Night World 1

by L. J. Smith

  Everything was the same—but how could it be? How could the walls be still standing? How could the TV be blaring in the next room?

  I’m going to die, Poppy thought.

  Strangely enough, she didn’t feel frightened. What she felt was vastly surprised. And the surprise kept coming, over and over, with every thought being interrupted by those four words.

  It’s my fault because (I’m going to die) I didn’t go to the doctor’s sooner.

  Cliff said “damn” for me (I’m going to die). I didn’t know he liked me enough to swear.

  Her mind was racing wildly.

  Something in me, she thought. I’m going to die because of something that’s inside me, like that alien in the movie. It’s in me right now. Right now.

  She put both hands to her stomach, then pulled up her T-shirt to stare at her abdomen. The skin was smooth, unblemished. She didn’t feel any pain.

  But it’s in there and I’m going to die because of it. Die soon. I wonder how soon? I didn’t hear them talk about that.

  I need James.

  Poppy reached for the phone with a feeling that her hand was detached from her body. She dialed, thinking, Please be there.

  But this time it didn’t work. The phone rang and rang. When the answering machine came on, Poppy said, “Call me at the hospital.” Then she hung up and stared at the plastic pitcher of ice water by her bedside.

  He’ll get in later, she thought. And then he’ll call me. I just have to hang on until then.

  Poppy wasn’t sure why she thought this, but suddenly it was her goal. To hang on until she could talk to James. She didn’t need to think about anything until then; she just had to survive. Once she talked to James, she could figure out what she was supposed to be feeling, what she was supposed to do now.

  There was a light knock at the door. Startled, Poppy looked up to see her mother and Cliff. For a moment all she could focus on was their faces, which gave her the strange illusion that the faces were floating in midair.

  Her mother had red and swollen eyes. Cliff was pale, like a piece of crumpled white paper, and his jaw looked stubbly and dark in contrast.

  Oh, my God, are they going to tell me? They can’t; they can’t make me listen to it.

  Poppy had the wild impulse to run. She was on the verge of panic.

  But her mother said, “Sweetie, some of your friends are here to see you. Phil called them this afternoon to let them know you were in the hospital, and they just arrived.”

  James, Poppy thought, something springing free in her chest. But James wasn’t part of the group that came crowding through the doorway. It was mostly girls from school.

  It doesn’t matter. He’ll call later. I don’t have to think now.

  As a matter of fact, it was impossible to think with so many visitors in the room. And that was good. It was incredible that Poppy could sit there and talk to them when part of her was farther away than Neptune, but she did talk and that kept her brain turned off.

  None of them had any idea that something serious was wrong with her. Not even Phil, who was at his brotherly best, very kind and considerate. They talked about ordinary things, about parties and Rollerblading and music and books. Things from Poppy’s old life, which suddenly seemed to have been a hundred years ago.

  Cliff talked, too, nicer than he had been since the days when he was courting Poppy’s mother.

  But finally the visitors left, and Poppy’s mother stayed. She touched Poppy every so often with hands that shook slightly. If I didn’t know, I’d know, Poppy thought. She isn’t acting like Mom at all.

  “I think I’ll stay here tonight,” her mother said. Not quite managing to sound offhand. “The nurse said I can sleep on the window seat; it’s really a couch for parents. I’m just trying to decide whether I should run back to the house and get some things.”

  “Yes, go,” Poppy said. There was nothing else she could say and still pretend that she didn’t know. Besides, her mom undoubtedly needed some time by herself, away from this.

  Just as her mother left, a nurse in a flowered blouse and green scrub pants came in to take Poppy’s temperature and blood pressure. And then Poppy was alone.

  It was late. She could still hear a TV, but it was far away. The door was ajar, but the hallway outside was dim. A hush seemed to have fallen over the ward.

  She felt very alone, and the pain was gnawing deep inside her. Beneath the smooth skin of her abdomen, the tumor was making itself known.

  Worst of all, James hadn’t called. How could he not call? Didn’t he know she needed him?

  She wasn’t sure how long she could go on not thinking about It.

  Maybe the best thing would be to try to sleep. Get unconscious. Then she couldn’t think.

  But as soon as she turned out the light and closed her eyes, phantoms swirled around her. Not images of pretty bald girls; skeletons. Coffins. And worst of all, an endless darkness.

  If I die, I won’t be here. Will I be anywhere? Or will I just Not Be at all?

  It was the scariest thing she’d ever imagined, Not-Being. And she was definitely thinking now, she couldn’t help it. She’d lost control. A galloping fear consumed her, made her shiver under the rough sheet and thin blankets. I’m going to die, I’m going to die, I’m going to—

  “Poppy.”

  Her eyes flew open. For a second she couldn’t identify the black silhouette in the darkened room. She had a wild idea that it was Death itself coming to get her.

  Then she said, “James?”

  “I wasn’t sure if you were asleep.”

  Poppy reached for the bedside button that turned on the light, but James said, “No, leave it off. I had to sneak past the nurses, and I don’t want them to throw me out.”

  Poppy swallowed, her hands clenched on a fold of blanket. “I’m glad you came,” she said. “I thought you weren’t going to come.” What she really wanted was to throw herself into his arms and sob and scream.

  But she didn’t. It wasn’t just that she’d never done anything like that with him before; it was something about him that stopped her. Something she couldn’t put her finger on, but that made her feel almost…frightened.

  The way he was standing? The fact that she couldn’t see his face? All she knew was that James suddenly seemed like a stranger.

  He turned around and very slowly closed the heavy door.

  Darkness. Now the only light came in through the window. Poppy felt curiously isolated from the rest of the hospital, from the rest of the world.

  And that should have been good, to be alone with James, protected from everything else. If only she weren’t having this weird feeling of not recognizing him.

  “You know the test results,” he said quietly. It wasn’t a question.

  “My mom doesn’t know I know,” Poppy said. How could she be talking coherently when all she wanted to do was scream? “I overheard the doctors telling her…. James, I’ve got it. And…it’s bad; it’s a bad kind of cancer. They said it’s already spread. They said I’m going to…” She couldn’t get the last word out, even though it was shrieking through her mind.

  “You’re going to die,” James said. He still seemed quiet and centered. Detached.

  “I read up on it,” James went on, walking over to the window and looking out. “I know how bad it is. The articles said there was a lot of pain. Serious pain.”

  “James,” Poppy gasped.

  “Sometimes they have to do surgery just to try to stop the pain. But whatever they do, it won’t save you. They can fill you full of chemicals and irradiate you, and you’ll still die. Probably before the end of summer.”

  “James—”

  “It will be your last summer—”

  “James, for God’s sake!” It was almost a scream. Poppy was breathing in great shaking gulps, clinging to the blankets. “Why are you doing this to me?”

  He turned and in one movement seized her wrist, his fingers closing over the plastic hospital bracelet
. “I want you to understand that they can’t help you,” he said, ragged and intense. “Do you understand that?”

  “Yes, I understand,” Poppy said. She could hear the mounting hysteria in her own voice. “But is that what you came here to say? Do you want to kill me?”

  His fingers tightened painfully. “No! I want to save you.” Then he let out a breath and repeated it more quietly, but with no less intensity. “I want to save you, Poppy.”

  Poppy spent a few moments just getting air in and out of her lungs. It was hard to do it without dissolving into sobs. “Well, you can’t,” she said at last. “Nobody can.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong.” Slowly he released her wrist and gripped the bed rail instead. “Poppy, there’s something I’ve got to tell you. Something about me.”

  “James…” Poppy could breathe now, but she didn’t know what to say. As far as she could tell, James had gone crazy. In a way, if everything else hadn’t been so awful, she might have been flattered. James had lost his consummate cool—over her. He was upset enough about her situation to go completely nonlinear.

  “You really do care,” she said softly, with a laugh that was half a sob. She put a hand on his where it rested on the bed rail.

  He laughed shortly in turn. His hand flipped over to grasp hers roughly; then he pulled away. “You have no idea,” he said in a terse, strained voice.

  Looking out the window, he added, “You think you know everything about me, but you don’t. There’s something very important that you don’t know.”

  By now Poppy just felt numb. She couldn’t understand why James kept harping on himself, when she was the one about to die. But she tried to conjure up some sort of gentleness for him as she said, “You can tell me anything. You know that.”

  “But this is something you won’t believe. Not to mention that it’s breaking the laws.”

  “The law?”

  “The laws. I go by different laws than you. Human laws don’t mean much to us, but our own are supposed to be unbreakable.”

  “James,” Poppy said, with blank terror. He really was losing his mind.

  “I don’t know the right way to say it. I feel like somebody in a bad horror movie.” He shrugged, and said without turning, “I know how this sounds, but…Poppy, I’m a vampire.”

  Poppy sat still on the bed for a moment. Then she groped out wildly toward the bedside table. Her fingers closed on a stack of little crescent-shaped plastic basins and she threw the whole stack at him.

  “You bastard!” she screamed, and reached for something else to throw.

  CHAPTER 5

  James dodged as Poppy lobbed a paperback book at him. “Poppy—”

  “You jerk! You snake! How can you do this to me? You spoiled, selfish, immature—”

  “Shhh! They’re going to hear you—”

  “Let them! Here I am, and I’ve just found out that I’m going to die, and all you can think of is playing a joke on me. A stupid, sick joke. I can’t believe this. Do you think that’s funny?” She ran out of breath to rave with. James, who had been making quieting motions with his hands, now gave up and looked toward the door.

  “Here comes the nurse,” he said.

  “Good, and I’m going to ask her to throw you out,” Poppy said. Her anger had collapsed, leaving her near tears. She had never felt so utterly betrayed and abandoned. “I hate you, you know,” she said.

  The door opened. It was the nurse with the flowered blouse and green scrub pants. “Is anything the matter here?” she said, turning on the light. Then she saw James. “Now, let’s see; you don’t look like family,” she said. She was smiling, but her voice had the ring of authority about to be enforced.

  “He’s not, and I want him out of here,” Poppy said.

  The nurse fluffed up Poppy’s pillows, put a gentle hand on her forehead. “Only family members are allowed to stay overnight,” she said to James.

  Poppy stared at the TV and waited for James to go. He didn’t. He walked around the bed to stand by the nurse, who looked up at him while she continued straightening Poppy’s blankets. Then her hands slowed and stopped moving.

  Poppy glanced at her sideways in surprise.

  The nurse was just staring at James. Hands limp on the blankets, she gazed at him as if she were mesmerized.

  And James was just staring back. With the light on, Poppy could see James’s face—and again she had that odd feeling of not recognizing him. He was very pale and almost stern looking, as if he were doing something that required an effort. His jaw was tight and his eyes—his eyes were the color of silver. Real silver, shining in the light.

  For some reason, Poppy thought of a starving panther.

  “So you see there’s nothing wrong here,” James said to the nurse, as if continuing a conversation they’d been having.

  The nurse blinked once, then looked around the room as if she’d just awakened from a doze. “No, no; everything’s fine,” she said. “Call me if…” She looked briefly distracted again, then murmured, “If, um, you need anything.”

  She walked out. Poppy watched her, forgetting to breathe. Then, slowly, moving only her eyes, she looked at James.

  “I know it’s a cliché,” James said. “An overused demonstration of power. But it gets the job done.”

  “You set this up with her,” Poppy said in a bare whisper.

  “No.”

  “Or else it’s some kind of psychic trick. The Amazing Whatshisname.”

  “No,” James said, and sat down on an orange plastic chair.

  “Then I’m going crazy.” For the first time that evening Poppy wasn’t thinking about her illness. She couldn’t think properly about anything; her mind was a whirling, crashing jumble of confusion. She felt like Dorothy’s house after it had been picked up by the tornado.

  “You’re not crazy. I probably did this the wrong way; I said I didn’t know how to explain it. Look, I know how hard it is for you to believe. My people arrange it that way; they do everything they can to keep humans not believing. Their lives depend on it.”

  “James, I’m sorry; I just—” Poppy found that her hands were trembling. She shut her eyes. “Maybe you’d better just—”

  “Poppy, look at me. I’m telling you the truth. I swear it.” He stared at her face a moment, then let out a breath. “Okay. I didn’t want to have to do this, but…”

  He stood, leaning close to Poppy. She refused to flinch, but she could feel her eyes widening,

  “Now, look,” he said, and his lips skinned back from his teeth.

  A simple action—but the effect was astonishing. Transforming. In that instant he changed from the pale but fairly ordinary James of a moment ago—into something Poppy had never seen before. A different species of human being.

  His eyes flared silver and his entire face took on a predatory look. But Poppy scarcely noticed that; she was staring at his teeth.

  Not teeth. Fangs. He had canines like a cat’s. Elongated and curving, ending in delicate, piercing points.

  They were nothing like the fake vampire fangs sold at novelty stores. They looked very strong and very sharp and very real.

  Poppy screamed.

  James clapped a hand over her mouth. “We don’t want that nurse back in here.”

  When he lifted the hand, Poppy said, “Oh, my God; oh, my God.…”

  “All those times when you said I could read your mind,” James said. “Remember? And the times when I heard things you didn’t hear, or moved faster than you could move?”

  “Oh, my God.”

  “It’s true, Poppy.” He picked up the orange chair and twisted one of the metal legs out of shape. He did it easily, gracefully. “We’re stronger than humans,” he said. He twisted the leg back and put the chair down. “We see better in the dark. We’re built for hunting.”

  Poppy finally managed to capture an entire thought. “I don’t care what you can do,” she said shrilly. “You can’t be a vampire. I’ve known you since you
were five years old. And you’ve gotten older every year, just like me. Explain that.”

  “Everything you know is wrong.” When she just stared at him, he sighed again and said, “Everything you think you know about vampires, you’ve picked up from books or TV. And it’s all written by humans, I’ll guarantee that. Nobody in the Night World would break the code of secrecy.”

  “The Night World. Where’s the Night World?”

  “It’s not a place. It’s like a secret society—for vampires and witches and werewolves. All the best people. And I’ll explain about it later,” James said grimly. “For now—look, it’s simple. I’m a vampire because my parents are vampires. I was born that way. We’re the lamia.”

  All Poppy could think of was Mr. and Mrs. Rasmussen with their luxury ranch-style house and their gold Mercedes. “Your parents?”

  “Lamia is just an old word for vampires, but for us it means the ones who’re born that way,” James said, ignoring her. “We’re born and we age like humans—except that we can stop aging whenever we want. We breathe. We walk around in the daylight. We can even eat regular food.”

  “Your parents,” Poppy said again faintly.

  He looked at her. “Yeah. My parents. Look, why do you think my mom does interior decorating? Not because they need the money. She meets a lot of people that way, and so does my dad, the society shrink. It only takes a few minutes alone with somebody, and the human never remembers it afterward.”

  Poppy shifted uncomfortably. “So you, um, drink people’s blood, huh?” Even after everything she’d seen, she couldn’t say it without half-laughing.

  James looked at the laces of his Adidas. “Yes. Yes, I sure do,” he said softly. Then he looked up and met her gaze directly.

  His eyes were pure silver.

  Poppy leaned back against the pile of pillows on her bed. Maybe it was easier to believe him because the unbelievable had already happened to her earlier today. Reality had already been turned upside down—so, honestly, what did one more impossibility matter?

  I’m going to die and my best friend is a bloodsucking monster, she thought.

  The argument was over, and she was out of energy. She and James looked at each other in silence.