Almost To Die For Part 10

I did know the one. It was just up the street. I remembered it as a huge Federal-style house with columns and thick, granite bricks. I wasn't sure that was any safer than going to a shelter, but I was starting to feel like I had some options. "Thanks," I said gratefully.

"Don't mention it," he said, pulling his board up under his arm as the bus's brakes squealed to a stop in front of us. "But if you go, tell them Nate sent you."

"Nate." Okay, so not Ted. I thought I'd remember that if it became necessary. "Got it."

BEFORE THE FIRST BELL, TAYLOR was waiting at my locker. Ironically, someone had scrawled "Witch b.i.t.c.h" in black Sharpie in large block letters on the red finish. "Wow," I said drily. "Look, apes know how to rhyme. We should call Scientific American or National Geographic or somebody."

In solidarity, Taylor smiled at my feeble joke. Today, her hijab was hot pink. She wore sparkly lipstick to match. Surprisingly, it looked awesome with her nut-brown skin. "With all the excitement about Nikolai, I kind of forgot about Thompson."

h.e.l.l, I'd forgotten about both.

"Did you bring Nik's CD?" Taylor asked hopefully. "I'd love to see it. Is it cool?"

"Yeah, it is," I said as I popped open the combination and started organizing my books for the day. Precalculus first period. What evil had I done to deserve math at nine o'clock in the morning? Math I could do, but first? Ugh.

"Sorry, things were kind of crazy this morning, and I left it at home," I told Taylor's anxious face. I left a ton of things I needed behind, like a toothbrush and a change of clothes. I couldn't seriously not go home tonight, could I?

"Yeah, say, how did your religious test go?"

"I flunked." Closing the locker, I stared at Thompson's poetry sullenly. It should really say "vamp tramp," since I wasn't a witch anymore. "Big-time."

"Oh. Well." She looked at her hands, which were twiddling. Then she brightened. "Hey, at least you got a boyfriend out of the deal."

Had I? "He hasn't called yet," I reminded her. "I'm not sure he will."

Taylor gave me a sidelong sly grin. "When he does--and he will--Bea is going to flip."

"Over what?" Bea stood beside Taylor and didn't even spare me a glance.

"Nikolai asked Ana out on a date," Taylor spilled excitedly.

I could have kicked her.

"Not yet. Not exactly," I mumbled. I expected Bea to turn on me in fury or horror, but she continued to talk only to Taylor. It was like I wasn't even there. What was this? Shunning?

"Nikolai Kirov? " Bea asked like we knew a ton of guys named Nikolai. "From my coven?"

Oh, it was her coven now, was it?

Taylor looked confused. She glanced at me for confirmation, but I was busy trying to force Bea to notice me by giving her the spooky eye. "Um, I guess," Taylor said. "I'm talking about the senior from last year who's in a metal band. That guy. The hottie."

Unbidden, the physical sensation of Nikolai's finger brushing the skin above my breast came back so strongly that I shivered. For the first time in my life, I had a sudden and deep desire to hurry to math cla.s.s. "Yeah, well, you two talk among yourselves. I've got to go. The bell is going to ring any minute."

Bea looked at me then, and I thought she might say something. I wasn't sure I wanted to hear it, though. So I shouldered my bag and left the two of them standing by my vandalized locker gossiping about Nik or me or both. I actually couldn't wait for the mind-numbing experience that was precalc because I didn't want to think about any of this any more.

AFTER PRECALCULUS CAME GYM, A cla.s.s I shared with Thompson. Did I mention the bad karma that was my schedule?

In the locker room, I changed into my shorts and T-shirt. Unfortunately, my fresh outfit was sitting on top of the laundry basket. In my hurry to flee from Mom, I completely forgot to grab it. All I had was the stinky crumple at the bottom of my backpack left over from last week. With a face, I got into it. At least everyone looked pretty miserable. We all marched into the gymnasium like prisoners heading into the yard for exercise.

Our gym teacher was Mr. Johnson. He was a thousand years old, perpetually grumpy, and the coach for football, naturally. He had us warm up for whatever h.e.l.l he planned to put us through with a jog around the edge of the room, and a lot of drill-sergeant shouting about sissies. Thompson wasted no time coming up beside me and jabbing his elbow into my side. Miraculously, I didn't stumble. It was kind of a weak effort on his part too, so I chided him sarcastically, "Is that the best you can do? "

To my surprise a couple of the other girls shouted, "Yeah!" and "Bully!" and "We saw what you did, jerk!"

I'd forgotten about the unpopularity spell. Thompson looked back at me with pure hatred burning in his eyes. I take it his day had sucked so far too. Alas, he probably planned to take it out on me. My day was going to suck even bigger.

As luck would have it, Thompson might have something else to expend his aggression on: floor hockey. I was actually kind of excited when I saw Mr. Johnson bring out the pucks and sticks; I wasn't half bad at floor hockey, myself.

Of course, first I had to endure the picking of sides, every unpopular kid's worst nightmare. One of Thompson's buddies got picked to captain team one. Some cheerleader got the other honor. I expected to be the last one standing, but as the names got called, I started to realize it was coming down to two: me and . . . Thompson.

And Thompson's buddy just called my name.

Holy s.h.i.t.

Thompson looked ready to explode. He skulked over to the cheerleader's side, knuckles dragging.

Completely oblivious to Sta.s.sen High School history being made, Mr. Johnson called us to get started. We got our sticks, chose positions, and soon the puck went down. Despite the spell, Thompson took the part of goalie, a pretty good gig in my opinion.

At the whistle blow, furious scrabbling began. Since Thompson was stuck by the net, I kind of got into it. I let myself get lost in the game--the running, hooking, and pa.s.sing the puck around the smooth polished floor.

I was almost having fun when Thompson's buddy slap-shot the puck high into the air. Like a true jock, Thompson stopped it from going into the net . . . with his face.

The flat plastic disk caught him hard on the scalp. Something crunched. Thompson swore up a blue streak. Blood splattered.

Action screeched to a halt. Everyone stared at the copious amount of blood coming from Thompson's head. It was clear the cut was superficial, but man, it was a gusher. I was close to the net, because I was expecting to help angle the puck into the goal. My nose twitched. I detected a strong odor of copper and salt.

And it smelled . . .

Tasty?

Thirteen.

What happened next was one of the strangest moments in my life. I couldn't even tell you how I ended up holding Thompson's face in my hands with my palms gently cradling his cheeks. Or how my lips found their way to his b.l.o.o.d.y cheek . . .

The only thing I remember with any clarity was how hot his flesh felt beneath my own and the divine taste of his blood. The blood was exquisite, like the first time you experience chocolate--only better because it ignited all my senses. My nose was filled with its heady smell. My body trembled, flushing with excitement and desire. Time slowed and my vision seemed sharper, more focused. I felt incredibly alive.

And really, really hungry.

If Thompson hadn't pulled away in abject horror, I would have licked every drop from his face and then slurped the floorboards. . . .

Oh, my G.o.d.

I just, like, tasted Thompson.

In front of everyone in gym.

Thompson stared at me. Mr. Johnson's mouth hung open in an ineffectual O. My arms were still open wide as if I wished to give Thompson a hug. Someone muttered about getting the janitor. The words broke the silence enough for people to begin to react. There were "ewww's" and "Gross!" and "Was she kissing him?" and "Look at all the blood."

I was looking all right. I was seriously considering licking my fingers, which had gotten smeared when I cradled Thompson's face.

So when the bell suddenly sounded, I fled.

Bolting into the locker room, I grabbed my bag and headed out the door. I didn't even bother to change. I was down the hall and out the door before the hall monitor could even shout a warning.

Outside, the cloud cover was heavy and dark. A mist had started falling, but still I ran. And running felt good. I mean, it wasn't just the pleasure of escape but the physical act that I enjoyed. My feet sped lightly over the uneven concrete of the sidewalk. It was as though my tennis shoes made the briefest contact before leaping skyward again. My heart pounded, but not uncomfortably. It was more like elation. I could have run like this forever.

I don't know how far my feet carried me, but I slowed when I saw a chain coffee shop. Its familiar logo shone like a beacon in the growing darkness. Thunder rolled. I ducked into the doorway just as the first large drops burst from the sky.

The comforting aroma of roasting coffee drew me farther inside. The place was relatively quiet, considering how many people sat at various tables sipping drinks and browsing on their laptops. Wi-Fi was free with a drink, or so the advertis.e.m.e.nt claimed. I made my way to the cashier.

"Name your poison," the barista said with a smile. She had an asymmetrical haircut and a ring through her nose like a bull. Tattoos snaked up both arms.

"Um, latte?"

I was still so out of it that she had to coach me through the whole Grande/Venti thing, but I eventually managed to place my order. As she handed me my change, she gave my outfit a once-over, but didn't comment, except to say, "The bathroom is straight back to the left."

As she started making my drink, I scurried to the restroom to change out of my b.l.o.o.d.y gym clothes. The bathroom lights buzzed and flickered for a second before snapping on to that harsh brightness of fluorescent. I had my shirt off when I caught my reflection in the mirror. The wind had blown my hair wild, and my eyes glittered like an animal's. In the strange light, my skin looked greenish; the smear of blood on my lips, black.

My tongue sought the errant blood, and I sucked it into my mouth greedily. For a second, the irises of my eyes refracted like a cat's.

I looked like a vampire--in gym shorts.

Hysterical laughter bubbled up, and I giggled until I realized exactly how crazy I looked. I wiped the remaining blood off my mouth with the back of my hand.

"What am I?" I asked the wild thing in the mirror. She just shook her head in mute confusion. I turned my back to my reflection and finished dressing. After stuffing my gym uniform into my backpack, I flicked off the light and shut the door without ever looking back.

Whoever that woman was in the mirror, I wasn't ready to deal with her. Not yet. I didn't even really know what it meant to be her. But my plan was simple. I was going to sit down, drink coffee, and try to put my head together. Then, I'd . . .

Okay, so I wasn't off to a very good start, because I didn't even know what I'd do after. Was I going to go home and risk Mom putting a spell on me to make me stay home? Or what? Be homeless?

My drink was ready, so I grabbed it and sat at a table where I could watch the rain. Drops had become sheets, and rivulets ran down the gla.s.s in squiggles. Watching their random patterns didn't offer any answers, but my breathing slowed and steadied.

I took a sip of coffee, expecting that sweet bitterness that I'd grown to love. It tasted like water. I almost spat it out. Even though I'd scrubbed them nearly raw, my fingers rose to my lips. The craving for blood lingered.

The door opened, bringing with it the scent of rain. My eyes flicked over the figure that came in, and then lingered on the smooth, graceful way he moved. Jeans clung wetly to long, slender legs. Thanks to the weather, the shirt he wore left little to the imagination, which was okay because I didn't think I could have come up with anything quite that good. When I looked up to see if he had a face to match, I was startled to see him looking at me.

"Elias!" I said, barely recognizing him with his clothes on. That thought brought a blush to my cheeks.

His smile was dazzling, and he did that odd little courtly nod with his hand briefly touching his heart. "May I join you, Your Highness?"

I nodded, but as he took the seat across from me, I regarded him with a bit of suspicion. After all, how likely was it that he was just pa.s.sing by? On a day like this? Miles from where I'd seen him last? Twenty minutes after I'd, er, licked Thompson?

Also, according to the brightly colored clock on the wall, it was 11:36. Did that mean vampires could go out in daylight, or were the overcast clouds enough protection?

I'd ask him about the daylight thing later; first things first. "Are you stalking me?"

He laughed. On closer inspection, Elias was even hotter than I first thought. Apparently his eyes weren't permanently cat-slit, since today his pupils were round and the irises surrounding them were a pale, liquid green. He ran a hand through the short shock of hair on his head, giving it a s.e.xy, tousled look. "Not exactly," he said with that high-wattage smile lingering on his face. "I was awakened by the blood."

My head hurt with the weird. I took a slow, thoughtful sip of coffee, trying to return to that steady place I'd been before. The bad-tasting coffee didn't help. "Are you saying you woke up out of your coffin when I--when that thing with Thompson happened? "

"Well, if you remove the coffin part, yes, basically." Lightning made the overhead lights flicker slightly. A moment later thunder rattled the windows.

"You tasted blood for the first time. The entire clan felt it. Prince Ramses, your father, is very pleased, Your Highness," he continued. "His Highness regrets to inform you that he is unable to greet you on this auspicious moment personally. He sent me as his emissary. He's too old, you understand. The sun, it can reach him even through the rain. However, he would request your presence tonight for an official celebration."

"I'm kind of grounded. I'm supposed to go right home." I don't know why I blurted that out, since I hadn't been planning to go home anyway. But Elias's official speech sort of freaked me out. Even though I knew vampires were real, it just sounded so bizarre coming from this normal, good-looking guy sitting across from me at a Starbucks.

Elias's eyebrow shifted in an are-you-serious arch. "Grounded? No offense, Your Highness, but you're above all that now. More to the point, the invitation is tantamount to a royal summons. You really shouldn't blow that off. Besides, I believe it's meant to be your debut."

"My debut?"

"Your presentation to the clan, if you prefer. Your acceptance of your heritage. On the East Coast they call it a coming-out, but the connotation of that has changed over time, has it not?" He flashed a quirky smile.

Coming out as a vampire? Sort of like coming-out of the closet, only way, way weirder. "Yeah, it has." I smiled in return.

"So it is decided? You will come?" I shook my head. I mean, it all seemed so genteel, but, "I wouldn't know where to go or how to behave. I don't know anything about being a vampire."

His eyes flashed intensely as he spoke. "You know the most important thing. You know about the taste."

The taste . . . he didn't even have to explain of what. The second Elias mentioned it, I found myself craving blood like a drug. A shudder of a sigh escaped my lips.

He nodded approvingly at my reaction. I felt another blush growing, but he took my hand in his. He shifted to rest his elbows on the polished wood table. I was struck by how strong his body looked. In that way, it was easy to believe he was a knight. He looked . . . dangerous. I could easily see him kicking Thompson's a.s.s in a fight.

Or Nikolai's.

"About tonight . . . Your Highness, I would be at your side at every turn--if you so wished it. I could guide you, teach you our ways. You only need but ask."

The eyes that sought out mine held an intense fire. I felt strangely scrutinized, though it was far from unpleasant. My skin flushed and tingled. Trying to act cooler than I felt, I gave him a big teasing smile. "Are you asking me out?"

His smile faded suddenly, and his eyes dropped. He let go of my hand. "I would never presume."

What a cute reaction! It was totally seventeenth century.

"No, actually, it would be nice." I smiled.

He looked relieved. "Good. The festivities begin at sundown. Shall we arrange a place to meet?"

I raised my palms. "Hold on, Romeo. If I'm going to attend the debut, you can be my date. But I still haven't decided that I'm going. I mean, it's all kind of sudden, you know? I still can't believe I basically licked Thompson's face. What was I thinking?"

"You weren't. The blood is irresistible, especially blood of an enemy won in a fight."

That sounded far too n.o.ble to describe what had happened, so I reminded him: "It was floor hockey."

"He was your opponent at least?"