Mr. Abernathy leaned forward. “Help in finding Ian McAvoy. That’s all.”
John’s grip on my hand tightened but he didn’t utter a word. What could he say? If I refused, I was as good as dead. If I took the deal, that meant betraying Ian. Again.
“If John can’t turn me, who will?”
Mr. Abernathy laughed. “Josiah, of course. I thought I made that perfectly clear already.”
“No,” John said, getting to his feet. “Absolutely not.”
“You would condemn an innocent girl to death?” Mr. Abernathy asked, his eyes wide with incredulity. “I thought you loved her?”
“I do,” John said. “My offer to turn Blake myself still stands, even if that means I must die for it.”
From the corner of the room Josiah laughed. “Thank God I have never been stupid enough to fall in love.”
I tugged at John’s arm. “You’re not sacrificing yourself for me, John.”
“I will. It’s the least I can do for the hell you’ve been put through these last two months.” He got down on his knees in front of me and took my hands in his. “Remember what I said, that the bond between Maker and Vampire is a very strong one?” He lowered his head, shaking it. “I couldn’t stand it, Blake. He doesn’t love you, but I do! I won’t let him do it.”
“Look at me,” I said, striving for an outward calm. My hands were cold and clammy in John’s, but I squeezed them even tighter. “It’ll be okay. My feelings for you won’t change. I promise you that.”
“Blake—”
I turned my attention to Mr. Abernathy. “How am I supposed to help you when I have no idea where Ian is?”
“Like Mr. Kelly told you, the bond between Maker and Vampire is a strong one. Mr. McAvoy won’t remain hidden for long.”
“What do you mean by that?”
Conrad Abernathy’s eyes were cold as ice now. “Do I have your cooperation?”
I slammed my hands on the desk. “First answer my question!”
He picked up the phone on his desk without another word and pressed a button. “June, please escort Miss Ehlert from the premises.” Then he hung up.
“Wait! No, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean—”
Mr. Abernathy drew a deep breath. “Miss Ehlert, would you please control yourself.”
I closed my mouth and sat back in the chair. “I’m sorry.”
“Deliver Mr. McAvoy to me and I will release Mr. Kelly. And as a token of my thanks, Mr. Butler here will reward you with eternal life.”
I sat forward again, my heart pounding in my chest. “B-but what if I can’t find Ian? Josiah said I could be dead soon. I d-don’t have much time to look. And I have school!”
“Neither does Mr. Kelly have much time,” he said. He turned to John and added, “I hope you fed well before you came here, because when you receive your next meal depends entirely upon Miss Ehlert bringing me what I want.”
There was a knock at the door and June stuck her head inside. “Ready, Miss Ehlert?”
Mr. Abernathy turned to me. “I suggest you hurry, Miss Ehlert. And not just for your own sake.” He got up then and reached for my hand. I was in such a daze I stupidly let him have it. “By the way, there is such a thing as playing hooky from school. Use your illness to your advantage.”
Josiah got up from the couch and Mr. Abernathy handed me over to him. “Time to go,” he said, wrapping his fingers around my wrist so tightly I thought my bones would splinter.
I came to myself then and tried to break free, but I was no match for Josiah’s strength. “No, wait! John!”
Josiah pushed me through the door and into June’s arms, but I managed one fleeting glance of John before the door closed and the lock turned. And according to the look on his face, he wasn’t holding out much hope for either of us.
October 29
I lay in bed Monday morning listening to the myriad sounds of my parents getting ready for work: water running, dishes rattling, the trumpeting of my dad blowing his nose. Finally, there came a quiet knock on my door.
My mother poked her head inside. “You’re going to be late for school.”
I rolled over and pulled the covers up under my chin. “I’m not going today.”
Her lips formed a thin line. “You’ve already missed a lot of school this year and we’re not even two months in.” She hesitated a moment before adding, “I didn’t tell you, but Ms. Anderson suggested a private tutor.”
I sat up in bed. “You talked to my guidance counselor behind my back?”
Mom gave me an exasperated look. “This is your senior year, Blake. You’re not dying, so you have no excuse not to go to school today. Take your medication and actually eat something for breakfast. I’ll write you a note; say you had a doctor’s appointment and that’s why you’re late.”
I flopped against the mattress. “But I don’t feel well. Can’t I just stay home? I promise I’ll go tomorrow.”
She put her hands on her hips. “You overdid it yesterday out shopping with Olivia, didn’t you?” AKA, when I was out looking for Ian.
I sighed. “But I was feeling better. And I’ve been cooped-up in this house for too long.”
She opened her mouth to say more about the subject but then closed it again. Finally she said, “Okay. You can stay home today.” Then her face relaxed and she actually smiled. “Want me to check on you at lunch time? I can bring back something for you to eat. Cream of mushroom soup from that little restaurant across the street?”
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll probably just read or watch TV. Like you said, I’ve missed a lot of school. I’ve got some homework I need to get caught up on.”
“Well, all right. Try to grab a nap, too.”
“Okay.”
Mom came over and kissed my forehead. Then she straightened up and rubbed away the lipstick she’d left behind. “I’ll come home early tonight.”
“It’s okay. Don’t rush on my account. I’ll be fine.”
She gave me a look that said she didn’t totally believe me, but she wiggled her fingers in goodbye and walked away, closing the door behind her.
I immediately grabbed my cell from the nightstand and texted Olivia: Not going to school today. Sick.
My phone rang a moment later. “So you’re ditching me?”
“I’m not ditching you. I’m just not feeling well.”
“You know we have a calculus test today, right?”
I rolled my eyes. “Honestly, Libby, calculus is the furthest thing from my mind.”
“Want me to get your assignments for you?”
“Don’t bother. I’ve got a week’s worth of homework piling up already. I can’t handle any more.”
“So what’s wrong with you?”
“You know. Same old stuff.”
“Uh-huh. FYI, I know when you’re lying. What’s really wrong?” There was a brief pause. And then, “Are you actually even sick?”
I sighed. “I just can’t handle school today.”
“So you’re playing hooky?”
“Something like that.”
“Fine. Be evasive. I’m only your best friend.” But I heard the smile in her voice and let out a breath of relief. “You know I’ve got your back.”
“Thanks, Libby. You’re the bestest.”
I ended the call and got ready. I didn’t even bother to change out of the sweats I’d worn to bed the night before; I just pulled on a pair of heavy wool socks and shoved my feet into a pair of fleece-lined Uggs. I twisted my tangled hair into a knot, washed my face, and scrubbed my teeth and tongue as best as I could. My stomach rumbled with hunger, but nothing sounded even remotely appealing.
I wondered if when I (cross my fingers) became a vampire, there would be some food I craved. Knowing my luck, the only thing I’d be able to choke down would be Brussels sprouts or Lima beans. God, what I wouldn’t give for a bowl of chili and hunk of honey-glazed cornbread from The Market. Even a bowl of Corn Flakes would be nice.
“Whatever,�
� I said to my reflection in the bathroom mirror, as my stomach rumbled again.
I made my way downstairs, shoved my arms into my winter coat, grabbed my purse and car keys, and yanked open the front door.
“Oh,” Zach said, at the same time I asked, “What are you doing here?”
“Olivia texted me,” he said.
“She did? When?”
“Fifteen minutes ago.”
“Why?” I barreled my way outside and turned to lock the door.
“She said you weren’t feeling well.”
My back was still to him but I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, so? I’ve been sick for a while now. I’m sure you noticed.”
He put a hand on my shoulder and I stiffened. “Blake, I still love you.”
I let out a huff of annoyance and rounded on him. “You haven’t said one word to me since that night at the fair. You stood by, multiple times, and did nothing as Gabe dragged my name through the mud and told everyone on the team how I’d cheated on you.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, about that . . .”
“Yeah. About that.”
“I’m sorry, okay? I don’t know what to tell you, Blake. I’m a jerk for not sticking up for you.”
I closed my eyes and exhaled before meeting his gaze. “No,” I said, pinching the bridge of my nose. “You’re not a jerk. You did nothing wrong, Zach. All of this,” I said as I swirled my hand in front of me, “all of this was just . . . an unfortunate mess. If I could go back and make things better between us . . .”
He grabbed my shoulders, taking me by surprise, as a huge grin broke out on his face. His excited breath came out in small puffs of white, smelling strongly of cinnamon gum. I held my own breath, trying desperately not to gag.
“Who says you can’t? I already admitted to still loving you, Blake. Do you still love me? If you do, we can make this work. I know we can!”
I wriggled away from him and took a step forward, but he grabbed my arm before I could move all the way past him. “What?” I said angrily, spinning on my heel to face him.
“Do you still love me?”
“Don’t ask me that, Zach. That is so not the point.”
“Then what is the point?”
“The point is that we can never have what we had. It’s gone. For good. And the sooner you can get that through your head, the better it will be for everyone.”
“But Olivia said—”
“What? What the hell did Olivia say?” I made a mental note to have a word with my so-called best friend later.
“She said that you’ve been depressed. Look, I know you had a thing for that John guy. But don’t you see that was just a minor setback? We’ve been together since freshman year, Blake. A love like ours just doesn’t die.”
“Give it a fucking rest, Zach,” I said, punctuating each word. “There is no chance for us. We are not ever getting back together!” Zach’s eyes got very wide and glassy. The corner of his mouth trembled. “Dear God. Don’t you dare cry. I so do not have time for this!”
Zach’s nostrils flared and he blinked furiously as he tried to get himself under control. His voice came out in a whisper when he spoke. “I’m going to ignore everything you just said because I know that’s not the real you. You haven’t been you for a really long time now, and no one knows what’s going on, not even Olivia.”
I opened my mouth to make some flippant comment and then shut it abruptly when a sudden stab of guilt pierced me right in the heart. I sat down on the step and wrapped my arms around my legs, burying my face in my knees. “I’m sorry, Zach. I really am.”
He sat down next to me and rubbed circles into my back. “You don’t have to apologize.”
His easy forgiveness made me feel even more wretched. Tears leaked from my eyes. “Yes, I do. You’re so sweet, Zach. You didn’t deserve any of this.”
I brought my head up and looked at him, despite the fact I could feel a puddle of snot pooling on my upper lip. Zach pulled a crumpled tissue from his pocket and handed it over.
“I just wish you would tell someone—anyone—what is going on,” he said.
I shook my head. “I can’t. And even if I did, no one would believe me. Maybe one of these days . . .” If I actually survive the next few days.
“Hey,” he said, his tone all of a sudden much lighter as he elbowed me gently in the side. “Do you have a date to the dance Halloween night? I sort of need a Wilma for my Fred Flintstone.”
I laughed despite myself and sniffed loudly. I pointed to the tattoo on my neck. “I had something much darker in mind.”
“Yeah,” he said. “I wasn’t going to say anything about that, but what the heck? People at school are going to think you’ve really gone off the deep-end.”
“Call it a bad decision.”
Zach gave me a glowing smile. “So I’ll be Dracula and you can go as Lucy.”
“Doesn’t she get her head chopped off?”
He put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me close. “Then you can be my Mina.”
“As I recall, it didn’t end well for Dracula.” I pushed his arm away as gently as I could. “Look, I really need to go.”
“Where to?”
“I can’t tell you.”
His jaw clenched. “You can’t, or you won’t?”
“Sort of both.”
He nodded, his mouth pressed in a tight line, and stood up. “Okay. But I want you to know, Blake, I’m here for you. Whenever you decide to open up about what is going, I hope you’ll come to me.”
He bent over and kissed the top of my head. “Take care of yourself.”
“I’ll try.”
He turned to go, and I sat and watched until his car disappeared from sight. And then I cried until I couldn’t cry anymore.
I drove around for the next hour wondering where a fugitive vampire might hide himself. I considered going back to The Marauder’s Cove to ask Donna, but I couldn’t drag her into my mess. And anyway, I didn’t want to step foot in that place if I could help it, or go anywhere I might run into Josiah.
I wished I had Ian’s cell number so I could call him. He was probably hiding out somewhere waiting for John to get in touch with him, not knowing that things had gone horribly wrong.
For lack of a better idea I drove back to John’s place. After fifteen minutes of trying all the doors and windows that I could actually reach, only to find them all locked, I had the brilliant idea of checking under the doormat. Sure enough, a dull gold key stared up at me.
Being in John’s house without him or Ian there felt wrong. The place seemed a lot bigger than I remembered and much too quiet. I walked aimlessly from the foyer to the living room to the kitchen with nothing but the traffic on the street outside to break the silence. I opened the refrigerator door. Nothing inside but organic strawberries, a few slices of dried-out pizza that looked stiff as cardboard, and blood. Lots of blood. I wrinkled my nose and slammed the door.
I had only been in John’s house twice before and never to the upper floor. I made my way to the steep, wooden staircase and gripped the banister for support, slowly making my way to the upstairs rooms.
The first one I came to was sparsely furnished. A bed sat along one wall, its covers a twisted and tangled mess. A dresser pressed against the opposite wall, the drawers left ajar, as though someone had packed up and left in a hurry. There was a bathroom to my immediate left, but it was the door at the end of the hallway that got my attention.
I pushed it open and at once felt John’s presence all around me. I could smell him here, the unique scent of his skin that was so overwhelming a choking cry caught in my throat and I had to sit down in order to catch my breath. I clenched the duvet in my fists until my heartbeat returned to normal.
I scanned the room and my eyes fell on a framed photograph of John standing between a man and a woman. It was a posed picture, done in a studio. The words Olan Mills were embossed in gold font in the bottom left corner.
The man and woma
n were strikingly similar in appearance to John, especially the woman, who had the same dark hair and vivid green eyes. Curious, I picked up the frame and popped out the cardboard backing. Scrawled in black ink was “Miriam, Landon, and John Kelly—June 1996.”
I replaced the backing and turned the photo over to study it. John hadn’t aged a day, and yet the picture had been taken over sixteen years ago. It must have been right before John was turned.
When had it happened exactly? How did he come across Ian in the first place? What had become of his parents, Miriam and Landon Kelly? There were so many questions that I hoped John would be able to answer for me one day, and one day soon. These were things I wanted, and needed, to know.
I replaced the photo on the table and opened the drawer. There were only two items: a composition notebook, like the ones we used in school, and an ink pen. I opened the cover of the notebook and felt my brows knit in confusion.
Every page contained nothing but a list of names, with what I assumed was the person’s age, and a date printed next to them. Abigail Tyler, 17, 9-13-97; Kristy Deerfield, 17, 10-21-97; Jacob Rosenbaum, 18, 10-27-97 . . .
The list went on for pages and pages, the dates becoming more recent with each new entry. Finally, a name captured my attention: Dylan Edwards, 17, 5-21-12. I knew Dylan. He went to my school. We had fourth period AP English together. And then another name near the bottom: Jill Honeycutt, 17, 6-07-12. I turned the page. Elijah Stein, 18, 6-17-12. Chloe Barnett, 18, 6-29-12. Michael Jeffreys, 17, 7-5-12. There was just one more entry after that: Blake Ehlert, 17, 7-28-12.
That was the day by the lake; the first day that we really talked to each other; the day I started to fall in love with him. All because he put ideas into my head.
I stared at my name until it blurred on the page and the realization of what the book was finally dawned on me. Every person in there had O negative blood, just like me. Every one of them had been manipulated by John into becoming a Donor. Just like me.
I slammed the book closed and shoved it back into the drawer where it belonged. “Dammit, John. How could you make me love you?” I whispered. “It was all a lie, wasn’t it? Just a big fat lie.”
Blood Type Page 21