The Iron in Blood

Marcus had coined the new term for what we are. And even though I didn't like hearing the word vampire out loud - force of habit, I suppose - I found the political correctness of Marcus' term a bit offensive. Call a spade a spade, dammit. Just not where anyone can hear you do it.

"Apparently not. This is so exciting! A recessive set of genes! I can't believe it!" Exclamation marks all over the place.

"So why doesn't she behave like one?" I wasn't convinced. "She's past puberty now, surely." When our hormone levels started changing, especially with the surge in steroid hormones, like testosterone and oestrogen, our bodies switched to a kind of a dual metabolism. So we could metabolise normal food like normal people - fats, carbohydrates, proteins. But when we had enough iron in our systems, our bodies could use it ways we couldn't yet fully understand. Marcus was still working on figuring that one out.

Marcus was silent for a few seconds, considering the question. "Well, she's female, and they store less iron than males, and she's probably a vegetarian. She most likely hasn't had her first hit yet." Marcus' use of drug terminology was strangely appropriate. It was how I had come to think of being a vampire - I subconsciously flinched at that word again. We had a set of unique receptors which responded in an unusual way to iron, that everyday substance, like an alcoholic responds differently to a shot of whiskey than a normal person would. Except maybe an alcoholic was not the best analogy. The craving was there, certainly, but our drug did not incapacitate us. Instead it made us invincible and powerful, strong enough to break boulders, and fast enough to run alongside speeding cars. I closed my eyes and recalled the heady rush, the clarity of vision, the enhanced senses, the sensation of muscles ripping through the sluggish air, the crystallisation of all pleasure and wonder into this perfect rush of being.

Our father had explained the situation to us one day when we were twelve. The signs were all there that we were going to hit puberty soon, and he wanted the transition from slightly strange but mostly normal boy to utter freak to go as smoothly as possible, I suppose. He was a good man, my father, strong, obviously, but compassionate too, and intelligent enough to have figured out the basic metabolic reason for our unusual abilities. He had met my mother towards the end of her life, still youthful looking, another benefit of being able to use iron as we do. We heal fast, restoring aging and damaged cells rapidly, so we look as if we are just out of school, or in our early twenties, for most of our long lives. Adult, but never old.