Night World 1

by L. J. Smith

  Ash looked at Phil once more, then at James, and finally at Poppy. “Well…there are three of you,” he said.

  “Yes, there are,” James said, genuinely sober now. Grim.

  “So I guess you do have me at a disadvantage. All right, I give up.” He lifted his hands and then dropped them. “Go on, scram. I won’t fight.”

  “And you won’t tell on us, either,” James said. It wasn’t a request.

  “I wasn’t going to anyway,” Ash said. He had on his most innocent and guileless expression. “I know you think I brought Poppy here to expose her, but I really wasn’t going to go through with it. I was just having fun. The whole thing was just a joke.”

  “Oh, sure,” Phil said.

  “Don’t even bother lying,” James said.

  But Poppy, oddly, wasn’t as certain as they were. She looked at Ash’s wide eyes—his wide violet eyes—and felt doubt slosh back and forth inside her.

  It was hard to read him, as it had been hard all along. Maybe because he always meant everything he said at the time he said it—or maybe because he never meant anything he said. No matter which, he was the most irritating, frustrating, impossible person she’d ever met.

  “Okay, we’re going now,” James said. “We’re going to walk very quietly and calmly right through that little room and down the hall, and we’re not going to stop for anything—Phillip. Unless you’d rather go back down the way you came up,” he added.

  Phil shook his head. James gathered Poppy in his arm again, but he paused and looked back at Ash.

  “You know, you’ve never really cared about anyone,” he said. “But someday you will, and it’s going to hurt. It’s going to hurt—a lot.”

  Ash looked back at him, and Poppy could read nothing in his ever-changing eyes. But just as James turned again, he said, “I think you’re a lousy prophet. But your girlfriend’s a good one. You might want to ask her about her dreams sometime.”

  James stopped. He frowned. “What?”

  “And you, little dreamer, you might want to check out your family tree. You have a very loud yell.” He smiled at Poppy engagingly. “Bye now.”

  James stayed for another minute or so, just staring at his cousin. Ash gazed serenely back. Poppy counted heartbeats while the two of them stood motionless.

  Then James shook himself slightly and turned Poppy toward the anteroom. Phil followed right on their heels.

  They walked out of the house very quietly and very calmly. No one tried to stop them.

  But Poppy didn’t feel safe until they were on the road.

  “What did he mean with that crack about the family tree?” Phil asked from the backseat.

  James gave him an odd look, but answered with a question. “Phil, how did you know where to find Poppy in that house? Did you see her on the balcony?”

  “No, I just followed the shouting.”

  Poppy turned around to look at him.

  James said, “What shouting?”

  “The shouting. Poppy shouting. ‘Let go of me, you rotten vampire creep.’”

  Poppy turned to James. “Should he have been able to hear it? I thought I was just yelling at Ash. Did everybody at the party hear?”

  “No.”

  “But, then—”

  James cut her off. “What dream was Ash talking about?”

  “Just a dream I had,” Poppy said, bewildered. “I dreamed about him before I actually met him.”

  James’s expression was now very peculiar. “Oh, did you?”

  “Yes. James, what’s this all about? What did he mean, I should check my family tree?”

  “He meant that you—and Phil—aren’t human after all. Somewhere among your ancestors there’s a witch.”

  CHAPTER 16

  “You have got to be kidding,” Poppy said.

  Phil just gaped.

  “No. I’m perfectly serious. You’re witches of the second kind. Remember what I told you?”

  “There are the kind of witches that know their heritage and get trained—and the kind that don’t. Who just have powers. And humans call that kind—”

  “Psychics!” James chorused with her. “Telepaths. Clairvoyants,” he went on alone. There was something in his voice between laughing and crying. “Poppy, that’s what you are. That’s why you picked up on telepathy so quickly. That’s why you had clairvoyant dreams.”

  “And that’s why Phil heard me,” Poppy said.

  “Oh, no,” Phil said. “Not me. Come on.”

  “Phil, you’re twins,” James said. “You have the same ancestors. Face it, you’re a witch. That’s why I couldn’t control your mind.”

  “Oh, no,” Phil said. “No.” He flopped back in his seat. “No,” he said again, but more weakly.

  “But whose side do we get it from?” Poppy wondered.

  “Dad’s. Of course.” The voice from the backseat was very faint.

  “Well, that would seem logical, but—”

  “It’s the truth. Don’t you remember how Dad was always talking about seeing weird things? Having dreams about things before they happened? And, Poppy, he heard you yell in your dream. When you were calling for James. James heard it, and I heard it, and Dad heard it, too.”

  “Then that settles it. Oh, and it explains other things about all of us—all those times we’ve had feelings about things—hunches, whatever. Even you have hunches, Phil.”

  “I had one that James was creepy, and I was right.”

  “Phil—”

  “And maybe a few others,” Phil said fatalistically. “I knew it was James driving up this afternoon. I thought I just had a fine ear for car engines.”

  Poppy was shivering with delight and astonishment, but she couldn’t quite understand James. James was absolutely beaming. Filled with unbelieving elation that she could feel like streamers and fireworks in the air. “What, James?”

  “Poppy, don’t you see?” James actually pounded the steering wheel in joy. “It means that even before you became a vampire, you were a Night Person. A secret witch. You have every right to know about the Night World. You belong there.”

  The world turned upside down and Poppy couldn’t breathe. At last she whispered. “Oh…”

  “And we belong together. Nobody can separate us. We don’t have to hide.”

  “Oh…” Poppy whispered again. Then she said, “James, pull the car over. I want to kiss you.”

  When they were in motion once more, Phil said, “But where are you two going to go now? Poppy can’t come home.”

  “I know,” Poppy said softly. She had accepted that. There was no going back for her; the old life was over. Nothing to do but build a new one.

  “And you can’t just wander around from place to place,” Phil said, doggedly persistent.

  “We won’t,” Poppy said calmly. “We’ll go to Dad.”

  It was perfect. Poppy could feel James think, Of course.

  They would go to her father, the always-late, always-impractical, always-affectionate parent. Her father the witch who didn’t know he was a witch. Who probably thought he was crazy when his powers acted up.

  He’d give them a place to stay, and that was all they needed, really. That and each other. The whole Night World would be open to them, whenever they wanted to explore it. Maybe they could come back and visit Thea sometime. Maybe they could dance at one of Thierry’s parties.

  “If we can find Dad, that is,” Poppy said, struck by sudden alarm.

  “You can,” Phil said. “He flew out last night, but he left an address. For the first time.”

  “Maybe somehow he knew,” James said.

  They rode for a while, and then Phil cleared his throat and said, “You know, I just had a thought. I don’t want any part of the Night World, you understand—I don’t care what my heritage is. I just want to live like a human—and I want everybody to be clear on that….”

  “We’re clear, Phil,” James interrupted. “Believe me. Nobody in the Night World is going to force you
in. You can live like a human all you want as long as you avoid Night People and keep your mouth shut.”

  “Okay. Good. But here’s my thought. I still don’t approve of vampires, but it occurs to me that maybe they’re not as completely bad as they seem. I mean, vampires don’t treat their food any worse than humans do. When you think of what we do to cows…at least they don’t breed humans in pens.”

  “I wouldn’t bet on it,” James said, suddenly grim. “I’ve heard rumors about the old days….”

  “You always have to argue, don’t you? But my other thought was that you’re part of Nature, and Nature just is what it is. It’s not always pretty, but…well, it’s Nature, and there it is.” He wound up glumly, “Maybe that doesn’t make any sense.”

  “It makes sense to me,” James said, entirely serious. “And—thanks.” He paused to look back at Phil in acknowledgment. Poppy felt a sting behind her eyes. If he admits we’re part of Nature, she thought, then he doesn’t believe we’re unnatural anymore.

  It meant a lot.

  She said, “Well, you know, I’ve been thinking, too. And it occurs to me that maybe there are other choices for feeding besides just jumping on humans when they don’t expect it. Like animals. I mean, is there any reason their blood won’t work?”

  “It’s not the same as human blood,” James said. “But it’s a possibility. I’ve fed on animals. Deer are good. Rabbits are okay. Possums stink.”

  “And then there must be some people who’d be willing donors. Thea was a donor for me. We could ask other witches.”

  “Maybe,” James said. He grinned suddenly. “I knew a witch back home who was very willing. Name of Gisèle. But you couldn’t ask them to do it every day, you know. You’d have to give them time to recover.”

  “I know, but maybe we could alternate. Animals one day and witches the next. Hey, maybe even werewolves on weekends!”

  “I’d rather bite a possum,” James said.

  Poppy socked him in the arm. “The point is, maybe we don’t have to be horrible bloodsucking monsters. Maybe we can be decent bloodsucking monsters.”

  “Maybe,” James said quietly, almost wistfully.

  “Hear, hear,” Phil said very seriously from the back.

  “And we can do it together,” Poppy said to James. He took his eyes off the road to smile at her. And there was nothing wistful about his gaze. Nothing cool or mysterious or secretive, either.

  “Together,” he said out loud. And mentally he added, I can’t wait. With that telepathy of yours—you realize what we can do, don’t you?

  Poppy stared, then felt an effervescent rush that almost shot her out of the car. Oh, James—do you think?

  I’m certain. The only thing that makes exchanging blood so special is that it enhances telepathy. But you don’t need any enhancement—you little dreamer.

  Poppy sat back to try and still her heart.

  They would be able to join their minds again. Anytime they wanted. She could imagine it, being swept into James’s mind, feeling him surrender his thoughts to hers.

  Merging like two drops of water. Together in a way that humans could never know.

  I can’t wait, either, she told him. I think I’m going to like being a witch.

  Phil cleared his throat. “If you guys want some privacy…”

  “We can’t have any,” James said. “Not with you around. Obviously.”

  “I can’t help it,” Phil said through his teeth. “You’re the ones who’re yelling.”

  “We’re not yelling. You’re snooping.”

  “Both of you give it a rest,” Poppy said. But she felt warm and glowing all over. She couldn’t resist adding to Phil, “So, if you’re willing to give us some privacy, that means you trust James alone with your sister….”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You didn’t have to,” Poppy said.

  She was happy.

  It was very late the next day. Almost midnight, in fact. The witching hour. Poppy was standing in a place she’d thought she’d never see again, her mother’s bedroom.

  James was waiting outside with a carload of stuff, including one large suitcase of Poppy’s CDs, smuggled for them by Phil. In a few minutes James and Poppy would be heading for the East Coast and Poppy’s father.

  But first, there was something Poppy had to do.

  She glided quietly toward the king-size bed, making no more noise than a shadow, not disturbing either of the sleepers. She stopped by her mother’s still form.

  She stood looking down, and then she spoke with her mind.

  I know you think this is a dream, Mom. I know you don’t believe in spirits. But I had to tell you that I’m all right. I’m all right, and I’m happy, and even if you don’t understand, please try to believe. Just this once, believe in what you can’t see.

  She paused, then added, I love you, Mom. I always will.

  When she left the room, her mother was still asleep—and smiling.

  Outside, Phil was standing by the Integra. Poppy hugged him and he hugged back, hard.

  “Goodbye,” she whispered. She got into the car.

  James stuck his hand out the window toward Phil. Phil took it without hesitation.

  “Thank you,” James said. “For everything.”

  “No, thank you.” Phil said. His smile and his voice were both shaky. “Take care of her…and of yourself.” He stepped back, blinking.

  Poppy blew him a kiss. Then she and James drove off together into the night.

  Daughters of Darkness

  In memory of

  John Manford Divola

  And for Julie Ann Divola,

  still the best of best friends

  CHAPTER 1

  “Rowan, Kestrel, and Jade,” Mary-Lynnette said as she and Mark passed the old Victorian farmhouse.

  “Huh?”

  “Rowan. And Kestrel. And Jade. The names of the girls who’re moving in.” Mary-Lynnette tilted her head toward the farmhouse—her hands were full of lawn chair. “They’re Mrs. Burdock’s nieces. Don’t you remember I told you they were coming to live with her?”

  “Vaguely,” Mark said, readjusting the weight of the telescope he was carrying as they trudged up the manzanita-covered hill. He spoke shortly, which Mary-Lynnette knew meant he was feeling shy.

  “They’re pretty names,” she said. “And they must be sweet girls, because Mrs. Burdock said so.”

  “Mrs. Burdock is crazy.”

  “She’s just eccentric. And yesterday she told me her nieces are all beautiful. I mean, I’m sure she’s prejudiced and everything, but she was pretty definite. Each one of them gorgeous, each one a completely different type.”

  “So they should be going to California,” Mark said in an almost-inaudible mutter. “They should be posing for Vogue. Where do you want this thing?” he added as they reached the top of the hill.

  “Right here.” Mary-Lynnette put the lawn chair down. She scraped some dirt away with her foot so the telescope would sit evenly. Then she said casually, “You know, I thought maybe we could go over there tomorrow and introduce ourselves—sort of welcome them, you know….”

  “Will you cut it out?” Mark said tersely. “I can organize my own life. If I want to meet a girl, I’ll meet a girl. I don’t need help.”

  “Okay, okay. You don’t need help. Be careful with that focuser tube—”

  “And besides, what are we going to say?” Mark said, on a roll now. “‘Welcome to Briar Creek, where nothing ever happens. Where there are more coyotes than people. Where if you really want some excitement you can ride into town and watch the Saturday night mouse racing at the Gold Creek Bar….’”

  “Okay. Okay.” Mary-Lynnette sighed. She looked at her younger brother, who just at the moment was illuminated by the last rays of sunset. To see him now, you’d think he’d never been sick a day in his life. His hair was as dark and shiny as Mary-Lynnette’s, his eyes were as blue and clear and snapping. He had the same healthy tan as she di
d; the same glow of color in his cheeks.

  But when he’d been a baby, he’d been thin and scrawny and every breath had been a challenge. His asthma had been so bad he’d spent most of his second year in an oxygen tent, fighting to stay alive. Mary-Lynnette, a year and a half older, had wondered every day if her baby brother would ever come home.

  It had changed him, being alone in that tent where even their mother couldn’t touch him. When he came out he was shy and clingy—holding on to their mother’s arm all the time. And for years he hadn’t been able to go out for sports like the other kids. That was all a long time ago—Mark was going to be a junior in high school this year—but he was still shy. And when he got defensive, he bit people’s heads off.

  Mary-Lynnette wished one of the new girls would be right for him, draw him out a bit, give him confidence. Maybe she could arrange it somehow….

  “What are you thinking about?” Mark asked suspiciously.

  Mary-Lynnette realized he was staring at her.

  “About how the seeing’s going to be really good tonight,” she said blandly. “August’s the best month for starwatching; the air’s so warm and still. Hey, there’s the first star—you can make a wish.”

  She pointed to a bright point of light above the southern horizon. It worked; Mark was distracted and looked, too.

  Mary-Lynnette stared at the back of his dark head. If it would do any good, I’d wish for romance for you, she thought.

  I’d wish it for myself, too—but what would be the point? There’s nobody around here to be romantic with.

  None of the guys at school—except maybe Jeremy Lovett—understood why she was interested in astronomy, or what she felt about the stars. Most of the time Mary-Lynnette didn’t care—but occasionally she felt a vague ache in her chest. A longing to…share. If she had wished, it would have been for that, for someone to share the night with.

  Oh, well. It didn’t help to dwell on it. And besides, although she didn’t want to tell Mark, what they were wishing on was the planet Jupiter, and not a star at all.