I pulled out of her grasp. “Since I’m going out, can I have my phone back?”
My father flicked his wrist at the kitchen drawer in which he’d “hidden” my phone. “Put it back when you come home,” he said, eyeing my tattoo with an equally disappointed expression on his face. “You’re still on probation.”
“And check in with us if you think you’ll be out for more than a few hours,” Mom added.
I kissed my parents good-bye and slipped on my coat. Then I grabbed a copy of Mad Love from the coffee table where I’d left it face-down to mark my page. The plan was to drive down to the lake where I could sit dockside and alternately stare out at the expanse of water and read about some other girl’s dysfunctional love life—one that didn’t include vampires.
July 28
“I love The Market.” I took a deep breath, inhaling the sweet aroma of cut flowers and fresh-baked bread as John and I made our way down the center aisle, booths of goods for sale tempting us from both sides.
True to his word, John treated me to my favorite chili and sweet cornbread from one of the market vendors. I was so ravenous I was practically foaming at the mouth.
“Chili in summer.” He raised a brow, amusement pulling at the corner of his mouth.
I dug in with my spoon, unable to wait until we’d found a place to sit down. “I’d eat this chili even if it was a hundred degrees outside, which,” I added with a thought, “I think it is. And the bread is to die for. I think they mix in a can of creamed corn to make it dense, but the outside is glazed with honey which makes it all crispy. So delicious.” I took a bite, closing my eyes in ecstasy.
John laughed. “Tell me something. Do you take all your meals so seriously?”
“If it involves chili and cornbread, yes. I’ve never tasted any better than this. If I were on my deathbed and could have only one last meal, this would be it.”
John took my elbow and guided me to a shady spot under a tree, further away from the crowd. “I will try to remember that,” he said.
“Do you want some? I can run back and get another spoon for you.”
“That’s okay.” He held up the cardboard pint of strawberries in his hand. “I’m okay with these.”
I shrugged. “Your loss.”
“So tell me about yourself and your family,” John said as we sat down. He reclined on his elbows and crossed his long, lean legs at the ankle. He had really cute knees.
I rolled my eyes skyward. “Seriously? That’s so, oh what’s the word I’m looking for . . . first-date sort of information.”
But he only paddle-wheeled his hand to get me talking, and so I launched in with the basics: My parents were William (Bill) Ehlert and Rachel Kinsley-Ehlert. I was their only child, born to them after succumbing to the pressure from Mom’s parents to bear them at least one grandchild. (I ended up being the oldest of five grandchildren on that side of the family.) My dad was Head Honcho of the town’s biggest accounting firm, and my mother worked in real estate.
“That would be Kinsley Real Estate, right?”
“The one and only. My great-grandfather started the business. Mom’s specialty is those million-plus-dollar lakeside homes. You know Thomas and Margaret Abernathy?”
“That go to our school?” Then his eyes widened as he made the connection. “Are you saying the big Abernathy mansion belongs to them?”
“Yep. Mom closed the deal on that one when Conrad Abernathy took the job as Chief of Police. I guess the family has a lot of old money, or something like that, ‘cause it’s not like he makes a ton with his job. I heard Mom talking about it once.”
John whistled to show his appreciation. “What else? What about you?”
“Um. Well, I’m seventeen and I’ll be a senior in the fall,” I said, using my spoon as a microphone and speaking as if I were a contestant on some game show. I shoved another bite of chili into my mouth and said around it, “But of course you knew that already.”
He laughed. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
I sighed, racking my brain for anything remotely interesting. “Olivia and I have been best friends since we were little. Her parents moved into the house next to ours when we were just four years old.”
“That doesn’t qualify as news. The entire school knows you and Olivia are joined at the hip. What about your other friends?”
John knew very well who my other friends were, but I had a feeling he was baiting me in to talking about Zach. And that was none of his business.
I gave him a coy smile. “What about them?”
John studied me before shaking his head. I could tell he was trying not to smile.
“What?” I said.
“It’s nothing.”
I nudged his foot with mine. “Tell me.”
“You’re pretty cool, Blake. I don’t know why it took us so long to do this.”
I looked at him from under my eyelashes and smiled, but didn’t say anything.
October 27
Last night’s storm had blown over leaving a trace amount of snow, and now the sky shone blue around a pale yellow sun. Before long, the gloom and gray of winter would settle permanently over the town and smother it in despair for the next six months.
I huddled in a musty smelling blanket from the trunk of my car and passed half an hour reading in peaceful solitude. I had just gotten to a really good part when a shadow appeared before me, eclipsing the sun and casting a cold silhouette over my entire face. I looked up, annoyed, and saw John staring down at me. Although my heart stuttered at the sight of him, I was careful to keep the expression on my face in check.
I went back to looking at my book, even though I knew there was no way I would be able to concentrate on the words now. “Fudge off, John,” I said, when I finally came to terms with the fact he wasn’t going anywhere.
But instead of leaving, he took my words as an invitation to sit down. “I know you’re upset. And you have every right to be.”
I snorted and snapped the book shut, shoving it in my bag and making as if to leave. “I’m glad we at least agree on that.”
He grabbed my arm. “Blake.”
I gave an exasperated sigh. “What do you want?”
“You know what I want.”
I stared at him, too flabbergasted to speak. When I finally found my voice I said, “Why do I matter so much to you, huh? Who am I to you?”
The answering expression in John’s eyes was almost human-like, and I nearly reached out to brush away the lock of hair that had fallen across his smooth, pale forehead. But then I remembered the monster he was and turned away from him at once.
A moment of silence passed between us before John placed a plastic bag in his lap. He peeked inside and then looked at me, presumably to rouse my interest. “I thought you might be hungry,” he said. “I stopped at The Market and bought your favorite chili and cornbread.”
He placed the Styrofoam container beside me and added with a derisive laugh, “Never mind that it smells like shit.”
I glanced at the peace offering, my mouth watering in automatic reflex of my hunger. But instead of taking it, I pushed it away a few inches with the tip of my finger. “No, thank you.”
Despite the fact my stomach clenched and rumbled, I refused to admit to him that the chili’s odor, normally fragrant and homey-smelling, was now so offending it practically singed the hairs inside my nose. I saw from the corner of my eye how John studied me, a thoughtful expression on his face.
“It smells awful to you, too,” he said. It wasn’t a question, so I didn’t give him the benefit of an answer. Without a word, he gathered the container and got up to drop it into the nearest trash bin.
When he came back he said, “You’ll eventually learn to ignore the smells. You’ll still be able to eat food for the sake of appearing human, but there’s no nutritional value to it and it won’t taste anything like you remember. In fact, most of it will be downright repugnant. But if you’re lucky, you’ll find one or two foods
that you’ll still be able to eat. Your own little slice of heaven,” he added with a chuckle.
“Like strawberries,” I said ruefully, suddenly understanding. I narrowed my eyes at him, my top lip curling. “You’re assuming I want to be like you.”
John sat down again, stretching out his long legs and crossing them at the ankles. “Honestly, who wouldn’t?”
“I wouldn’t!” I thumped my chest, rage making my words come out louder than intended. A man and his young son turned to look at me, and I lowered my voice to a whisper before continuing.
“I don’t want to be like you, but now the only choice I have is an impossible one.” I felt a choking necessity to cry, but I bit back the tears. I took a deep breath. “Why can’t you just let me go?”
John stared at me with eyes such an intense shade of green I had once thought them insanely beautiful. But now I could see the predator behind the human facade, and I wondered how I’d ever fallen for the charade. He might look human, but he most definitely wasn’t.
John could have said a million things to me at that moment, but the only thing he said was, “Because I can’t.”
July 28
After lunch at The Market, John took me home. My parents had gone antiquing in the next town over, figuring I’d be at the lake party most of the day with Olivia and the rest of the squad. They were still gone when we pulled up to the house.
Olivia’s car was parked in her driveway, but there was no sign of her mom’s. I wondered momentarily about Eleanor and if she was okay. I made a mental note to call later to check, and to reassure Olivia that John had been on his best behavior, even if I’d acted like a fool for indulging my crush. The guilt would probably kill me later.
John walked me to the front door, and we both stood there, indecisive and awkward. A kiss was out of the question, but a handshake would be just as weird. Should we hug or just wave? I knew I would have to do or say something. “Would you like to come in?”
“Won’t your parents mind?”
“They’re not home. And besides, they trust me. I’m on the Honor Roll,” I said. He laughed, even though I’d been serious.
We ended up on the back patio sipping raspberry lemonade—or at least one of us was—under the shade of the pergola.
“I made it too tart, didn’t I?” I winced, my cheeks puckering. John had set down his glass after just one sip and not bothered to pick it up again.
“Don’t worry about it.” He stretched his legs out in front of him, hands linked behind his head, and closed his eyes.
A flush of heat rose suddenly up my neck and settled into my cheeks as I watched him. Under normal circumstances I would never have spent the day with another guy, so what was I doing now?
John slowly opened his eyes. He tilted his head to the side, a shadow of a smile playing at his lips as he stared back. My pulse quickened.
“So, um, do you think that . . ?” My voice trailed off, hinting at the question that I somehow couldn’t ask.
“Do I think we’ll see each other again?”
That wasn’t the question I’d been about to ask. I had meant to ask if he thought we’d be friends once school started, but then the words just popped out. “Yeah. That, too.”
“I do.”
John rose from his seat in one fluid movement and seemed to hover in front of me, forcing me back in the vinyl cushion of my chair. The backs of my thighs were covered in sweat, and I hoped that when I got up they wouldn’t accidentally make that sucking noise or leave behind a huge puddle of moisture. That would be totally humiliating.
John kissed me without warning, taking me completely by surprise. But what was even more surprising was that I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him closer. I made an embarrassing sound in the back of my throat and John did the same. But then he pulled back suddenly, looking shocked or embarrassed—I couldn’t quite tell. He put a hand to his mouth and turned away.
“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I really shouldn’t have done that. I should go.”
“Oh.”
He turned back to me and gave a curt nod. “But I’ll see you again.”
I rose from my seat and took a step toward him. “When will that be?”
I wished I could suck the desperation out of my voice. I had never been that girl, and I didn’t intend to start being her now. And yet I couldn’t seem to help myself.
John handed me his phone. “Program your number.”
I did as he said, still reeling from the kiss. Then he took my hands and pulled me to him, close enough so that I could feel his heartbeat. My own heart seized in my chest, and I found it very difficult to breath.
“Think of me tonight,” he whispered against my ear. He turned around then and disappeared, leaving me alone with nothing but the memory of his kiss.
October 27
A shiver rippled through my body and I pulled the musty blanket tighter around my shoulders.
“Are you cold?”
“I’m always cold.” The words came out sounding gruff, but I didn’t care. I didn’t want to talk to John, but I had no other choice. I’d put off this conversation far too long.
John unzipped his coat and shrugged out of it, and then he draped it around my shoulders. It smelled strongly of human scents—soap and aftershave—and I closed my eyes, reveling in residual warmth and happier times.
“It’s because you’re dying,” he said, matter-of-fact.
A tear escaped and fell on the brown leather of John’s coat sleeve, leaving a splotch of wetness in its wake. I stared at it as I asked, “Then why are you so warm, huh? Aren’t vampires supposed to be all cold as death?”
John chuckled under his breath and shook his head. If he caught the scorn in my voice, he ignored it. “I suppose the ones who don’t feed often are a little on the chilly side.”
I shuddered at the word “feed” and looked around to make sure no one was listening in on our conversation. John had always felt very warm to me, and it didn’t escape my attention that he probably wasn’t going hungry these days. Something clicked in my mind. I recalled the night I’d been attacked and how cold that monster, Ian, had felt in comparison. He’d been hungry.
“And you, uh, you feed regularly?”
“As often as I need to.” He turned to look at me, and his next words came fast when he saw the fear and disgust so transparent on my face. “It’s all legit, I assure you.”
I snorted. “Legit? What does that even mean?”
John breathed out through his nose, small wrinkles forming around his mouth as he struggled with how to explain. “Meaning, I don’t go around randomly attacking people and draining them of their blood.”
“But you do drink human blood.”
“Of course I do, Blake,” he said, his impatience slipping through the cracks of his calm demeanor. “I’m a vampire. I make no apologies for my diet, nor do I abstain from fulfilling my most basic need in order to survive. I don’t condemn humans and their need for food, do I?”
I lifted my chin a fraction of an inch higher. “All right. Then where does it come from?”
John stared out at the water, seeming to weigh his words before he answered. “You have to understand that it is not my desire to harm humans. I was once one myself, Blake.”
“Explain.”
John brought up one knee and linked his hands around it. He turned to me, and I averted my eyes to my lap. “There are two legal methods of feeding in the vampire world. Most of us buy blood that’s been collected, just like you might buy a gallon of milk from the grocery store. And then there are some who get their blood fresh from the source.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Like from donors?”
“That’s exactly it. But Donors are recruited,” John said, as though that one simple fact made it perfectly okay. “For one thing, the unwilling letting-of-blood is highly illegal in the vampire world.”
“Illegal?”
“Vampire bites are venomous, as you well know, but it’s
slow-spreading in most cases. Only the venom of the very old will kill a person within minutes. So if a younger vampire attacks and fails to completely drain his victim, it creates somewhat of a complication.”
I swallowed hard and finally looked at John. “I don’t understand what you mean by ‘complication.’ If a vampire bites a human, the human will either die quickly of blood loss or become like me—sort of stuck in between.”
John nodded. “Your situation is a bit different, Blake. You have the advantage of already knowing about creatures like me. The people who are not killed outright are a liability because they talk. And if they talk, they jeopardize our very existence.”
“But who would even believe a story like that? If I suddenly went around telling people that I was attacked by a vampire, my parents would have me committed. Everyone would think I was crazy.”
“There are believers out there, Blake. There always have been. And it’s those people that pose the greatest threat to our very existence. They would hunt us down and do their best to eliminate us altogether.”
“But if a vampire attacks someone and doesn’t kill him right away, why not just turn him, or her,” I added, thinking of myself, “into a vampire? You could have turned me that night, but you didn’t.”
A high blush rose on John’s cheeks. “It’s not like casual sex, where you do it if and when the mood strikes. Creating a new vampire is big deal. It’s a commitment for as long as you both shall live, and you share a special bond from that day forward.” He took my hand in his. “Blake, I want you. Forever. But you need to want me, too. It’s not something I will force on you.”
I swallowed hard, suddenly realizing the magnitude of what John was proposing, what he had been proposing all along. “You’ve never created a vampire before?”
John shook his head. “Never.”
“If creating a new vampire is such a big deal, why offer eternal life to me? We only dated a few weeks, John. We still barely know each other.”
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