He entered the room, quietly closing the door behind him, and came over to me, sitting down on the bed.
“Please, don’t cry,” he soothed. “There is nothing worth crying over. It is your birthday.”
“Everything is wrong,” I protested, grinding away my tears with the heels of my palms.
“No, Jessica,” Lucius soothed, pulling away my hands. He gently drew his thumb beneath my eyes, first one then the other, wiping the tears. “For you, things will be right. This is a happy day for you. Your eighteenth birthday is an important milestone. Please, I cannot bear your tears.”
“A happy day?” I was incredulous.
“The box . . . you thought it was something else,” Lucius said. “I saw your face. You were disappointed. You thought I had undergone a change of heart . . .”
“Yes,” I said, still sniffling.
“No, Jessica.” He shook his head. “Never. You must forget all that.”
“I can’t,” I said, reaching out for him. But Lucius stood, rising quickly, almost like he was scared to touch me, and I knew that for all his cool detachment, a part of him still felt drawn to me. That he had always felt drawn to me, as I had—and did—to him.
“You did not give me the opportunity to explain my gift,” he said, reaching into his pocket and again retrieving the box. He held it out to me. “It is better than a ring, for you. Better than a promise of . . . what? Eternity with a doomed vampire?”
“Nothing could have made me happier than your agreement to the pact,” I said, refusing to take the box.
“Oh, Jessica, abandon those notions in favor of what I can offer.” He extended his hand again, the box on his palm. “Did you not recognize the contents?”
I was confused, but stood up, curious, reaching for the box. “Recognize it?”
“From the photograph. I know you’ve looked at her, Jessica. I knew you would, in your own time. When you were ready.”
My mother. It was the necklace from the photograph he’d tucked in my book. I snapped open the lid again. “Oh, Lucius. Where did you get it?”
“It was held for you, in Romania. To be given to you on this occasion. It was your mother’s favorite possession, and it is my honor to deliver such an important keepsake to you. I hope you wear it many years in good health, with good fortune.”
I went to my desk and picked up the photograph in the silver frame, looking at the bloodstone that graced my mother’s throat. The bloodstone that I now held in my other hand, tangible evidence of Mihaela Dragomir’s existence. A real link to her. The stone lay on the velvet, deep red, like a real heart. A heart transplanted from my mother to me.
Lucius came up behind me, resting his hands upon my shoulders. “Is she not beautiful, powerful, regal . . . just like you?” he asked.
“Do you really believe that?”
“Yes,” Lucius said. “And I think you have come to believe it, too.”
“Then—”
“No.” Lucius didn’t even allow me to bring up the pact.
I replaced the photograph on the desk and turned to face my mirror. Removing the necklace from the box, I held it up to my throat.
Lucius followed me, watching my reflection. “Allow me. Please.” He again stepped behind me, taking the delicate chain from my fingers. I swept my hair off my neck, and Lucius slipped the necklace around my throat and sealed the clasp.
The stone was cool against my skin, much as my vampire mother’s touch would have been. As I watched myself in the mirror, the power I’d felt growing inside of me—her power—surged with even greater strength. The connection I’d been forging with Mihaela Dragomir was finally welded tight with the clasping of that fragile chain, and I could almost hear her whispering in my ear. “Do not give him up for lost yet, Antanasia. That is not our way. Your will is as strong as his, and his love as strong as yours.”
I turned to face Lucius, and I didn’t wait for him to pull away, or draw me close, or make any movement. I placed my hands on his chest, slipped them upward, and wrapped my arms around his neck.
“Antanasia, this cannot be. . . .” Lucius clasped my wrists in his strong hands, as though to push me away.
“It can be,” I promised him, holding firm, my fingers linking behind his neck, lacing into his black hair.
“Why can I not do as I should?” He groaned, giving up easily, not only accepting my embrace, but answering it. “I should have gone by now . . . I waste time, just to be near you, I fear. And for what? A few more moments before I am nothing but one of your memories? A tragic entry in a young woman’s diary?”
“You stayed for this moment,” I said, allowing him, then, to take control, as I knew he would want. I had wielded all the power I’d needed. I had drawn him back from the cold distance. Now I wanted Lucius to kiss me. To bite my throat. To fulfill what we’d both wanted for so long. Ever since he’d leaned over me in the kitchen on the first day he’d arrived at our house, his hand brushing my cheek. Ever since he’d met my eyes and asked, “Would it be so repugnant, really, Antanasia? To be with me?”
Even then, I’d known, deep inside, that it would be far from repugnant. That it would be something miles and miles beyond nice. That it might just be bliss.
Lucius hesitated just one more moment, staring into my eyes. “I am no less dangerous to you, Antanasia,” he whispered. “Whatever we do . . . it is only for tonight. It changes nothing. I will leave to meet my destiny, and you will stay here to carry out yours.”
“Don’t think about that now,” I begged. Because I did not believe that what we did that night would change nothing. I believed it could change everything. “Just forget the future for now.”
“As you wish, my princess,” Lucius said, closing his eyes, giving in to me. He leaned down to brush his cool, rough lips against mine, first gently, then more insistently.
I snaked my fingers deeper into his hair, pulling him against me, and when I did that, Lucius made a hungry little sound, slipping his hands up into my dark tangle of curls, and we kissed harder, like we were famished for each other. Like we were devouring each other.
And as we kissed, really kissed, something inside of me was smashed, like a splitting atom, erupting with all the force of a shattering nucleus. And yet I was strangely at peace, too. It was like I’d found my place in the universe, in the chaos, and Lucius and I could go along locked together throughout time without end, like pi, existing infinitely, irrationally, spinning through time.
His lips moved down to my throat, and my incisors began to ache at the touch of his fangs, which brushed my skin, sharp against me. He traced his teeth along the length of my neck, down to where the bloodstone rested in the hollow, close to my breastbone.
“Lucius, yes,” I urged him, opening my throat as far as I could, offering and begging. “Don’t stop . . . please don’t stop this time . . .”
If he bites me, he would be mine. . . . Always . . .
“No, Antanasia.” He fought himself, but I pressed him to myself again, feeling his fangs prick at my flesh, almost enough to pierce the skin, and my own teeth sharpened against my gums, nearly ripping through.
“Yes, Lucius . . . my fangs . . . I can feel them . . .”
“No.” Lucius regained control of himself then, but it was a tenuous control, and he slid his hands around to cup my face, pulling away, again staring into my eyes.
“We came too close, Antanasia . . . The kiss must be enough between us. I will not be the one to damn you, no matter how much I desire it. I will not drag you to destruction, too.”
“I don’t understand . . .” We were so close. . . .
“Please don’t ever regret this, Antanasia,” he implored me, and his eyes were the opposite of cool and detached. He seemed fevered, shaken, almost desperate, suddenly. “Don’t be angry, when I am gone or changed. Please, just remember this for what it was, which was everything to me. To the man I am right now.”
“You won’t change, Lucius,” I promised, grasping hi
s wrists, not understanding. What we had just shared . . . surely the two of us, together, could seal pacts and stop wars and answer any challenge. We were vampire royalty. And we were together. “You’re not going anywhere,” I reassured him. “It’s fine now. It will be fine.”
“No, Antanasia. No, it is not fine. It will not be fine.”
I had not noticed, until that moment, that my bedroom window had been pierced by a flashing red light, which spattered a crazy blood pattern against the walls.
“Lucius? What’s happening?”
He didn’t answer. But he was still holding me when Dad burst into the room.
“Lucius, the police are here,” Dad said. He was strangely composed. “A girl claims to have been bitten by a vampire, and she’s identified you.”
“Lucius?” I stared up at him, desperate for an answer.
But Lucius just kissed me once more, lightly on the lips, and turned to my father. “It’s best that I face this alone, Mr. Packwood,” he said. “Please—let me deal with this without your help this time.”
Dad hesitated, then stepped aside and allowed Lucius to go, capturing me in his arms as I tried to follow.
Chapter 55
“SHE’S SETTING LUCIUS up,” I told my parents. “Faith swore she’d get back at him for breaking up with her. She made it all up.”
They shot each other looks that said they were uncertain.
“Lucius broke up with Faith days ago,” I added, pleading his case. “And I’m pretty sure it was because he was afraid he was going to bite her. He knew he was getting out of control, but he stopped himself.”
Mom was clearing plates from my dismal party. “Jessica, Lucius has been going through something very difficult, struggling within himself. We can’t be sure what happened.”
“Nothing happened!”
“And was ‘nothing’ happening in your room?” Dad asked. “You are too involved with Lucius to be objective, Jessica.”
“He’s a Vladescu,” Mom added, dumping plates in the sink. She seemed very upset. “He wants not to be, but perhaps he couldn’t fight that side of himself. Perhaps it was even dangerous to allow him to live here. I’m not even sure we did the right thing anymore.”
“You’re not being fair. Just because his uncles are terrible doesn’t mean Lucius is a monster! He didn’t bite Faith. Please, let’s go to the police station!”
My parents shared another uncertain look. Then Dad said, “Jessica, no matter how we feel, Lucius asked us to let him handle this alone. We are going to respect his wishes. And so are you.”
“I’m eighteen now,” I pointed out. “I don’t need your permission to do anything.”
“But you do need a car,” Mom noted.
I hurried to the hook by the back door where my parents kept the keys. Gone. “Where are the keys?”
“This is for your own good, Jess,” Dad said. “You’ve gotten in way too deep with Lucius. You need to step back.”
“And it is our responsibility to protect you,” Mom added. “We want to help Lucius, too, of course. But you are our first priority.”
I stared at them, betrayed.
“He doesn’t want us right now, Jessica. We’ve done all we can,” Dad said.
The phone rang, and I snatched up the receiver. “Lucius?”
“No, it’s Mindy.”
“I can’t talk now—”
“It’s about Lucius,” Mindy said. There was panic in her voice.
“What is it? What’s going on?”
“I don’t know if I should tell you.”
“Just say it, Mindy. Please.”
“They’re out of control,” she said. “They’re talking about beating him up for what he did to Faith. Frank has them all worked up, with all that vampire stuff. They’re crazy!”
My fingers clutched at the receiver. “What exactly did you hear?”
“Some of the guys . . . They’re waiting for Lucius. They’re going to take him out to Jake Zinn’s barn and ‘teach him a lesson.’” She paused. “I’m scared for him, Jess. I don’t know what he did to you—”
“Nothing!”
“But I’m scared for him. They’re talking about the blood on you, and the scratches on Faith, and how his leg healed so fast . . . and all that stuff they found on the website about Lucius’s family, Jess.” She paused. “Faith heard you call him a vampire, too. In the barn.”
That day in the barn so long ago. Again I made things worse for Lucius. Me . . . I’m the dangerous one. . . .
“They keep talking about vampires and stakes,” Mindy cried.
“Stakes?” The receiver nearly slipped from my grasp.
“Yes, Jess. They’re taking stakes, like it’s the Middle Ages or something! In case he’s really a vampire! They’re crazy!”
Stakes. Out-of-control people. Mobs. My birth parents were destroyed that way. . . .
I struggled to remain calm. “Did they say when this is all happening?”
“Tonight. Later tonight. They’re going to get Luc when he comes out of the police station . . . Everybody heard about him getting arrested . . .”
Of course. The rumor mill was probably going berserk. “Thanks, Mindy.”
“I . . . I know we haven’t been friends lately . . . but this—this is crazy. I thought you should know.”
I gotta go.
“And Jess?”
“What?”
“Happy birthday.”
“Bye, Mindy.” I hung up the receiver, tore out the door before my parents could stop me, and ran for our barn to saddle up Belle.
Chapter 56
DEAR VASILE,
Pardon the Mount Gretna Police Station letterhead on the admittedly cheap stationery. I am fortunate to have even this with which to write you.
It appears that I am accused of “attacking” a local girl here, Faith Crosse, and biting her in the neck. They will finish “processing” me soon (like the region’s famous bologna!), so I shall try to keep this “short and sweet,” as the Americans say. Most importantly, I did NOT sink my fangs into that insufferable girl. She completely fabricated the injury. The police officers slid a series of “shocking” photographs under my nose, watching my face. I could but laugh. Bite marks, yes. But from a vampire? No. A clever fakery, though. Faith is nothing if not clever. And apparently admirably inured to pain. The marks appeared rather deep. She had a few good bruises, too. Bravo. Excellent work.
During a particularly dark time, I rather enjoyed Faith’s devious nature. Now my dalliance comes back to bite me. Almost deliciously ironic, isn’t it?
Regardless. I sense that the mood in this little village is rather unforgiving at present. Although I am to be released “upon my own recognizance” until formally charged, I have a strong suspicion—vampire’s intuition—that “the jig is up.” (You must sample some of the old American crime dramas available on DVD. They have a certain grimly humorous sensibility that connects with a vampire.)
Or, to put it in terms you are more likely to understand, the mob is gathering, as I have anticipated for some time now.
I write because I know that you had longed for the pleasure of destroying me yourself for defying you. For breaking the pact and ruining your plan. Oh, how you no doubt thirsted to thrust the stake deep. But now the much-yearned-for task will fall to a gang of ridiculous American teenagers. In a sense, they have bested you, Vasile. Is it cruel of me to feel so happy to deprive you of that which you so desired? And yet I do feel a certain joy to know that you will always wish it had been you. . . .
Thus, I go willingly to my fate in humble Lebanon County, Pennsylvania. Thus, history repeats itself. Yet another Vladescu destroyed. I shall strive to go as bravely and stoically as my parents. To uphold the honor of the clan—which is more than you have done, Vasile, in my view.
I also write on behalf of Jessica. I never bit her, Vasile. She remains an American teenager. Leave her be. The dream of a Dragomir princess is over.
Is there more t
o say? It seems odd, given my penchant for rambling missives, that my final letter is so brief. But, in truth, I am done—in more ways than one. (Who can resist gallows humor? Is it not a mark of courage to laugh at one’s own demise?)
I entrust this now to the United States Postal Service. Very reliable organization. It is the rare bureaucracy that one would trust to deliver one’s last words. And yet I feel confident this will reach you expeditiously.
Your nephew in blood and memory,
Lucius
Chapter 57
BELLE’S HOOVES THUNDERED in the rainy night. I was freezing on her back. It was late winter, and the night was still icy cold, the sleet pelting against my face, melting through my thin shirt. There had been no time to grab a coat.
“Come on, Belle,” I urged, slamming my heels into her flanks, willing my mare to go faster. It seemed like she understood my urgency, for she flew across the frozen field. I prayed she wouldn’t hit a groundhog hole and snap a leg, the night was so dark and we tore so recklessly across the uneven terrain.
Save Lucius . . . Save Lucius . . . That’s what I heard pounding in my ears with every hoofbeat.
Ahead of me, finally, the Zinns’ barn loomed, pale gray and arched like a tombstone against the sky. A little cry escaped my lips. There were cars there. Already. But I can’t be too late. I just can’t. As I leapt from Belle’s back before she even reined to a stop, I heard raised voices from inside the barn. Angry, male voices, and the sound of a scuffle. Running to the barn, I tore open the heavy door, hauling it back on its rusty track.
Inside: pandemonium. The struggle was already underway. The mob was loosed.
“Jake, no,” I cried, seeing my ex-boyfriend there in the middle of the melee. But he didn’t pay any attention. No one did. No one even noticed me running into the fight, trying to drag the boys off of Lucius. The crowd was in a lather. There was blood everywhere, fists flying, and Lucius struggling alone against them. He was so strong, but not strong enough for this. . . .
“I’ll kill you for what you did to her,” Ethan Strausser was screaming, pounding on Lucius. I tried to grasp Ethan’s fists, but someone pushed me away, flinging me against a wall. I came back, yelling at them to stop, but no one paid attention. They were drunk on revenge and fear and hatred, hatred of someone different than themselves.
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