As she started making my drink, I scurried to the restroom to change out of my bloody gym clothes. The bathroom lights buzzed and flickered for a second before snapping on to that harsh brightness of fluorescent. I had my shirt off when I caught my reflection in the mirror. The wind had blown my hair wild, and my eyes glittered like an animal’s. In the strange light, my skin looked greenish; the smear of blood on my lips, black.
My tongue sought the errant blood, and I sucked it into my mouth greedily. For a second, the irises of my eyes refracted like a cat’s.
I looked like a vampire—in gym shorts.
Hysterical laughter bubbled up, and I giggled until I realized exactly how crazy I looked. I wiped the remaining blood off my mouth with the back of my hand.
“What am I?” I asked the wild thing in the mirror. She just shook her head in mute confusion. I turned my back to my reflection and finished dressing. After stuffing my gym uniform into my backpack, I flicked off the light and shut the door without ever looking back.
Whoever that woman was in the mirror, I wasn’t ready to deal with her. Not yet. I didn’t even really know what it meant to be her. But my plan was simple. I was going to sit down, drink coffee, and try to put my head together. Then, I’d . . .
Okay, so I wasn’t off to a very good start, because I didn’t even know what I’d do after. Was I going to go home and risk Mom putting a spell on me to make me stay home? Or what? Be homeless?
My drink was ready, so I grabbed it and sat at a table where I could watch the rain. Drops had become sheets, and rivulets ran down the glass in squiggles. Watching their random patterns didn’t offer any answers, but my breathing slowed and steadied.
I took a sip of coffee, expecting that sweet bitterness that I’d grown to love. It tasted like water. I almost spat it out. Even though I’d scrubbed them nearly raw, my fingers rose to my lips. The craving for blood lingered.
The door opened, bringing with it the scent of rain. My eyes flicked over the figure that came in, and then lingered on the smooth, graceful way he moved. Jeans clung wetly to long, slender legs. Thanks to the weather, the shirt he wore left little to the imagination, which was okay because I didn’t think I could have come up with anything quite that good. When I looked up to see if he had a face to match, I was startled to see him looking at me.
“Elias!” I said, barely recognizing him with his clothes on. That thought brought a blush to my cheeks.
His smile was dazzling, and he did that odd little courtly nod with his hand briefly touching his heart. “May I join you, Your Highness?”
I nodded, but as he took the seat across from me, I regarded him with a bit of suspicion. After all, how likely was it that he was just passing by? On a day like this? Miles from where I’d seen him last? Twenty minutes after I’d, er, licked Thompson?
Also, according to the brightly colored clock on the wall, it was 11:36. Did that mean vampires could go out in daylight, or were the overcast clouds enough protection?
I’d ask him about the daylight thing later; first things first. “Are you stalking me?”
He laughed. On closer inspection, Elias was even hotter than I first thought. Apparently his eyes weren’t permanently cat-slit, since today his pupils were round and the irises surrounding them were a pale, liquid green. He ran a hand through the short shock of hair on his head, giving it a sexy, tousled look. “Not exactly,” he said with that high-wattage smile lingering on his face. “I was awakened by the blood.”
My head hurt with the weird. I took a slow, thoughtful sip of coffee, trying to return to that steady place I’d been before. The bad-tasting coffee didn’t help. “Are you saying you woke up out of your coffin when I—when that thing with Thompson happened? ”
“Well, if you remove the coffin part, yes, basically.” Lightning made the overhead lights flicker slightly. A moment later thunder rattled the windows.
“You tasted blood for the first time. The entire clan felt it. Prince Ramses, your father, is very pleased, Your Highness,” he continued. “His Highness regrets to inform you that he is unable to greet you on this auspicious moment personally. He sent me as his emissary. He’s too old, you understand. The sun, it can reach him even through the rain. However, he would request your presence tonight for an official celebration.”
“I’m kind of grounded. I’m supposed to go right home.” I don’t know why I blurted that out, since I hadn’t been planning to go home anyway. But Elias’s official speech sort of freaked me out. Even though I knew vampires were real, it just sounded so bizarre coming from this normal, good-looking guy sitting across from me at a Starbucks.
Elias’s eyebrow shifted in an are-you-serious arch. “Grounded? No offense, Your Highness, but you’re above all that now. More to the point, the invitation is tantamount to a royal summons. You really shouldn’t blow that off. Besides, I believe it’s meant to be your debut.”
“My debut?”
“Your presentation to the clan, if you prefer. Your acceptance of your heritage. On the East Coast they call it a coming-out, but the connotation of that has changed over time, has it not?” He flashed a quirky smile.
Coming out as a vampire? Sort of like coming-out of the closet, only way, way weirder. “Yeah, it has.” I smiled in return.
“So it is decided? You will come?” I shook my head. I mean, it all seemed so genteel, but, “I wouldn’t know where to go or how to behave. I don’t know anything about being a vampire.”
His eyes flashed intensely as he spoke. “You know the most important thing. You know about the taste.”
The taste . . . he didn’t even have to explain of what. The second Elias mentioned it, I found myself craving blood like a drug. A shudder of a sigh escaped my lips.
He nodded approvingly at my reaction. I felt another blush growing, but he took my hand in his. He shifted to rest his elbows on the polished wood table. I was struck by how strong his body looked. In that way, it was easy to believe he was a knight. He looked . . . dangerous. I could easily see him kicking Thompson’s ass in a fight.
Or Nikolai’s.
“About tonight . . . Your Highness, I would be at your side at every turn—if you so wished it. I could guide you, teach you our ways. You only need but ask.”
The eyes that sought out mine held an intense fire. I felt strangely scrutinized, though it was far from unpleasant. My skin flushed and tingled. Trying to act cooler than I felt, I gave him a big teasing smile. “Are you asking me out?”
His smile faded suddenly, and his eyes dropped. He let go of my hand. “I would never presume.”
What a cute reaction! It was totally seventeenth century.
“No, actually, it would be nice.” I smiled.
He looked relieved. “Good. The festivities begin at sundown. Shall we arrange a place to meet?”
I raised my palms. “Hold on, Romeo. If I’m going to attend the debut, you can be my date. But I still haven’t decided that I’m going. I mean, it’s all kind of sudden, you know? I still can’t believe I basically licked Thompson’s face. What was I thinking?”
“You weren’t. The blood is irresistible, especially blood of an enemy won in a fight.”
That sounded far too noble to describe what had happened, so I reminded him: “It was floor hockey.”
“He was your opponent at least?”
One of the machines behind the coffee bar made a whooshing noise, loud enough to preclude conversation momentarily. “Yeah, I guess so. We were on opposite sides, but . . . it was just gym class.” Elias looked at me like he sensed there was more to it, so I admitted, “Okay, Thompson and I have been going back and forth, you know, since the whole stupid scene in the lunch-room when I gave him the spooky eye, but enemies? I don’t know. I guess. But that seems harsh.”
“Whatever happened, the circumstances satisfied the ritual of the hunt. Nothing less than first blood would have awoken us.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I played with the plastic
top of my drink. “First blood? Does that mean I’m a vampire now?”
He looked vaguely offended momentarily, but then quickly recovered his expression. “You have always been what you are, my lady,” he said curtly. Then he stood up. “I’m going to get something to drink. You want anything?”
I shook my head. Well, that answered another question I had: at least as a vamp I didn’t have to give up my coffee. Apparently vampires could drink something other than blood. Not that anything else would ever taste as good.
Crap, listen to me. I sounded like a bloodsucker. I wondered what Nikolai would think of me now. Had I crossed some line with this whole first-blood thing? Would the Elder Witches open hunting season on me?
I guess I could kiss a bowling date good-bye if that happened, huh?
With a steaming mug of what looked like plain, black coffee, Elias resumed his seat across from me. Other than his on-the-pale-side skin, there wasn’t much about him that screamed vampire. His hair was cut short and stylishly—very “now.” The shirt he wore could have been picked up at any department store yesterday, and a funky gold cross gleamed at the hollow of his throat.
A cross?
Okay, it didn’t look like the standard Christian cross that a lot of kids at school wore. It had a few extra bits, and I thought it might be Greek or Russian Orthodox, but I couldn’t be sure.
I pointed to it. “So crosses don’t burn your skin.”
“Not here,” he said casually, like that explained everything.
As I watched him take a sip from his cup, all sorts of questions bubbled through my head. “So before . . . you said my dad couldn’t come himself because he’s too old? Are you saying that it gets harder for vampires to go out in the daylight as they age?”
“Light has always been the enemy of the dark realm. Sensitivity to it grows with time.”
“Huh. So . . . how old are you?”
“Older than you. Significantly.”
I probably shouldn’t have, but I had to laugh. “Well, you don’t look it.”
He tipped his head in acknowledgment. “Thanks.”
“You say that I am what I’ve always been, but what the hell is that?”
A strangely devilish smile turned up his lip slightly. “Funny you should mention hell.”
Fourteen
There was something about the look in his eye that drew a chill up my spine. I swallowed, but my throat was dry as I repeated, “Hell?”
“It’s a misconception, of course. Most of us are far older than the concepts of heaven and hell. But even we have forgotten much about the place we were stolen from. All that remains has become so entangled with your images and associations with Hades as to be indistinguishable.”
I tried to remember to breathe as Elias spoke. What had my mother called my dad? “Demon.” Did she mean that literally? Was I half . . . devil?
And what was I supposed to make of that? I didn’t even believe in demons and hell. Of course, yesterday I didn’t believe in vampires either.
Elias watched my eyes for a second before continuing. “The history of our exile is murky, but the old ones tell us that the First Witch broke through the barrier between our worlds. In order to practice real magic, she drew her power from the other side, our home.”
I couldn’t take it. I had to interrupt. “Wait a minute—are you saying magic actually comes from Satan?”
“No, as I said, this happened in a time long before Christianity. Before Yahweh. Before writing. But magic, the magic your people practice, draws on the energy of that place beyond the veil, my homeland, your hell.”
“I can’t believe it,” I said. “You realize what you’re saying is every Wiccan’s nightmare, right?”
“I know.” He looked away, watching the storm shake the leaves from the trees. The muscle of his jaw worked furiously as he tried to find the words. “But try to rise above the human tendency to paint everything with simple, broad strokes, my lady. Your father passed through the veil long before Christ walked the earth. People have always been afraid of what lies beyond. When the First Witch stole the first prince from our homeland, there was no word for what we were. Almost every culture has one now: djinn, devil, demon, oni, nephilim, grigori, púca, wyrm. . . . Whatever evil has tormented mankind from the moment Pandora’s box was opened . . . has been attributed to our race.”
“Evil? ” I breathed, remembering the glint in my own eye that I’d seen in the bathroom.
He shook his head. “Evil is, even for us, a choice. That is, unless we are being compelled by magic.”
“Compelled? I don’t get it. The First Witch brought vampires . . . or whatever, through from the other side, okay, sure. But I don’t understand—why?”
“To be her slaves.”
Slaves? He made it sound so matter-of-fact, like I might have learned of it in grade school along with the “golden triangle.” But he was suggesting that those revered ancestors of mine in the great Book of Shadows had kept vampire-demons as slaves.
I felt blindsided by this knowledge on so many levels. I’d always scoffed at the account of the confessions by witches under torture in Malleus Maleficarum. But countless victims of the Inquisition had told of demon slaves, minions from hell. Had those stories been true?
And Nikolai had mentioned something about a residual binding spell used to capture and kill vampires. Was this what he referred to?
I didn’t know, but at the very least, this history might explain why vampires and witches didn’t get along. “But you’re not slaves anymore . . . uh, or are you?”
“We have not been compelled to do witch bidding since the Burning Times, when, during the great cull, the talisman the First Witch created to bind us was stolen and hidden, to be lost forever.” And then he added something in a language I didn’t understand and rapped his knuckles on the table, like some kind of superstitious ritual.
I considered everything as I took another sip of the dreadful coffee. Elias had also said that real magic drew on the essence of the other side, the dark realm, the place he and his people had come from. “If real magic is made from the stuff of your homeland, why can’t you use it?”
“It is our life force, much like your blood. We can no more make magic from our essence than you can with yours.”
Now my head was really spinning with the realization: “Witches feed on your ‘blood,’ and you drink ours. Holy shit.”
He chuckled a bit. “ ‘Holy’ ? Perhaps ‘infernal.’ ”
“No,” I said. “ ‘Infernal shit’ just doesn’t have the right sound, trust me.”
We shared a smile and it might have been some kind of moment between us, except the door opened, letting in a gust of moist air and a gaggle of giggling girls. I sort of recognized one of them as being from Stassen; she was part of what Bea and I dubbed the stoner clique. You know the sort, always skipping school and getting caught smoking on school grounds? Our eyes met, and she gave me a brief glare.
I turned back to Elias, who was sipping his coffee and noticing how I reacted as the girls noisily made their way up to the counter. He seemed more on alert, as though he might leap up to defend my honor at any moment.
“It’s okay, sir knight, you can sheath your sword,” I teased him. “They’re just some kids from school.”
He gave me an acknowledging, militarist lift of the chin, as though I’d given him an order to obey.
“What is the deal with all the court stuff? I mean, how is it that my dad is a prince when you guys were slaves?”
“Ah,” he said, taking a moment to study his hands encircling the coffee mug before he answered. “What do you know of medieval Christian demonology?”
“Zero? ”
“Well, it’s based largely on what we remember of our stations in the dark realm. We’ve always strictly adhered to it. It’s what remains of our culture.”
The girls from school noisily descended on a table near us. Book bags banged and they harassed one another jokingly at a high
decibel. It distracted me from the conversation with Elias. One of the girls—I thought her name might be Violet or Ruby—noticed me. “What are you looking at, witch?”
I shrugged and looked away guiltily.
Elias, however, had turned to stare steadily at the speaker until she was forced to drop her hostile gaze in return.
“Don’t engage them,” I whispered to Elias, but it was too late. I could feel my anger building, almost like magic, bubbling just under the surface ready to explode. I don’t know why they bothered me so much; maybe I was looking for an excuse to vent some of the frustration I felt about all this crazy vampire stuff.
The girls were whispering among themselves and pointing at me. They were snickering in a way that was clearly unkind and cruel. One of them piped up with, “Aren’t you that girl that kissed that jock during gym? He says you licked the blood off his nose. Are you some kind of fetishist or something?”
I opened my mouth to tell them to shut up and mind their own business, but all that came out was a catlike hiss. My mouth felt strange too, like it had gotten too small for all my teeth.
The stoner-clique girls’ eyes went wide. Their expressions were a study in stunned horror. Then, as if someone had pulled the fire alarm, they scattered, barely taking the time to grab all their drinks and go.
When I tried to ask Elias what had just happened, I nicked my tongue on sharp points of my teeth.
Fangs?
Where had they come from?
Fifteen
My jaw clicked and shifted. As unexpectedly as they had ap peared, my fangs retracted and were gone. I cautiously ran my tongue around my mouth, but there was no trace of sharpness. The copper taste of my own blood filled my mouth, but it wasn’t anything like the addictive deliciousness I’d begun to associate with bleeding.
Elias watched me curiously. “I see my lady can protect herself quite admirably,” he said drily, but a smile played on his face. “However, perhaps in the future, Her Highness might consider diplomacy first?”
Almost to Die For Page 11