Night World 1 (14 page)

Maybe James had been right—humans just couldn't deal with the idea that there was somebody higher on the food chain. They'd lost touch with their caveman ancestors, who knew what it was like to be hunted. They thought all that primal stuff was behind them.

Could Phillip tell them a thing or two.

The bottom line was that he couldn't accept, and Poppy couldn't change. And the only thing that made it bearable was that somehow he loved her anyway.

Poppy woke in the dim, curtained bedroom the next day to find the other half of the bed empty. She wasn't alarmed, though. Instinctively she reached out with her mind, and…there. James was in the kitchenette.

She felt…energetic. Like a puppy straining to be let loose in a field. But as soon as she walked into the living room, she felt that her powers were weaker. And her eyes hurt. She squinted toward the painful brightness of a window.

“It's the sun,” James said. “Inhibits all vampire powers, remember?” He went over to the window and closed the curtains—they were the blackout type, like the ones in the bedroom. The midafternoon sunshine was cut off. “That should help a little—but you'd better stay inside today until it gets dark. New vampires are more sensitive.”

Poppy caught something behind his words. “You're going out?”

“I have to.” He grimaced. “There's something I forgot—my cousin Ash is supposed to show up this week. I've got to get my parents to head him off.”

“I didn't know you had a cousin.”

He winced again. “I've got lots, actually. They're back East in a safe town—a whole town that's controlled by the Night World. Most of them are okay, but not Ash.”

“What's wrong with him?”

“He's crazy. Also cold-blooded, ruthless—”

“You sound like Phil describing you.”

“No, Ash is the real thing. The ultimate vampire. He doesn't care about anybody but himself, and he loves to make trouble.”

Poppy was prepared to love all James's cousins for his sake, but she had to agree that Ash sounded dangerous.

“I wouldn't trust anyone to know about you just now,” James said, “and Ash is out of the question. I'm going to tell my parents he can't come here, that's all.”

And then what do we do? Poppy thought. She couldn't stay hidden forever. She belonged to the Night World—but the Night World wouldn't accept her.

There had to be some solution—and she could only hope that she and James would find it.

“Don't be gone too long,” she said, and he kissed her on the forehead, which was nice. As if it was getting to be a habit.

When he was gone, she took a shower and put on clean clothes. Good old Phil—he'd slipped in her favorite jeans. Then she made herself putter around the apartment, because she didn't want to sit and
think.
Nobody should have to think on the day after their own funeral.

The phone sat beside the square couch and mocked her. She found herself resisting the impulse to pick it up so often that her arm ached.

But who could she call? Nobody. Not even Phil, because what if somebody overheard him? What if her mother answered?

No, no, don't think about Mom, you idiot.

But it was too late. She was overwhelmed, suddenly, by a desperate
need
to hear her mother's voice. Just to hear a “hello.” She knew she couldn't say anything herself. She just needed to establish that her mom still existed.

She punched the phone number in without giving herself time to think. She counted rings. One, two, three…

“Hello?”

It was her mother's voice. And it was already over, and it wasn't enough. Poppy sat trying to breathe, with tears running down her face. She hung there, wringing the phone cord, listening to the faint buzz on the other end. Like a prisoner in court waiting to hear her sentence.

“Hello? Hello.” Her mother's voice was flat and tired. Not acerbic. Prank phone calls were no big deal when you'd just lost your daughter.

Then a click signaled disconnection.

Poppy clutched the earpiece to her chest and cried, rocking slightly. At last she put it back on the cradle.

Well, she wouldn't do
that
again. It was worse than not being able to hear her mother at all. And it didn't help her with reality, either. It gave her a dizzy Twilight Zone feeling to think that her mom was at home, and everybody was at home, and
Poppy wasn't there.
Life was going on in that house, but she wasn't part of it anymore. She couldn't just walk in, any more than she could walk into some strange family's house.

You're really a glutton for punishment, aren't you? Why don't you stop thinking about this and
do
something distracting?

She was snooping through James's file cabinet when the apartment door opened.

Because she heard the metallic jingle of a key, she assumed it was James. But then, even before she turned, she knew it
wasn't
James. It wasn't James's mind.

She turned and saw a boy with ash blond hair.

He was very good looking, built about like James, but a little taller, and maybe a year older. His hair was longish. His face had a nice shape, clean-cut features, and wicked slightly tilted eyes.

But that wasn't why she was staring at him.

He gave her a flashing smile.

“I'm Ash,” he said. “Hi.”

Poppy was still staring. “You were in my dream,” she said. “You said, ‘Bad magic happens.'”

“So you're a psychic?”

“What?”

“Your dreams come true?”

“Not usually.” Poppy suddenly got hold of herself. “Listen, um, I don't know how you got in—”

He jingled a key ring at her. “Aunt Maddy gave me these. James told you to keep me out, I bet.”

Poppy decided that the best defense was a good offense. “Now, why would he tell me that?” she said, and folded her arms over her chest.

He gave her a wicked, laughing glance. His eyes looked hazel in this light, almost golden, “I'm bad,” he said simply.

Poppy tried to plaster a look of righteous disapproval—like Phil's—on her face. It didn't work very well. “Does James know you're here? Where
is
he?”

“I have no idea. Aunt Maddy gave me the keys at lunch, and then she went out on some interior decorating job. What did you dream about?”

Poppy just shook her head. She was trying to think. Presumably, James was wandering around in search of his mother right now. Once he found her he'd find out that Ash was over here, and then he'd come back fast. Which meant…well, Poppy supposed it meant she should keep Ash occupied until James arrived.

But how? She'd never really practiced being winsome and adorable with guys. And she was worried about talking too much. She might give herself away as a new vampire.

Oh, well. When in doubt, shut your eyes and jump right in.

“Know any good werewolf jokes?” she said.

He laughed. He had a nice laugh, and his eyes weren't hazel after all. They were gray, like James's.

“You haven't told me your name yet, little dreamer,” he said.

“Poppy,” Poppy said and immediately wished she hadn't. What if Mrs. Rasmussen had mentioned that one of James's little friends called Poppy had just died? To conceal her nervousness, she got up to close the door.

“Good lamia name,” he said. “I don't like this yuppy thing of taking on human names, do you? I've got three sisters, and they all have regular old-fashioned names. Rowan, Kestrel, Jade. My dad would burst a blood vessel if one of them suddenly wanted to call herself ‘Susan.'”

“Or ‘Maddy?'” Poppy asked, intrigued despite herself.

“Huh? It's short for Madder.”

Poppy wasn't sure what madder was. A plant, she thought.

“Of course I'm not saying anything against James,” Ash said, and it was perfectly clear from his voice that he
was
saying something against James. “Things are different for you guys in California. You have to mix more with humans; you have to be more careful. So if naming yourself after vermin makes it easier…” He shrugged.

“Oh, yeah, they're vermin all right,” Poppy said at random. She was thinking, He's playing with me. Isn't he playing with me?

She had the sinking feeling that he knew everything. Agitation made her need to move. She headed for James's stereo center.

“So you like any vermin music?” she said. “Techno? Acid jazz? Trip-hop? Jungle?” She waved a vinyl record at him. “This is some serious jump-up jungle.” He blinked. “Oh, and this is great industrial noise. And this is a real good acid house stomper with a sort of madcore edge to it….”

She had him on the defensive now. Nobody could stop Poppy when she got going like this. She widened her eyes at him and blathered on, looking as fey as she knew how.

“And I say freestyle's coming
back.
Completely underground, so far, but on the
rise.
Now, Euro-dance, on the other hand…”

Ash was sitting on the square couch, long legs stretched out in front of him. His eyes were deep blue and slightly glazed.

“Sweetheart,” he said finally, “I hate to interrupt. But you and I need to talk.”

Poppy was too clever to ask him what about. “…these sort of eternal void keys and troll groaning sounds that make you want to ask, ‘Is anybody out there?'” she finished, and then she had to breathe. Ash jumped in.

“We
really
have to talk,” he said. “Before James gets back.”

There was no way to evade him now. Poppy's mouth was dry. He leaned forward, his eyes a clear blue-green like tropical waters. And, yes, they really
do
change color, Poppy thought.

“It's not your fault,” he said.

“What?”

It's not your fault. That you can't shield your mind. You'll learn how to do it,
he said, and Poppy only realized halfway through that he wasn't saying it out loud.

Oh…
spit.
She should have thought of that. Should have been concentrating on veiling her thoughts. She tried to do it now.

“Listen, don't bother. I know that you're not lamia. You're made, and you're illegal. James has been a bad boy.”

Since there was no point in denying it, Poppy lifted her chin and narrowed her eyes at him. “So you know. So what are you going to do about it?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

He smiled. “On you.”

“
Y
ou see, I like James,” Ash said. “I think he's a little soft on vermin, but I don't want to see him in trouble. I certainly don't want to see him
dead
.”

Poppy felt the way she had last night when her body was starving for air. She was frozen, too still to breathe.

“I mean, do
you
want him dead?” Ash asked, as if it were the most reasonable question in the world.

Poppy shook her head.

“Well, then,” Ash said.

Poppy got a breath at last. “What are you
saying
?” Then, without waiting for him to answer, she said, “You're saying that they're going to kill him if they find out about me. But they don't
have
to find out about me. Unless you tell them.”

Ash glanced at his fingernails thoughtfully. He made a face to show that this was as painful for him as it was for her.

“Let's go over the facts,” he said. “You are, in fact, a former human.”

“Oh, yeah, I was a vermin, all right.”

He gave her a droll look. “Don't take that so seriously. It's what you are now that counts. But James did, in fact, change you without clearing it with
anybody.
Right? And he did, in fact, break cover and tell you about the Night World before you were changed. Right?”

“How do you know? Maybe he just changed me without telling me a thing.”

He shook a finger. “Ah, but James wouldn't do that. He's got these radical permissive ideas about humans having free will.”

“If you know all about it, why ask me?” Poppy said tensely. “And if you've got a point—”

“The point is that he's committed at least two capital offenses. Three, I bet.” He flashed the wild, handsome smile again. “He must have been in love with you to have done the rest.”

Something swelled in Poppy like a bird trapped in her rib cage and trying to get out. She blurted, “I don't see how you people can make laws about not falling in love! It's insane.”

“But don't you see
why
? You're the perfect example. Because of love, James told you and then he changed you. If he'd had the sense to squash his feelings for you in the beginning, the whole thing would have been nipped in the bud.”

“But what if you
can't
squash it? You can't
force
people to stop feeling.”

“Of course not,” Ash said, and Poppy stopped dead. She stared at him.

His lips curved and he beckoned to her. “I'll tell you a secret. The Elders know they can't really legislate how you
feel.
What they can do is terrorize you so that you don't dare show your feelings—ideally, so you can't even admit them to yourself.”

Poppy settled back. She'd seldom felt so at a loss. Talking to Ash made her head whirl, made her feel as if she were too young and stupid to be sure of
anything.

She made a forlorn and helpless gesture. “But what do I do now? I can't change the past….”

“No, but you can act in the present.” He jumped to his feet in a lovely, graceful motion and began pacing. “Now. We have to think fast. Presumably everyone here thinks you're dead.”

“Yes, but—”

“So the answer is simple. You have to get out of the area and stay out. Go someplace where you won't be recognized, where nobody will care if you're new or illegal. Witches. That's it! I've got some cross-cousins in Las Vegas that will put you up. The main thing is to leave
now.
”

Poppy's head wasn't just whirling, it was
reeling.
She felt dizzy and physically sick, as if she'd just stepped off Space Mountain at Disneyland. “What? I don't even understand what you're talking about,” she said feebly.

“I'll explain on the way. Come on, hurry! Do you have some clothes you want to take?”

Poppy planted her feet solidly on the floor. She shook her head to try and clear it. “Look, I don't know what you're saying, but I can't go
anywhere
right now. I have to wait for James.”

“But don't you see?” Ash stopped his whirlwind pacing and rounded on her. His eyes were green and hypnotically brilliant. “That's just what you
can't
do. James can't even know where you're going.”

“What?”

“Don't you
see
?” Ash said again. He spread his hands and spoke almost pityingly. “
You're
the only thing putting James in danger. As long as you're here, anybody can look at you and put the pieces together. You're circumstantial evidence that he's committed a crime.”

Poppy understood that. “But I can just wait and James can go away with me. He would
want
that.”

“But it wouldn't work,” Ash said softly. “It doesn't matter where you go; whenever you're together, you're a danger to him. One look at you and any decent vampire can sense the truth.”

Poppy's knees felt weak.

Ash spoke soberly. “I'm not saying that you'll be much safer yourself if you leave. You bring your own danger with you, because of what you are. But as long as you're away from James, nobody can connect you with
him.
It's the only way to keep him safe. Do you see?”

“Yes. Yes, I see that now.” The ground seemed to have disappeared beneath Poppy. She was falling, not into music, but into an icy dark void. There was nothing to hold on to.

“But, of course, it's a lot to expect, to ask you to give him up. You may not want to make that kind of sacrifice—”

Poppy's chin came up. She was blind and empty and giddy, but she spoke to Ash with utter contempt, spitting out the words. “After everything he sacrificed for me? What do you think I am?”

Ash bowed his head. “You're a brave one, little dreamer. I can't believe you were ever human.” Then he looked up and spoke briskly. “So do you want to pack?”

“I don't have much,” Poppy said, slowly, because moving and speaking hurt her. She walked toward the bedroom as if the floor was covered with broken glass. “Hardly anything. But I have to write a note for James.”

“No, no,” Ash said. “That's the last thing you want to do. Well, after all,” he added as she swiveled slowly to look at him, “James being so noble and lovestruck and everything—if you let him know where you're going, he'll come right after you. And then where will you be?”

Poppy shook her head. “I…okay.” Still shaking her head, she stumbled into the bedroom.

She wasn't going to argue with him anymore, but she wasn't going to take his advice, either. She shut the bedroom door and tried as hard as she could to shield her mind. She visualized a stone wall around her thoughts.

Stuffing her sweat pants and T-shirt and white dress into the duffel bag took thirty seconds. Then she found a book under the nightstand and a felt-tip pen in the drawer. She tore the flyleaf out of the book and scribbled rapidly.

She was dripping tears onto the paper as she signed it.

She put the flyleaf on the pillow and went out to Ash.

“Oh, there, there,” he said. “Don't cry. You're doing the right thing.” He put an arm around her shoulders. Poppy was too miserable to shrug it off.

She looked at him. “One thing. Won't I be putting
you
in danger if I go with you? I mean, somebody might think
you
were the one who made me an illegal vampire.”

He looked at her with wide, earnest eyes. They happened to be blue-violet at the moment.

“I'm willing to take that risk,” he said. “I have a lot of respect for you.”

James took the stairs two at a time, sending probing thoughts ahead of him and then refusing to believe what his own senses told him.

She had to be there. She
had
to be….

He pounded on the door at the same time as he was thrusting the key into the lock. At the same time as he was shouting mentally.

Poppy! Poppy, answer me! Poppy!

And then, even with the door flung open and his own thoughts ricocheting off the emptiness in the apartment, he
still
didn't want to believe. He ran around, looking in every room, his heart thudding louder and louder in his chest. Her duffel bag was gone. Her clothes were gone. She was gone.

He ended up leaning against the glass of the living room window. He could see the street below, and there was no sign of Poppy.

No sign of Ash, either.

It was James's fault. He'd been following his mother's trail all afternoon, from decorating job to decorating job, trying to catch up with her. Only to find, once he did catch up, that Ash was already in El Camino, and had, in fact, been sent over to James's apartment hours ago. With a key.

Putting him alone with Poppy.

James had called the apartment immediately. No answer. He'd broken all speed limits getting back here. But he was too late.

Ash, you snake, he thought. If you hurt her, if you put one finger on her…

He found himself roving over the apartment again, looking for clues as to what had happened. Then, in the bedroom, he noticed something pale against the light brown of the pillowcase.

A note. He snatched it up and read it. And got colder and colder with every line. By the time he reached the end, he was made of ice and ready to kill.

There were little round splashes where the felt-tip pen had run. Tears. He was going to break one of Ash's bones for each one.

He folded the note carefully and put it in his pocket. Then he took a few things from his closet and made a call on his cellular phone as he was walking down the stairs of the apartment building.

“Mom, it's me,” he said at the beep of an answering machine. “I'm going to be gone for a few days. Something's come up. If you see Ash, leave me a message. I want to talk with him.”

He didn't say please. He knew his voice was clipped and sharp. And he didn't care. He hoped his tone would scare her.

Just at the moment he felt ready to take on his mother and father and all the vampire Elders in the Night World. One stake for all of them.

He wasn't a child anymore. In the last week he'd been through the crucible. He'd faced death and found love. He was an adult.

And filled with a quiet fury that would destroy everything in its path. Everything necessary to get to Poppy.

He made other phone calls as he guided the Integra swiftly and expertly through the streets of El Camino. He called the Black Iris and made sure that Ash hadn't turned up there. He called several other black flower clubs, even though he didn't expect to find anything. Poppy had said Ash was going to take her far away.

But where?

Damn you, Ash, he thought.
Where?

Phil was staring at the TV without really seeing it. How could he be interested in talk shows or infomercials when all he could think about was his sister? His sister who was maybe watching the same shows and maybe out biting people?

He heard the car screech to a stop outside and was on his feet before he knew it. Weird how he was absolutely certain of who it was. He must have come to recognize the Integra's engine.

He opened the door as James reached the porch. “What's up?”

“Come on.” James was already heading for the car. There was a deadly energy in his movements, a barely controlled power, that Phil had never seen before. White-hot fury, leashed but straining.

“What's
wrong
?”

James turned at the driver's side door. “Poppy's missing!”

Phil threw a wild glance around. There was nobody on the street, but the door to the house was open. And James was shouting as if he didn't care who heard.

Then the words sank in. “What do you mean, she's—” Phil broke off and jerked the door to the house shut. Then he went to the Integra. James already had the passenger door open.