I ended up wasting another hour relaxing with my arm around Tara as she rested against my side.

We were both quiet, I had no idea what she was thinking about. I was thinking about her, about training her. Or not training her, which was the real problem.

I had no idea what I was doing. Or what I was feeling.

I was positive I was letting her down by being so easy on her, but I couldn't stand the thought of hurting her. And I refused to turn her over to someone else for training. Fucking Cynthia would probably insist on doing it herself, and she'd either kill Tara or drive her so hard she'd be begging to work with Cheryl.

Not that I'd let it get to that point. I was sure one way or another I'd wind up in a fight with Cyn. I was confident I could beat her, but if I did then Isabelle would be waiting to kill me herself. And Tara too of course.

But by slacking off on Tara's training, I was probably setting her up for failure anyways. She wouldn't cut it as an enforcer. Isabelle and Cynthia would realize that as soon as they put her to the test. Maybe they already knew it.

It felt like there just weren't any answers, no way out. Everything I did, everything I tried to do for Tara turned out to be a mistake. All I wanted was for her to be safe and happy, to have a good unlife and enjoy herself. Instead I kept screwing up, over and over. Right from the start when I turned her, I thought I was doing her a favour but I messed that up too.

I didn't even know why it bothered me so much. I didn't stress over Cynthia getting hurt. Or Carlos, or Jess, or any of the other enforcers. I didn't even stress about getting hurt myself. But I couldn't bear the thought of Tara suffering.

Of course, I liked Tara a lot more than any of those other vamps. And I felt responsible for her. That made sense, she was my first and only turn. Isabelle once told me, turning someone was a little like having a child. You wanted to see your progeny prosper and succeed, you wanted to see them be happy.

Still, Isabelle didn't dote on me. She cut me some slack now and then in the beginning, for the first few months. The first couple years even, there were times she was gentle with me. When she was extra tough on me it was because Claudia was leaning on her. She didn't become such a hard-ass herself until she took over as matriarch.

I sighed softly and wondered once more if my feelings for Tara were something else. I wondered if maybe I was in love with her.

Except I didn't know if that was possible. I didn't know if vamps were capable of love. And even if we were, I didn't know if I was capable of it. I couldn't remember ever feeling anything vaguely love-like when I was alive, but that might have been because I was too caught-up in the dysphoria and depression and stuff like that.

I did see other vampire couples within the Family, but of course they were all het. And I couldn't tell if any of them loved each other, or if they were just in it for the sex. Or maybe it was a companionship thing.

And I had no idea if Tara felt the same way about me. Maybe she did? She liked to hug and cuddle and stay by my side, but that might be just because I turned her. Or because I was responsible for her. I protected her, so of course she was clinging to me.

Being the only two trans vamps in the Family and being all but outcasts because of that meant I had a lot of questions left unanswered. Either nobody knew the answers, or if they did, nobody felt like telling me what they were.

I didn't really have any friends in the Family either. Isabelle was sort of a friend sometimes, but that was another thing that ended when she took over as matriarch. Now she wasn't really approachable, I couldn't just call her up or drop in on her. And if I did get to see her, it was always very official and formal, with other members of the Family present.

About the only thing I used to have was respect. Being the top enforcer for a few years earned me some respect, as well as a few enemies. I lost the respect when I broke the rules and turned Tara. I kept the enemies though, and gained a few more.

In a way it felt like Tara and I only had each other, that we were sort of expected to figure everything out on our own. But at the same time the others were all ready and waiting and eager to punish us and chastise us if we got anything wrong or stepped out of line in any way.

So nobody was telling me what to do, how to act, how to be a teacher. All I had to go on was how Isabelle taught me, and I couldn't do that to Tara. I just had to figure it out on my own and hope somehow we'd both survive.

My thoughts swung back to that email Isabelle sent me earlier this evening. I wrote her this morning, I asked some of those questions Tara put to me after our patrol. I didn't say that stuff came from Tara, bad enough I was questioning Isabelle myself. But I made some of those points, because I knew she was right.

Isabelle's response was blunt. Those things were none of my concern, I just had to do what I was told. She also suggested I should be a lot more worried about Tara's training and her lack of progress, rather than waste my time questioning my superiors about doing their jobs.

It wasn't overtly threatening, but the subtext was there. She knew Tara's training was falling further and further behind. And she wanted to make sure I knew that she knew. Sooner or later she and Cynthia would turn up and put Tara to the test. And right now, there was no way Tara could pass.

According to the clock over the TV it was nearly eleven now. I'd already wasted too much time, we needed to get moving. I had to get serious about training her.

"C'mon," I said as I suddenly got to my feet. "Get dressed, we're going out. Jeans, boots, t-shirt, jacket. Nothing fancy, nothing you don't mind getting damaged. Don't worry about make-up or doing your hair."

Tara gave me a nervous look as she got to her feet, "Where are we going?"

I was already heading into my own bedroom as I replied, "We're going to find some trouble."

I dressed quickly. I went with some old torn black jeans and a tight pink t-shirt. My favourite beat-up old black denim jacket went on top, and my ankle boots finished the look. I had a three-foot length of chain with a steel ball at one end and a leather handle at the other, that was looped through the epaulette over my left shoulder and both ends tucked into the left pocket, and my three-inch lock-blade pocket knife went in the right pocket.

I already rinsed out my flask last night and refilled it, that was tucked into a hidden pocket inside my jacket.

Tara looked anxious as she emerged from her room. She was wearing her blue stretch-jeans, a newish pair of Doc Martens on her feet, and a dark blue denim jacket on top.

She wanted to look tough, she really did. Instead she just looked adorable. Finding Docs in her size was a challenge, they looked like kids boots. If not for her boobs and hips and butt, at first glance you'd think she was a tween trying to look tough for her first day of high school.

"What kind of trouble are we looking for?" she asked nervously.

I sighed, "Nothing fatal."

She remained anxious as we headed out the door and into the hall. As we waited for the elevator Tara asked, "Is this more training?"

"Yeah," I nodded.

The elevator was empty as we got in, and I sighed "I'm sorry Tara. We need to find a way to get you past some of your fears, without making it too hard on you. Just remember, humans can't really hurt you. Pain is temporary, you heal quickly. And I'm here with you, I won't let anything get too severe."

She was quiet again, and soon enough we were out on the street.

As we walked I said, "I know some spots where rival gangs are always clashing over turf, and where the drug dealers hang out. It's like kicking a hornet's nest."

She gave me a worried glance and asked, "I thought we're not supposed to hurt humans?"

"We're not allowed to hunt them," I replied. "And we're not supposed to kill them. We can hurt them if it's self defence, as long as we don't go crazy about it and don't reveal ourselves."

I added, "So no flashing your fangs, no biting, and if some blood gets spilled don't make a big show of drinking it."

As we continued walking I reminded her of the stuff I'd already taught her, like how easily she could break a human's nose. Or if she couldn't reach that, she could stop a guy cold by burying her fist or her foot in his crotch. Or even just kick a guy in the shins. With her vamp strength she'd actually have to hold back if she didn't want to bust a human's leg.

She was quiet again for now, just listening and nodding her head every now and then. I could tell she was nervous, but that's what I was hoping to get her past. There was literally nothing to be afraid of when it came to humans.

After another few minutes of quiet Tara asked softly, "Sam? Do you really think I'll make it as a peacekeeper? I mean... I'm so small. I feel so weak and useless."

I glanced at her and sighed, "Size doesn't matter. A vamp's strength has nothing to do with their physical muscles. If it did, Isabelle would never be in charge right? Look how much bigger some of the other vamps are. Like Reuben? Or Carlos. Even fucking Eric's bigger than Isabelle. But she could rip every one of them limb from limb without even breaking a sweat."

"Hell just look at me," I added. "I got promoted to top enforcer at twenty-years-dead. I had Reuben and Carlos and Anthony and the rest all answering to me, and I'm the smallest of the lot. It's got nothing to do with our height, or how big our muscles are."

Tara just sighed, but she didn't respond.

I continued, "I know you know this, but I'm going to say it again Tara. Your strength comes from something intangible. Vamps get stronger as we age. You're only three, so yeah in that respect you're still weak. But that's only one third of the equation. Our lineage plays a huge part, and yours is impeccable. You came from me. I came from Isabelle. Isabelle came from Claudia. I don't know who Claudia's dame was, that was like a hundred years before my time. But my point is, our current matriarch is basically your grandma, and the previous matriarch was your great-grandma. You and I come from the strongest line in the Family."

"There's more to it than that though," she said quietly. "Like, if that's all there was, Cynthia would be stronger than you right? She has the same lineage as you, and she's thirty or forty years older."

"Yeah," I nodded. "I don't know where the third thing comes from, that's the wildcard. Isabelle has it, Claudia had it, I have it. Cynthia, not so much. Cyn will never be matriarch. Me neither, but that's because they all hate me. Not that I want the job anyways, not after I saw how much it changed Isabelle. But my point is, your strength has nothing to do with your physical size. You're already stronger than any living human. In a few more years you'll be as strong as some of the vamps in our family. Maybe even stronger. Maybe you'll rival me and Isabelle in time? But we really have to keep working on your training, especially your attitude. That's the thing."

She asked, "So what's the lesson tonight?"

I pointed up ahead, "See that guy in the hoodie? He's a dealer. You're going to go hassle him till he gets mad and tries to hurt you. Then you're going to do what you have to do. Don't kill him, don't reveal your fangs, just rough him up a little. I'll be here watching."

She turned to stare at me with wide eyes, "You want me to pick a fight with a drug dealer?"

"Yep," I nodded. "And you're going to win. So go get him."

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