Lust for Life

by Jeri Smith-Ready

  Shane stops convulsing, then goes limp in my arms for a moment, his heart pounding. He sucks in a quick, deep breath and lets out another grunt of pain.

  “What’s happening?” He puts a hand to his chest. “Am I dying? It feels like I’m dying.”

  I put my fingers under his chin and examine his face. Tiny wrinkles have formed outside each eye, and—are those gray hairs?

  “Oh, wow.”

  “What? What’s wrong with me? Am I sick?”

  “No.” I try not to laugh. “You’re forty-two.”

  His grimace fades. He puts a hand to his face, then looks at his arm. All of the hair there is still light brown. No age spots, naturally, since he hasn’t been in the sun in sixteen years.

  “Amazing,” David whispers.

  “Understatement of the universe!” Lori bounces on her toes. “Not only are they not dead, they’re alive.” She points at me. “Next summer you’ll be tan.”

  David gets to his feet and brushes the dust off his knees. “You should both have a physical exam, make sure everything’s in working order. The Control’s physicians can take care of that.”

  “Shit. The Control.” Shane looks around. “What happened to Captain Henley and Agent Rosso?”

  David shakes his head. “They didn’t make it. Jeremy and I put the blankets on them, but they burned up just like you did.”

  Shane’s face turns hard with anguish. “Son of a bitch.”

  “Elijah’s already notified Colonel Lanham. We got the license plates off the security camera and a pretty good look at the guys who blocked your way.”

  Thinking of the driveway reminds me of the last time I was on it, and who I was with.

  “Mom!”

  I turn for the front door, tripping over the blackout curtain but regaining my balance, even with my new/old human lack of coordination.

  The stairs are trickier. I let out a frustrated grunt as I lift the hem of the curtain. Finally I get to the top step.

  The door opens and my mother’s standing there, looking like a bedraggled angel. Her red-blond hair is mussed, and her face is streaked with mascara, making her look even worse than when she was a hostage. She’s still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

  She puts a hand to her mouth, fingertips barely touching her lower lip. “You . . .”

  “Mom.”

  I fall into her arms, home at last.

  • • •

  Once we’re all inside, with the door safely shut, the main office floods with joyous vampires. They were watching it all on the security monitors downstairs. They raged as we burned, then mourned after we disappeared. Most of the DJs went back to their apartment to weep and drink. Only Adrian and Franklin remained in the lounge, watching the monitors in silent vigil, though they had no reason to hope.

  All six DJs gather around us now, hugging and cheering, their faces tearstained and their breath reeking of booze. I hold my elbows tight against my sides to keep my blackout curtain from falling.

  Jeremy pinches the skin on my forearm. “You’re totally human.” He examines Shane’s face. “And you’re old!”

  “Gee, thanks,” Shane says with a laugh.

  “I mean, you’re older. How the hell did this happen?”

  “If we ever figure it out,” Shane says, “we’ll let you know. Thanks for trying to save Captain Henley.”

  “I’m sorry we were too late.” Jeremy folds his arms and winces, and I realize they’re burned, as is his neck. He still smells of smoke.

  “You should go to the hospital,” I tell him.

  “I was just about to take him,” David says, “and your mom, to get that ankle checked out.”

  I look at my mother’s foot, which is turning a nasty shade of purple. “I want to come with you.”

  “Are you kidding?” she says. “Someone just tried to kill you. You’re not going out in public and letting them know they failed.”

  She’s right. I want to be out in the sunshine and go to all the places I used to go. But we have to hole up for our own safety.

  I turn to Adrian. “Has Kashmir called?”

  “No, but when he does, I’ll tell him you’re dead. Those two guys who cut you off ran after Shane and the Control agents. They may have seen you burn.”

  “Good,” Shane says, “so he won’t just be taking your word for it.” He turns to the rest of them, looking like a badass Roman in his thick black toga. “As far as everyone here is concerned, Ciara and I are dead.”

  “We can fake tears pretty well,” Regina says. “And we’ll put the word out to the other vampires in the area.”

  “This might be outta line”—Monroe puts his hands in his pockets—“but could we give y’all a funeral, too? Maybe with Jim’s Monday night?”

  My jubilation fades, replaced by something calmer and purer, as I remember Jim lying on his back at the Isle of Wight. At peace.

  “That’s a brilliant idea,” I tell Monroe. “Did I give you some of my con-artist savvy when you made me?” I start toward him to give him a hug, but he takes a step back. Right. I am almost naked.

  “You know what this means, though?” Shane frowns. “No going out for pancakes.”

  Franklin holds up a hand. “If it’s pancakes you want, I can make you better ones than you’d get at IHOP.”

  The humans and younger vamps gasp at this hubristic claim.

  “But first, Ciara, you should put some clothes on.” Lori tugs my arm. “You look cold.”

  She’s right. An odd sensation, chilliness.

  “Come on.” Shane nudges me. “Let’s go get dressed and be where it’s quiet for two minutes.”

  “Hang on.” David looks at Regina. “Take Dexter into your room until Shane and Ciara are ready to meet him again.”

  My heart twists. What if our own dog doesn’t recognize us? He knew me as a human not long ago, but he’s never smelled this version of Shane.

  One thing at a time, I tell myself. One thing at a time.

  Inside Shane’s room, we close the door and let our curtains fall.

  No kisses, no caresses, just a long, hard embrace, as if only our arms can stop us from slipping into that other world again. I marvel at how strong Shane still is, even in mortal form.

  “You wouldn’t leave me,” he whispers.

  “Never.” I turn my head so he can hear me clearly. “And you called me out of the darkness. Just like when I died before.” I splay my hand on his chest. “Like Orpheus, only successful, remember? You saved me.”

  “You saved me first. I would’ve been stuck in that first void if you hadn’t pulled me in.”

  “I didn’t. The light did.”

  “But you convinced it, Ciara. You took me to heaven.”

  He bends down and kisses me. His lips feel full and soft and completely, utterly Shane. I don’t know if we’ll ever understand what happened, or where we were. But we’re here, and we’re together, and for now, that’s all that matters.

  That, and pancakes.

  • • •

  We return to the DJs’ common room, where the five of them—Monroe, Spencer, Adrian, Noah, and Regina—plus Elijah are clustered near the center, speaking in hushed voices.

  They fall silent at our approach. I’ve never felt like such a stranger to them, not even the night we first met. If I were them, I’d be freaked, now that reality is sinking in.

  Surprisingly, Monroe is the first to speak. “Tell us what it was like.”

  We sit on the foldout sofa, which I try not to think of as the place where I died, though less than an hour ago I was sitting on it with Human Ciara 1.0.

  Shane nods at me, and I start. “We burned up in the sunlight, which hurt about as much as you’d imagine. And then we—”

  My voice is lost in the sudden roar coming from Regina’s room. Dexter is barking his head off.

  I raise my voice. “We went through a dark place, and then—”

  Dexter barks louder, and now his claws are scrabbling against
the door. There’s a crash of glass, a yelp, then silence. Before we can react, he starts barking again as if nothing happened.

  “Shit, I bet he broke my full-length mirror.” Regina stalks over to her bedroom. “Might as well get this over with.”

  “Hold on.” Elijah catches up to her. “I’ll grab him while you open the door.”

  Too late. With a growl, Dexter slips past the former linebacker and races toward me. For a moment, terror fills my veins. I can see the monster in my pupper’s eyes.

  I crouch down. “Dexter, come!” It seems like a superfluous command, since he’s running toward us. But maybe he’ll know my voice.

  Dexter slows just before he reaches me, then stops, one paw raised. He extends his neck as far as it will go, pointing his nose like a bird dog. I keep still, avoiding eye contact. “Good boy.”

  Another step. He sniffs my wrist, soaking it in slobber, his soft, loose jowls draping over my skin.

  Dexter lifts his head, his eyes meeting mine. Then his mouth opens in a doggie smile.

  My vision blurs with tears. “Come here, baby guy.”

  He steps forward, butting his head into my chest, the doggie version of a hug.

  “That’s right. Smushy Face.” I resist the urge to throw my arms around him, in case he still feels threatened by my newness. He shoves his snout into my armpit, breathing deep. His tail waves slowly, then moves into full-out wag.

  “Dexter.”

  The dog freezes at the sound of Shane’s voice behind me. I wrap my hand around his leather collar as a low growl begins deep in his chest.

  “It’s all right, buddy.” Shane kneels beside me, showing none of the caution he exhorted me to show. “It’s me. It’s Daddy.”

  Dexter backs away, whimpering. He casts anxious looks at Shane, then away, like he’s shaking his head in denial.

  “Come on, Dexter.” Heartache bends Shane’s whisper. “Don’t be afraid.”

  Elijah steps forward with Dexter’s leash. “Let me. Just in case.”

  I bite my lip and nod. I’m not strong enough anymore to hold on to Dexter if he goes into full attack mode because he thinks I’m being threatened.

  Shane rubs his face, clearly upset at this development. Does he really smell or sound that different?

  I sit at one end of the couch. Elijah sits at the other end, and Dexter lies on the floor at his feet, since that’s as far as the leash will reach. Shane moves to sit beside me, and Dexter raises his head, giving a low growl as the fur rises along his spine.

  “Sorry.” Shane backs away toward the table.

  “Maybe if you fed him,” I suggest. “We have dog blood in the fridge here.”

  “Good idea.”

  Monroe stands and puts out a hand. “I’ll do it.”

  “Thanks.” Shane sits at the table. I go over to join him, and he gives me a surprised look.

  “What?” I say. “You’re shocked I’d choose you over a dog?”

  “Over that dog? Yeah, a little. Go on. Start where you left off.”

  I turn to the others. “We went through a dark place. And then a light place where I saw my dying human self as I became a vampire, and Shane’s dying self, and . . . Jim’s dying self.”

  They make astonished noises of varying pitch and volume. Adrian sinks into one of the armchairs. “How was he? Where was he?”

  “On the Isle of Wight, where his makers turned him.” Shane glances at Monroe, who’s heating up a serving of dog blood in the kitchen. “My guess is that when vampires die, we go back to the place we were last human.”

  “Oh, hell.” Spencer looks horrified.

  “But I think we can leave when we’re ready,” I tell them. “We can move on. He showed us a place in the sky. It was beautiful.”

  “Then why didn’t you go there?” Regina asks me.

  “I don’t know. All I know is that we ended up in darkness again. But Shane led me out. He said he’d been there before.”

  Monroe comes over with a cereal bowl, which he hands to Shane. Dexter sits up quickly, nose in the air. He smells dog blood.

  Elijah takes up the slack in the leash. “Go ahead, McAllister. Set it on the coffee table there.”

  Shane get ups and approaches Dexter slowly but casually. “Here you go, boy.” He sets the bowl in front of Dexter, atop a Guitar World magazine.

  Without blinking, the dog shoves his snout into the bowl. His ears pull back and lift slightly in happy-hound configuration.

  As usual, Dexter finishes his meal in seconds flat. Then he looks up at Shane and gives a booming bark.

  “Good boy!” Shane says with gusto. Dexter wags his tail, and when Shane reaches to take the bowl, the dog lunges—to lick his hand.

  “That was easy,” Regina remarks.

  I shrug, though I want to cha-cha with joy. “It’s how David won Dexter over, too, way back when they first met.”

  “Just to be safe,” Shane says, “let’s sit over here for a while.” He returns to the seat beside me at the table.

  “You look the same as you did before you turned,” Noah tells me, “but Shane has aged.”

  “I’ve aged, too, I think. But only seven months.”

  Shane runs a self-conscious hand over his face. “Something happened after I came back. It hurt like hell, but now I feel normal. Well, normal for a forty-two-year-old human.” He blinks hard and shakes his head. “Fuck, I’m forty-two.”

  “And I’m twenty-seven.” I lighten my tone. “But what we both are right now is really, really hungry. Can Franklin come make us breakfast while we finish talking?”

  They pass a look among themselves. “We don’t usually let humans in here,” Spencer says, “except Jeremy in an extreme emergency.”

  “What about me and Shane?”

  “You could stay at David’s,” Regina suggests. “If you hunker down in the backseat and leave during the day, no one’ll see you.”

  “You’ve gotta be kidding me.” Shane advances on them. “All these years I was one of you. Now you’re kicking us out of my room?”

  “No. We ain’t.” Monroe comes to stand between us, facing the other DJs. “Human or vampire, they’re us, and they stay.”

  “Thank you.” I resist the urge to hug him. “What about Franklin?”

  He gives me a warning glare. “Little girl, don’t push your luck.”

  27

  Pretend We’re Dead

  Still hungry, Shane and I go upstairs in search of takeout menus. Lori is at her desk, typing madly.

  “I’m writing a press release about your deaths,” she says, with way more glee than she should.

  “I was just about to ask you to do that.” I pull out the chair next to her desk. “Were they heroic? Did we die while saving a blind orphan and a three-legged puppy from terrorists?”

  “Officially you took a leave of absence. Like Jim supposedly did after the Control took him away. So Kashmir will see the announcement and think we’re covering up for your deaths. Especially with the quote, unquote ‘secret funeral.’ ” She takes a sip of her stinky herbal pregnancy tea, which I’m glad I can no longer smell as much. “Shane is leaving to study guitar with a Tibetan monk, and Ciara, you’re going with him because you convinced him to elope.”

  “A Himalayan honeymoon. I like it.”

  “I have something else you’ll like.” She scoots her chair back, almost running over Shane’s toe, and opens her middle desk drawer. “I’ve been keeping them since you died. The other time.”

  Lori hands me a package about half the size of a tissue box. I tug off its red ribbon and lift the lid.

  For the first time in my third life, I start to cry.

  “I don’t know why I kept them, but they reminded me of you the way you were when you . . .” She chokes up herself.

  I lift the tortoiseshell-framed sunglasses out of the box, gripping the white tissue paper in my other hand. “I tried to give these to you after I died.”

  “You tried to give me a whole box
of stuff. And I cried, and then I told you we couldn’t be friends, because I was scared. And you got mad and broke everything in the box, which I totally deserved. But I dug these out of the trash and had them repaired.”

  I go to put on the shades, but she grabs my hand. “Do it outside.”

  She gets up and moves for the front door. Shane beats her there—fast now from enthusiasm instead of preternatural speed.

  “I’ve always wanted to do this.” He takes a deep breath, turns the key, then swings the door wide.

  Soft light pours in, bathing his body and upturned face. He stretches his arms and examines them. They aren’t flaming even a little bit.

  I step into the doorway beside him, my tears acting like prisms to bend the sunbeams. Hand in hand, we walk down the stairs onto the grass, where the full sunlight from the southern horizon behind the station can reach us. I lift the sunglasses to my face and put them on, then turn to wave at Lori.

  “How do they look?”

  “YAAAAAY!” Lori jumps up and down at the top of the stairs. Then the phone rings behind her. She dashes back inside.

  I gaze up at Shane, drinking in the sight of him in the sun. His eyes are bluer than ever, and the way the breeze tosses his hair over his forehead and cheekbones makes me want to do something other than eat food.

  “You still look hot in those.” He gives me a bewildered smile. “I’m trying to focus on all the minor stuff, so my head doesn’t explode trying to figure out what it all means. Why it happened, what we do now. What does our future look like, now that we can do anything?”

  Part of me warms with anticipation—of trips to the beach, pizza and nachos shared during football games, waking to see his face in the morning light.

  Another part grows cold with fear. What if I’m not what he wants as a human? Now that he can have anyone—not just someone who understands and tolerates the vamp thing—why would he choose me?

  I press my left thumb against my ring finger, like I always do when I get nervous about the future.

  “Oh, no.” I jerk my hand to my face. “My engagement ring is gone.”

  “It’s probably on the ground over here.”