Chapter 3Blood Lies and Cherry Pies

A terrifying thought hit me.

Ethan’s been drinking fake blood? Then how is he…

No. Wait. Maybe he can't drink real blood. Which means...

He’s been pretending to be a vampire?

I started running through all the "evidence" from the past ten years, and my scalp began to prickle.

Vampires don't eat hot food. We always had two meals: my hot dinner and Ethan’s "cold" one. I’d be tearing into a rack of ribs, grease up to my elbows, and he'd just watch me, looking disgusted... or so I thought.

That wasn't disgust. He was swallowing because he was craving the ribs.

Vampires are nocturnal and fear the sun. Ethan claimed he was a "high-level" vampire who could tolerate the sun, but only with "protection." Even on the hottest summer days, he'd be bundled up in long sleeves, pants, and a huge hat. He'd come home looking totally wrecked.

I thought it was sun damage. He was having a heatstroke.

He wasn't just faking. He was a "method" vampire. He "feared" garlic, silver, and crosses. His skin was pale, his lips were always red, and he kept vampire hours. Other than not killing people, he was straight out of a movie.

His study was always dark, heavy curtains drawn 24/7.

And "that place" he rested... was the cold, damp basement.

I snuck in once, years ago. All that was in there was a "bed" that looked exactly like an ice coffin, frost crawling up the sides.

If Ethan isn't a vampire—if he’s just a normal guy like me—how could he stand sleeping in that frigid thing?

And why? Why has he been playing this part for a decade?