by Tracy Wolff
“Um, yeah. I absolutely can see that.” He gives me the grin that I’m sure normally gets him everything he wants in life and more, but I refuse to cave. Not now and not over this. “How about we compromise? You go back to your room and chill until Jaxon gets here. That way you’ll be safe, and then you two can figure this out together.”
“You really think I need to hide from some moron with a staple remover or a pet snake?”
“A staple remover didn’t make those marks, Grace. And neither did a snake. I think you know that, or you wouldn’t have been up here pounding on Jaxon’s door at six in the morning.”
His acknowledgment of the elephant in the room—or should I say the monster—has a kind of calmness washing over me from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. Maybe it’s the medicine, maybe I’m going into shock, or maybe I’m just relieved to have someone finally being real with me.
Whatever it is, I take a deep breath and hold on to it with both hands as my very first conversation with Jaxon plays through my head. There are more things in heaven and hell, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy. And then I ask him—because I have to hear it out loud: “So what did make these marks?”
For long seconds, he doesn’t answer. And then, just when I’ve given up on him speaking at all, he says, “The truth is, Grace, sometimes the most obvious answer really is the right one.”
39
There’s Never a
Hallucinogen Around
When You Need One
Mekhi and I don’t have a lot to say after that charming revelation—except for him insisting on escorting me back to my room. I mean, there really isn’t much to say, considering I can’t decide if I should trust him or not. I don’t know this guy. I mean, yeah, Jaxon trusts him, but Jaxon is currently MIA, so that’s not exactly a ringing endorsement.
The fact that Jaxon’s been blowing up my phone with text messages for the last fifteen minutes doesn’t matter much to me, either. I texted him earlier, and the only response I got was him sending Mekhi. So now he can ask Mekhi what he wants to know about me, because I am not answering.
Childish? Maybe. Prudent? Absolutely. Because in the mood I’m in, I’m afraid I’m going to say something I’ll regret. Better to calm down and talk to him in person when he gets back. And also, if he tries to lie to me right now, I’ll burn whatever is growing between us straight to the freaking ground.
Mekhi tries to start conversations several times on the way back to my room, but I’m too shell-shocked to participate much. It’s not that I’m ignoring him; it’s just that my head is spinning. This has to be a nightmare. It’s the only reasonable explanation.
Eventually, Mekhi gives up on the small talk. It should be a relief, but that just leaves silence to stretch between us.
Still, it might just be the most awkward silence of my life, so I expect him to cut and run the second he delivers me to my door. Instead, he waits until I get the door unlocked.
“I’m not inviting you in,” I tell him without so much as bothering to turn my head to look at him.
“I don’t expect you to.” But the moment I get the door open, he slaps his palm flat against it to keep me from closing it. He doesn’t step inside, though, just stands as close to the threshold as he can get without actually crossing over it. Which seems strange, considering the beads are probably shocking the hell out of him—at least until I remember one of the first rules of vampire lore.
That they can’t come inside unless they’re invited in.
Which only makes his behavior more upsetting and me more freaked out—even before it becomes obvious that he’s going to prevent me from closing my door until he decides it’s okay.
“Hey! What are you doing?” I grab his arm and start trying to tug him back through the door.
He just shrugs me off. “Don’t worry. I’m not getting any closer.” Then he grins at my cousin. “Hey, Macy.”
“Hi, Mekhi.” She’s still bleary-eyed and in her pajamas, which probably accounts for why she doesn’t notice the power struggle going on between us. The cup of coffee in her hand attests to the fact that we didn’t wake her up, but I’m still glad she wasn’t in her underwear or something. “What’s up?”
“Nothing. He was just leaving.” I shoot him a warning look.
He doesn’t even pretend to look shamefaced when he says, “Jaxon doesn’t want her going to class today.”
“Okay.” She doesn’t even pause.
“Okay?” I demand. “Jaxon doesn’t get to tell me—”
“My dad already told her teachers she wouldn’t be there after what happened yesterday. Great minds and all that.” She scowls at me. “You’re supposed to be in bed.”
“You going to stay with her?” Mekhi asks before I can defend myself.
“Yeah, absolutely. Why? What’s going on?”
“I don’t know yet. But I’m pretty sure that’s what Jaxon aims to find out.”
Macy’s face tightens. “Is something wrong?”
“I don’t know yet.” Mekhi nods toward me. “I’ll let her tell you about it.”
“You know I’m standing right here in front of you, yeah? Which means you can talk to me instead of over me.”
Mekhi’s brows hit his forehead. “Oh, really? Because I’m pretty sure I already tried that.”
“You know what? Bite me.” I make an oops face. “Oh right, I forgot. Someone already did.”
Macy whips her head around like it’s on springs. “What did you say?”
“She knows, Mace.”
If possible, my cousin turns even paler. “What exactly does she know, Mekhi?”
“You can go now,” I tell him, grabbing on to the edge of the door and using it to back him off the threshold.
“Look, Grace, I’m really sorry,” he says right before I get the door closed.
I pause. “Did you bite me?”
“What? No! Of course not.”
“Then you’ve got nothing to apologize for.” I sigh as some of the rage drains away. “I’m not mad at you personally, Mekhi. I’m just mad…and scared.”
“I get that.” He looks hesitant. “Does this mean you’re not mad at Jaxon, either?”
“Oh, no. I’ve got all the anger stored up for Jaxon, so don’t you dare go telling him otherwise.”
“Believe me, I won’t.” Mekhi grins. “The last thing I’m interested in doing is getting in the middle of that argument. Besides, it might be time someone takes my boy down a peg or two.”
“More like twelve,” I answer with a snort. “Now go away. I have stuff to do.”
With that, I close the door right in his face. And now that it’s just Macy and me, everything suddenly gets a whole shit ton more real.
I take a second to gather my wits, to try to formulate what I want to say. But Macy jumps in before I can do much more than have an OMG moment.
“Grace, it’s not—”
I turn to face her. “I’m going to ask you one question, Macy. Just one. And I want you to be totally honest with me. Because if you’re not…if you’re not, I’m going to pack up all my shit and go back to California. I’ll stay with Heather; I’ll file for emancipation; I’ll do whatever I have to do. But I swear, you will never see or hear from me again. Got it?”
If it’s possible, she grows even paler. Plus, if her eyes got any bigger, they’d take over her entire face. But that doesn’t stop her from nodding and saying quietly, “Okay.”
“Are you a vampire?” I can’t even believe I’m asking the question.
“What?” She shakes her head vehemently. “No.”
The answer has me sagging with relief…at least until I realize one question isn’t going to cut it. I have dozens.
“Is your father a vampire?”
“No.”
“Was my father a vampire
?”
“Absolutely not.” She reaches a hand out to me. “Oh, Grace, is that what you’re afraid of?”
I blow out a long breath as the biggest, tightest knot in my stomach unwinds. “At this moment, I don’t know what I’m afraid of, Macy. But since you’re not acting like I’m losing my mind for asking these questions—and I have a perfect bite mark on my neck at this very moment—I assume that means vampires are real.”
“They are, yes.”
“And they go to this school.”
She nods. “Yes.”
“And Jaxon is a vampire.” I hold my breath as I wait for her answer.
“I really think you should talk to him about that, Grace. I mean—”
“Macy.” I drop the anger, let her see the fear and frustration that are riding me hard. “Please.”
She just looks at me, her face miserable.
“I thought we were friends, not just family.”
“We are. Of course we are.”
“Then tell me the truth. Is. Jaxon. Vega. A. Vampire?”
Macy sighs. “Yes.”
I was expecting it—I was—and still it explodes over me like a grenade. My knees go out from under me, and I hit the floor hard.
“Grace!” Macy’s next to me in the space between one second and the next. “Are you okay?”
“I have no idea.” I close my eyes, lean my head back against the door, which is conveniently close to where I dropped. “That’s why he can be outside without a jacket.”
“Yes.”
“So that means Lia…”
“Yes.”
I nod. “Flint?”
“No, no. Flint’s definitely not a vamp.”
I close my eyes as relief sweeps through me, at least until she continues. “He’s a…”
“What?” I open one eye. “He’s a what?”
“I’m not sure you’re ready.”
“Will I ever be ready? Finish the sentence, please. He’s a…”
“Dragon.”
Now I open both eyes. “Say that again?”
She sighs. “He’s a dragon, Grace. Flint is a dragon.”
“Of course he is. You mean he’s got—” I hold my arms up and kind of flap them up and down.
“Yes, he’s got wings.”
“And…fire?” I answer my own question. “Of course he does. With a name like Flint, how could he not?”
My brain is imploding. I can feel it actually turning to mush and folding in on itself under the weight of all this new information. I mean, who needs LSD when you go to Monster High?
Even worse, something tells me we aren’t done yet. Which is probably what leads me to snark, “And that makes you what? A fairy?”
“I’m not a fairy.” She sounds insulted.
“Not a fairy, not a vampire, not a…dragon?”
Macy sighs. “I’m a witch, Grace.”
I run her words back through my head another time or five, but still. They make the least amount of sense of anything I’ve heard this afternoon. “I’m sorry?”
“You heard me.” Now she’s smirking at me. “And you want to know something else?”
“At this point, no. I don’t. Not even a little bit. I’m done. My brain is—”
“You should have been one, too.”
40
Be Careful
What You Witch For
Her words go off like a bomb inside me. They can’t be right—she can’t be right. I mean, the whole idea is absurd.
“I’m sorry, but you just blew it.” Not for the first time in the last ten minutes, I stare at my cousin like she’s a few pieces of straw short of a broomstick. Or, perhaps more appropriately, as if she’s taken to riding a broom around our dorm room in a pointy black hat.
“Whatever prank this is, whatever weird-ass mass hallucination you have going on here, you took it one step too far with that claim. Because I may be a lot of things, but I am not, nor have I ever been, a witch.”
I wave my hand in a magic-wand kind of gesture. “See, nothing happens. No glass dissolving and sending you tumbling into a snake pit. No ruby-red slippers to click together and take me home. No poisoned apple or magic mirror. So no, definitely not a witch.”
Macy laughs. She actually laughs. “I’m not saying you are a witch. I’m just saying that if your dad hadn’t fallen in love with your mom and lost his magic, you probably would be.”
“Wait a minute. You’re saying my dad was a witch?”
“A warlock, yeah. Just like my dad. And I’m a witch. It’s a family thing.”
I’m pretty sure my mind has stretched as far as it can go before just full-on caving in on itself. “I don’t understand. How could my dad be a witch and I not know it?”
“Because he lost his powers when he fell for your mom. Witches aren’t supposed to marry ordinary humans—weakens the bloodlines. So usually, when a witch falls in love with one, they…lose their powers.”
“So my dad was a warlock, but then he wasn’t. And that’s why I’m not a witch?” Looks like I was wrong. My mind can still boggle.
“Pretty much. Yeah.”
“Are you screwing with me, Macy?” I ask, because I have to. “I mean, you have to be messing with me, right?”
“I’m not messing with you, Grace.”
“Are you sure? Like…really sure?”
She leans over and hugs me. “I’m really, really sure.”
“Yeah, I was afraid of that.” I just sit there for a minute, trying to absorb what she’s telling me. “And my dad was okay with that? Losing all his powers?”
“From what my dad says, he really loved your mom. So yeah, he was.”
“He did love her. They loved each other a ridiculous amount.” I can’t help but smile a little as I remember. “They were totally the parents who couldn’t keep their hands off each other. I used to tell them how gross they were. But honestly, it was kind of nice, you know? To see that two people could love each other that much after so many years.”
“I bet.” Macy sighs wistfully.
“So,” I say, trying to act like I’m okay with everything I’ve just learned. “I’m related to witches, huh?”
“Yeah. Bizarre, right?”
“A little bit.” I eye her speculatively. “So…can you fly around the room or something?”
“To prove I’m not messing with you?” she asks with an arch of her brow.
“Maybe.” Definitely.
“No, I cannot fly around the room.”
“Why not?” I ask, strangely disappointed.
“You know this is real life and not a book, right? Things like that don’t actually happen.”
“Well, what kind of witch are you if you can’t do something an eleven-year-old kid can do?”
“The kind that doesn’t come from J. K. Rowling’s brilliant imagination.” She waves a hand toward the electric teakettle that always sits on top of the fridge. It starts steaming and whistling instantly.
I try to tell myself that she had it turned on the whole time, but a quick glance reveals that it’s not even plugged in. Because of course it isn’t. Why would it be?
She doesn’t stop with the teakettle, though. She waves her hand again, murmurs something under her breath, and I watch in fascination as she makes a cup of tea without ever leaving her spot on the floor.
“That’s a real cup of tea?” I ask her as it comes floating across the room toward us.
“Of course it is.” She snatches the cup out of midair, then holds it to me. “Want a sip?”
At this point, I’m pretty sure I’d rather drink rat poison. “I think I’ll pass, thanks.”
She shrugs, then lifts the tea to her own lips and blows a few times before taking a small sip.
“Why didn’t you tell me about
this when I got here? Why didn’t your dad?”
For the first time, she looks shamefaced. “I think he was planning to, but you kept getting hurt, and it never seemed like a good time.”
“I’m not sure there’s ever a good time to tell someone that monsters are real.” I shake my head, try to remember how to breathe. “I can’t believe this is happening. I just…can’t believe it.”
“Sure you can,” she says with a sly smile. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be so freaked out.”
“I’m not freaked out. I mean, yeah, I’m on the floor and I can’t feel my legs, but other than that, I think I’m handling the whole thing fairly well.”
“Of course you are.” She grins. “Except for the fact that every word that’s come out of your mouth for the last ten minutes has squeaked.”
“That’s—” I pause and clear my throat because maybe, just maybe, I’m a little high-pitched. “What do you expect? You and Mekhi are trying to convince me that I’m living in the middle of a less bloody version of Game of Thrones. And winter is already here.”
Macy laughs, then raises a brow. “You don’t actually believe high school is a less bloody version of Game of Thrones, do you? I mean, how many times have you almost died since you got here?”
“Yeah, but those were accidents. I mean…they were accidents, right?”
“Probably.” She inclines her head. “Yeah, they were. But Jaxon’s freaking out, and he never freaks out, so…”
“He’s freaking out because someone bit me! Someone who isn’t him, I mean.” I pull off the bandage for a second time and turn my head so she can see the puncture marks just below my cut.
“Oh! Is that what this is all about?” She sounds way too relieved, considering I just told her some vampire sunk his or her teeth into me without my permission.
Then again, do they ever ask permission before they bite? And if so, who would be foolish enough to say yes? One more question to add to the tally of about a hundred or so I have waiting for Jaxon.
