Free Prophecy of the Undead by Fiona McGier

Pues .” Yuri shrugged slowly and elaborately. “ No sé .”
    Keisha shot him an amused look.
    “What’s with all of the español, señor ? I thought you were Russian, not Hispanic.”
    “I am...or I was. We are heading down to see one of the older ones, who was originally from Spain. He speaks fluent English now but retains an old-world accent. Besides, there are some things that are idioms which don’t translate well from one language to any other. I really have no idea if any authors actually know any vampires or if they are totally writing fiction. I used to think that Anne Rice must know at least one of us but her describing us as sexless eunuchs was a cruel joke. Possibly she was hurt by being loved and left? Who knows? At any rate, I know what I am and what is and isn’t possible for me. The fact that so many women and men are fascinated by the allure of eternal life, forever young and hot vampires, and mind-blowing sex with the undead just makes things so much easier for me. The mind-fuckery has a handle—if you will—to hang on and the easiest thing to do is convince them they are having sex,—even when they aren’t. The blood flows quicker as they get more excited.”
    Yuri’s smile was partly mischievous and partly malicious. Keisha grinned in response.
    “See? Even though I’m not particularly happy about how it happened, I’m glad you made me one of you before you told me about yourself. I can’t imagine how frightened I would be by your casual admission of things like that if I worried that I was going to be on the dinner menu.”
    Yuri’s answering grin was amused.
    “You are precious. I am happily anticipating the many years I intend to spend learning all there is to know about you. Not only are you intelligent beyond my imagining, but you have a quirky sense of humor and can make even me laugh. Believe me, us Russians are—by nature—a pretty dour and pessimistic lot. I need someone like you to balance me with your optimism and your laughter.”
    “You might see in me what you want to see. I haven’t had an easy life and it’s hard to laugh when you are working twenty-four-seven on research you feel driven to complete.”
    “Why is that? What is the reason that you work so hard on discovering the root of intelligence? What’s your personal connection?”
    Keisha shrank down in her chair and frowned.
    “My past,” she mumbled.
    Yuri leaned forward and took her hand in his again, caressing her fingers.
    “Don’t,” she began. “I won’t be able to think if you keep doing that.”
    “I’m only attempting to reassure you while you think of and talk about things that are unpleasant for you.”
    “I guess...okay...” She sat up straighter. “I was born in the ghetto...it almost seems like a cliché, doesn’t it? Poor black child gets scholarships due to her scary-smartness, then earns multiple degrees and goes into a life of research—only to discover to her chagrin that research scientists are the red-headed stepchildren of the science world. The respect and acclaim I thought would be mine has eluded me. I barely made enough money to pay off all of my student loans. Meanwhile, my brothers and sisters are still mostly in the ghetto...the ones who aren’t dead. Some got into drugs, either using or dealing or both. One brother is an alcoholic and keeps getting DUIs. It’s only a matter of time until he kills someone...maybe even himself. I look at them all and wonder why I’m not still there? The only difference I can see is that I was born with a bigger brain, with more of whatever it is that makes a person intelligent. Many of them are street-smart, with common sense, but none of them had any ambition to use education as their stepping stone out of poverty.”
    Yuri’s face reflected only compassion.
    “So, you wanted to discover how to help them all by synthesizing the brain chemicals which would make them more intelligent?”
    “Yes. Is that really too much to ask? I