Cold-Blooded - Shane Barrett, Sierra Aguirre-Stoker, Pete Jemison

Vampires are cold-blooded.
It’s an academic observation in southern California.
It’s far more real in Appalachian Tennessee. Sierra is feeling the chill herself. It’s not below freezing, but there was definitely some drifting snow in the air when she woke up this evening, and her breath is making faint foggy clouds. She’s keeping her hands in her sweatshirt pocket, and the tip of her nose is tingling.
Shay has been quiet for a while now. Sierra had thought maybe it was just his usual quiet unless he has something to say thing, but now she’s worried. Vampires don’t self regulate their body temperature in any way, and loss of proper circulation can send them into a torpor state not unlike cold-blooded animals.
“Shay, you alright?”
“Do I look alright?” There’s no chattering teeth or tremor in his voice, just snark.
Sierra scoots a little closer to him on the log anyway, adjusting the blanket spread over their legs, then looks up at the sky. “Where did you say the meteor shower is gonna be, Pete?”
Pete looks perfectly comfortable in a quilted flannel jacket and fingerless gloves. Sierra kind of wants to punch him. Totally unfair. “A little to the northwest.” He pushes up his sleeve to check his watch. “In about twenty minutes.”
“Twenty minutes?” Shay asks. “Seriously?”
“We got up here a lot faster than I thought we would,” Pete says. “Someone cleared the trails out. A few years ago I was climbing over fallen trees and having to go around branches.”
“So your idea of a fun-filled night is drag your best friends through a potential obstacle course?” Sierra asks.
“You’re the one who said seeing the meteor shower would be cool.”
“It is cool. Literally.” Sierra rubs her arms. “Should we maybe start a fire or something?”
“If we do, it’ll make it harder to see anything up there,” Pete says. “We can light one for a bit and then put it out, though.”
“That sounds like a great idea to me,” Sierra says. “Shay, how do you feel about a fire?” Vampires aren’t fond of cold temperatures, but they’re also very averse to fire. Uncle John has apparently endless stories of how Robin has pissed Emma off with minor (controlled, or at least so he claims) arson.
There’s no response. Sierra turns to Shay to see him slumped forward, head resting on his chest, lips bluer and skin paler than even his normal.
Idiot. He wouldn’t have been shivering or had chattering teeth, because those are the responses of something warm-blooded trying to regulate itself.
He may not have realized how bad things were getting, himself. Sierra thinks he would have told her if he did. He’s usually pretty good about being honest about an issue, unless it’s going to involve him needing real blood.
This won’t. But he’s still a new vamp and this is his first time in colder weather. He’s used to human indicators of hypothermia, and probably didn’t recognize the vampire ones as anything other than discomfort.
“Pete, we are gonna need that fire.” She nods to Shay. “Because I do not want to try and carry him back down that trail.” Having him as virtual deadweight in flat desert was bad enough.
“If we can get him warm he should be fine,” Pete says, digging some matches out of his jacket pocket and picking up a handful of twigs and fallen leaves. “He’s basically going into hibernation because of the temperatures.”
It’s certainly not the worst off Sierra’s ever seen Shay, but that doesn’t mean it’s good. It’s more easily fixed than open wounds or blood loss or exposure to silver, but given that vampires can’t help their own bodies warm back to a functional temperature, Sierra and Pete are going to have to do all the work.
She slides her jacket off her arms, pulling Shay into a clumsy hug and slipping her hands under his shirt to wrap around his back. His skin is like ice. She shivers from the contact.
Pete takes a moment away from the tiny flickers of his fire to drape the blanket around the two of them like a miniature tent. The wool is scratchy against Sierra’s cheek, but it traps her warmth between herself and Shay, and she feels him shift against her.
She curls into him, watching the firelight flicker on his features, bringing out the color again. The reddish glow makes him almost look human again. It’s honestly a strange sight.
She isn’t sure what she would have thought of him if they’d met while he was still human.
The only Shay she knows is the vampire.
And she likes the person she knows.
He blinks lazily, and the fire’s light brings out the flecks of gold ringing the center of his irises.
“Welcome back,” she says, laughing out a huff of relief.
“Wh…” He sounds groggy, dazed.
“We let you get too cold. We’re just going to get you warm and then go home,” she says.
Pete sits down on the log next to them, re-adjusting the blanket so it now wraps (almost) around all three of them. Sierra shudders at the momentary gust of chilly wind, then leans into Pete’s warmth. The fire is crackling cheerfully, several crossed logs forming a solid base that smolders determinedly. There’s only a low red light now, but it’s reliable, steady and warm.
“Hey, look.” Pete detaches one arm from the cocoon of warmth to point upward. Sure enough, a scatter of pinpoint lights is making their way to earth.
Sierra watches them, burning so bright until they go out, and settles a little closer into the bodies surrounding her.
Falling stars only last for a few moments. But the best of them never go down alone. Everything, even going down in flames, is better done together.