‘Harvest is over. Rejoice,’ Mother says, and kisses him on the head.
The oncoming rain is a downpour I know.
As it finally hits, I know this pelting on the roof as well as I knew my soul.
This is the night I died. This night is the night Rhode made me a vampire.
Hours pass and soon the night’s fire is almost burned out. My mother’s earrings are safe – I did not ask for them today. I did not lose them in an orchard lane.
The Aeris have sent me back to this day to remind me of my choices. I walk to the stairs, to the window that hangs over the eighth stair. It has always been a childish inclination to count, yet I do it anyway.
I place a hand on the cold glass. My fingers warm it, a halo of condensation billowing out from my body heat. So many things I know from my modern life. How science changes, how music changes, that people get to live for many, many years.
I spent five hundred years becoming a monster, feeding off people, making them my misery. But I also saw the way of the world. I focus on the end of the orchard lanes. Though I cannot see that far, once, in a different world, Rhode waited for me there.
There is no Rhode at the end of the orchard lane – I know that. I saved him. He is safe.
I also know I will never meet Justin . . . or Tony.
Wickham will exist hundreds of years from now when I am long gone, gone from the world.
I leave my hand on the glass. My jaw clenches. This hurts, this standing here knowing what I know, aware of how much lies before me with this whole world and all its beauty.
Even though he is not watching me, I do it for history. For the souls that were saved in one moment. I whisper the words:
I will love you forever.
I bring my hand over my heart and the tears well in my eyes. Shivers cover me, head to toe; they roll and soon the tears do too and I say the words only vampires share: ‘Go forth in darkness and in light.’
I gulp away the tears, turn from the window and stand in the doorway of my parents’ room. They sleep back to back, close together. I wonder if I will live out the rest of my days here in this house. If I will get sick or if the immunity I picked up in the modern world will extend my life. Perhaps I will even settle for a kind man from this world and marry. One thing I know is that this time, I shall meet my sister, Genevieve. I will witness her birth and see her grow.
I lean hard in the doorway, watching my parents for some time. I know the night, the ebbs and flows of the hours; I can feel it passing by. The turn of the dark sky from black, to blue, to a lavender tinged with pink. It is only when I am sure the sun is rising that I dare to lay down in my bed.
No more bloodlust. No more needless death. Only one more thought passes through my mind as I finally drift off . . .
Oh . . . how I will miss him.
EPILOGUE
Dear . . .
I don’t even know your name, dear. I cannot write it here on this paper for it escapes me. Every day it sits on the tip of my tongue like a sweet candy. I can taste it for the barest of moments and then it is gone, gone before I can savour it and swallow.
I burn for you.
There is a halo of condensation here on this window that looks out on to a campus barely clinging to summer. Fall will be upon us soon. Yesterday I dreamed of you again. You wore your hair clipped above your ears and a long gown. A gown not found in the modern world. It was corseted to your body and you stood on a great hill that stretched out far into the distance.
You’re beginning to haunt me in my day too. Randomly, as people speak to me, your face, with your dark blue eyes and knowing smile, will sift into my mind. Always, always, that knowledge plays on the edge of your lips.
What is your name? Why do you torment me?
Why do I want to tell you that there are students disappearing at this school? Three in total. The first is still missing, his name is Justin. The second, her funeral is today, and the third went missing yesterday morning.
They discovered the body of Jane Hamlin by the beach, two holes in her neck, drained of her blood. Why is it that your face came to my mind when I heard this information?
You, with your porcelain grace and your unnatural skin.
I would scream for you if you would hear me. I would burn this place to the ground if it meant you would see the smoke. I love you – I know this. Yet I cannot recall who you are.
I must go and close the pages of this journal. I sit here in a lounge suit ready to attend the funeral of Jane Hamlin. Someone has already knocked on my door. The whole of Wickham Boarding School is going. Odd. Just now, as I was about to put down my pen, did a phrase come to me as though it were coming to my mind from a very long slumber. I wonder if my parents taught it to me before their deaths, though I was too young to remember.
Evil be he who thinketh evil.
Do you know the meaning of this? Perhaps it is another clue. Another way to find out who you are.
Evil be he who thinketh evil.
Whoever is killing these students should heed this advice.
Until then,
Rhode
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
First, thank you endlessly to: Ruth Alltimes, Emma Young and Jennifer Weis. How can I thank you enough? What words can I choose that could possibly do justice to the support, patience and guidance of this novel? I’ve enjoyed all of it. The Macmillan family has made me a better writer.
Mollie Traver: Thank you for your guidance and your time. I can’t wait to work with you again on book three. (If I ever need an elevator buddy, I’m calling you.)
Rebecca McNally: A keen eye, a wonderful editor, and now at a new home. Thank you so much for your editorial guidance. I feel lucky to have worked with you and hope to do so again soon! Book three won’t be the same without you!
A. M. Jenkins: Thank you for that afternoon at the VCFA picnic tables. Your passion and dedication is unparalleled. Working with you made me a better writer. Working with you showed me what it means to be a great teacher. I miss you!
Kirby Kim, my awesome agent: I can’t wait to work on book three and dig our heels into this final book.
Matt Hudson: Your guidance from the get-go was always brilliant and always appreciated. I miss our editorial talks and hope we can work together again soon. Next time, the milkshake is on you.
All of the VCFA community, especially the Keepers of the Dancing Stars: Keepers are for keeps!
The CCWs: Laura Backman, Judy Gamble, Gwen Gardner, Maggie Hayes, Mariellen Langworthy, Claire Nicogossian, and Sarah Ziegelmayer. I love our monthly meetings. You add so much joy to my writing life.
Also big thanks to: Franny Billingsley, Josh Corin (a wonderful reader), Amanda Leathers, Monika Bustamante, Heidi Bennett (vampirequeennovels.com), and Cathryn Summerhayes, my wonderful UK agent.
Also thank you to: David Fox, Michael Sugar and Anna Deroy, and all the WME West crew.
And of course my sister, Jennie: You always know what’s best. For my writing and for me. I love you.
Mom and Dad: I don’t know how else to say thank you for your endless support. ‘If you don’t try . . . you don’t get!’
And last but not least, Kristin Sandoval: Everything I write in this spot seems incomplete. So, simply, thank you. Thank you for reading my novel endless times. For being honest. For having a hawk-like editing eye and showing me the way when I just couldn’t see it. For our Skype calls, and for your patience. You are unbelievably talented and giving. This book would not exist without you. I’m so grateful we met. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
STOLEN NIGHT
Rebecca Maizel holds an undergraduate degree from Boston University and an MA in English from Rhode Island College. She is currently pursuing an MFA in Writing for Young Adults at Vermont College.
Books by Rebecca Maizel
Infinite Days
Stolen Night
Praise for Infinite Days:
‘Infinite Days is a grab-you-by-the-throat, ignore-the-world-arou
nd-you, fall-completely-in-love-with kind of book, the kind I haven’t really read since Twilight. Yep. I just used the T-word’ AllThingsUrbanFantasy.blogspot.com
‘Infinite Days builds to an exciting conclusion, and leaves the door wide open for a kick-ass sequel’ www.wondrousreads.com
‘There is no other vampire book like it and if you have a love for immortals but are fed up with reading more or less the same story over and over again, then Infinite Days is the ideal book to pick up . . . Maizel’s writing is beautiful . . . Her voice is very unique and has an eloquence to it that I wish we could see more of in young adult fiction’ www.yabookreads.com
‘I found myself thinking about this novel long after I’d put it down . . . It plays around but still retains the haunting and tortured tone of all the best vampire stories’ www.amazon.co.uk
First published 2012 by Macmillan Children’s Books
This electronic edition published 2012 by Macmillan Children’s Books
a division of Macmillan Publishers Limited
Pan Macmillan, 20 New Wharf Road, London N1 9RR
Basingstoke and Oxford
Associated companies throughout the world
www.panmacmillan.com/childrenshome
ISBN 978-1-4472-2805-9 EPUB
Copyright © Rebecca Maizel 2012
The right of Rebecca Maizel to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
You may not copy, store, distribute, transmit, reproduce or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means (electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
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Table of Contents
Cover
Title page
Dedication page
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
Author biography
Copyright page
Stolen Night Page 28
