“I don’t know. Maybe. Well, we’ve gone out a couple of times. He’s pretty cool. I really like him.”
“Okay. So what about the vampire?” Olivia said, getting at once to the heart of the matter.
“I’m just being crazy,” I said, realizing how even more absurd I sounded when admitting it out loud to someone else.
“You think?” Olivia said, not about to argue.
“I don’t know. I had this nightmare that Ian was a vampire, and then I started remembering all of these weird things he said.”
“Elaborate.”
It felt like the inside of a pressure cooker under the covers. I came out of hiding and switched on the bedside lamp. The clock on my desk said it was nearly four in the morning. Then I told Olivia about the red wine at the concert and Ian not eating food at the restaurant, as well as his non-biased opinion regarding his partner’s sexual orientation as long as their blood ran hot. Stuff like that.
Olivia laughed. “That hardly makes him a vampire, Blake. All it means is he’s bisexual.” And then she laughed again. “But if he’s a vampire, what does that make John?”
“What?” I said stupidly, not understanding her train of thought.
“Well, isn’t it logical to assume that John might be one, too?”
“Is it? It didn’t even occur to me.”
“It might explain why he keeps to himself so much at school. Do you even know much of anything about either of their backgrounds?”
“Uh,” I said, which pretty much answered the question. All I knew was that John had been orphaned and then adopted into some family. I swallowed hard, wondering who that family might be.
“You’re making fun of me, aren’t you? You don’t really believe that Ian or John is a vampire.”
Olivia laughed, too. “Go back to sleep you big idiot. I’ll talk to you in the morning.”
After tossing and turning for a miserable hour, I fell into yet another uneasy dream. It started out pleasant enough, with John and me doing things my parents would absolutely disapprove of if I were ever caught doing them in my waking life. But somewhere along the way, the dream took a rather alarming turn for the worse, ending with John the Vampire sinking his teeth into my jugular.
And the most upsetting part was that I liked it.
After that I slept soundly with no recollection of dreaming at all, waking later that morning to a light, repetitive tapping.
Tap, tap, tap.
Tap, tap, tap.
It took me a few minutes to climb fully out of the depths of a deep sleep. I struggled to a sitting position and rubbed my bleary eyes, thinking I’d only imagined the sound.
Tap, tap, tap.
I looked in the direction of the balcony doors where the sound had come from and startled at the sight of John peering in. Immediately I recalled the dream and conversation I’d had with Olivia. Nevertheless, I got out of bed to let him in.
“You’re a late sleeper,” he said, coming inside and closing the door behind him.
I shoved my arms into my robe and then twisted my hair up in a messy knot. “Not usually,” I said, scanning the room for my slippers. “I just had a really awful night’s sleep. How’d you climb up there anyway?”
“I’m talented,” he said. “I thought I told you to dream of me. Was it really that bad?” I could hear the grin in his voice, even as I was on my hands and knees groping under my bed for my slippers.
“Looking for these?” I looked up to see my slippers dangling on the pointer fingers of his outstretched hands. “They were under your desk.”
I snatched them and shoved my feet inside, snorting in amusement. “I did dream of you.”
He laughed. “What, was I a horrible kisser or something?”
A slow blush crept up my neck and into my cheeks, and I hastily turned away and began pulling up the covers of my bed, just so I’d have an excuse not to look at him.
John came up from behind and put his arms around me. “Tell me.”
“You’re a great kisser, in my dreams and out of them.” The words escaped my lips before I even realized what I was saying, and I clamped my hand over my mouth. I wiggled out of John’s grasp, absolutely mortified.
But John only laughed. “If I was such a great kisser, then what was the problem? Why couldn’t you sleep?”
I shook my head. “Uh-uh. I’m not saying anything more. I’ve already embarrassed myself enough as it is, and I don’t want you thinking I’m some idiot.”
“You don’t have to be embarrassed in front of me,” John said. “And I could never think you’re an idiot.”
I went to my dresser drawers and began pulling out clean clothes for the day. I needed to take a shower, but I didn’t know what to do with John. Both my parents were at work, and I wasn’t sure what the proper protocol was for showering with a guy in the house while your mom and dad weren’t home. Making sure to lock the door was a start; asking him to leave and come back later was probably better.
“I need to get cleaned up. You can wait downstairs.”
“Why do I get the feeling that you’re deliberately hiding something from me?”
I laughed. “Because I am. It’s nothing, though. It’s . . . stupid.”
“I doubt it’s stupid. I want to know, Blake.” He grabbed my hand and held me in place. “Tell me what you dreamed.”
“I dreamed you were a vampire.”
John’s eyes widened and he let go of my hand. At first his face was nothing more than a blank canvas, but then the corner of his mouth pulled up into a half grin. At least he had the decency not to laugh.
I rolled my eyes and walked away, heading for the bathroom. “See?” I said, calling over my shoulder. “I told you it was stupid.”
I found John at the kitchen table with a bowl of strawberries in front of him, the discarded hulls of a few pushed off to the side. He plucked one from the bowl, held it in front of his face for examination, and then expertly removed the top half with a paring knife. He plopped the remainder in his mouth and carefully chose another from the bowl, repeating the process.
“I’m fixing cereal for myself,” I said. “Will you have some?” He turned around in his seat at the sound of my voice, and I felt his eyes on me as I rummaged through the cupboards for a bowl and box of Corn Flakes.
“I’m good. Thanks.”
“Slice me a few of those?” I took my supplies to the table and went to the fridge for the milk.
“Can I make you some eggs or a ham sandwich?” I called from across the room. I tried telling myself that if John was a vampire, he wouldn’t be eating strawberries. And yet strawberries were the only thing I’d ever seen him actually eat, which was definitely strange.
“Really, I’m not that hungry. I ate before I came over.”
“Of course you did,” I muttered under my breath. “Well, we’ve got ice cream in the freezer. It’s cookies ‘n cream.” I craned my head over my shoulder and smiled. “There’s always room for ice cream.”
He laughed. “No, thanks. In fact, I’m done with these.” He pushed the bowl of strawberries aside, minus the two he’d already sliced for my cereal and artfully fanned out on a napkin. He brushed the discarded hulls into his hand and got up to put them in the garbage.
“So what’s Ian up to today?” I said, settling into a chair and pouring my bowl full of cereal.
“Recovering from last night. He apparently snuck out after I went to bed and didn’t get in until this morning.”
“And that upsets you?” I said, seeing the concerned expression on his face.
“Very.”
We were quiet as I ate my cereal. John took the liberty of washing not only the paring knife, but the rest of the dirty dishes in the sink. He didn’t seem to mind the silence, and neither did I. But after a few moments, during which I was trying unsuccessfully not to think about my dream in between bites, John turned around.
“So tell me more about this dream of yours,” he said, drying his hands on a di
sh towel. The way he said it, with deliberate casualness, made me pause mid chew.
I shrugged my shoulders. “I already told you. I dreamed you were a vampire. It was silly.”
He sat down across from me at the table. “Why would you dream something like that?”
I shook my head. “It’s a long story.”
He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, smiling. “I’ve got time.”
I scooped up the last of my cereal and drained the milk, not wanting to humiliate myself with the embarrassing details of my dream, but realizing John wouldn’t give up until I told him.
“All right. Well, first I dreamed I was in this garden. There was this flower—a thistle—and I was about to pick it and toss it aside when you yelled at me not to touch it. And then when I turned around, Ian was there.”
“Ian?”
A shiver ran up my spine at the memory of his wide mouth and sharp teeth, and I rubbed my hands over my bare arms, as though to ward off a chill. “Yeah. He smiled, but it was, like, this really creepy kind of smile. And he had pointy fangs. Like this.” I held up my pointer fingers on either side of my mouth to illustrate what I’d just described.
“Like a vampire,” John supplied helpfully, smiling even wider.
I nodded. “He lunged at me, and that’s when I woke up. Of course I was completely freaked out by then so I called Olivia—we made up by the way—and one thing led to another, and she suggested that if Ian is a vampire, you might be one, too.”
“And that’s why you dreamed I was one,” he said. It wasn’t a question, but a statement of fact. “Because Olivia put the idea in your head.”
“Yes.”
John looked down at the table and traced a line of grain in the wood with the tip of his thumb, momentarily quiet with his thoughts. “So what on Earth made you dream that Ian is a vampire?”
I laughed. “God only knows.”
“No, really,” John said, not bothering to look up at me. “There has to be a reason.”
I took my dishes to the sink where I dumped them into the soapy water before turning to face John again. I’d deliberately left out the part about my conversation with Olivia, as well as my own private thoughts, explaining why I thought Ian could be a vampire. If vampires existed, that was. Which I didn’t think they did.
I’d left my hair to air dry, and I twisted the damp, curly mass over my shoulder before coiling it like a snake at the crown of my head. I plucked a stray pencil off the counter and stuck it through the heart of the knot to hold it in place.
“Why are you so interested?” I said at last. “It was just a dream.”
John shrugged and linked his hands behind his head. His face was a mask of indifference. “Just curious is all.”
“Well, I think it started with that whole stupid comment Ian made about the kind of people he, um, you know . . .” I let my voice trail off, hoping he would fill in the blanks.
He paddle-wheeled his hand when I refused to go on. “No, I don’t know. What?”
“The kind of people he chooses to, um . . . date?”
John smiled, a leering sort of grin in which he showed an entire mouthful of very white teeth. And none of them pointy. “You mean the kind of people he has sex with?”
My cheeks flushed with warmth and I cleared my throat. “Yes. Those are the kind of people I mean.”
“Okay. So what about them?”
I splayed my hands, not entirely comfortable discussing one guy’s (who I barely knew) sex life, with another guy I knew only slightly better. “Well, if I recall, he said he wasn’t picky as long as they are warm-blooded. Or something like that,” I added in a rush.
John threw his head back and laughed. “And from that you managed to turn Ian into a vampire. Man, he is going to love that.”
“Don’t you dare say anything to him!” I said, advancing on John. His arm shot out, and he snagged me by the wrist, yanking me forward off my feet so that I was forced to sit on his knee.
“And why not?”
“Why not?” I said, exasperated.
I struggled to get away, but John wouldn’t have it. He pulled me against his chest and wrapped his arm around my waist in a vice, the fingers of his free hand finding purchase in the space between my ribs so that I was left gasping for breath.
“Stop tickling me! I’m going . . . to pee . . . my pants!”
John let me go at once, and I bolted from his lap to the other side of the room, my hand at my chest to steady my racing heart. We were both laughing hysterically by then.
When at last we managed to calm down, John said to me, “Come to my house tonight. You can see for yourself that Ian is not a vampire.”
He got up then and came over to where I was standing with my back pressed against the counter, a false sense of protection against his roving fingers. He dipped his head to mine and began leaving a trail of kisses along the line of my jaw.
“And what about you?” I said, my voice trembling under the weight of his lips. “How will you prove that you’re not a vampire?”
His lips curled into a smile against my cheek, and then he bent his mouth to the curve of my neck. His teeth bore down against the beating pulse of my heart under the fair, thin veil of skin, but not hard enough to cause pain or to draw blood.
Then John deposited a soft kiss where his teeth had been only seconds before. “And who’s to say that I’m not?”
October 27
“The vampire’s name is Ian McAvoy,” I said without answering how it was I knew about Watchers. “He attacked me two months ago. Someone else saved me.”
Josiah’s eyes widened a fraction before his face regained the neutral expression of interrogator. “And the person who saved you . . . human or vampire?”
“Does it matter?”
Josiah took a bite of his doughnut and swallowed before answering. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
He sat back then and laced his hands across his chest. A trickle of sweat ran down my back, despite the fact I was chilled to the bone and shivering. “You’re hiding something,” he said at last, squinting one eye and pointing a finger at me.
I swallowed hard and shook my head. “N-no I’m not.” My hands shook, both from the cold as well as my fear of the vampire sitting before me, and I shoved them under my thighs to steady them. I cleared my throat but didn’t say anything more.
“You were searching for me,” Josiah said. “I could tell by the way you looked at me when our eyes met.”
I floundered for a response. “W-well, yes. In a sense. I mean, I d-didn’t know for sure—”
Josiah held up a hand to stop me. “Someone told you about me, and that someone is another vampire. And I think I have a pretty good idea who it was.”
August 4
I expected a fight, but all Mom said was to have a good time with John and to be back before curfew.
“What about Zach?” I hesitated bringing up his name. I didn’t want it to remind her why she’d been upset in the first place.
“What about him?” Mom had her nose and attention buried in a stack of market comparables.
“You’re kidding, right?”
She looked up and removed her reading glasses, placing them on the table beside her. “You’re seventeen, Blake. That’s plenty old enough to decide who to date. Or don’t you agree?”
I wondered if I was tripping head-first into some trap I couldn’t see. I ran my hand along the curved arch of the chair back, trying for casual. “Why the sudden change of heart? I thought you didn’t like John.””
Mom opened her mouth to respond, only nothing came out. The crease between her brows deepened, and her eyes darted to and fro, as though searching for the answer somewhere in the room. Finally, they came back to rest on me. “I’m not entirely sure. But John Kelly seems like a respectable young man. I think he’ll fit in nicely around here.”
“And Daddy’s okay with it, too?”
She picked up her glasses again, waving t
hem at me in dismissal before resting them on the end of her nose. “Absolutely, sweetheart.”
“And Helen? I’m sure Zach’s mom has an opinion. She has an opinion about everything.”
Mom looked down at the papers and began highlighting stats and other important stuff I didn’t really understand. “True, Helen has a great many opinions,” she said, “none of which you should worry about. I’ll talk to her and see that she understands the situation.”
When I just stood there with my mouth wide open, she glanced up at me again. “Don’t you have a date to get ready for?”
And so I dressed in a daze, wondering what had happened to my real mom, but not stupid enough to argue with her. If she was fine with John, then that was all that mattered to me.
John had left soon after his surprise visit saying that he had some things to take care of before I came over that evening. Still, he offered to pick me up and drive me to his house.
“I grew up here,” I’d told him with a laugh. “I sort of know my way around.”
“Beautiful and independent,” he had replied. “I like that.”
But the truth was I didn’t want to risk jinxing my good luck by rubbing my parents’ noses in John’s presence. Despite what my mother claimed, I thought it best to slowly acclimatize Mom and Dad to life without Zach. Let them first get used to the idea of a new guy in my life. After all, I supposed that’s what he was: the new guy in my life.
John lived at the edge of Collegetown in a sprawling white Victorian at the end of a row of college rental properties. Its twin-peaked dormers and spire of bay windows lent it at air of regal splendor in full light, but it had definitely seen better days. Several boards had come loose, and it was in desperate need of a new paint job. Still, I couldn’t believe his adoptive parents had let him live in a place like that while still in high school. I’d be lucky if my parents let me move out before I was thirty.
I climbed the five plank steps leading to the expansive wooden door and rang the bell. As I waited, I noted the absence of mismatched furniture and crusty porch grill that came standard with every other rental this close to campus. There were no plastic garbage bags of soda and beer cans waiting to be returned for spare cash. No old take-out containers filled with moldy food. No cracked, plastic furniture on the lawn. In fact, the place looked spotless. Old, but spotless.
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