“Is it difficult getting them on a normal sleeping schedule?”

“Difficult?” Natalie rolled her eyes. “Try impossible. Their father wakes up around eight at night and goes to sleep when they’d normally have breakfast. Regular sleep schedules are a foreign concept.”

Makeda shrugged and opened another box. She could hear the little boy opening and closing all the empty cupboards and drawers in the back of the house. Most of her things were still in boxes, so he couldn’t get into too much trouble.

“Until the children are in school, odd schedules won’t be an issue,” Makeda said. “As long as they’re resting enough to be healthy, do what works for your family.”

“That’s our philosophy too.” She glanced at Makeda from the corner of her eye. “Have you ever had a relationship with a vampire?”

“No, and to be honest, the sleep thing is one of the reasons. I’m a morning person,” Makeda said. “There was one—he worked security at my lab, a lot like Baojia—and he was very attractive. We got along well. We went out a couple of times, but…”

“No chemistry?”

“Oh no. There was chemistry. But it was hard getting past the ‘feeling like food’ thing. I never felt like we were on equal footing.”

“That’s on him,” Natalie said. “Not you. You’re incredibly bright and accomplished. You’re beautiful—”

“Oh, he was too,” Makeda said with a smile.

“Plus you seem like a really cool person. So if he was making you feel inferior, that was about him, not you.”

Makeda shrugged. “I’m sure it was partly me. I’m… a nerd. I’m the smart, quiet girl in class who sat in the back and tried not to attract attention. I have no interest in status or power dynamics, and I think you have to be willing to play that game—at least a little bit—to live in that world.”

“Hmmm.”

Makeda glanced at Natalie, who was now unpacking a box of glassware. She didn’t mean to be offensive, but she often had a difficult time gauging how her words would be interpreted. What she considered honest, others sometimes thought was rude. That was not her intention. She truly liked Natalie and thought she could grow to be friends with her. She certainly appreciated her help unpacking.

“I don’t mean to say you’re power hungry or anything like that,” Makeda said.

“I didn’t take it that way! And I’m not. But I’m also okay with playing politics a little bit. Newsrooms are very, very political, and writers can be ambitious and manipulative. Fortunately, I find it interesting, not tiresome.”

Jake ran back into the living room.

“Jakey, why don’t you do a quiet puzzle? Momma brought some in your backpack.”

“Okay!”

“Laboratories can also be political,” Makeda said. “And researchers are very territorial about their information. But people mostly keep to themselves. Everyone has projects, and as long as they’re not fighting over funding, most people just want to be left alone.”

“Keep your eyes on your own microscope?”

“Pretty much,” Makeda said. “I like it.”

The quick stab of anger was no less painful after a month. She had to be here, working on the Elixir cure, but it had been infuriating to be pulled off her thalassemia research. She woke up at night thinking about it. She called to check with her assistant even though the young woman had already been reassigned.

“How are you liking the lab?” Natalie asked.

“It’s not mine,” Makeda said abruptly. “Sorry. It’s… difficult. I didn’t choose to be here—I was assigned. Pulled off a project I’d been working on for several years. I know the work here is important, but it’s not mine. I don’t know if that makes sense to other people.”

Natalie grimaced. “It does. I’ve had stories—I still think about some of them—that I had to abandon because I got to a dead end in the investigation or my editor refused to keep backing me. Not many news organizations are willing to devote time to investigative journalism anymore. It’s maddening.”

Makeda had never thought about that. Both were researchers in their own way. “I imagine it’s quite a similar feeling.”

“Yep.” Natalie reached for the glass casserole dish Makeda was unwrapping. “You move on—usually to something equally as important—but it’s not your story. Not the one that’s lived in your head for months or even years.”

“Yes, it sounds very similar.” Makeda bent and started putting dishes and pans away in the small kitchen. “I’ll adjust. It would be easier if Lucien was more cooperative, but I also understand his point of view. He didn’t ask for me to be here.”

“Don’t be too nice to him. I love him, but he’s a grumpy old man. Don’t let the pretty young face fool you. I know he could use some help. The problem is, he’s entirely too brilliant for his own good.”

If that wasn’t a familiar feeling, Makeda didn’t know what was. She had always been socially isolated by her intelligence. It was part of what made research so appealing to her. The thought that she had something in common with the irascible vampire she was forced to work with was somewhat annoying.

Makeda said, “Lucien is…” Irritating. Stubborn. Brilliant.

Highly attractive.