Wicked is the night

by Catherine Mulvany

  “Then what’s the problem? What other lies did he tell you?” Trick stared at her face for an endless moment. Then he groaned. “No, he didn’t.”

  Oh God. He knew.

  “He told you that you were a vampire, too. And you believed him?”

  “How could I not? The clues were there all along. I just refused to see them. All Daniel did was open my eyes.”

  “Snowden didn’t open your eyes, Nevada. He poisoned your mind.”

  “I know it’s a shock, finding out this way. Imagine how I feel.”

  “I am imagining,” he said grimly. “I swear, if I could bring that slimy bastard back to life, I would, just for the satisfaction of staking him a second time.”

  “I’m a vampire,” she said, “but I didn’t choose that path. I wouldn’t. I didn’t even know what he’d done, not until he told me. I was drugged so I wouldn’t remember. Only my father noticed how pale I was, and started to get suspicious.”

  “Snowden was drinking your blood.”

  “I don’t think my father knew exactly what Daniel was up to, but when he caught Daniel in my room in the middle of the night, there was an ugly confrontation. Daniel killed my father to protect himself and his secret. Then he convinced Regina to send me to the Appleton Institute to protect mine. I wasn’t locked away because of my random psychic flashes or because they believed I was mentally unstable. Dr. Appleton was trying to cure my vampirism.”

  Silence stretched between them—cold and bleak.

  Trick was the first to break it. “Snowden lied, Nevada. The bastard lied. He was trying to hurt you, destroy you. You’re not a vampire.”

  “But it all makes sense,” she said.

  “In what alternate universe?”

  “No, Trick, listen. I bit you. Remember? When we had sex, I bit you.”

  He dismissed her words with an impatient flip of his hand. “You nipped at me, didn’t even break the skin. Haven’t noticed yourself craving blood, have you?”

  “No, but”—she held out a hand—“look how pale I am.”

  “Lots of people have fair skin.”

  “But I’m part Gypsy. Shouldn’t I be darker? And what about my sensitivity to the sun? If I don’t slather on sunscreen, I burn within minutes of exposure.”

  “Burn, yes, but that’s not the same as burning up, bursting into flames.”

  “What about those pills, the ones Yelena insisted I take, one a day, every day? I’ve been thinking about that. She was so insistent. I think she knew I needed the pills to suppress the worst of my symptoms.”

  “That’s bullshit.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Actually, I do. Marcello already had a pharmacist check out your pills.”

  “He thought I was a vampire?”

  “What can I say? The man has a suspicious streak a mile wide. Imagine his embarrassment when he found out your ‘antivampire pills’ were actually prescription allergy medicine,” Trick said.

  “Allergy medicine?” she repeated, thinking she must have misunderstood.

  “Fexofenadine. A cheap generic.”

  “Okay, so maybe the pills aren’t bloodlust suppressants, but Daniel drank my blood. He admitted it. He bragged about it.”

  “And I believe that part of the sick son of a bitch’s story. He drank your blood. Hell, he probably did his best to suck you dry. Only there was no reciprocal bloodsucking. Think about it. How could you have drunk his blood if you were unconscious? And since according to Faraday, vampirism is caused by a rare blood-borne parasite, there’s no way you could have been infected because you didn’t ingest any of his infected blood.”

  Nevada’s heart gave a wild leap. “Oh God.”

  “What’s wrong?” A worried expression crossed Trick’s face. “Why are you crying?”

  “Relief, I guess. I’m not a vampire.”

  “I already said that. And if I remember correctly, I also asked you to marry me.”

  She moved closer, wrapping her arms around his neck. “And I said no.” She kissed him, a long, lingering kiss that only made her hungry for more.

  “Does that mean you’ve changed your mind?” Trick’s voice was unsteady. “You are going to marry me?”

  “Yes,” she said, her voice just as shaky as his. “Definitely yes.”

  “You’ll never have to run away again,” Trick promised.

  “Never,” she agreed.

  “Because this”—he kissed her—“is the official beginning of the happily-ever-after part.”

  And it was.