In the past, I fear that I have considered Jessica superficially. I (we?) have been guilty of believing that a change of clothes, lessons on etiquette, a deep and satisfying thrust of fangs to the throat could make her vampire royalty.
But you didn't hear her cry, Vasile. You didn't feel her tears fall on your face, your hand.
Perhaps vampiredom could survive Antanasia—but could Antanasia survive vampiredom? She shows promise, Vasile, but that promise is years from maturation. In the meantime, she would be doomed.
Maybe it is the medication speaking. Honestly, Vasile, the Packwoods have the most wonderful Hungarian healer, very loose with dispensation, if you get my meaning. Yes, perhaps it is the plethora of potions coursing through my veins and saturating my brain, but I ponder these things as I lie here—missing, I might add, the first basketball "scrimmage" of the season, against the rival "Palmyra Cougars." (As if I haven't slain those before, and would have done so again on the court.)
Getting back to Jessica, though. We vampires are soulless, yes. But we do not betray our own, do we? We do not destroy wantonly, correct? And I fear that vampiredom would, indeed, destroy Jessica.
Should we not consider setting her free to be a normal, human teenager? And leave the problems of our world where they belong: in our world, as opposed to on the shoulders of an innocent American girl who longs only to ride her horse, giggle with her best friend (I've developed a somewhat twisted liking for the deliriously sex-crazed Melinda), and share "nice" kisses with a simple farmer?
I look forward to your thoughts, even as I already anticipate your phenomenally negative response. But you raised me to be not just ruthless but honorable, Vasile, and I felt honor bound to bring these issues to light.
Yours, recovering,
Lucius
P.S. Regarding the doll: Request button eyes if possible. That seemed to be a "theme."
Chapter 25
"MOM, I WANT you to tell me what happened that night."
My mother was in her home office, glasses perched on her nose, poring over her latest delivery of academic journals by the pale glow of her desk lamp. At the sound of my voice, she glanced up. "I was hoping you'd come to talk soon, Jess."
She motioned to the lumpy, cast-off La-Z-Boy that served as a guest chair next to her desk. I sank in, pulling the musty Peruvian wool blanket over my legs.
Mom spun her chair toward me, sliding her glasses up into her hair, giving me her full attention. "Where should we start? With what happened between you and Lucius on the porch?"
I flushed, looking away. "No. I don't want to talk about that. I want to talk about two nights ago. When you brought Lucius here. Why? Why not to a hospital?"
"I told you, Jessica. Lucius is special. He's different."
"Different how?"
"Lucius is a vampire, Jessica. A doctor trained in an American medical school would not understand how to treat him."
"He's just a guy, Mom," I insisted.
"Is he? Is that what you still believe? Even after what you saw, crouched by the door?"
Staring down at my hands, I twisted a loose thread around my finger and tore it out of the blanket. "It's so confusing, Mom."
“Jessica?”
"Hmm?" I glanced up.
"You've touched Lucius, too."
"Mom, please ..." We weren't going there again, were we?
Mom gave me a level stare. "Your father and I aren't blind. Your father caught the tail end of your . . . moment. . . with Lucius on Halloween night."
I was glad the desk lamp barely cast a puddle of light on the desk, because my cheeks were blazing. "It was just a kiss. Not even that, really."
"And when you touch Lucius, you don't notice anything . . . unusual?"
His coolness. I knew immediately what she meant, but for some reason, I hedged. "I don't know. Maybe."
Mom realized I wasn't being completely honest, and she had little patience with people who got intellectually lazy when faced with a difficult concept. She pulled her glasses back onto her nose. I knew I was being dismissed. "I want you think about what you saw back in the dining room. What you've felt. What you believe."
"I want to believe what is real" I whined. "I want to understand the truth. Remember the Enlightenment? Geometric order replacing superstition? Sir Isaac Newton? Who unlocked the 'mystery' of gravity? And who once said, 'My greatest friend is truth.' How can a vampire be 'true'?"
My mom stared at me for a long moment. I could hear the clock on her desk ticking as she marshaled her considerable store of knowledge.
"Isaac Newton," Mom finally said, "retained a lifelong faith in astrology. Did you know that about your so-called rational scientist?"
"Um, no," I admitted. "I did not know that."
"And remember Albert Einstein?" Mom noted, smugly. "Who unlocked the atom? Something we could barely conceive of just a century or so ago? Einstein once said, 'The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious.'" She paused. "If atoms can exist, hidden and yet everywhere, for millennia . . . why not a vampire?"
Damn. She was good.
"Mom . . ."
"Yes, Jessica?"
"I saw Lucius drink blood. And I saw his teeth. Again."
Mom took my hand and squeezed it. "Welcome to the world of the mysterious, Jessica." A shadow crossed her face. "Please be careful there. It's very, very tricky territory. Completely untamed. The mysterious can be beautiful—and dangerous."
I knew what she meant. Lucius. "I'll be careful, Mom."
"The Vladescu family has a certain reputation for ruthless-ness," she added, more directly. "You know your father and I like Lucius very much, and he is charming, but we must also keep in mind that his upbringing was no doubt very different from yours. And not just in terms of material possessions."
"I know, Mom. He's told me a little bit. Besides, I keep telling you—I don't feel like that about him."
Liar.
"Well, just so you know, I'm always here to talk. So is your father."
"Thanks, Mom." I tossed aside the blanket and stood to go, kissing her cheek. "For now, I just need to think."
"Of course." Mom spun back around to her journals. "I love you, Jessica," she added over her shoulder as I pulled her door shut. In spite of her warnings, in spite of her obvious concerns for me, I swore I heard the faintest hint of a smile in her voice.
Chapter 26
DEAR VASILE,
I continue to await your response to my concerns regarding Jessicas near-certain fate, should she take the throne. Have you nothing to say?
What am I to read from your silence?
Honestly, Vasile, I tire of navigating this situation with little guidance, thousands of miles from home. I am fatigued by com-peting, unsuccessfully, with a peasant. I am drained by bodily injury. I grow impatient for . . . for what? Something I cannot even name. I grow weary of my own nature, my own thoughts, my past, and my future, lying here.
In the absence of constructive comment, I will proceed as my instinct currently dictates regarding Antanasia. I doubt that you will agree with my course of action, but I feel, of late, frustrated and restive and recklessly willful. I chafe at the bit you've kept in my mouth for so long.
Yours,
Lucius
Chapter 27
"WELL, YOU'RE FINALLY out of the garage like you wanted," I teased.
"I can't believe you live like this," Lucius smirked, propped against my pink satin pillows. In my bedroom. Mom had insisted Lucius move inside until his leg healed. His cast was propped up on the oversized stuffed hot dog. "It's like living in a frothy cocoon of cotton candy." He made a face. "So much pink."
"I like pink."
Lucius sniffed. "It's just red's sorry, weak cousin."
"Well, it's not forever. You'll be back in your gloomy dungeon with your rusty weapons before long." I glanced around my room. "Have you seen my iPod?"
"This?" Lucius located my MP3 player in a jumble of sheets
and held it up.
"Yes." I held out my hand. "Give."
"Oh, can't I keep it? It's so boring being confined here, and I'm enjoying exploring your musical preferences."
Here we go. "Why don't you buy your own?"
"But yours is already loaded with the Black Eyed Peas." He was mocking me.
"Don't be a jerk."
"I like them. Honestly." A devilish grin crossed his face. "My humps, my humps! What's not to like?"
I swiped the iPod from his hands and he laughed. I grinned, too. "If you weren't already broken all to pieces . . ."
"What?" He grabbed my wrist with lightning speed for someone with broken ribs. "You'd beat me into submission? Right. In your dreams."
Yes.
Sometimes, lately. In my dreams. I mean, I wasn't dreaming about beating him up. But lately, Lucius had been making more guest appearances in my sleep. At weddings. In dark caves. By flickering candlelight.
He released me, growing serious. "Jessica, I've consumed so many pain medications. I really can't thank your local physician, Dr. Zsoldos, enough. Why suffer?"
"You're rambling."
"Oh, yes. Well, I've never properly thanked you." He pushed himself up a little straighter, wincing as his ribs shifted. "Catching Hell's Belle, staying with me. You were very brave."
I shifted my weight, trying not to jostle his leg. "I'm sorry they put her down."
Lucius looked out the window, mouth drawn down. "You did your best. But some things are just too dangerous to live, I suppose."
"You tried to tame her," I added lamely. "It worked for a while."
"It wasn't in her nature to be tamed. In the end, we are all true to our natures. Our upbringings."
We sat in silence for a second, and I wondered what Lucius was thinking about. The horse—or himself?
"Congratulations on second place," he finally said.
I followed his gaze to the corkboard on my wall, where I'd hung my red ribbon next to a bunch of blue ones I'd won for math competitions. Of course, Faith Crosse had won the blue ribbon. My performance had been good, but not good enough. "You deserved the blue," I told Lucius, meaning it.
"How odd that I received a 'lifetime ban' from 4-H, then," he noted wryly. "They created a whole new rule, you know. Just for me. 'Prohibition against knowingly bringing a vicious animal to a public event.' I was the first violator, retroactively. A pioneer in lawlessness, so to speak." He laughed, coughed sharply, and clutched his ribs. "Damn."
"Are you okay?"
"Yes, I just slay myself, at times." He smiled. "Literally."
I fidgeted with my iPod. "Lucius?"
"Yes, Jessica?"
I met his black eyes. "I was there. That night."
"I know."
"You do?"
"You came to me late at night. Took my hand."
I resumed my study of my iPod, embarrassed. "Oh ... I thought you were asleep."
"Don't fidget while conversing." Lucius plucked the MP3 player from my fingers. "Of course I knew you were there. I'm a light sleeper. Especially when every inch of my body is wracked with pain."
"Sorry." I smiled weakly. "I didn't mean to disturb you."
"No ... on the contrary, I was quite touched," Lucius said. His eyes softened, all of the imperiousness fading away. "You wept for my distress. No one has ever wept to see me suffer before. I shall not forget that kindness, Jessica."
"It was just how I felt then. I couldn't help crying."
"No, of course not." The admission seemed to pain him, somehow. "Still, when I return to my life in Romania, no one will cry to see Lucius Vladescu broken. And when I suffer—as is inevitable—I shall remember your gesture with fondness and appreciation."
"I won't forget that night, either," I promised. I wiped my palms on my legs. They'd grown sweaty. "Lucius ... I saw you drink the blood."
"Ahh, the blood." He didn't seem surprised by my confession. "I hope you were not unduly upset. Not too disgusted. I hadn't judged you ready to see that. It can be rather off-putting for those not used to it."
"I sort of passed out."
Lucius smiled sadly and stared out the window. "Even insensate on a table, I manage to sicken you. Quite a talent I have."
"No. It wasn't just seeing the blood. I ... I smelled it, too."
Lucius turned his head slowly to look at me, as if he couldn't quite believe what he'd heard. There was a small spark in his eyes. "You did?"
"Yes."
"And what, exactly, did it smell like?"
"It was strong. Almost overpowering."
"Yes. So it is. So it becomes."
"That's what you keep in that Orange Julius cup, isn't it?"
Lucius smiled wryly. "Did I really seem like a man who would drink strawberry froth from a kiosk at the mall? Have I not expressed my feelings toward pink things?"
"Yeah. I guess I should have known." A question had been burning in my mind. A question I wasn't sure I wanted answered. But I had to ask. "Lucius, where do you get it?" Visions from old movies, of terrified women in gauzy nightgowns cowering before fanged attackers, loomed in my mind. "Is it. . . violent?"
"Oh, Jessica . . . vampires have ways. It is not as rapacious now as it was in the past. Much is maintained in collections, like wine. One need not always stomp a grape to drink champagne, you know."
Moving carefully to protect his ribs, Lucius laced his fingers behind his head, sinking into the pillow, gazing at the ceiling. His deep voice grew wistful. "Our cellar in Romania ... it is the best in the world, some say. Vintages dating back to the 1700s. One can just summon a servant with a snap of the fingers, name one's poison—to use one of my favorite colloquialisms—and indulge."
Half disgusted and more than a little bit unsettlingly thrilled, I let him talk on, watching him fall deeper into a reverie.
"And then, of course, when two vampires marry—unite for eternity—they have each other. That is said to be the finest vintage. The purest source." Lucius grew even more introspective, more distant. "Male to female. Woman to man. Blood comingled. Could there be a stronger bond between two beings?"
A smile flitted across his lips. "Intercourse is a fleeting pleasure, indeed. Undeniably an intimate act. Not to be dismissed—or missed, for that matter. Indeed, crucial for procreation, beyond its other obvious virtues."
The smile faded. "But sharing one's blood with another: exposing one's most vulnerable place, where the pulse beats just below the skin, and trusting your partner to satisfy without subduing ... It makes sex seem almost insignificant by comparison. An unequal act—male to female. But blood . . . blood can be shared as true equals."
He seemed to have forgotten me perched by his side. I listened to him, mesmerized. Mesmerized and . . . more.
Or maybe Lucius hadn't forgotten my presence. His gaze flicked to me. "But of course you think I am delusional, that I ramble about impossibilities, irrational acts. And you are right: The existence of a vampire is irrational. We are a study in impossibilities."
Vintage blood. Fangs piercing pulse points. It did still sound crazy. But not impossible anymore. Or even undesirable, the way Lucius described it. No, not in the least. "Lucius, I saw you drink the blood. It's not impossible."
"Ahh, Jessica." He unlaced his hands from behind his head. "Why now? Why so damnably late in the goddamn game— as the perennially profane Coach Ferrin would say on the basketball court?"
"What do you mean? Late in the game?" It seemed early in the game to me. I was just starting to understand. Just starting to believe. As difficult as it was for me to wrap my brain around, I couldn't deny it any longer. I believed Lucius Vladescu was a vampire. And that I could, at the very least, smell the blood, too. Respond to it. There was so much more to understand ... to figure out. "Why is it late?"
Lucius leaned wearily into his hands, rubbing his eyes. "Why did I just tell you all that romantic claptrap? I allowed myself to get carried away. Damn, I am irresponsible s
ometimes. I had so wanted you to understand, and now the timing is so wrong. I had longed to tell you all that before. To share it with you. Thus, when you finally showed interest, I just couldn't shut the hell up."
"It didn't sound like claptrap,'" I assured him. On the contrary, everything he'd said had been intriguing, in an admittedly disconcerting way. "And why not now?"
But before Lucius could respond, my dad knocked on the half-open bedroom door. "Lucius, you have a visitor."
Beth_Fantaskey-Jessicas guide to dating the dark side. Page 14
