by P. C. Cast
“So how’s Jared?” I asked abruptly, totally stopping K-babble’s giggles.
“Okay, I guess,” she said without meeting my eyes.
“You guess?”
She moved her shoulders and I saw that under her very cute leather jacket she was wearing the tiny little cream lace cami we used to call the Boob Shirt, because not only did it show a lot of cleavage, but it was the color of skin, so it looked like it was showing even more than it actually was.
“I dunno. We haven’t really talked much the past couple days or so.”
She still wouldn’t look at me, but she did glance at Heath, who looked clueless—but that was really his only look. So my best friend was going after my boyfriend. Now that pissed me off, and for a second I wished it wasn’t such a nice warm night. I wished it was cold and Kayla would freeze her over-developed boobies right off.
From the north the wind whipped around us suddenly, viciously, bringing an almost frightening chill.
Trying not to look obvious, Kayla pulled her jacket closed and giggled again, this time nervously instead of flirtatiously, and I got another big whiff of beer, and something else. Something that had been so recently imprinted into my senses that I was surprised I hadn’t smelled it right away.
“Kayla you’ve been drinking and smoking?”
She shivered and blinked at me like a very slow rabbit. “Just a couple. Beers, I mean. And, well, um, Heath had one little bitty joint and I was really, really scared to come here, so I just had a couple tiny hits off it.”
“She needed some fortification,” Heath said, but he’s never been good with words over two syllables, so it sounded like fort-fi-ka-shun.
“Since when have you started smoking pot?” I asked Heath.
He grinned. “It’s no big deal, Zo. I just have a joint once in a while. They’re safer than cigarettes.”
I really hated it when he called me Zo.
“Heath,” I tried to sound patient. “They are not safer than cigarettes, and even if they are that’s not saying much. Cigarettes are disgusting and they kill you. And, seriously, the biggest losers at school smoke pot. Besides the fact that you really can not afford to kill any more brain cells.” I almost added “or sperms,” but I didn’t want to go there. Heath would definitely get the wrong idea if I made a reference to his man parts.
“Nu uh,” Kayla said.
“What Kayla?”
She was still clutching her jacket against the chill. Her eyes had changed from pitiful rabbit to sly, tail-twitchy cat. I recognized the change. She did it constantly with people she didn’t consider part of her girlfriend group. It used to drive me crazy and I would yell at her and tell her she shouldn’t be so mean. Now she was turning that crap on me?
“I said nu uh because not just losers smoke—at least not just once in a while. You know those two really hot running backs who play for Union, Chris Ford and Brad Higeons? I saw them at Katie’s party the other night. They smoke.”
“Hey, they’re not that hot,” Heath said.
Kayla ignored him and kept talking. “And Morgan smokes sometimes.”
“Morgan, as in Morgie who’s a Tigette?” Yes, I was pissed at K, but good gossip is good gossip.
“Yeah. She also just got her tongue and her”—K broke off and mouthed the word “clit”—“pierced. Can you imagine how much that must have hurt?”
“What? What did she get pierced?” Heath said.
“Nothing,” K and I said together, for a moment sounding eerily like the best friends we used to be.
“Kayla, you’re not staying on subject. Again. The Union football players have always been drug-happy. Hello! Please recall their steroid use, which is why it took sixteen years for us to beat them.”
“Go, Tigers! Yeah, we kicked Union’s ass!” Heath said.
I rolled my eyes at him.
“And Morgan has clearly begun losing her mind, which is why she’s piercing her . . .” I glanced at Heath and reconsidered. “Her body and smoking. Tell me someone normal who’s smoking.”
K thought for a second. “Me!”
I sighed. “Look, I just don’t think it’s smart.”
“Well, you don’t always know everything.” The hateful glint was back in her eyes.
I looked from her to Heath, and then back to her again. “Clearly, you’re right. I don’t know everything.”
Her mean look turned startled and then flattened out to mean again, and I suddenly couldn’t help comparing her to Stevie Rae, who, even though I’d only known for a couple days, I was absolutely, totally sure would not ever go after my boyfriend, whether he was an almost-ex or not. I also didn’t think she would run away from me and treat me like I was a monster when I needed her the most.
“I think you should leave,” I said to Kayla.
“Fine,” she said.
“It’s probably not a good idea for you to come back again, either.”
She shrugged one shoulder so that her jacket fell open and I could see the thin strap of the cami slip down her shoulder, making it clear she wasn’t wearing a bra.
“Whatever,” she said.
“Help her get down, Heath.”
Heath was generally pretty good at following simple directions, so he hoisted Kayla down. She grabbed the flashlight and looked back up at us.
“Hurry up, Heath. I’m getting really cold.” Then she spun around and started marching off toward the road.
“Well . . . ,” Heath said a little awkwardly. “It did get cold all of a sudden.”
“Yeah, it can quit now,” I said absently, and didn’t pay much attention when the wind suddenly stopped.
“Hey, uh, Zo. I really did come to bust you out.”
“No.”
“Huh?” Heath said.
“Heath, look at my forehead.”
“Yeah, you have that half moon thing. And it’s colored in, which is weird because it wasn’t colored in before.”
“Well, it is now. Okay, Heath, focus. I’ve been Marked. That means that my body is going through the Change to become a vampyre.”
Heath’s eyes went from my Mark and traveled down my body. I saw them hesitate at my boobs and then my legs, which made me realize that they were showing all naked almost up to my crotch because my skirt had hiked up when I climbed on top of the wall.
“Zo, whatever’s happening to your body is cool with me. You look seriously hot. You’ve always been beautiful, but now you look like a real goddess.” He smiled at me and touched my cheek gently, reminding me why I’ve liked him so much for such a long time. Despite his faults, Heath could be really sweet, and he always made me feel completely beautiful.
“Heath,” I said softly. “I’m sorry, but things have changed.”
“Not with me they haven’t.” Taking me completely by surprise he leaned forward, slid a hand up over my knee and kissed me.
I jerked back and grabbed his wrist. “Stop it Heath! I’m trying to talk to you.”
“How about you talk, and I kiss?” he whispered.
I started to tell him no again.
Then I felt it.
His pulse under my fingers.
It was beating hard and fast. I swear I could hear it, too. And as he leaned into me to kiss me again I could see the vein that ran along his neck. It moved, beating strong as the blood pumped through his body. Blood . . . His lips touched mine and I remembered the taste of the blood in the goblet. That blood had been cold and mixed with wine, and from a weak, loser kid who was a nothing. Heath’s blood would be hot and rich . . . sweet . . . sweeter than Elliott the Refrigerator. . . .
“Ow! Damn, Zoey. You scratched me!” He jerked his wrist from my hand. “Shit, Zo, you made me bleed. If you didn’t want me to kiss you, all you had to do was say so.”
He lifted his bleeding wrist to his mouth and sucked at the drop of blood that was glistening there. Then he raised his eyes to meet mine, and he froze. He had blood on his lips. I could smell it—it was like the wine, onl
y better, worlds better. The scent of it wrapped around me and made the hair on my arms rise.
I wanted to taste it. I wanted to taste it more than anything I’d ever wanted in my life.
“I want . . .” I heard myself whisper in a voice I didn’t know.
“Yes . . . ,” Heath answered like he was in a trance. “Yes . . . whatever you want. I’ll do whatever you want.”
This time I leaned into him and touched my tongue to his lip, taking the drop of blood into my mouth where it exploded—heat, sensation, and a rush of pleasure I’d never known.
“More,” I rasped.
Like he’d lost the ability to speak and could only nod, Heath lifted his wrist to me. It was barely bleeding, and when I licked the tiny scarlet line Heath moaned. The touch of my tongue seemed to do something to the scratch, because instantly it started dripping blood, faster . . . faster . . . My hands were shaking as I raised his wrist to my mouth and pressed my lips against his warm skin. I shivered and moaned in pleasure and—
“Oh my God! What are you doing to him!” Kayla’s voice was a scream that pierced through the scarlet fog in my brain.
I dropped Heath’s wrist as though it had burned me.
“Get away from him!” Kayla was shrieking. “Leave him alone!”
Heath didn’t move.
“Go,” I told him. “Go and don’t ever come back.”
“No,” he said, looking and sounding oddly sober.
“Yes. Get out of here.”
“Let him go!” Kayla yelled.
“Kayla, if you don’t shut up I’ll fly down there and suck every last bit of blood from your stupid cheating cow body!” I spit the words at her.
She squealed and took off. I turned back to Heath, who was still staring at me.
“Now you need to go, too.”
“I’m not scared of you, Zo.”
“Heath, I’m scared of me enough for both of us.”
“But I don’t mind what you did. I love you, Zoey. More now than I ever have.”
“Stop it!” I didn’t mean to yell, but I caused him to flinch at the power that had filled my words. I swallowed hard and calmed my voice. “Just go. Please.” Then, searching for some way to make him leave I added, “Kayla’s probably going to get the cops right now. Neither of us needs that.”
“Okay, I’ll go. But I won’t stay away.” He kissed me hard and quick. I felt a white-hot stab of pleasure when I tasted the blood that was still on our lips. Then he slid down the wall and disappeared into the darkness until all I could see of him was the little dot of light from his flashlight, and then, finally, not even that.
I wouldn’t let myself think. Not yet. Moving methodically, like a robot, I used the branch to steady myself as I climbed down. My knees were shaking so badly that I was able to walk only the couple of feet to the tree where I sank down on the ground, pressing my back against the security of its ancient bark. Nala materialized, hopping into my lap as if she’d been my cat for years instead of minutes, and as my sobs started she crawled from my lap to my chest to press her warm face against my wet cheek.
After what seemed like a long time my sobs turned to hiccups and I wished I hadn’t run out of the rec hall without my purse. I could really use a Kleenex.
“Here. You look like you need this.”
Nala complained as I jumped in surprise at the voice, and blinked up through my tears to see someone handing me a tissue.
“Th-thanks,” I said, taking it and wiping my nose.
“No problem,” Erik Night said.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m okay. Totally. Fine.” I lied.
“You don’t look fine,” Erik said. “Mind if I sit down?”
“No, go ahead,” I said listlessly. I knew my nose was bright red. I’d definitely been snotting on myself when he walked up, and I had the sneaking suspicion he’d witnessed at least part of the nightmare between Heath and me. The night was just getting worse and worse. I glanced at him and decided, What the hell, I might as well continue the trend. “In case you didn’t realize it, it was me who saw that little scene between you and Aphrodite in the hall yesterday.”
He didn’t even hesitate. “I know, and I wish you hadn’t. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about me.”
“And what idea would that be?”
“That there’s more going on between Aphrodite and me than there really is.”
“Not my business,” I said.
He shrugged. “I just want you to know that she and I are not going out anymore.”
I almost said that it sure looked like Aphrodite wasn’t aware of that, but then I thought about what had just happened between Heath and me, and with a sense of surprise I realized that maybe I shouldn’t judge Erik too harshly.
“Okay. You guys aren’t going out,” I said.
He sat quietly beside me for a little while, and when he spoke again I thought he sounded almost angry. “Aphrodite didn’t tell you about the blood in the wine.”
He hadn’t said it like a question, but I answered anyway. “Nope.”
He shook his head and I saw his jaw tighten. “She told me she was going to. She said she’d let you know while you were changing your clothes so that if you weren’t okay with it you could skip drinking from the goblet.”
“She lied.”
“Not a big surprise,” he said.
“Ya think?” I could feel my own anger building inside me. “This whole thing has just been wrong. I get pressured into going to the Dark Daughters’ ritual where I’m tricked into drinking blood. Then I meet up with my almost-ex-boyfriend who just happens to be one hundred percent human, and no-damn-body bothered to explain to me that the tiniest speck of his blood would turn me into . . . into . . . a monster.” I bit my lip and held on to my anger so I wouldn’t start crying again. I also decided I wouldn’t say anything about thinking I saw Elizabeth’s ghost—that was too much weird to admit for one night.
“No one explained it to you because it’s something that shouldn’t have started to effect you until you were a sixth former,” he said quietly.
“Huh?” I was back to being dazzlingly articulate.
“Bloodlust doesn’t usually begin until you’re a sixth former and you’re almost completely Changed. Once in a while you’ll hear about a fifth former who has to deal with it early, but that doesn’t happen very often.”
“Wait—what are you saying?” My mind felt like bees were buzzing around in it.
“You start having classes about bloodlust and other things mature vamps have to deal with during your fifth form, and then, in your final year, that’s mostly what school focuses on—that and whatever you’ve decided to major in.”
“But I’m a third former—barely I mean, I’ve only been Marked a few days.”
“Your Mark is different; you’re different,” he said.
“I don’t want to be different!” I realized I was shouting and got my voice under control. “I just want to figure out how to get through this like everybody else.”
“Too late, Z,” he said.
“So what now?”
“I think you’d better talk to your mentor. It’s Neferet, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” I said miserably.
“Hey, cheer up. Neferet’s great. She hardly ever takes on fledglings to mentor anymore, so she must really believe in you.”
“I know, I know. It’s just that this makes me feel . . .” How did I feel about talking to Neferet about what had happened tonight? Embarrassed. Like I was twelve years old again and I had to tell our male gym teacher that I’d started my period and had to go to the locker room to change my shorts. I peeked sideways at Erik. There he sat, gorgeous and attentive and perfect. Hell. I couldn’t tell him that. So instead I blurted, “Stupid. It makes me feel stupid.” Which wasn’t actually a lie, but mostly what it made me feel, besides embarrassed and stupid, was scared. I didn’t want this thing that made it imposs
ible for me to fit in.
“Don’t feel stupid. You’re actually way ahead of the rest of us.”
“So . . . ,” I hesitated, then took a deep breath and barreled on, “did you like the way the blood in the goblet tasted tonight?”
“Well, here’s the deal with that: My first Full Moon Ritual with the Dark Daughters was at the end of my third former year. Except for the ‘refrigerator’ that night, I was the only third former there—just like you tonight.” He gave a small, humorless laugh. “They only invited me because I’d finaled in the Shakespeare soliloquy contest and was being flown to London for the competition the next day.” He glanced at me and looked a little embarrassed. “No one from this House of Night had ever made it to London. It was a big deal.” He shook his head self-mockingly. “Actually, I thought I was a big deal. So the Dark Daughters invited me to join them, and I did. I knew about the blood. I was given the opportunity to turn it down. I didn’t.”
“But did you like it?”
This time his laugh was real. “I gagged and puked my guts up. It was the most disgusting thing I’d ever tasted.”
I groaned. My head dropped forward and I put my face in my hands. “You’re not helping me.”
“Because you thought it was good?”
“Better than good,” I said, my face still in my hands. “You say it was the most disgusting thing you’d ever tasted? I thought it was the most delicious. Well, the most delicious until I—” I stopped, realizing what I had been about to say.
“Until you tasted fresh blood?” he asked gently.
I nodded my head, afraid to speak.
He tugged at my hands, making me unbury my face. Then he put his finger under my chin and forced me to look straight at him.
“Don’t be embarrassed or ashamed. It’s normal.”
“Loving the taste of blood is not normal. Not for me.”
“Yes, it is. All vampyres have to deal with their lust for blood,” he said.
“I am not a vampyre!”
“Maybe you’re not—yet. But you’re also definitely not the average fledgling, and there’s nothing wrong with that. You’re special, Zoey, and special can be amazing.”
