I’m glad it’s dark so that he can’t see the revulsion that must be on my face. But he can surely sense it.

“I know what you’re thinking, because I never could’ve imagined doing it myself, but when there’s not violence behind it, it’s…” He hesitates, and his voice sounds strained. “Nice.”

This time a little noise escapes me. I can’t help the fact that my stomach turns. But I can hear the pain in his voice and the lingering love for someone who’s only a memory. I recognize it, and that’s why I keep listening.

“She was a freshman in college who got turned walking across campus late at night. We built a weird little life together, going to museums during the day where I’d just listen to her rattle on about color composition, and at night I’d still go out and hunt because each troupe is supposed to kill a certain number each year, but I got more selective. If they weren’t hurting anyone, why should I hurt them?”

“Because they have the potential to hurt someone,” I say. I’m trying hard to cling to what I believe, even with his grief standing there, matching mine.

“You can say that about anyone,” he says.

He’s not wrong.

“So where is she?” I ask, even though I already know the answer. I can tell he needs to say it.

“Dead.”

For a second, the waves seem to quiet in deference to that word, but I know it’s only because my grief and his grief are somehow the same and yet make no sense together, drowning out everything else around us.

“How?”

“Killed by Society hunters,” he says.

“Xander?” My heart seems to pause as I wait for an answer.

“No. I don’t know who killed her. It was probably my own troupe. It wasn’t just me back then, and we still performed together every week, so we stayed in the same area. But I only know that she didn’t come home, and she never would’ve just left me without a word. Plus, you saw what happens to vampires when they die. And I found a pile of ash two blocks from our place.”

“So are you saying the Society is evil?”

“I’m saying there’s evil and good in everything, and nothing’s a simple binary.”

I want to forget about this, to block it out and hang on to my pure, red-hot anger and let it drive me without thought, but that’s not who I am. I can still have my revenge. It’s just not as simple.

“So you really volunteered to train me to teach me this. Make sure I do it the right way?” That finally makes sense.

“And to give you a chance to do it without the Society.”

“You said they weren’t all bad,” I remind him.