by Claudia Gray
Mrs. Bethany’s voice gentled. “It’s hard for you to hear, isn’t it? But in time, I think, knowing this will lessen your pain. You could not have saved her, Mr. Ross. You endangered her no more than her parents did — though they will never accept that.”
“I don’t think I can either.”
“You still see death as the worst thing that can possibly happen. It isn ‘t..”
“I know there’s something worse than being dead,” Lucas said, each word grinding out. “Because we’re there.”
“You miss being alive.” I expected her to say that he was foolish to do so; nobody seemed to get more pleasure out of being a vampire than she did. But Mrs. Bethany added, very quietly, “So do I.”
Lucas said, “Never gets any better, huh?”
“I didn’t say that.”
Astonishment overcame my melancholy. I became transparent again so that I could peek once more through her window; Mrs. Bethany sat with 104 her hand on Lucas’s shoulder, her thick, grooved nails dark crimson against his black sweater. He didn’t shy away from the touch.
Is she . .. hitting on him? I rejected the idea instantly; it Wasn’t that kind of gesture. There was no denying that a bond had been formed, however — and that in some ways, right now, Mrs. Bethany could understand what was going on with Lucas better than I could.
Wordlessly, she patted his shoulder. Lucas obeyed the unspoken suggestion by rising to his feet. Mrs. Bethany walked him out of the carriage house — completely unconcerned about his having broken into it — and the entire way back to Evernight itself. They didn’t part until they were both inside the great hall; a few people studying during their free period glanced at the scene, registering to their surprise that Lucas had apparently gotten teacher’s pet status. I wondered if that would make the other vampires back off, or target him even more.
“English class calls,” she said. “Dare I hope that you’ve done the reading?”
Lucas said, “I read Catcher in the Rye on my own a couple years ago, actually.”
“Of course. You would be primarily self — taught. What did you think?”
“That Holden Caulfield is a self — pitying loser who needs more to do wirth his time.”
Mrs. Bethany smiled slightly. “Although I would phrase things more delicately, our analyses are similar in substance. Which means I will call on you. Be ready.” She checked the old — fashioned gold wristwatch she wore. “You have several minutes yet if you wished to shower,” she said, in a tone of voice indicating that he should definitely consider it.
She went on her way, and Lucas immediately started jogging upstairs to do what she’d said. He was smiling — really smiling, like it came from his heart. I felt almost jealous, more like a tagalong than his constant companion, until he whispered, “Can you believe that?”
“You did get kind of sweaty sparring with Balthazar.”
“No, I mean, can you believe she let me off?”
“Nope. Then again, you are pretty charming.”
“Charm’s not my strong suit.”
“I disagree.” Carefully, I said, “You know not to trust her, right?”
Lucas remained silent as he walked out onto the floor of the guys’ dorm where he lived. Finally, when we reached his room, he said, “She cut me slack, and she didn’t have to.”
“She hates Black Cross a lot, and I get that she feels sorry for you because of what happened with them, but … the traps, Lucas. She’s out to get ghosts like me. One of those traps nearly killed me.”
“Maybe she’s just scared of what she doesn ‘ t understand,” he protested as he stripped off his sweater and shirt, dumping them on the floor atop the wet towels no doubt left over from Balthazar’s shower. Guys never seemed to realize that doing laundry was an option. “Bianca, You’re still frightened of the wraiths, and you are one. So it’s not an unreasonable reaction.”
I had trouble imagining Mrs. Bethany being scared of much of anything. But Lucas Wasn’t totally wrong about her either; she’d come through for him when none of his friends could, not even me.
just the same, I couldn’t have any real faith in her. Not yet. “You won’t tell her about me, will you? That I’ve become a wraith, and that I’m here with you?”
Lucas got a weird look on his face. “Are you kidding? Of course not.” Relief washed through me. “So you don’t trust her.”
“I don’t know ifl tntst her or not. But when it comes to you, I’m not taking any more risks than we have to. Your secrets are my secrets, Bianca. Never doubt that.”
I brushed against his cheek, a soft breeze, and he closed his eyes and smiled.
He was so strong right now. So happy. I suggested, “You know, I realize we can’t actually … be together…” Lucas opened his eyes, his smile dimming.
Before he could apologize. I said, “But I could watch you shower.”
He laughed out loud.
The next ten minutes were awesome, in terms of the view. However, the whole time, I couldn’t totally concentrate — not even with gorgeous, wet, naked Lucas to focus on. One thought had lodged itself in my mind, and I couldn’t shake it.
I kept thinking, It’s like eve1yone else in the world can help him a little bit — but not me. Never me.
Chapter Eleven
WATCHING LUCAS SHOWER DID THINGS TO MY brain.
I let him go to class, but seeing him again, with his muscled chest and legs, and water streaming through his dark gold hair and over his full lips — remembering everything we’ d had together during the short weeks we’d shared in Philadelphia — awakened my hunger to be with him again.
Desire was different for me now that I didn’t have a living body, but that didn’t mean I wanted Lucas any less.
And I wanted that closeness between us again. I knew that I helped tether Lucas to the world as much as he helped me; surely we didn’t have to be celibate forever, did we? We could find a way. As long as I had my bracelet on, I didn’t see why it would even have to be difficult.
Lucas hadn’t made any moves in that direction since our first terrible attempt. Given how traumatizing that whole time had been, I’d respected the fact that he needed some distance; I knew he loved me just as much. Maybe I’d taken it too far, though. Maybe I was the one who needed to make the first move.
As darkness fell, I slipped down the side of the guys’ tower and into Vic and Ranulf’s room. They were sharing a companionably silent dinner, Ranulf sipping blood from an Eagles mug, Vic wolfing down a Hot Pocket. When I appeared in their room, Vic grinned and waved. “Yo, Bianca! It’s good you dropped by. We were just gonna watch jackie Chan movies. The old ones, where he’s badass, not the American stuff where he’s funny.”
“His ass remains bad in all incarnations,” Ranulf interjected. “In the laudatory sense of the word bad and a rather nebulous sense of the word ass.”
“Ever and always badass,” Vic agreed. “just more badass in the Drunken Master days. You want to join us, Bianca? See for yourself?”
“Actually,” I began, “I was hoping you guys might ask Balthazar to join you. For a couple of hours or so.”
Vic nodded sagely. “A little necktie — on — the — doorknob time is called for, I see.” When Ranulf frowned, he added, “Bianca and Lucas want to be alone.”
“I see at once the symbolism of the doorknob and the necktie,” Ranulf :said.
“Wait — no,” Vic said. “That is not what that means. At least, I don’t think so — ”
This conversation was about to derail. “Could you maybe go ahead and ask him? It would mean a lot.” Vic grinned. “Consider it done.”
About ten minutes later, when I went up to Lucas’s room, I found him alone; Vic and Ranulf had already collected Balthazar. Lucas sat amid a pile of schoolbooks, like he was cramming for all his exams at once. “Wow,” I said as I took shape. “Did you get hit with a homework tsunami or something?”
“Studying helps,” Lucas said quietly. “When I study, I
can focus on something outside my head for a little while.”
The books and papers and laptop in front of him looked different now; at once I was reminded of him in his Black Cross cell, surrounded by his hunter’s weapons. His newfound drive for his schoolwork was one more way for him to defend himself — this time, against the demons within.
I hoped I had another way. “Do you think you could take a little time away?”
Lucas looked up at me, his green eyes so warm and liquid that I felt myself melt. “For you? Always.”
“We’re alone.” I brushed my hand through his hair; he shut his eyes, clearly relishing the touch. “You’ve got my jewelry, so I could be solid for a while. Maybe we could . .. give being together anotl1er try?”
He remained silent for a long moment. His hand closed around mine, and I felt again the sparkly sensation of connecting when I wasn’t 100 percent solid — deliciously cool, sending ripples of pleasure through me. I bent to kiss Lucas, but just before our lips met, he said, “We shouldn ‘t.”
“Lucas — why not?” I didn’t feel rejected; his longing and love for me radiated from him. So I didn’t understand what kept us apart. “I know last time was bad, but we realize what’s going on now. What we can and! can’t do.” As far as I was concerned, the stuff we could do was a whole lot more interesting than what we couldn ‘ t.
“The need for sex and the need for blood — they’re so tightly linke·d, Bianca. They always have been, for us.”
“But they aren’t the same thing.” I kissed his forehead, his cheek, the side of his mouth. He breathed in sharply, and I knew he wanted this as 108 badly as I did — more, perhaps. “You know now that drinking my blood would hurt you. Maybe destroy you. So that means you won’t lose control and bite me.”
Lucas gripped my hands tightly and met my eyes. “I know that drinking your blood could destroy me,” he said. “And that’s why I’m afraid I’ll bite you.”
Silence fell over us, as heavy and horrible as the new knowledge I had to bear. I’d known that Lucas was struggling, but I hadn’t realized that his desire for self — destruction remained so immediate and strong.
My face must have looked crushed, because Lucas said, “Oh, God, Bianca, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“You told me the truth,” I managed to say. ‘That’s the main thing.”
Lucas embraced me as tightly as he could in my semisolid state. “I daydream about being with you all the time,” he whispered into my hair. “All the time. If I couldn’t remember being with you, I don’t know how I would go on. But sometimes I think — if I could end it, just end it, while I was with you, it’s as close as anything like me could ever get to heaven — ”
“Lucas, no.”
“I would never do that to you,” he said. “Never. But . . . Bianca, we can’t.”
I nodded, accepting the barrier between us. It wasn’t forever; just until Lucas managed to control his blood hunger and the terrible self — loathing Black Cross had programmed into him. But how long until that day came?
Would it ever come?
As though he could hear my doubts, Lucas said, “Someday.”
“Someday,” I said, a promise to him and to myself.
Later that night, still dazed with disappointment and worry for Lucas, I drifted down into the main area of the school — deserted, this late at night. Even the vampires were asleep.
How many vampires don’t make the transition? I thought. How many give in to suicidal impulses or blood hu11ger, or both? I suspected the number was far larger than my parents had ever let on. Once again I felt a fierce surge of longing for them. Not only did I miss Mom and Dad just as themselves, but if we could talk — really talk, without all the lies between us — maybe I could learn how to help Lucas bear his burdens.
Perhaps ii was the intensity of my concentration as I wondered about this, the way it dragged me so deeply into my own mind rather tl1an the here and now — or maybe it was some trick of where I was at that moment, because Evernight’s traps and guards and passageways created a kind of spiritual architecture within the stone. Whatever it was, in that moment, I suddenly became sharply aware that I was not alone.
I could sense the wraiths.
They were more distinct at that moment than they had ever been. Instead of simply knowing that they were there, I could now tell roughly how many there were — dozens, at least. They seemed to stand out in my awareness, each of them distinct but part of a whole, like stars in the sky, maybe, different points of brightness that formed constellations all around me. It was like suddenly seeing the night sky for the very first time, as though I’d been blind to it my whole life and then been dazzled all at once.
Except that constellations were beautiful, peaceful — and what I sensed around me now was desperation and madness. Instead of being dazzled, I felt the cold grip of fear.
Some that lingered alone, crammed into tiny slivers between stones or at the edge of windowpanes. It was as though they were beating their heads against a wall, cramping and hurting themselves just to remind themselves they continued to exist.
The trapped ones were the worst, because I couldn’t feel anything from them but pure terror. They’ d become nothing but long wordless screams.
And then there were a few others, clustered tightly together, who, when I sensed them, sensed me in return.
Once again, the visions began.
I saw an image of Mrs. Bethany in my mind — not a product of my own imagination, but something projected into my head like a movie on a screen. Something was tearing her apart, literally, graphically, bone and sinew and blood and guts, more disgusting than anything I’d ever seen. My throat tightened, and I gagged, but the image filled my whole mind now, and I couldn ‘ t push it away.
The Plotters — that was what I called them — repeated, Help us.
Or what? Would they attack the people I loved like this? Or would they come after me? What could a ghost do to another ghost? I had no idea, 11o but terrible possibilities unfolded in my mind, becoming part of the gruesome destruction of Mrs. Bethany.
Her mouth was open, her jaw unhinging, but the desperate scream in my mind was my own — Then a shaft of light seemed to penetrate my dream. Mrs. Bethany vanished, and the “constellations” disappeared as though it were dawn.
When I could see again, I realized that Maxie was standing with me in the great hall. Her white nightgown floated slightly on some unseen breeze, so that she seemed to be part of the fog outside. “You saved me,” I said.
“I pushed them back. That’s as much as I can do.” She cocked an eyebrow, like it was weird that she had to save me from anything. “You’re the girl with the superpowers, if you ‘d just realize it already.”
What else could a ghost do to another ghost? That sharp new fear controlled me as powerfully as the Plotters had a moment before. I stabilized myself as best I could, becoming more solid. “Are those Christopher’s . . . henchmen? Or henchghosts? Or whatever?”
“Christopher doesn’t have anything to do with them,” Maxie said. “They’d be better off if he did. They’re too tied to the human world to come to terms with the fact that they’re wraiths.”
“They hate Evernight,” I said. “They hate Mrs. Bethany. Why don’t they just leave?”
Maxie folded her arms. “You keep thinking all of us can do the things you can do. We can’t. Most wraiths can’t move around the way you can, or even the way I can. They followed their human anchors here because of the strength of that bond; every instinct they have tells them not to abandon it. And because they’re so screwed up now, they can’t think past instinct. They can’t think, period. They’re just emotions, going in every direction.”
“What’s wrong with them?”
“This is how we end, if we’re not careful.”
Cautiously, I said, “You mean, we end up … crazy?”
“Unhinged. Unstable. It comes from being in the human world but not of it.” She gave me a poi
nted look that suggested I was headed in that direction.
“You’ve spent time with Vic since he was a child,” I said. Vic was her biggest vulnerability; I wasn’t above using that.
She smiled softly when I said his name. “You can watch them. You can even — you can love.” Her voice broke on the last word. “But you can’t live. The damage comes from pretending that you can.”
“I’m not pretending,” I insisted.
“Aren’t you?”
“Bianca, if you would just come talk to Christopher — ”
Fear swept through me again, and I shook my head. “Don’t.”
Maxie’s usual sarcastic demeanor had faded into genuine pleading. “Bianca, You’re important to the wraiths. Don’t you see that? The stuff you can do that the rest ·of us can’t — it’s not just so much smoke and fog. It means something. You mean something.” My curiosity began to get the better of my fear, but just when I wanted to ask her more, she grew desperate, almost scarily so, and said, “We need you.”
“You’re not the only ones who need me.” I swept out of the great hall, afraid she was going to chase me. But she let me go.
“You’re sure you want to learn how to do this?” Patrice folded her arms, studying me as severely as Mrs. Bethany had during midterms.
The real answer was that no, I wasn’t sure. This was, in its way, as scary as training with Black Cross had been — it never felt good, learning how to attack creatures like myself.
The only way to make myself free was to give myself power. And that meant learning how to strike back against the wraiths, if necessary.
“Let’s begin,” I said.
Patrice pulled out her compact. “To catch a wraith,” she said, “you first have to detect that a wraith is there.”
“Done and done.” When Patrice glared at me for interrupting, I said, “I’ve kind of got an edge there, okay?”
