by Rae, Nikki
“Stop lying,” he says. “You haven’t been fine since we left New York.”
I straighten myself the best that I can. “I’m just a little off,” I say. “I’ll be fine once I eat something.”
“You sure?” Jade asks. “You haven’t eaten anything since…” He doesn’t finish the sentence because we both know it’s the same thing he said a few seconds ago: since I left New York.
“You don’t think we should call Myles?”
The sound of his name is like glass piercing my gut. Or maybe that’s the hunger. Or both.
“No,” I choke out. I realize I yelled the word rather than calmly spoke it and I close my mouth so I don’t yell anything else. Screaming would feel so good right now. Almost as good as lying down.
“What happened?” He finally asks the question I never wanted him to ask.
I don’t want to admit how badly I want to be near Myles right now. How much I want him to touch me and make everything okay.
“I can’t,” I finally decide on saying. My voice cracks and there are tears threatening the backs of my eyes. “I just want to get off the bus, okay?” I mean to sound calm and normal but it comes out as more of a plea.
Jade pauses for a second but it feels like the longest second of my life. He looks like he wants to hug me, ask me more questions, or maybe even go back to bed himself. “Okay,” he says, his voice somehow even quieter than it was before.
We check in at the front desk–Boo and Trei share a room, Jade and I share the other. I’m grateful we’re alone but I don’t want him to be worried. I don’t want him to call Myles himself. I don’t want him to ask me any more questions because even though I have a lot of the answers, they scare me and I don’t want to scare him too.
“Do you want to take a shower first?” he asks once the door is closed.
“No,” I say. “You can go.”
“Okay.” Jade sets his bag down on a bed with bright orange sheets. There’s a small table in the corner, and I sit down there. “We’re meeting everyone in an hour for food, but do you want me to get something from room service for you?”
The thought of food churns my stomach, but the thought of starving doesn’t seem any better. I act like I’m busy looking for something in my backpack. “I can wait,” I say.
There’s a text from Myles on my phone, lighting up the interior of my back pack as Jade leaves the room.
How are you feeling? Do you need anything?
I tap the screen too hard when I type out my answer: Shitty. No.
It seems so simple, just typing two words rather than having to explain anything. I like how that feels, so I keep going: Michael is going to kill me. I saw him last night. What are we going to do about that?
There’s a long pause on the other side of the conversation, then: I’m having the protector of this area look into it. What do you mean you saw him?
I don’t think about the words I enter into the phone, I just tap the letters and send: He was fucking THERE. You may not be able to fix me, but you have to fix this. Please.
The door to the bathroom squeaks open and Jade comes back out in clean clothes, his hair damp. “All yours,” he says. “You okay to meet me at the Denny’s down the street in a few?”
I can tell by the sound of his voice that he doesn’t want to leave me but I think the question was to prove to me that he thinks I’m okay even if he doesn’t believe it himself.
“Go ahead,” I say. “I’ll be there as soon as I’m ready.”
I stuff my phone into the bottom of my backpack without looking at the new text from Myles before I take a shower. I don’t want to talk anymore.
When I’m in the steamy hotel bathroom, I let myself fall apart. I turn the shower on and sit under the hot spray, crying as quietly as I can. I keep my eyes closed so I don’t see any colors, but I know that’s stupid by now. I see them either way. I’m brave enough to shave my legs without thinking about the cold, straight metal inside.
That’s not me anymore. It can’t be.
What point would it make anyway? A vampire with little to no blood in her body, cutting herself to get rid of the little bit she has just so the wound can heal, like it never happened at all.
I cut the water and wrap a towel around myself. I sit down on the closed toilet lid, shutting my eyes and trying to make the constant thud in my ears go away.
Sophie, a voice comes to me through the noise of my own body. Open your eyes.
My eyes open, and when they do, I’m not in the bathroom anymore, I’m at the beach.
I have to blink a few times to adjust to the dim light. There’s a jungle gym with a slide, crystal blue water that I can see through, bright yellow sand. It’s like someone’s taken an image of a beach and saturated the colors so they look nothing like a real one.
When I look down, I’m sitting on a piano bench but I can’t find my instrument anywhere.
And there are two legs in dark blue jeans resting against my bare knee.
I’m sorry, Myles says in my mind. I just wanted to make sure you were alright.
I find that I don’t need to even try when I answer. It’s somehow easier than speaking out loud right now. How are you doing this when we’re not near each other? Am I dreaming?
He shrugs. Sort of. And it’s hard, but not impossible. He runs a hand through his hair.
With nothing to say, I scan the scenery again. There’s canary yellow sand beneath my bare feet. I’m still wrapped in a towel with wet hair. Is this what my subconscious is up to these days?
Myles looks around too. It’s a fair guess.
I take in a deep breath and for the first time since this morning, my lungs feel like they’re able to hang onto the air without sinking my entire body into the ground.
It didn’t work, I state. Did it?
I can’t figure it out. I didn’t think it was possible for thoughts to sound sad, like crying, but they do. Peoples’ bodies have resisted blood before, but never like this. It should be going through you, you’re supposed to be getting used to it and then you’ll want it on your own.
I’m rejecting it, I guess.
Myles nods. We can still try a donor. We can still do something else. It’s not over.
His tears are the same color as the ocean in front of me, which I’m only now noticing is the same color of his eyes. You should be okay for a little while, but then what?
But he’s not asking me.
I don’t know, I tell him anyway. I should be scared that he doesn’t know either but I’m tired. If I don’t drink blood, I’ll die. Right?
He nods. Eventually. I won’t let that happen.
I dig my fingers into the bench under my legs.
We’ll figure it out, he says. I don’t want to force you to do anything anymore.
I shrug. You could have asked. But even my thoughts can’t muster enough anger to shoot the words through him. They sound pathetic.
I know. I’m sorry.
If you take it away...the hold you have on me, will I throw up the blood?
Now he shrugs. I don’t know. Some of it definitely got through your veins and into your system, but not all of it. I don’t know what will happen.
Can you take it away?
He nods. I’ll do anything you want, he says. I don’t want you to hate me more. Do you want me to be there when you wake up?
I think about it for a minute. Do I really want to be alone when this ends, when the blood comes back out and I won’t know what happens next?
Yes, I say. For a little.
I understand. He looks off to the waves as they crash into the sand. You need your maker right now.
I take a deep breath, refusing to cry before I nod.
Then I’m awake, shot back into the bathroom where I was before, only I’m lying on the ground. My chest is no longer tight, my head is no longer throbbing. After I’m dressed, I check the time. It’s only been fifteen minutes. So I have enough time to collapse onto the bed.
&
nbsp; A knock startles me. I nearly forgot that he was coming. I almost don’t want to open the door. I turn my head to the right. Though the room is completely dark and my abilities of being able to see in the dark are about the same as they were when I was human–nonexistent–I know he’s standing in the corner. I can’t tell if he’s materialized here or if I closed my eyes when he entered the room. More lost time.
I stand, leaning against the wall opposite him.
“How are you?” he asks.
I can’t stop myself from laughing. The sound fills my throat and bubbles out of my mouth. “I’m just great,” I say through an almost-giggle. “Amazing.”
He shakes his head. “I’m sorry,” he says. “That was a stupid thing to say.”
When I look at him, I want to kiss him. I shouldn’t want to, but it’s all I can think about for the longest moment. I’m inches in front of him before I realize my legs have moved at all.
“I’m sorry,” I say, running a hand through his hair and then around the back of his neck, pressing him closer to me. “I just...”
I become a being of pure need then. Needing his mouth on mine. Needing his body against mine. Myles isn’t responding. He doesn’t move his lips. He doesn’t move at all. I stop, feeling stupid and guilty. “I’m sorry,” I repeat. “I–”
“It’s okay,” he says.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” I say, backing away a little. I can still feel his breath on my face, his wrists are still pinned under my palms against the wall, but at least our lips aren’t touching anymore.
“It’s okay, Sophie.”
“Don’t say that,” I spit out. I can feel the bones in his arms under the skin. It would be so easy to snap them and what scares me is that some deep, buried part of me wants it. Wants to take the anger, betrayal, confusion, and lies and funnel them into this one swift movement to cause him pain.
But after I blink a few times, the thought is gone and the very idea of it makes my eyes water. I could never hurt him. I don’t really want to. Do I?
“Sophie.” He says my name like it will bring me back from the dead. “Take a breath.”
I squeeze my eyes shut.
“Please? You’ll feel a little better.”
I pull in air and push it out. I don’t feel any better but my grip on his arms loosens. Myles turns his wrists under my hands, testing out the movement before I open my eyes and let go. I back away from him completely, hands on my head so my brain won’t liquefy and spill out of my ears.
“Make it stop,” I say. “Please make it stop.” I kneel down, my legs too shaky to support my weight.
Myles takes two steps cautiously towards me. “I can’t, Sophie.”
I feel him sit down next to me, his hand on my back almost electric when I feel it through the thin fabric of my tank top. “I can’t do this.”
He lets me sob for a while before he says, “Yes, you can.”
I shake my head and the pounding becomes worse.
“Look at me,” he says, taking my head in his hand and giving me no choice.
His eyes blaze into mine. He looks like he’s about to cry too. “You can,” he says. “It’s just going to be hard.”
I feel a tingle at the base of my skull and before I see him move, he’s holding me and I’m warm. I don’t feel heavy with thick blood in my veins
“Your body doesn’t have to hold onto the blood anymore,” he whispers.
I expect to start throwing up but I don’t. Nothing happens at all.
After the longest time, I say, “I don’t want to hurt anyone.” My voice is weak, but I pray that saying the words makes them truer.
He pulls me even closer. “You didn’t hurt me,” he says.
I sniff. “I hurt Evan,” I blurt out.
That makes him pause. “You did? How?”
Myles shifts away from me and I’m instantly cold. I want to cling to him, have him be my protection from all of this, but that isn’t how life works. Not my old one and not the one I have now.
He lets me wipe my face and catch my breath before he speaks again. “How, Sophie?” he asks gently, his hand still lingering on my back.
“I don’t know,” I say, the tears starting to dry up. “I...I was just really angry and I hurt him.”
“Did you hit him? Something else?”
“He was apologizing for what he did when I was sick,” I say. “He apologized but acted like it was no big deal so I was mad...and I told him that just because you half-turned him or whatever, it didn’t mean that it would be okay to do the same thing to me.”
I only now realize that I wasn’t supposed to know about how Evan was turned. It’s a secret thing, turning. I just know it is. Because when I think about myself changing into what I am now, I don’t want anyone else knowing besides Myles.
“I’m sorry. I was mad,” I interrupt myself. “But he got even angrier.”
“I can imagine,” Myles says to himself. “Did he hurt you?”
“He grabbed my wrists, but no.” I say. “He didn’t hurt me before he was just thrown across the room.”
Myles gulps. His eyes widen and he glances at me, like he’s remembering that I can now see subtle things like that when they may have previously gone unnoticed.
“You threw him with your mind?”
“I–I think so. Jade told me how this light came out of my hands and Evan fell backwards.” I swallow. “Evan told me that only really old vampires know how to do it.”
He nods. “That’s true.”
“And just now,” I say, having to take a breath before continuing so I don’t lose it. “I thought about snapping both of your wrists...just because I knew I could.”
I’m expecting him to be upset, to at least be a little shocked. First I hurt one of his vampires then I confess to him that I wanted to break his arms.
But he takes me back in his arms and hugs me. When I hesitate to hug him back, he wraps my hands around his body. I remember that night in his tree house when we first hugged. When I first hugged him back. That first time we closed that small distance between our two bodies and let them touch, scared of ourselves and each other. I wonder if I’ve really come all that far at all.
“No matter where we stand,” he whispers. “I love you, Sophie. Don’t be afraid.”
That last part starts up the tears again. I remember when I lied and told him I wasn’t afraid of anything. When I turned around and told him that I was.
“I can’t help it,” I say. “How is it that I can’t drink blood, I feel sick all the time because of it, but I can do things that only experienced vampires know how to do? And…Michael…” I can’t finish the thought. “How am I supposed to not be scared of myself, of everything?”
Those words are supposed to go unspoken but he’s somehow pulled them out.
I can tell by the way he looks at me when we pull away from each other that he wants to kiss me but he holds himself back. Despite how badly I would like that right now, it’s easier to stay apart. I can’t handle more emotions at the moment, and any associated with him are complicated enough as it is.
I swallow hard. “I–” I want to go on, to dump everything on top of him, but I’m hungry. So hungry. “I have to go.” I’m on my feet before he can stand.
“Sophie,” Myles warns. “I think we should solve this now.”
I shake my head. “No,” I say, the anger returning suddenly. “I think you need to solve the Michael trying to kill me problem and I’ll solve the my-brother-is-worried-about-me problem.”
The words seem to have so much force that he has to lean against the wall so he doesn’t fall over. I take the opportunity to leave, praying that he doesn’t follow. And he doesn’t.
Chapter 13
It’s in the Blood
“The killer in me is the killer in you.”—The Smashing Pumpkins
I find Jade in the Denny’s down the street and sit down next to him. “Where is everyone?” I ask. My tongue feels thick.
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br /> He’s staring at a menu and it takes a while to answer but thankfully, he doesn’t ask what’s wrong. “On their way,” he says. “We’re the only ones on time.”
A waitress comes over to us with a perky smile and asks if I want anything to drink.
“Water,” I say. “Please.”
She disappears, leaving Jade and I alone.
I open the menu in front of me with trembling hands and when I try to read it, pictures of eggs and pancakes blur, the letters of words stretch out and push together. The pounding in my head is back and it’s more intense this time.
I try not to think about Myles back in my hotel room. Maybe he’s left or maybe he’s there, waiting for me. The same way Michael is waiting for me.
The waitress comes back and sets down my drink. I finally take my sunglasses off, realizing they’ve been on my face the entire time. She hands me a straw but she doesn’t toss it onto the table like a lot of waitresses do. As soon as my fingertips touch the paper covered plastic, I wish she was like other waitresses. It’s like the straw is some kind of wire, connecting two different electrical appliances. I can see every color in her: pink, orange, green. I know if I concentrate just a little bit harder, I can suck up those colors without much effort.
I break the contact, leaving her to hold the straw in mid air before letting it fall to the table. “Are–” It takes her a second to recover, for her smile to be put back into place. “Are you ready to order?”
Without saying anything to either her or Jade, I slip out of the booth and head in the direction I think the bathroom will be; my instinct is right. Even better is that it’s a single stall. I sit on the closed toilet seat, trying to keep my hands from shaking. I shrug off my trench coat, sweating under the heavy fabric. Somewhere in the back of my head, I think I know why I’ve started to feel so shitty, but I don’t want to think about it. Blood. The word swirls into my head unwanted and I don’t know how to get it out once it’s there. It hangs onto my brain and sticks to the surface of my skull.
I need blood.
If I close my eyes, I can imagine it. How warm and smooth it would feel in my mouth, like hot chocolate. Warm. I’ve been so cold lately.