Isaac laughed poisonously. “No, Reid. That was memory. And that’s why heroic stories of fighting monsters with symbols of some glowing Messiah’s godhood aren’t for us. They’re for them.” He indicated the other people in the park. “Hey, but don’t let that keep you from whatever you’re writing, huh? We deserve our own silly fantasies, too, dammit!” He shouted this at the passersby. Most ignored him. He chuckled, pleased with himself. This man is a vampire, Reid realized. He’s not a monster, but he thrives on misery. He needs to drink from my cup of sorrows to digest his own.
