression, but now I suspect you've been punishing yourself or perhaps a combination of the two. Quinn closed her eyes again, considering that. Had she been depressed? She felt so angry she hadn't considered that she might be depressed. She hadn't even realized that anger was a part of depression. She thought it was just sadness, hopelessness, exhaustion, although to be honest, she'd suffered all three of those the last four years too. As for punishing herself, as much as her first instinct had been to deny it, she may have been doing that. If so, that was probably no less than she deserved. She'd failed Parker miserably. Signing she opened her eyes, sat up, straightened her shoulders. That's why I came back to talk to Greg Hewitt and to try to fix this myself. There's nothing to fix, Quinn. You aren't broken. You just need to accept your new reality and embrace it. You need to stop taking the blame for Patrick's actions. He turned Parker. There was nothing you could have done about it. Patrick had already attacked and turned you when it happened. You were in the throes of the turn, completely unconscious and incapable of protecting your son. But it was my job, Quinn moaned, and then scrubbed her hands over her face, muttering, I should have never married Patrick. Then there would be no Parker, Mary pointed out. Quinn didn't even want to consider that outcome. She loved Parker dearly, so she supposed she was glad she married Patrick after all, but then I should have divorced him when it first became apparent that he wasn't going to be a proper father to him. Coulda shoulda woulda, Mary said with exasperation and then shook her head. What if you had? What if it'd just been you and Parker living there when the rogue who attacked you and your husband moved in next door? So that's interesting they were attacked by a rogue vampire. Maybe it would have been you two who encountered the man and gotten turned. Or maybe he would have just drained you dry and killed you. Or maybe he would have just killed Parker, Mary pointed out and then added. Either way you definitely would have lost Pet once Santos arrived to investigate the matter. She's his life mate, and as such couldn't have resisted him. Mary shrugged. One way or the other Pet would have been turned. And when she was, if you hadn't been turned, she'd have had to leave you behind. Quinn was scowling over that when Mary added. Or maybe Parker and Pet both would have ended up turned and you'd been mortal still and would have been fed some story that they died in a car accident. She arched her eyebrows. Frankly, looking at the different permutations, it seems to me that this is the happiest of outcomes. The three of you were turned and still have each other. When Quinn just frowned, Mary added, And as a mother who had to remove herself from the lives of her children and grandchildren after being turned. I cannot express how much I envy you that. Quinn was just absorbing the shock from those words when a knock sounded at the door. That's chapter eight. I'm extremely interested in Mary's life now. And that's also another reason why she was there because Quinn is on a pity party and blaming herself for absolutely everything that went wrong, everything that happened. When Mary probably didn't have much of a choice in the matter of turning either, and had to give up her entire family connection, everything because of her new life. It's gotta be super hard, man. I feel so bad for Mary for that. And she's a fictional fucking character, but now I'm kind of invested in Mary. I want to see what happens here. I thought Mary wasn't very old. And so I'm assuming the nanobots kind of put her at her peak physical condition. But if she has grandchildren, well, I was about to say if she has grandchildren, she's gotta be older, but I'm 44 and friends who are my age who were born the same year as me, just a couple months before me, have grandkids already. And yeah, so it'll be interesting to see what happens in the rest of the fuck you, Lindsay. Fuck you for making me interested in one of your characters. Fuck you for making me interested in seeing what the rest of the story has to hold. Don't give a fuck about Quinn or Jet or Tomato or any of those other fucking people. Still slightly care about Abigail, but now I'm invested in Mary. I found a focal point for the story that actually makes me interested in seeing what the fuck's going on with it. I 100% agree with what Mary just told Quinn. You need the time to grieve, but if you're not willing to pull yourself out of it, sometimes you need a kick in the ass to make you aware that you are fucking doing this still. So that's chapter 8. Next week we'll see where chapter 9 takes us. And I hope to God to avoid the use of the word solemnly.