Shiloh glances at me. “Are you ready?”
The answer is no, but I say to him, “Now or never.”
Bianca
The mashed potatoes and steak on my plate are like a five-star meal. It’s like I’ve never been this hungry in my life—only I know I ate this like a week ago, the last time I had a night off.
Most of my meal is spent gazing out the window. I order hot chocolate. When she brings it to me, it has whipped cream on it. She has this cute motherly smile, and I remember how young I seem to strangers. She must think someone is coming to pick me up.
There’s a rock in my stomach. I want to tell the waitress to stop treating me like I’m a lost little girl because I’m not lost. I just don’t have anyone waiting for me.
Immediately, Jeremiah comes to my mind, and I clench my hand around my mug. My thumb stings. I’ve been chewing my cuticle down to the nail.
I find my sketchbook in my bag, mostly to appear busy, but also because I need something else to think about. When a blank white page is staring up at me, my thoughts tend to sharpen a little. That boy’s face is what comes to me. I realize how badly I want to draw it. It’s been stuck there like a thorn, and I want to banish it from my head by putting it on paper. His hair and jaw are easy. I even get the mouth fairly quickly. But it’s his eyes and the nose that give me trouble. Those damn eyes. Thinking about them makes me feel like I’m being pulled under water.
With a ragged breath I peer up from the page. Two teenage boys with baggy clothes and shallow smiles sit across the aisle. They keep stealing glances at me, and every time I feel like they’ve actually taken something from me. They don’t deserve to look at me, to make jokes about me, even to even pretend they’re happy around me. Not when I feel like this, like something’s chewing on my brain.
Snippets of their conversation reach me. I force my gaze back on my sketchbook, and I realize I’d scrawled a jagged line across the blank space where the boy’s eyes should be. Now there’s nothing but eraser marks to meet my gaze back at me.
“Total babe…”
“…too skinny for me.”
“…still a chick…”
I shouldn’t have come here. It’s just making me feel worse. All these people are staring at me and my flaws. All I want to do is just scream at all of them—
“Stop staring at me!”
I clasp my hands over my mouth. Then I start gulping down hot chocolate, to feel its warmth, but nothing gets through. A little bit splashes onto my book. I curse and try to dry it off with my sleeve. Instead, water starts pouring out of me, soaking into the pages of my sketchbook. I claw at my sleeves, trying to figure out where the leak is coming from.
Then reality snaps back into place. The diner has gone quiet. I feel everyone staring at me. Fight or flight instantly takes over, and I shove all my things into my bag, throwing money down, and I flee.
I have to get out of here. Out of the diner, out of the city, out of my body. I need to find a bench and curl up and close my eyes and feel the night air again, so I can feel something.
This is Jeremiah’s fault. He did it so I’d want to see him. He’s a controlling freak, but he’s smart. The Night House is so inviting right now. I can’t go back or I might do something stupid. We’re absolutely forbidden from interrupting each other’s appointments, but sometimes truly desperate girls do it, without thinking, if it’s been too long…
I’m not that desperate. I can hold it together.
I can hold myself together. Just a little longer.
James
Ally and Shiloh follow behind me as if they expect me to collapse at any moment. I don’t do this very often, so I guess I can’t really blame them. Still, it’s not exactly confidence inspiring.
Philly breathes down my back. I’m trying to focus on this girl, to feel who she is, what she’s doing, where she’s going. I haven’t had to do this a lot. I need to feel every molecule of her being before I can find her.
Sometimes when I feel a person in my head, I can visualize this thread leading me to that person. It starts in my chest and winds out of me, threading through the city. It’s really delicate, and often it breaks and then I have to start over.
But this time, when I visualize the thread, I feel it like one of my own veins is leading me to the girl by blood. I know exactly where she is because I feel her pulling on the thread like she’s feeding off me.
I don’t even notice that I’m running until Shiloh and Ally catch up to me, panting.
“Dude, calm down!” Shiloh barks at me. “I am not on the track team.”
South Street Diner’s pale light spills onto the streets, illuminating a girl standing on the sidewalk, talking to herself. Clothes too tight and a hunger so strong it makes my veins hurt. It’s her.
“Stay here,” I tell Shiloh and Ally.
I’m a block away from her when she starts to run. She’s running at me. I throw my arms up to slow her down, but she doesn’t see me. My mind is telling me to get out of the way, but my body is slower than ever. So when she bumps into me with her frail body and aching bones, I fall straight on the ground.
The street spins around me. I’m on a carnival ride, and I have nothing to hold onto.
When my vision settles, I get back on my feet. “Are you okay?”
She stands there, silent, huge green eyes trying to focus on me. I move one foot an inch forward, trying to get my balance back. She moves hers backward, preparing to run.
I open my mouth to speak, but I can’t say a word. She’s so freaked; I start to doubt my own intentions. I shouldn’t have come. She doesn’t need me. She just needs to go home. I have to pull myself back and find my own head again.
“You,” she says.
“I’m sorry.” The words stumble out of me. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Fear weaves through her whole body. She lives on that fear. But there is something else, something that she’s been dying to feel. It’s so insignificant in comparison to the rest of her emotions, but it’s a spark waiting to ignite a fire. She hopes this isn’t a coincidence.
She whispers, “How did you find me?”
I’m not sure how to answer this question. “I felt you.”
The expression on her face is indescribable, but what she feels is shock. Confusion. Terror. One of her eyebrows quirks up. “You felt me?”
I blurt out, “Can we talk?”
“Who are you?” she asks.
“You don’t recognize me?” I’m a little disheartened that she hasn’t signified that she understands what I can do. This might have been a really bad idea.
“I know your face. I don’t know anything about you.” She crosses her arms, trying to protect herself. “Do you know me?”
“No. Not really. I know you were in trouble. And you…kissed me,” I add quietly.
Her face enflames. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t myself.”
“You don’t have to apologize.” I laugh a little. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m fine,” she answers. “Thank you. I need to go.”
“Oh I, um…” What do I say to make her talk to me? I feel ridiculous. There are people walking by us and cars driving by. It’s hard to think about normal people just living around us. My hand is extended toward her, hanging in the air. I can feel her waiting for me, to see what I’ll do.
“Please take care of yourself,” I say.
She stares at me, a little relieved, a little disappointed. Yeah, me too.
“Goodbye,” she says and turns away.
I blew it.
As she gets farther away, so does her mind. I don’t even realize what’s happening at first. Slowly, my mind closes up and I feel lighter. By the time I realize that the connection has been broken, the girl is long gone. Suddenly the only scars I feel are my own.
Bianca
I wasn’t supposed to live past age thirteen.
It wasn’t a
disease or a condition or anything like that. It was my parents.
To the outside world, my parents were teachers at Bucks County Community College. I knew what they really did, but we didn’t often speak about it. I imagined it was the same for kids whose parents were involved with the military or the CIA. I couldn’t tell anyone about it, or it would put my parents in danger. It’s not like anyone knew about vampires. They wouldn’t believe me anyway.
I didn’t realize, back then, what vampires could do. They didn’t feel real to me.
My parents were always bringing me to stupid dinner parties, because they took me everywhere. They didn’t trust babysitters and couldn’t stand the thought of leaving me alone. They knew what was out there.
It started while I was changing. The dress my mother had picked out was just a hair too small, and it took ten minutes of groaning and yanking to get the stupid thing over my head. My mom gave me a crooked smile when it was finally on.
“Can you breathe?”
I frowned. “Barely.”
She ran her fingers through my hair. “Well, if you just stopped growing up like I asked you, this wouldn’t be a problem.”
I swatted her hand away. “How creepy would it be if I never grew up? Do you really want a thirteen-year-old forever?”
That’s when the window broke upstairs. Everything froze. Then it was like my mom left her loving mother act behind and slipped into someone else’s body: the body of a hunter. She crept over to the stairs, not making a sound, and peered up.
“Mom?” I asked.
She held up her hand and shushed me.
Fear crept through me like ice water. We’d had false alarms before. My parents never wrote anything off; they had to investigate. I never took them seriously. I mean, the idea of vampires actually breaking into the house seemed insane. This time, it was different. I could see the awareness in her body, like a sixth sense kicking in. This time was real.
She came back to me and put her hands on either side of my face. Her voice was barely audible. “You know what to do. Don’t make a sound. I’m going to lock your door. If you don’t hear from us in five minutes, go through the cellar, go to the neighbors and call the police.”
“Is it really them?” I breathed.
She held my gaze for an instant. “Maybe.”
Tears trickled down my face. She kissed the top of my head.
“Hush. You’ll be fine,” she said. “I love you so much.”
I wanted to say it back, but she told me not to make a sound. So I cried silently as she went into the cellar and returned with an old hunting knife. My hand was so sweaty, I almost cut myself on the blade. It stained my hand orange with rust. They always said iron worked best, but this blade was old and withered. Then my mother vanished up the stairs. I heard the click of the lock.
“I love you too,” I whispered to the empty room.
In the silence, I listened hard, but I also tried to block it all out. This was our worst nightmare come true. They had never come to our house before. Vampires weren’t a real concern in the suburbs of Bucks County. It was like being afraid of terrorists: it didn’t really affect us. And yet, here they were.
It started off slow. Shuffling and scuffling that turned into bumps and crashes, which escalated to yelling and screaming. My heart was pounding so hard, I thought it would break my ribs. The damn dress was so tight, and it constricted my chest with every heaving breath I took. Everything inside of me was screaming, Get out of the house! But I couldn’t. My parents were up there fighting for me. How could I leave them?
Then I heard a door bust open from somewhere above, then the sound of someone descending the stairs in double time. I sank to the floor, the knife in my lap, crying violently. This was it. All those idle threats, crazy safety procedures, for nothing.
Mom would get her wish after all. I wasn’t going to have the chance to grow up.
“Oh, no.” This was the voice of my killer. He sounded ashamed, but more than that, he sounded scared. I covered my ears and buried my face in my knees. I couldn’t bear to look at him.
A long, painfully still moment went by. I raised my head, expecting to see the bogeyman himself. Instead, I saw a sickly vampire with ashen skin, watery blue eyes, and long disheveled blond hair. He took a step closer and I gripped the knife.
Then he raised his hands in surrender. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
He knelt and I tried to breathe through my terror.
“I have to get you out of here. Before they find you.”
I just shook my head. He reached, slowly at first, then so fast I barely saw it. The knife was out of my hands, and then I was in his arms. I tried to scream, but he covered my mouth.
“If they hear you, they’ll kill you.” He almost sounded as scared as I felt.
I swallowed my scream.
“Close your eyes.” He had a soft voice. I did as he said.
Something large and warm wrapped around me and I was in the air, flying so fast that my eyes stung. He carried me as he ran through the cellar, out of the house, into the yard. He passed at least three of my neighbors’ houses until he finally stopped and placed me onto their back porch.
I was dizzy from the journey and the fear. When I looked up at him, his face swam in my vision. Something acid-hot burned my arm, and I realized he’d cut me. He rubbed both of his hands against the wound. He had to stop and take a ragged breath as he did this. His hands shook a little.
“You said you wouldn’t hurt me,” I squeaked out.
He snapped out of his stupor. “S-sorry. I haven’t eaten in a while. ”
“Please don’t bite me!” I shrieked, my eyes shut tight. I expected teeth in my neck at any moment—but it didn’t happen.
“It’s okay, I’m only pretending to kill you,” he said. “To throw them off your track.”
I risked another glance at him. “Who are you?”
There was a long pause before he said, “I’m Micah.” His big blue eyes found mine. “I’m sorry I couldn’t stop them.”
“We have to go back,” I pulled on his arm. “I have to help my parents! Please!”
He took my shoulders. “They’re already gone. I’m sorry.”
“Wh…what?” My breath hitched.
“They were hunters…But they didn’t tell me you were so young…they didn’t…tell me…”
His gaze met mine once more. I saw the regret in him. And then he was gone.
James
Shiloh’s sharp voice wakes me up. He says, “We can’t take him to a hospital, Al. What are we going to say? Our friend passed out because he telepathically found this girl on the streets?”
The two of them are on the brink of panic attacks.
“I’m not actually telepathic,” I force the words out of my dry throat. I can’t quite open my eyes.
A wave of relief crashes over them both, and someone’s arms squeeze me too tightly.
“Jesus Christmas, James, don’t ever do that again!” Ally’s voice is muffled against my coat.
“I will if you don’t let go of me,” I mumble.
She jumps away. I see I’m back on the sidewalk. Shiloh kneels next to me and slips an arm behind my back.
“Let’s get you home. Ally, call a cab.”
He helps me up, and I feel their concern pulsing around me, like heartbeats, but they are the only ones I feel.
“What happened?” Shiloh asks.
“I lost her.”
“No shit.” Shiloh tentatively takes his arm back, to see if I can stand on my own. I lean against the building, but I don’t fall.
“I mean, I can’t feel her anymore.”
“Oh.” He can’t decide if he’s happy or disappointed. His eyes are wide, but his lips are thin. “That’s probably best.”
I nod, but I don’t know if I agree. I feel like I let her down. Ally turns to face us as a streak of yellow comes to a halt in front of her.
<
br /> “Is he cool to walk?”
I answer her by getting into the cab on shaky legs. There’s an emptiness gathering inside me now that I’ve been separated from the girl. I just want to be in bed. Soon enough we’re speeding down the street, and I’m starting to feel sick.
This has never happened to me. Once I make a connection, it stays with me. I feel so uncomfortable. There’s a part of me that’s gone. I know it. I’ll never get it back.
“It’s okay,” Ally says and I wonder why she said it, when I see my hand is clutching her arm.
I release her, but I don’t feel any better.
She touches my hand with hers and smiles encouragingly, but for some reason, she feels like she lost something too.
The drive is short and, before I realize what’s happening, they’re helping me out of the cab.
“What are we going to tell the ’rents?”
“Tell them we grabbed some food and I ate something bad,” I say.
That’s what I’m starting to feel like. I know I won’t get sick, but I feel it strongly. It’s as if the girl is still haunting me, like a phantom limb.
When we enter my house, the lights are too bright. While Ally leaves some lies for our parents to chew on, Shiloh leads me to my bed where I willingly collapse.
Shiloh sits on the edge of my bed. “I say we move on and try to pretend this never happened.”
“I don’t know if I can.”
He pats my shoulder. “How about I spend the night? Ally’s getting that look she gets right before she does something stupid.”
I always forget that Shiloh knows Ally as well as I do, and he doesn’t even have my ability. His laughter is gruff. “I’m starting to think she just wants to meet this girl so she can have another crazy sibling.”
“Remind me why you like her.” Shiloh’s face turns red like the sunset.
“Shut the hell up, Jay, she’s coming.”
Ally walks into the room, and the whole atmosphere changes like there’s a gas leak. Our parents are close behind.
The Night House Page 6