“‘Fraid so. You ready to tell me what actually happened last night? Because if it’s too soon or whatever, I can totally be patient.”
I raised an eyebrow at him as we sat on my bed. I felt clearer now, at least, like my senses that had seemed dulled earlier were back to equilibrium. I could even smell the familiar, musty scent of the stage curtains on Connor.
“I can be patient,” he insisted. “I’d always rather not be, but I can.”
“It’s okay. I probably should try and work things out anyway, if I’m going to have to give a statement to Tim later. I just keep thinking about finding Mr. Leonard like that, and wondering what it must have been like when he found his wife. I only looked for a few seconds before I bolted for my phone, and then Tim was there, and…” I took a breath. “Not gruesome or anything, just…too real, or something? Does that make sense?”
“It’s someone you see every week, almost every day, and some psycho murdered him while you were in the house. It doesn’t get realer than that. How did they not find you?”
I told him about being in the closet all night, and was impressed he didn’t make any cracks about that. He just listened. When he asked how things had led up to that, considering I didn’t think the killer—or killers—had gotten inside the house until after I was in the closet, I didn’t know what to say at first. I knew I couldn’t tell Tim the truth; what I remembered was fuzzy and sounded crazy without evidence, but I needed someone to know.
“So it felt like he cut you?”
“I couldn’t really see; he was too close to me.”
“Maybe he bit you.”
“But I don’t have any marks. See, it’s crazy. I must have imagined it.”
“Wait.” Connor got up from the bed and started pacing in front of me. “So first it was like he was getting real intense, had you worried he was losing it, but looking in his eyes made you stop trying to get away?”
“Sort of. Like it didn’t matter anymore. Almost like I was—”
“Hypnotized?”
“Yeah.”
“And then he bit you—”
“Maybe—”
“And you blacked out. And the next thing you remember is tasting something, like he’d given you something to drink.” He wasn’t asking questions anymore, so I didn’t feel the need to answer. I’d told him everything I remembered, even how the sun stung my eyes.
Connor stopped pacing and stared at me, this blank look on his face while his eyes went wide, making me feel like some awful blow was about to strike.
“Dude, what? I must have been delirious, okay? Maybe I hit my head, or he told me something that scared me so much I passed out. There’s no way all of that happened the way I remember. What would it even mean if it had?”
“I know exactly what it would mean,” Connor said evenly. “The Leonards were vampires.”
I barked a laugh. “Real funny.” Connor had set me up good on that one.
“Only I’m not joking.”
He grabbed my arm and hauled me off the bed, jerking me toward the window before I could laugh a second time. He pushed me directly into the sunlight’s rays. I squinted at the brightness and backpedaled out of its path.
“Mr. Leonard turned you into a vampire!” Connor declared.
“That’s insane.” I rubbed my eyes before shooting him a glare. “It’s not like I’m bursting into flames, it just irritates me. And I have a reflection. See?” I gestured back at my mirror, feeling ridiculous that I even had to defend this idea. “Vampires don’t exist, Connor. It’s just a lot of weirdness adding up to something that doesn’t make sense yet.”
“But it does make sense if you’re a vampire. Not having a reflection’s stupid anyway,” he added in a matter-of-fact tone. “No one actually believes that part of the lore is real.”
“But vampires existing at all is?!”
Connor held out his hands, pleading with me to be patient while he explained the stupidest thing he had ever tried to convince me of. The window was between us now, the sunlight creating a transparent barrier, with the corner of my room at Connor’s back. I didn’t get how he could look so serious while he insisted I was a vampire, of all things.
“Think of how the Leonards were both found,” Connor said. “Holes in their chests too big to be bullets—stakes through the heart! And that Alec guy you said he mentioned, what did he call him?”
“His…maker, but—”
“Of course you don’t have any wounds, Em. You already healed them. And there wasn’t any blood on you, because real vampires wouldn’t be messy like they make them in the movies. Mr. Leonard turned you so that the hunters who killed him and his wife would stay in town long enough—”
“Just stop!”
Connor flinched, eyes wide again, but this time in fear—of me. I hadn’t meant to roar like that. I knew when he was joking, and the fact that he honestly thought this was real was not helping. The sun, the cold, the murders; not to mention how hungry and frustrated I felt, like the pressure of it all was building low in my stomach, and I couldn’t see straight through the ache.
I took a step toward Connor into the path of the sun. It was bright and hot, worse every time, and the sudden pain of it made me surge forward back into the cold. On the other side of the window there wasn’t much space, just Connor backed into the corner and me right in front of him.
“I’m not a vampire. Vampires don’t exist.”
“Em…”
Connor was so close, all I could focus on was his smell, like dust, and plywood, and paint from the set, with something salty and rich and fragrant beneath it—what was that? I thought of the taste on my lips last night with Mr. Leonard, and swiped out my tongue. The taste wasn’t there anymore, but it was close.
I looked at Connor but couldn’t see him as a whole. He was under a microscope again, his eyes brown, and bronze, and gold, every little fleck perfectly detailed. I could see the movement of each breath he took, the way the tendons in his neck moved, twitched, shifted with the pulse of the veins underneath…
Em! Emery!
My stomach lurched with a twist of pain—the worst hunger I’d ever felt. My hands were on either side of Connor’s head against the wall and I didn’t even remember putting them there. The smell, the taste, I knew it was right there beneath the skin, and when I leaned forward and parted my lips to press them to Connor’s neck, that rich, wonderful flavor flowed over my tongue with no effort at all.
Chapter 5
Connor
Connor had dismissed the way Emery’s eyes flashed in the ambulance—making him lose time and sense of self—as just getting caught up in being that close to his friend after fearing he’d lost him. He couldn’t dismiss it this time.
Emery’s hazel eyes glowed with a shimmer like a cat caught in the light. Connor had tried calling his friend’s name but the words turned thick in his mouth until they trailed away. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. Emery’s hands came up so fast to press into the wall on either side of his head, he didn’t register the movement; they were just there. When Emery’s lips parted, Connor could see the fangs, long and sharp from his eyeteeth like right out of a monster movie.
It was a trick. Emery had made it all up, knowing that the details would lead Connor to vampires. These were just Halloween fangs. Connor wasn’t really hypnotized into submission; he was just stunned, believing his own crazy imagination. He’d longed for years to have Emery this close, after all, crowding him into a corner, lips descending. He’d just imagined them descending a little closer to his mouth, though his neck wouldn’t be so bad…
…if not for the sharp sting, the breaking of the skin and rush of blood sucked out of him so fast he felt dizzy, and then—wow.
It didn’t hurt at all. It felt like Emery was tucked into his sh
oulder intimately, fully aware of the pleasant buzzing he caused in Connor’s gut every time they touched. Connor had dreamed of this, imagined it just like this, and felt lulled by Emery’s body being so close, and the way he shivered feeling those lips on his skin. He almost thought he heard Emery’s soothing voice whispering affirmations he’d always wanted to hear.
“Em…” Connor breathed out, barely audible.
The room was dimming, but he felt cozy where he was. His arms were limp and heavy as he lifted them to pull Emery closer, feeling the soft fabric of the sweater against his somewhat numb right palm. He pulled tighter, twisting flesh and plastic fingers alike in the fabric, pulling…with the faint sense that he should be pushing instead.
“Em…” he choked out like a whimper, like he was crying. Why was he crying? This was everything he’d ever wanted…
Reality snapped back into painful, terrible focus when Emery released him, his fangs pulling from the tender skin of Connor’s neck, the brief feeling of a tongue licking over the wound, and then Emery jerked away from Connor with a harsh intake of breath.
Emery’s hands had moved at some point from the wall to Connor’s shoulders, and the second he removed them, Connor dropped straight to the carpet.
“Connor!”
Even blinking felt sluggish, like the world was moving in slow motion. Connor felt drugged and weak, still hazy, but the pain wasn’t dulled anymore; he felt that distinctly, and said with clear accusation when Emery’s face swam into view, “Ow.”
“Oh god, Connor, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to. I couldn’t stop.” Emery ranted on and on a series of apologies and assurances that he hadn’t meant to do that—as if Connor would ever think otherwise.
Connor waved his right hand ineffectually until his friend grasped it. It was the hypnotism, the glamour, whatever it was called, not the blood loss. It couldn’t have been that much blood. He just needed a minute for his head to clear.
He slurred out something that he hoped conveyed that, and leaned against the wall at his back. At least he hadn’t crumbled completely. He was in a sitting position, with Emery crouched, soon sitting in front of him, still holding his hand. Connor figured he could enjoy that longer than usual given the situation.
He stared ahead at Emery, waiting for the image to stop swirling, and as soon as he saw Emery’s eyes give an extended blink, squeezing tight to stay tears, the spell broke. Connor coughed and shook his head. His head throbbed, the wound—bite—on his neck stung, and his rear was a little sore from falling, but he only felt mildly dizzy, like after giving blood to the Red Cross.
Connor squeezed Emery’s hand as tight as he could to show he was okay, he just didn’t feel like moving yet. “That actually didn’t suck as much as you think,” he said, though he had no plans to elaborate on how good some of it had felt. “Believe me now?”
A bitter, huff of a laugh escaped Emery’s lips. “Nah, you’re clearly out of your mind.”
Connor laughed, which turned into a slight coughing fit, then eventually back into laughter. “Ass.”
Emery offered a weary smile. He released Connor’s hand, which would have been a disappointment, but he moved to Connor’s other side to sit between him and the nightstand—close, hip to hip. “I think I almost killed you.”
That monotone did not befit Emery at all. “Listen to my complete sentences, Em. I’m just a little winded. I’ve never fainted after a blood drive. That was you, remember?”
Emery lurched away from the wall as if he might leap to his feet. “You need like…orange juice and something to eat.”
Connor clamped a hand down on Emery’s thigh before he could go anywhere. “Five minutes and I’ll go downstairs with you.”
“But—”
“Your parents are both home, right?”
Horror filled Emery’s face.
“So take a minute, and then we can face them together. You’re less likely to suddenly confess vampirism if I’m with you. Plus, if you went alone you’d have to either admit I was hiding in the room, or try and lie, and then your mom would probably keep you down there talking for an hour while I wither away up here alone. Listen to my superior common sense, Em.” Connor stretched his grin, willing himself to stay alert. He really didn’t feel that bad, not like he’d pass out. Though orange juice and a cookie sounded amazing.
A new throb of pain pulsed from his bite, and Connor brought his hand up to it without thinking. Since the bite was on the left side, when he gasped from the sting and brought his hand down again, a smear of red gleamed at him from his silver Terminator fingertips.
“Shit, better find a way to hide this,” he murmured.
“Emery?” Kay’s voice called from the doorway. Connor hadn’t even heard her open it, and by the way Emery jumped, he hadn’t either.
“Here!” Connor raised his right hand so she would see that they were hidden by the bed.
Emery turned to him with an extra helping of that horrified expression.
“We can’t hide, Em,” Connor whispered. “It’ll be okay. We’ll figure this out.”
Kay came around the side of the bed, a drawn, sympathetic look on her face. Connor tried to think of some way to hide his wound, but Kay’s eyes went straight to the contrast of red on silver, then up to the bite mark.
Emery tensed.
“You boys,” Kay said with a sigh. “Let me grab you a Band-Aid, Connor. You know climbing that trellis is dangerous. How did you even manage to cut yourself there?” She turned without waiting for a response, probably taking their slouched positions on the floor as her having interrupted some hushed conversation about the previous night’s events.
“Leave it to your mom to give me an alibi,” Connor said.
Emery stared forward. “What are we gonna do?”
“Well, for starters, I figured we’d grab some food for me, come back to the room, and stay in here figuring out the specifics of real-life vampires until you go talk to Tim.”
“Oh god,” Emery pulled his knees to his chest and burrowed his face in his jeans, “what do I say to Tim? I can’t tell him the truth. But what lie makes sense? I don’t want to say Mr. Leonard knocked me out. He was just desperate. He wasn’t thinking straight.”
“So say he pushed you into the closet to hide you when he heard people coming, and you accidentally hit your head and got knocked out.”
“I don’t have a single mark on me.”
“Then…you had a panic attack and passed out.”
“Maybe…”
“You’re one of the best actors I know, Em. Act your way through this. It’s Tim. He’ll believe you.”
Emery didn’t look convinced, even as he nodded into his knees.
Kay returned with a box of Band-Aids, and Connor kept his silver hand up near his wound in case closer inspection revealed that it was punctures instead of a scratch. He accepted the box gratefully as he and Emery stood.
“Thanks. And sorry. I was just worried,” Connor said.
“I know, I’m not really upset. I’m just glad to see you talking about what happened, honey,” she turned to Emery, “because we still need to bring you to the station later. Do you think you’re up for that?”
Connor feared Emery would lose it, fail to hide his anxiety and confess the truth, but like the amazing actor Connor knew his friend to be, Emery smiled.
“Just a couple more hours, Mom. Maybe we could meet Tim at three?”
Kay’s face lit up at Emery’s easy disposition. “I’ll let him know. Do you two want some lunch in the meantime?” she asked, passing her gaze between them.
“Please,” Connor said. “Can we bring it up here?”
“Of course.” She reached a hand to the back of Emery’s head, digging her small, white fingers into his dark hair, and pulled him dow
n toward her to kiss his forehead. “Whatever you need, honey.” She looked back to Connor. “Now get yourself patched up, mister. And when you leave later, do it through the front door.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
The bite wasn’t bleeding freely, but enough red smeared Connor’s skin and hand that he wanted to get cleaned up. Once Kay left, Emery followed Connor into the bathroom across the hall and insisted that he help.
He proceeded to sit Connor down on the toilet seat so he could get a better vantage point. He wet a rag in the sink with warm water and carefully wiped the skin clean, leaving behind what Connor could only assume were two very prominent puncture marks by the way Emery scowled.
It felt nice though, Emery’s warm fingers brushing his skin after the washcloth, and the tender way he used a towel to dry the area before securing an antiseptic-covered bandage. When he was done, he looked on with creased eyebrows as Connor washed off his silver fingers in the sink.
“Stop that, I’m fine,” Connor said.
“I ate you,” Emery droned.
A smile quirked at the corner of Connor’s mouth.
“No wisecracks, Connor, this is serious,” Emery hissed. His expression softened as he said more hushed, “I’m dangerous.”
Connor leaned back against the sink. “You just helped clean my wound. Did you feel like biting me again?”
Emery’s mouth opened, closed, and opened again before he spoke. “No. I don’t feel hungry at all anymore. I feel good—great. But that just makes it worse. How often am I going to need to do that? What if I can’t control it next time either?”
“What ‘either’? You stopped yourself this time, and you didn’t even take that much.” Connor stood up straighter only to feel the room tilt. He leaned back on the sink again as Emery shot him a pointed look. “Whatever, I just need lunch, and I’ll be fine. We’ll take this all one step, one day at a time, figure out all your vampire kinks and quirks—”
Life as a Teenage Vampire Page 4