CHAPTER THREE
Russian Roulette
NAOMI
It was the weirdest day ever.
Damon came to the apartment, where he alphabetized my books while I showered. He came to Western Civ, where he covered three college-ruled pages with intricate geometric patterns. He came to Visual Arts, where he intimidated my favorite professor and folded better origami flowers than I did. He came to the food court, where he ate nothing and criticized my nutrition habits. And he did it all without saying a single word to anyone, including me.
I decided to pretend he was invisible. When that started making me feel schizophrenic, I decided instead to pretend he was a hot vampire who had appointed himself my bodyguard. It helped.
“So, do you eat food?” I asked, dipping a chicken nugget in sweet-and-sour sauce.
It was a long moment before he answered. “I can, but I don’t think it would accomplish anything.”
“Accomplish anything?”
“A vam… orphan,” he amended, glancing around the crowded food court, “can eat all day long and still starve to death, without blood. A bonded Shadow, on the other hand, needs food, but again, he can eat it all day without effect — unless it comes from his Lumi’s hands.”
“Like… literally?”
“There is also a plate involved, generally.”
“So, I’m your Lumi, right? Do you want me to get you something to eat?” I extended a chicken nugget vaguely in his direction.
He drew back from it, looking nauseated. “We’re not befasted, so I don’t know if it would work. With any luck I can get through this whole thing without finding out. After all, I’ve… eaten the last two nights running. I should be fine.”
“What’s befasted? And how long do you usually go between… meals?”
“You ask a lot of questions,” he snapped, and I fell silent, cheeks burning.
The rest of the student body laughed and whispered and shouted and grumbled around us, unconcerned with our problems. Concerned with balancing trays and drinks, counting out change at the register, deciding between provolone and Swiss at the sandwich counter. Highly concerned with telling off the jerk who tried to skip them in the pizza line. Not concerned with us.
I know something none of you know, not one of you. Lucky, lucky me.
Anyone who did notice us, I realized, was bound to assume we were together, that he was the baby’s father. What did they think of him, in his leather jacket and biker-style fingerless gloves, in all his scruffy long-haired glory, sitting next to me, with my windblown hair and swollen ankles, my elastic pants and shapeless white maternity top?
I used to wear pretty clothes. They didn’t have to be brand-name or anything. I just liked pretty things. Now I could only afford to like cheap things, mostly secondhand. It shouldn’t have mattered to me as much as it did. Damon could pull off scruffy-chic without apparent effort; next to him, I looked ragged and pitiful, and I hated it.
“Damon?”
The voice was soft and high, childlike. I turned in my chair to see two girls approaching our table. One — she had to be the speaker — was tiny and fragile-looking, with platinum-blonde curls and dark eyes, deeply shadowed. Shirley Temple gone heroin addict. I was no longer the shabbiest person in the room, but Heroin Chic’s tattered coat and skirt managed to look tragic instead of frumpy.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, drifting toward Damon with a grace that was more serpentine than balletic.
“Having lunch,” he said dryly. “You?”
She smiled, looking a bit embarrassed. “Having lunch.”
“At this time of day?” Damon said, and I realized these girls had to be vampires. I waited to get scared and didn’t. My mind had overloaded on that already. Instead I was interested.
“I was hungry,” Heroin Chic said sheepishly, “and thought I’d bring Audrey along and, ah, show her the ropes.” She gestured toward the second girl, who was a bit taller than me, willowy, with auburn hair of androgynous length and the face of an elfin princess. In fact, she was a dead ringer for Audrey Hepburn. What the…?
“Good. That’s a good idea,” Damon said. “You’re learning from the best, Audrey. Jewel’s a good teacher. And a good role model for… what we do. Very conscientious.” The little one, Jewel, seemed to glow at the praise. “How did it go?” Damon asked.
Audrey shrugged, a nervous movement, graceless. Unlike the little blonde, she wore no coat, but huddled into an olive-green turtleneck as if she alone felt a draft in the room. She wasn’t nearly so pale and hollow-eyed as her companion, but she didn’t look healthy, either.
“Who’s this?” Jewel/Heroin Chic asked, turning an uncertain smile in my direction.
“Naomi Winters,” Damon said. “Naomi, these are two of my housemates, Jewel and Audrey.”
“Pleased to meet you, Naomi.” Jewel shook my hand; hers was icy. Audrey smiled shakily and nodded; it seemed to be as much as she could manage. “Where’s your Shadow?” Jewel asked.
“Oh, he’s… around.” I tried not to look at Damon. Of course they could tell I was a Lumi. Seemed like everyone could. They weren’t staring at me in the usual hungry, unsettling way, though. Because they had just eaten? Was there a frat boy staggering around right now with a magnificent hicky? Or were their dietary habits of a more sinister variety? Surely Damon wouldn’t be friends with killers. He was friends with Peter…
Jewel didn’t seem to mind my evasiveness. “Do you mind if we join you?”
“Um, sure.” I wondered why they were here. Since they clearly weren’t after food.
The little table barely accommodated four people; I ended up with my knee brushing Jewel’s on one side, Audrey’s on the other. Casual contact with perfect strangers was not on my top ten list, but they didn’t seem to mind.
“We’ve missed you around the Orphanage the last few days,” Jewel said, tucking one platinum curl behind an ear. I couldn’t quite decide if her under-the-lashes glance at Damon was meant to be coy or merely shy.
Damon gave an uncomfortable shrug. “I’ve had a lot going on.”
“Priscilla came looking for you this morning.”
“Yeah, she found me.”
They waited for him to elaborate. He didn’t.
“Ooo-kay.” Jewel turned to me and, in an obvious Change of Subject, pretended to just now notice the bandage on my neck. “Ooh, I wonder happened here, Naomi? Where’s the lucky fellow?”
I didn’t answer.
The coy smile faded from Jewel’s face. Her gaze flicked between my face and Damon’s as she put together some internal puzzle.
It was Audrey who finally broke the silence, her voice faint and hoarse. “Peter?”
Damon ran a hand roughly through his hair and nodded. “Mariposa, too.”
Again I was surprised that vampires could get even paler. I, on the other hand, was getting redder, as if I were the vampire, taking their blood for myself. Why was I embarrassed? Why did I feel guilty that Peter was dead?
“What happened?” Audrey said in a choked voice. Her arms were locked across her chest, as if she were literally holding herself together.
“Mariposa, I don’t know. And never will, I guess,” Damon muttered. “Peter attacked Naomi.”
“You killed him?” Jewel whispered.
“Not… really. He came to himself for a moment. And faded.”
Jewel swallowed hard. “I — I need some air.”
“Let’s all get outside,” Damon said. He took Jewel’s arm; uncertainly I took Audrey’s — she seemed to need it — and we led them outside.
Damon took us to the wooden porch swing, bobbing in the breeze by the Good Luck Fountain. (Paddling your feet in the fountain is supposed to get you good grades on tests. I got athlete’s foot and a C–.) Damon settled Jewel into the swing and turned toward Audrey, but Jewel kept an iron grip on his sleeve, and he sat down next to her.
“Do you want to walk? Let’s walk,” Audrey said, and before I coul
d answer, tugged me along the sidewalk. Within a few steps, Damon and Jewel were obscured by a bank of gaudy pink azaleas. Audrey sucked in their scent, or at least inhaled deeply, again and again, her steps faltering until she simply stood blinking, tears beginning to spill over despite her efforts.
When I was upset, I wanted to be alone. Beautiful, elegant Audrey probably had nothing in common with me, so I figured she wanted to be comforted. I hesitantly touched a hand to her shoulder.
“I’m sorry about your friends.”
“I hardly knew Mariposa, but Peter…” she said. “Peter was brand new, you see. We all helped him through his breach. He only moved out a couple weeks ago, when Damon matched him up with Mariposa.” She took a deep breath, self-control stealing across her features like ice over a pond. “It’s hard for us to lose anyone. I guess because it could have been us. One day it will be us.” She wiped her face with long, elegant fingers. “Am I talking nonsense to you? Do you know what we are?”
“Yes.” I hesitated. “Damon seems to prefer the term ‘orphans.’”
“It’s the more polite term. Though I’m not quite like them. I haven’t breached.” She shook her head, looking flustered. “Not that you care about my problems. We’ve hardly met. I’m sorry to have dragged you…” She gestured vaguely, then wrapped her arms around herself. “I’m just shaken, I suppose.”
“Of course you are,” I said. “Actually, I don’t mind you ‘talking nonsense.’ Damon hardly tells me a thing, I’m starved for information.”
She blinked. “What kind of information?”
“Well… you’re called orphans. And the black lady this morning mentioned an orphanage. Is that where you live? Where Damon lives?” Are you up for adoption?
“Yes. There’s nine of us there, counting Damon, although he comes and goes. It’s an old house his father inherited, on the outskirts of town.”
“Nine vampires,” I murmured. “Right here in Ilium, Alabama.”
“It’s an unusual concentration,” she said with a bleak smile. “There’s another dozen hunting pairs along the eastern seaboard. Damon… sort of mentors them. Only four… only three of those pairs live nearby.” Her lip trembled.
Distract her. “How nearby?” I asked. “With the teleporting, I can imagine distance is relative for you.”
“Teleporting?” She frowned. “Oh, you mean shading. You’re right. ‘Nearby’ pretty much includes the whole state.”
“I freaked out the first time Damon shaded me somewhere,” I said. “But I think I’m getting used to it now. It’s not so bad if you know what to expect.”
“Damon shaded you? Not your own Shadow?”
“Ummm…” Whoops. Damon didn’t want the Forma — Formind — whatever to know about me, but did that extend to his housemates?
“I shouldn’t pry,” Audrey said quickly. “We’re all in awkward situations, by definition. I just assumed… if you’d been together long enough for…” She gestured toward the Wonder Tummy.
“Oh, this?” I rubbed the tummy, and felt a flutter of movement. Speaking of awkward situations — my bundle of joy had had hiccups through most of Western Civ. “This isn’t, um, my Shadow’s.”
“Oh.” From Audrey’s expression, I judged she thought she’d just figured out why my situation was so awkward. “Do you… do you mind if I feel?” Her voice had gone wistful. “Babies are endlessly fascinating to most Shadows. We’re not a very fertile people.”
I hated it when people wanted to touch my tummy, but decided to cowboy up for Audrey. “Sure. Try right here, he likes to kick there.”
She laid a hand aside Wonder Tummy, and sure enough, after a few moments, the baby nudged her hand. Her face lit, and for just a moment I was irrationally, peculiarly happy that I was pregnant.
“What do you mean, about not being a fertile people?”
“A Lumi and Tenebri might be childless all their lives. Or have only one, or two. Three is a miracle.” She rubbed gently, hoping to provoke another kick. “No, each one is a miracle. Something entirely new, that’s never been here before. Infinite possibilities. Hope.” She straightened up and smiled, embarrassed. “I suppose we should get back to the others.”
I rubbed my tummy thoughtfully all the way back down the sidewalk to the fountain.
.
When we cleared the azaleas, Damon and Jewel were still in the swing. In fact, she was all but in his lap, her face buried in his chest, and he was stroking her hair. A white-hot bolt of jealousy shot all the way to my toes. Was that the reason the little vampire’s sobs seemed a little indulgent to me, a little theatrical?
Damon looked up. “Audrey, how are you doing?”
“I’ll be okay,” she said, arms locked around herself again. “How’s she?”
He grimaced. “She needs to go home. And she’s not in any shape to take herself there.” His gaze shifted to me. “I need to talk to you,” he said reluctantly. “Jewel, honey, sit with Audrey a minute. Just for a minute. I’ll be right back.” He managed to pull her fingers free of his jacket, and transferred her, tear-streaked and trembling, into Audrey’s arms. Then he took my arm and pulled me several steps away, to speak in a low voice.
“Audrey could shade her home, of course,” he said, “but as soon as the others hear the news, they’re going to need me there anyway. I didn’t intend to tell them, not until… later. But now that the cat’s out of the bag, I have to be there with them. Shadows need… leadership. They don’t deal with stress well on their own.”
Yeah? And since when are Shadows ‘they,’ Chief Poofs-from-Elevators? “I understand. Go on, I’ll be fine.”
“No. I’m not leaving you alone. Not for one minute.” His hand, I realized, was still around my arm. He realized, too, and snatched it back. “So I’m — I’m asking you to come with me.”
“So, because you’re afraid a vampire will attack me, you want me to go with you into a house full of vampires?”
He opened his mouth. Closed it. “Touché. But my orphans aren’t killers. They won’t hurt you. And anyway I’ll be there, too.”
I was going to argue, but I glanced at Jewel and Audrey, both crying now, and didn’t. Which shows what a strong sense of self-preservation I have. Timidly, I said, “I’m supposed to be at work by three.”
“Shouldn’t be a problem. Audrey,” he called. “We’re going home.”
.
Picture the Gravitron at the county fair, where you stuck to the wall with the floor falling away from your feet, and your chest pressed in where you couldn’t breathe, and you remembered the flattened spider you found in a library book, and embarrassed your mother with a screaming panic attack. (That’s how I remember it, anyway.) Shading is kind of like that. Only with hugs.
The hugs were way nicer than they should have been, warm and solid and nice-smelling. As the sister of a teenaged boy, not to mention an ex-wife, I was familiar with the awful funk of guy sweat. Damon didn’t smell funky. He smelled like salt and leather, and a ginger/cinnamon/woodsmoke scent that was absolutely mouth-watering. I tried not to inhale too obviously. Honestly, officer, I didn’t inhale.
How come horrific little things like Conversation and Eye Contact were like walking barefoot on a carpet of razors, while Full Body Contact was like drinking hot chocolate under a quilt by the fireplace? — and toasting marshmallows. Did he feel the same thing? He certainly didn’t let on.
What was I getting myself into? I was not a huggy person. It had taken months to get to Hug Level with Tyler, and even then I had been too nervous to enjoy it at first. Then, just when I was really settling in, boom. I could still feel the concussion ringing in my ears sometimes. And this was with a boy who liked me. Damon didn’t. He planned to tolerate me for a few days, then perform an enthusiastic hitting of the road. Note to self: Damon hugs = Russian roulette. Stop it.
The other end of shading was the arrival, the deep gasp to refill crushed lungs, the flashback to childhood cartoons of limp balloon-people reinflat
ing themselves. And Damon stepping back from me as quickly as possible. We were outside, which surprised me, but I guessed he didn’t want to shade four people at once into tight quarters. And tight quarters it would be; the house didn’t look anything like big enough to house nine vampires. Nine poodles might have been a better bet.
Dr. DiNovi had inherited the house, Audrey said. It looked old enough. Brick, soft and dark with time, and black shutters with fading paint. Two stories, but neither of them large. The surrounding vegetation was surprisingly well-kept, in comparison; the grass was confident, but not presumptuous, and a dogwood tree shivered in the breeze, just shy of full bloom. I thought I could spy another house through the trees that the lawn crept away into, but not too close for privacy. I wondered how the neighbors felt about the house full of pale creepy people next door.
I didn’t notice the small Asian woman under the dogwood tree until she stood, a sketchbook dangling from one hand, and called out to us, “What is wrong?”
“It’s all right, Dove,” Damon called back wearily. “More or less. Just come on in the house.”
Audrey was already leading Jewel up the gravel driveway, which of course was empty. Why buy a car when supernatural powers are cheaper, quicker and easier to use? Save gas. Buy a vampire.
Little Asian Dove reached up into the tree, and another woman used her hand to help herself to the ground. This one had dark hair, too, but short and spiky, with blood-red streaks. A Caucasian face, dark-eyed and pretty, but with a tense, sullen expression. She was considerably better dressed than the other orphans I’d seen, even counting Dove’s neat blue jumper. This girl looked ready to kick butt and take names; she clomped through the grass in combat boots, adjusting a jacket not unlike Damon’s but with rivets on it, and some sort of swirling scarlet design matching the streaks in her hair.
Not exactly Bride of Dracula. I wondered when I would meet a vampire who looked like a vampire. Although I could see, now, where some of the legends had come from; these vampires might not have fangs, widow’s peaks, or black capes, but they were pale and cold-skinned, and every one I had seen was unusually nice to look at.
Secondhand Shadow Page 5
