Kiss Me Deadly

by Trisha Telep

  “But you didn’t. You never have, and you never will.”

  He lifted his head, and now his gaze was searching. Worried. “How do you know? I don’t even know I’m doing it half the time.”

  I frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m pretty new at this, Sabine.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  “No, not that.” Nash shook his head and started over. “Well, that too, but that’s not what I meant. Male bean sidhes are born with a little bit of Influence, but we don’t really come into our full potential until puberty.” His face flushed, but his jaw line was firm—he was determined to spit out whatever he had to say. “Anyway, I’m not very good at controlling it yet. Tod says that’s normal, and I’ll gain a lot of control in the next couple of years, but right now I still ... accidentally ... Sometimes I make people do things without meaning to. And I don’t want that to ever happen with you.”

  I kissed him again because I couldn’t think of a better rebuttal. And when I pulled away, he looked a little calmer. “Nash, you don’t Influence me. I don’t think you could, even if you wanted to. I’m not exactly a pushover. Not neutered, remember?” I smiled and was relieved to see him grin in return.

  Nash laughed out loud, and I kissed him one more time before climbing out of his lap. “Well, I guess you’re not the problem,” he said, as I settled onto the edge of the bed again.

  “Huh? Oh. Yeah.” I’d almost forgotten the point of our little experiment. “So, if it’s not me, it’s them, right? Or something that’s happening to them.”

  “What could be happening to them?”

  “I don’t know, but the last time I felt that kind of mindless acceptance was when you Influenced the ticket guy into letting us watch The Last House on the Left at the movie theater. He felt like these girls felt. Like he was at peace with a decision he hadn’t even made for himself.”

  “You’re saying someone’s Influencing the Holser girls?”

  “No...” I frowned again. “There aren’t any men on the staff—much less bean sidhe men—and anyway, I’m pretty sure I’d know if that were happening. Besides, Influence wears off almost as soon as you stop talking, so it couldn’t be any of the dads visiting today, because none of them were outside with the girls I tasted. This is something else. It just feels similar to Influence.”

  “Sabine, whatever it is, it’ll probably wear off. It wasn’t like this the day you got here, right?”

  “Right.” BethAnne had felt anything but calm and accepting.

  Nash nodded. “And you can’t swear it was like this yesterday. Chances are everything will be fine tomorrow, and you’ll gorge yourself on some poor girl’s agoraphobia.”

  After BethAnne’s nightmare, such a simple fear would be a relief. “And if you’re wrong?”

  Nash sighed. “I’m not going to talk you out of digging into this, am I?”

  “Why would you try? A girl’s gotta eat.”

  He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “Sabine, you’re supposed to be lying low. It works the same way in here as it does out there.” He gestured toward my window, to indicate the outside world. “Your best chance of survival is to go completely unnoticed by humans.”

  I raised my eyebrows at him. “More of your mom’s advice?”

  “She’s eighty years old, Sabine.” Though she looked less than thirty. “She knows what she’s talking about.”

  “Not this time.” I shook my head firmly and pushed his hands away when he tried to pull me closer. “My best chance of survival is not to starve to death.”

  “Why do I get the feeling you’d refuse to leave this alone even if you weren’t hungry?”

  I shrugged. “At least it’ll pass the time.”

  “You have to learn to let things go, Sabine.” He took a deep breath and met my gaze, then spat out what was really bothering him—the reason for the frustration I could taste in the air around him. “You should have told me about Tucker. I would have handled it.”

  “Nash, that was months ago. And I don’t need you to handle things for me.” Besides, knowing what I now knew about his tenuous control, I couldn’t help thinking that if he’d handled it, Tucker would have gotten a sudden, irresistible urge to walk into rush-hour traffic. “I just need you to be here.”

  “I know.” He sighed again and leaned forward and pulled something out of his back pocket. “This is for when you need me and I can’t be here.” He handed me a small, slim flip phone. The pay-as-you-go, over-the-counter variety. “They’ll take it away if they see it, so leave it on silent and be careful. But call me if you need to talk.”

  I didn’t know what to say. So I kissed him, and when I finally pulled away, he stood. “Does this mean you have to go?”

  “I need to be home before my mom gets back. Walk me out?”

  I nodded reluctantly, and we moved down the hall and out the front door with a respectable space between us, like any normal brother and sister, even though I ached to be so close to him.

  In the parking lot, I gave him a hug, holding him tighter and longer than I probably should have. “Come see me next weekend?”

  His eyes looked weird again when he met my gaze, like the colors weren’t quite steady. “Nothing could stop me, Sabine.”

  ***

  On my way back into the building, I was still thinking about Nash and wasn’t watching where I was going. As I rounded the corner onto the front porch, I collided with Becky—one of the day-shift techs—coming up the steps from the other side. She stumbled and dropped a grease-stained paper bag on the step.

  “Sorry,” I mumbled, bending to pick it up. The bag smelled like French fries, and my stomach rumbled. But when I handed it to the tech, her hand brushed mine, and I froze beneath the onslaught of images.

  Becky, on the floor of a dirty public restroom, vomiting thick streams of greasy, half-digested food. Over and over.

  Becky, lying in a hospital bed, her flesh so bloated and distended that it hung over the sides. Her face swallowed by fat cheeks and voluminous chins. In the hall, the nurses laughed and joked about Becky the Blimp, just like the kids had in junior high.

  On the steps of Holser House, Becky pulled the french-fry bag from my grip and frowned at me like I’d tried to steal her food—exactly what she was afraid of.

  I stared after her as she stomped through the front door and took off toward the staff break room, but I’d already half forgotten her fear. All I could think about as I wandered into the building was that whatever was happening to the Holser girls wasn’t happening to the staff.

  Hmmm...

  ***

  By that night, my dark hunger was gnawing at me from the inside again, much worse than it should have been by that point, demanding that I feed. And I tried. Fighting chills from the cold, hollow ache inside me, I Sleepwalked into sixteen of the nineteen other residents’ rooms, starving for a taste of fear. I would even have taken a generic naked-in-the-classroom nightmare, but I found nothing. Not one of the natural sleepers—the last three were medicated—gave up even a trickle of discomfort.

  Something was definitely wrong, and I wouldn’t make it much longer without feeding. Not with my hunger accelerating for no reason I could figure out. That night, I could only lie in bed and shiver in spite of the warm Texas night, until it was light enough to get up.

  Sunday morning, I devoured two helpings of everything at breakfast, hoping that the extra human food would help keep me running until I found a way to fulfill my other, darker appetite. Unfortunately, Greer noticed me shivering while I shoved food down my throat, and when I dumped my trash and set my dirty tray on the stack, she called me into the kitchen.

  “Are you okay? You look pale.” She tried to feel my forehead, but I jerked away as soon as her fingers touched my skin. They were scalding, and her touch brought with it only a glimpse of curiosity and a smudge of concern. “Sabine, you’re freezing! You need to go to the doctor.”

  I shook my head wi
thout meeting her gaze. “I’m fine.”

  “You’re not,” she insisted. “But you don’t have a fever, and your appetite seems fine.” She hesitated, glancing around the kitchen, then finally turned to pour a mug of coffee from the half-full pot behind her. “Normally, I wouldn’t give coffee to a fifteen-year-old, but this might help warm you up. There’s cream and sugar on the counter.”

  I poured both until the coffee looked like melted ice cream, but it still tasted bitter. However, by my second mug, the chills had stopped, at least for the moment.

  “Is there anything you want to tell me?” Greer asked, when I finally pushed the empty mug away. “Are you on something?”

  More like off something. But I only shook my head.

  “Why don’t you go lie down,” she suggested. “And if you’re not feeling better by tomorrow, you really need to tell Ms. Gomez, so she can get you in to see a doctor.”

  But if I wasn’t feeling better by tomorrow, there would be nothing Gomez’s doctor could do for me, short of putting me out of my misery.

  ***

  That night, the cold was so bad I could hardly think, the shakes so strong I felt like I was convulsing. How could the hunger have gotten so much worse, so fast?

  It couldn’t have. Not naturally. So I got out my cell phone and autodialed. He answered on the third ring.

  “Hello? Sabine?” Nash said into my ear. His voice sounded warm and groggy from sleep, and I wanted to roll in it. Wrap it around me so I could share his heat and vitality.

  “Yeah, it’s me.” My teeth chattered, even though I’d pulled the covers up over my shoulders, and I couldn’t make them stop. “It doesn’t make sense. Everyone’s scared of something.”

  “Huh?” He cleared his throat. “Oh. Still no fear?”

  “Uh uh. There should be plenty to eat here, but there’s nothing and I’m cold and it hurts.”

  “But this is only the third night, right?” He sounded more alert, and springs creaked as he got out of bed. “You’ve gone longer than that before, haven’t you?”

  “I’ve gone a week, several times. But I can’t now. Something’s wrong with this place. There’s no fear here. There’s nothing much left of what I took from BethAnne. It’s nearly gone, and I’m almost empty, like it was never there. I’m cold, Nash, and I’m scared.” The irony of that last statement was even more terrifying.

  “Okay, let me think,” he said, and I recognized the soft click of his desk lamp.

  But I couldn’t think. I didn’t have the energy, and I wouldn’t until I’d fed. “I have to get out of here. Can you come get me?”

  “If you leave, you’ll get arrested again.”

  “If I stay, I’ll die.” I knew it, even if I couldn’t explain it. I was getting colder by the minute, like a corpse cooling on the undertaker’s table. Something was draining what little energy I had left from BethAnne’s nightmare. Was this what she felt like when I fed from her? Was she cold and empty and lonely?

  “Sabine, you’re not going to die. Just give me a minute to think.”

  “I have to find something to eat. If you can’t come get me, I’ll go out by myself and meet you somewhere in the morning.” And the truth was that I couldn’t come back, if it was only going to happen again. If something was going to drain away the energy I’d stolen fair and square.

  “You can’t walk around in the middle of the night by yourself. Especially if you’re sick.”

  “Nash, I’m the only thing out there to be scared of.”

  “Tell that to the bus that runs you over, or the drive-by bullet that doesn’t bother to look deep into your scary eyes. I’m getting dressed right now. Promise you’ll wait for me.”

  “I swear. Hurry.” I flipped the phone closed and pushed the covers back, mildly surprised that the chattering didn’t get worse. Until I realized that the cold was coming from inside me—the covers made no difference, either way.

  I’d slept in my clothes, hoping to preserve warmth, so all I had left to do was pull my hair into a ponytail and step into my shoes. And wait. It only took five minutes of shivering and staring at my bedroom door for me to decide I’d rather wait outside.

  I snuck out of my room and closed the door softly, then started down the hall with my arms crossed tightly over my chest, grateful that my sneakers didn’t squeak on the floor. The nightshift tech was asleep, sitting up in the common room, lit by the game show she’d been watching.

  This is too easy, I thought. And I was right. I was halfway across the main room when a door creaked open behind me, and I froze.

  “Sabine?”

  I turned slowly, still shaking from the cold, to find Kate Greer, the cook, staring at me. One of her hands was still on the cafeteria door, which she’d just locked. At two in the morning.

  “Are you okay? Still sick?” she asked, brows lowered in a frown that looked more irritated than concerned.

  “I just couldn’t sleep.”

  “You ... couldn’t sleep?” Her frown deepened, and she glanced at the tech still passed out on the couch. “Come in and let’s see if I have anything that will help.” She unlocked the cafeteria and shoved her keys into her purse, then held the door open for me.

  Great. How was I supposed to meet Nash if I couldn’t get rid of her? Fortunately, the drive would take him at least forty-five minutes, even with virtually no traffic. So I brushed past Greer into the empty cafeteria, dark, but for a single light shining in from the kitchen.

  “You’re shaking! Let’s get you something warm...”

  I followed her into the kitchen and sat at the prep table when she waved one hand at the folding chair next to it. “Why are you here so late?” I asked, still shivering as she poured milk into a microwavable mug.

  “Just finishing up some work.” Greer set the mug in the microwave and pushed several buttons. “So ... you can’t sleep, you’re pale, and you’re obviously cold. Any other symptoms I should know about?”

  I shook my head, and she watched me while the mug rotated. When the microwave buzzed, she took the milk out and stirred powered cocoa into it, dropped the spoon in the sink and handed me the mug. Her fingers touched mine, and the sudden flash of fear, pain, and anger nearly blew me out of my chair. But the realization that came with it was a million times worse.

  None of what I’d felt was hers. It was theirs. All of it.

  My eyes went wide, but hers only narrowed further. She nodded, like something mysterious finally made sense. But the only thing I understood was that she was the problem. Whatever was wrong with the girls at Holser was wrong because of Kate Greer.

  How could I not have seen it? She wasn’t working the night I’d fed from BethAnne, and she was the only one not scared of me the next day. What the hell was she doing to them?

  She leaned against the counter, lightly gripping it with both hands. “Okay, you’re obviously an empath of some sort, and based on the situation and your symptoms, I’m guessing ... a mara?”

  I blinked, as stunned by her casual utterance of my lifelong secret as by the fact that she knew what I was. And finally, I nodded, for lack of any better response. “So what the hell are you? ” As hungry as I was in that moment, I could never have drained twenty girls at once, much less over several nights in a row. How had she?

  Greer raised a brow at my language, then waved away the question, as if the answer didn’t matter. “I’m a fellow empath, of course, though of a slightly different variety.” She smiled and opened the industrial-size fridge for a can of soda. “Wow. A walking Nightmare. Do you have any idea how rare you are, especially these days? Few women have seven kids anymore, much less seven daughters in a row. I’m guessing your parents gave you away?”