by Молли Харпер
I watched as the puddle of oil caught, the fire inching toward the piles of boxes and wooden crates. The flames speared higher and higher, until I thought they might be brushing against the ceiling. We would be trapped. River Oaks would burn. The cellar was going to catch like a Roman candle ifI shrieked as a blue-white cloud exploded in my face. Dick was standing over Jeanine’s remains with the fire extinguisher I kept near the cellar steps. With tears streaking down his deadened, inanimate face, he sprayed foam over the remaining hot spots, dropped the red tank with a clang, and shuffled back to Andrea without a word.
The cold blast from the fire extinguisher seemed to revive Emery, who slowly pushed himself up from the floor. Gabriel sprang to his feet, putting himself between Emery and me.
“Mistress?” Emery mumbled. His dull, unfocused eyes caught sight of the pile of ashes and the red cape, absorbing what it meant. He howled, “No!No!”
Emery scanned the room for signs of Jeanine, for an explanation of what had happened. Seeing Dick crouched over Andrea, Emery cried, “That is my mate!” When he advanced on them, Dick looked up with what can only be called a predatory snarl and roared. Even I jumped back.
Gabriel’s grip tightened around my arm.
“Emery, I think you should back away and sit still until the Council gets here,” Gabriel seethed.
Emery’s brow furrowed, even as he circled Andrea, trying to find a weakness in Dick’s defenses.
“What council?”
“The Council for the Equal Treatment of the Undead. The governing body of vampires who are going to lower the boom on you after what you’ve done,” I said.
Emery snorted derisively. “We’re vampires, Jane. We’re above the law, the constraints of human society. There are no rules for us anymore. It’s why I wanted to be a vampire in the first place.”
“Actually, there’s a whole butt-load of rules, Emery. The Council has rules for everything, especially when it comes to abducting and forcibly turning humans. It’s bad for our public image.
All those months at the bookshop, and you never bothered reading anything, did you? You bought into Jeanine’s promise of a ‘dark gift’ without even thinking about it. And now, you’re going to get the Trial.”
“What’s the Trial?” Emery asked, his bravado suddenly gone.
“What you’ve done to Andrea is going to pale in comparison.”
As if on cue, Ophelia arrived at the top of the cellar with her Council posse: gaunt and grumpy Peter Crown, a Colonel Sanders lookalike improbably named Waco Marchand, and cool blond Sophie. I was never so glad to see bureaucrats in all my life. It was like a pale, elegant cavalry.
Emery had lost all nerve at this point and was cowering behind a junk pile.
Ophelia, a 300-year-old teenager who was wearing skinny dark-wash jeans and a Jonas Brothers T-shirt, took in the sight of Andrea’s crumpled body, the pile of ashes on the floor, and my bloodied, chainsaw-massacre-survivor look.
“What did you do this time, Jane?” she demanded, rolling her eyes.
“This time, it really wasn’t me,” I protested.
“You always say that,” she pointed out.
“It was this newborn, Emery Mueller,” Gabriel said, dragging Emery up by the collar and pushing him toward Peter. “He kidnapped Andrea Byrne and turned her against her will. Under the direction of his sire, Jeanine, he also attempted to kill Jane with aerosol silver weeks ago, then assaulted and kidnapped her tonight.”
“That’s quite the rap sheet for a newborn,” Ophelia said, nudging Jeanine’s remains with her toe.
Gabriel cleared his throat. “When Dick … when he’s able to speak, he will corroborate my story.”
“I see,” she said, mulling that over as she scraped the ashes from her hot-pink Converse sneakers. “And I take it this is Jeanine?” Gabriel nodded curtly. “When I told you to take care of the matter, Gabriel, I didn’t mean to set her on fire.”
I raised my hand for permission to speak. “Actually, she did that to herself.”
“You’ve said that before, too,” Ophelia noted. I groaned, hoping Ophelia wasn’t going to sic Sophie on me. I’d just gotten over Sophie’s brain-scraping brand of interrogation from our last encounter at a Cracker Barrel.
Mr. Marchand nudged her with his elbow. “She’s never lied to us before, Ophelia. She’s no good at it.”
Ophelia sighed, “Fine. Emery Mueller, I hereby take you into the custody of this tribunal on the charge of forcibly creating a vampire. Your Trial is scheduled in two days.”
“Like a hearing?” Emery whispered. He seemed caught between being terrified of Ophelia and wanting to kissherfeet.
Peter smiled nastily. “No.”
Emery whimpered as Peter and Sophie dragged him away.
“I’d like to say I hope I don’t see you for a while, Jane, but somehow, I don’t think it will work out that way,” Ophelia said.
“That seems fair,” I grumbled.
Ophelia cast a long glance at Dick, a puzzled expression marring her beautiful face. “Let me know if you need … help over the next few days.”
With that, the Council swept out of the room in silence. I honestly didn’t care whether I ever saw Emery or Ophelia again. Gabriel and I slowly approached Dick. I laid a hand on his shoulder.
Dick inhaled sharply, but he didn’t snap at us when we gently pried Andrea away from him. Dick allowed Gabriel to carry Andrea upstairs to one of the guest rooms. I washed her neck and face, trying to remove any traces that Emery might have left behind. When she woke, I didn’t want her to smell him. I cut the bloodied costume from her body and slipped a soft cotton nightgown over her head. Even though I knew I would be talking to her, laughing with her again soon, it still felt like funeral preparations.
I went downstairs and found Dick and Gabriel in my kitchen, an open bottle of Faux Type O between them. I had to try to swallow the lump in my throat twice before I could manage, “Dick, I’m sorry. It’s my fault. If I’d just—I didn’t even suspect Emery. I was so self-centered. I thought Jeanine was focused on me. It didn’t occur to me that she would go after my friends like this.”
Dick’s voice was raw, a harsh whisper between sips. “You couldn’t have guessed, Jane. None of us did. We’re going to lay blame at Emery’s feet, where it belongs.”
“Um, I was dead drunk when I was turned,” Dick said quietly, staring into his glass. “I can’t remember a thing. I just woke up, and there I was—no pulse, no breath. I, um, I need to know, Jane, does it hurt? To die, I mean? Does it hurt? Did she suffer?”
His eyes pinned me, tears slipping down his cheeks.
“No, it’s just like falling asleep,” I told him, tucking his hair behind his ear and giving him a sisterly kiss on the cheek. “It doesn’t hurt at all.”
“I’m going to stay here for a few days if that’s OK,” Dick said. “I don’t want to move her again.”
“You’re more than welcome,” I said. “I’ll lay out some sheets and some towels for you.”
I pushed away from the counter to do just that, but my arms and legs were suddenly so tired. I stumbled against the kitchen table and felt Gabriel’s hands on my arms, steadying me. “Sorry, I think the blood loss and head injuries are catching up with me.”
“I can take care of myself, Stretch,” Dick said. “Gabe, take her upstairs, and make her get some sleep. I don’t care what you have to do to convince her, I just don’t want to hear anything.”
I smiled at the half-hearted insinuation. To joke about my sex life, Dick must be feeling a little better. I let Gabriel lift me bridal-style and carry me up the stairs. Now it was my turn to be undressed and tucked into bed. When he slid under the sheets behind me, pulling me to his chest, I turned to him and buried my face against his skin.
“I lied,” I told Gabriel, wiping at my eyes. “When I said it doesn’t hurt to die. I lied. It’s agony.
It was like drowning on dry land, being crushed, not being able to breathe. It hurts. But I couldn’t t
ell Dick that. I lied.”
“I know, sweetheart,” he said, brushing his lips along my brow. “I remember. Even without the added pain of being shot, taking that last breath, it hurts. But sometimes we have to lie to protect the ones we love.” I narrowed my eyes at him. He cleared his throat. “Though obviously, I will never be doing that again. But you did the right thing.”
“How will this affect Dick?” I asked him. “Will it be weird for him to be with a vampire he hasn’t sired?”
He shrugged. “It’s not a requirement. There are lots of vampires in very successful relationships.”
“Are they going to be OK or not?”
“It’s a violation,” Gabriel agreed. “Dick will be reminded of it every day. He’ll feel he failed her somehow, that he didn’t protect her. But he loves her. He will set it all aside to be with her.”
“It seems my life is just as uncertain and out of control as when I was human. I thought I’d changed, learned. I thought I was more in control. I’m scared of what’s to come, what I don’t understand yet.”
I closed my eyes as Gabriel murmured, “Jane, you can’t worry about the future so much that you miss out on the present. And I’ll be with you. No matter what.”
I slept that deep sleep that requires that you wake up with a patch of drool drying on your face.
Vaguely, I remembered falling asleep with Gabriel, waking at one point when it was dark outside, and finding him awake next to me. I was hungry but far too tired to leave the bed, so he held his wrist to my lips and let me drink from him. There were a few more “sleepy patches,” in which I woke, fed, and went back to sleep. But now I was just confused and had serious bed hair.
“What time is it?” I asked, squinting in the twilight.
Gabriel stroked a thumb down my temple, where the flesh was smooth and unmarred now. “Six P.M. On Thursday.”
I bolted out of bed. “Holy crap, I slept for three days?”
“You were exhausted,” he said. “And you had a lot of healing to do.”
“Andrea?” I asked, slipping into some clean jeans.
“Rose late last night,” he said, smiling. “She was ravenous. She went through your entire supply of synthetic blood and the Hershey’s syrup. Dick says he owes you.”
“I think I’ll let it slide this once.” I snorted. “Just pry Dick off of my couch before tomorrow morning. I don’t want him getting too comfortable.”
Gabriel followed, laughing, as I tore out of bed and down the stairs. Andrea was standing in my living room, balancing my coffee table on one hand. There was a huge grin on her pale, angelic face. Dick looked like a human who’d been staring at the sun for too long, dazzled and dazed. I launched myself at her, knocking the table right onto Dick’s head as I hugged her. Dick was still smiling, even as he threw the wreckage over his shoulder.
“Hey!” She giggled, punching me on the arm. Gabriel, who had followed at a less frantic pace, snickered at Andrea’s display of newfound strength.
“Ow.” I rubbed my arm and glared at her. “I don’t think I’m going to like you having superstrength … or being all giddy. It’s disconcerting.”
“Don’t be sorry,” she said. “I mean, let’s be honest. My entire life was leading to this. I’m lucky it didn’t happen long before. Of course, I would have much rather that you or Dick turned me when I had, you know, a choice in the matter. But when I think about it, what was I staying human for, anyway? Emery made the choice I should have made a while ago. My family doesn’t speak to me. Everyone I love is going to live forever. And how would my relationship with Dick work out in the long term without a change?”
“You’re really OK with this?” I asked, giving her a long, appraising look. She’d been merely beautiful in life. She was stunning now. Her skin was a perfect creamy pearl color that set off the fiery red of her hair. Her lips were soft and pink and full, curving over glistening white teeth. I searched her face for some sign of regret, of sorrow, but found nothing. There was a new exuberance to Andrea. It was if she’d finally figured out what she’d been missing all these years: fangs. “Because I had some … adjustment issues that you don’t seem to be having.”
Andrea shuddered delicately. “Well, the blood thing is gross. Even after spending so much time with you, I have to admit it’s weird drinking it myself. But look at all the pros. I can climb walls and lift tables, and, frankly, my ass has never looked better.”
“Ew.”
“I’m looking forward to eternity, Jane,” she said, sliding onto Dick’s lap. “Besides, at least now, vampires won’t see me as a snack.”
“I never saw you as a snack, baby doll.” Dick chuckled, kissing her neck.
“I love you so much,” she cooed, crushing him to her.
“Me, too, honey. Me, too.” Dick stroked his fingers over Andrea’s. I noticed that she was wearing the little ruby engagement ring he’d shown me on Halloween night. I felt a rush of relief for both of them. Emery may have turned Andrea, but Dick had marked her forever. She was his.
It was that simple. And I felt sorry for whoever said otherwise.
But instead of giving voice to these emotionally mature thoughts, I took the “disgusted teenager” route. I groaned. “Ugh, are you two going to go through some sort of gross honeymoon phase?
Because you’re going to have to do that somewhere else.”
“Maybe we should consider another trip,” Gabriel suggested. “The Southern Hemisphere should be far enough away.”
“Oh, calm down, both of you,” Andrea said, smirking. “You might as well get used to it.”
“Remind me to write a ‘PDA in the workplace’ policy for the shop,” I muttered to Gabriel.
“Now that all the newborn angst is settled”—Andrea shot me a stern look—“can we talk about why you don’t need a stun gun?”
I put up my hands in a defensive stance. “OK, in hindsight, it was not my wisest purchase.”
17
Love is about facing fear. The fear of rejection, the fear of intimacy, the fear of being hurt. With vampire relationships, the fear quotient tends to be a little higher.
—Love Bites: A Female Vampire’s Guide to Less Destructive Relationships
When Gabriel helped me out of his car, I fussed with his tie, straightening the blue-gray silk before giving his bottom lip a nipping kiss.
“What was that for?” he asked.
I kissed him again and adjusted the straps of my own blood-red silk party dress. “For guaranteeing that I will no longer be remembered as ‘Planed Jane’ by my classmates.”
“Why do I get the feeling that I’m being used for my pretty face?” he asked as we passed under a white and blue balloon arch and a banner that read, “Welcome Back, Howlers! Class of 1998!”
“Hush up, arm candy,” I muttered.
Half-Moon Hollow High School’s gym smelled exactly the same, like BO and anxiety. The reunion committee had tried valiantly to transform the gym into an Enchanted Paradise using the same props they used at our prom ten years before. Let’s see, transparent plastic palm trees lined with twinkle lights? Check. Giant papier-mâché volcano with fake flame streamers blowing out?
Check. Giant parachute billowing artfully from the ceiling to give the impression that we were extremely well-dressed castaways under an impromptu shelter? Check. Ignoring the fact that said parachute’s storage closet was rumored to be the conception site of Coach Kelly’s love child with Mindy Noonan? Check.
“This is a rite of passage?” Gabriel asked, eyeing the faux volcano. “What exactly does this signify?”
“Nothing, let’s go,” I said, turning on my heel and making what would have been a brilliant dash for the door if Gabriel hadn’t caught my arm.
“We agreed this was an important part of your emotional development.”
“When did we agree to that?” I demanded as he dragged me toward the registration table.
“You said it, I agreed to it. It’s similar to a verbal contrac
t.”
“You’re not a nice man,” I told him.
“I think we’ve established that,” he said as he planted me firmly in front of the table, where a brunette in a cantaloupe-colored suit turned to me with pasted-on smile. I searched her face. Huh.
I was expecting to be confronted with someone who’d tortured me in the cafeteria or mocked me in math. But I had no idea who this person was.
“Jane!” she cried. “It’s so good to see you!”
“Hey …” I zeroed in on her name tag. I didn’t even recognize the little senior photo that was laminated next to her name. Like so many of us who graduated from HHHS in the 1990s, she suffered from poufy bangs combined with the horrid plaid flannel of the grunge period. (Popculture influence had only so much sway over Hollow girls. We could not be persuaded to put away our curling irons.) I scanned the name. “Mary Beth. How are you?”
“Oh, you know me.” She chuckled as she handed me my name tag. I winced, because, no, I didn’t. “I’m always busy. I’m just so glad to see you here. You look great. And who is this?”
“This is my boyfriend, Gabriel,” I said as she scribbled out a guest name tag with a Sharpie.
Mary Beth winked broadly at him. “Well, you better watch her, Gabriel. She was always one of the sassiest girls in the class.”
“Not much has changed,” Gabriel informed her.
“I can’t wait to find the two of you later so we can catch up,” she cooed.
“See? That woman seemed very happy that you’re here,” he said as we walked away. “She said you were sassy and seemed to think it was a good thing.”
“I have no idea who that woman is,” I told him.
“It still counts. So, that’s what you looked like in high school?” he asked, staring at the tiny yearbook photo embossed on my name tag.
I pinched his arm. “I went through an unfortunate-hair era. Don’t judge me. You used to wear stockings.”
“They were in fashion at the time,” he protested.
“So were the permed bangs. Thank God for cruel college girls and a roommate who readCosmo.”
He snorted.
I hadn’t seen most of my classmates in a while. Some of them had actually managed to escape the Hollow and establish life on the outside. And the ones who did live in town had daytime schedules, so our paths didn’t cross often. Everybody looked … smaller. Not weightwise, because a few people had packed on some pounds. But somehow I remember these people as giants, looming over me. Most of them were smiling, making polite conversation. And the social boundaries that had defined us ten years ago seemed to have melted away. The former jocks were mixing with the AV club, the Homecoming queen had an affectionate arm around the softball captain. We ambled past a display of photos, surrounded by white votive candles. In glittery silver letters, it said, “We Remember Fondly …”
