"No, 'we' won't," James said harshly. "You're not
a part of this anymore. It's up to Poppy and me. All you need to do is go back and live your normal life
and keep your mouth shut."
Phil started to say something else, then caught
himself. He took the keys from James. Then he looked at Poppy.
"I'm glad you're alive. I love you," he said.
Poppy knew that he wanted to-hug her, but some
thing kept both of them back. There was an empti
ness in Poppy's chest.
"Bye, Phil," she said, and he got in the car and left.
CHAPTER 13
He doesn't understand," Poppy said softly as James
unlocked the door to his apartment. "He just hasn't
grasped that you're risking your life, too."
The apartment was very bare and utilitarian. High
ceilings and spacious rooms announced that it was
expensive, but there wasn't much furniture. In the
living room there was a low, square couch, a desk with a computer, and a couple of Oriental-looking
pictures on the wall. And books. Cardboard boxes of
books stacked in the corners.
Poppy turned to face James directly. "Jamie ... I
understand."
James smiled at her. He was sweaty and dirty and
tired-looking. But his expression said Poppy made it all worthwhile.
"Don't blame
Phil,"
he said, with a gesture of dis
missal. "He's actually handling things pretty well. I've
never broken cover to a human before, but I think most of them would run screaming and never come back. He's trying to cope, at least."
Poppy nodded and dropped the subject. James was
tired, which meant they should go to sleep. She
picked up the duffel bag that Phil had packed with
her clothes and headed for the bathroom.
She didn't change right away, though. She was too
fascinated by her own reflection in the mirror. So
this was what a vampire Poppy looked like.
She was prettier, she noted with absent satisfaction. The four freckles on her nose were gone. Her
skin was creamy-pale, like an advertisement for face
cream. Her eyes were green as jewels. Her hair was
wind-blown into riotous curls, metallic-copper.
I don't
look
like something that sits on a buttercup
anymore, she thought. I look wild and dangerous and
exotic. Like a model. Like a rock star. Like James.
She leaned forward to examine her teeth, poking
at the canines to make them grow. Then she jerked
back, gasping.
Her eyes. She hadn't realized. Oh, God, no wonder
Phil had been scared. When she did that, when her
teeth extended, her eyes went silvery-green, un
canny. Like the eyes of a hunting cat.
All at once she was overcome by terror. She had
to cling to the sink to stay on her feet.
I don't want it, I don't want
it....
Oh,
deal
with it, girl. Stop whining. So what did you expect to look like, Shirley Temple? You're a hunter now. And your eyes go silver and blood tastes like cherry preserves. And that's all there is to it, and
the other choice was resting in peace. So
deal.
Gradually her breathing slowed. In the next few minutes something happened inside her;
she
did
deal.
She found ... acceptance. It felt like something giving way in her throat and her stomach. She wasn't
weird and dreamy now, as she'd been when she had
first awakened in the cemetery; she could think
dearly about her situation. And she could accept it.
And I did it without running to James, she thought suddenly, startled. I don't need him to comfort me
or tell me it's okay. I can
make
it okay, myself.
Maybe that was what happened when you faced the very worst thing in the world. She'd lost her
family
and her old life and maybe even her childhood, but she'd found herself. And that would have to do.
She pulled the white dress over her head and
changed into a T-shirt and sweatpants. Then she
walked out to James, head high.
He was in the bedroom, lying on a full-sized bed
made up with light brown sheets. He was still wearing his dirty clothes, and he had one arm crooked over his eyes. When Poppy came in, he stirred.
"I'll go sleep on the couch," he said.
"No, you won't," Poppy said firmly. She flopped on the bed beside him. "You're dead tired. And I
know I'm safe with you."
James grinned without moving his arm. "Because I'm dead tired?"
"Because I've always been safe with you." She
knew that. Even when she'd been a human and her
blood must have tempted him, she'd been safe.
She looked at him as he lay there, brown hair ruf
fled, body lax, Adidas unlaced and caked with soil.
She found his elbows endearing.
"I
forgot to mention something before," she said.
"I only
realized
I forgot when I was
. . .
going to
sleep. I forgot to mention that I love you."
James sat up. "You only forgot to say it with
words."
Poppy felt a smile tugging at her lips. That was the
amazing thing, the only purely good thing about what had happened to her. She and James had come
together. Their relationship had changed-but it still
had everything she'd valued in their old relationship.
The understanding, the camaraderie. Now on top of
that was the new excitement of discovering each
other as more than best friends.
And she'd found the part of him that she had
never been able to reach before. She knew his se
crets, knew him inside out. Humans could never
know each other that way. They could never really get into another person's head. All the talking in the
world couldn't even prove that you and the other
person both saw the same color red.
And if she and James never merged like two drops
of water again, she would always be able to touch
his mind.
A little shy, she leaned against him, resting on his
shoulder. In all the times they'd been dose, they'd
never kissed or been romantic. For now, just sitting
here like this was enough, just feeling James breathe and hearing his heart and absorbing his warmth. And
his arm around her shoulders was almost
too
much, almost too intense to bear, but at the same time it was safe and peaceful.
It was like a song, one of those sweet, wrenching
songs that makes the hair on your arms stand up.
That makes you want to throw yourself on the floor
and just bawl. Or fall backward and surrender to the music utterly. One of
those
songs.
James cupped her hand, brought it to his lips, and
kissed the palm.
I told you. You don't love somebody because of their looks or their clothes or their car. You love them because
they sing a song that nobody but you can understand.
Poppy's heart swelled until it hurt.
Aloud she said, "We always understood the same
song, even when we were little."
"In the Night World there's this idea called the
soulmate principle. It says that every person has one
soulmate out there, just one. And that person is per
fect for you and is your destiny. The problem being
that almost nobody ever
finds
their soulmate, just be
cause of, distance. So most people go through their
whole lives feeling not complete."
"I think it's the truth. I
always
knew you were
perfect for me."
"Not
always.
"
"Oh, yes. Since I was five. I knew."
"I'd have known you were perfect for me-except
that everything I'd been taught said it was hopeless." He cleared his throat and added, "That
is
why I went
out With Michaela and those other girls, you know.
I didn't care about them. I could get dose to them
without breaking the law."
"I know," Poppy said. "I mean-I think I always
knew it was something like that, underneath." She
added, "James? What am I now?" Some things she
could tell instinctively; she could feel them in her
blood. But she wanted to know more, and she knew
James understood why. This was her life now. She
had to learn the rules.
"Well." He settled against the headboard, head tilted back as she rested under his chin. "You're pretty much like me. Except for not being able to age
or have
families,
made vampires are basically like the
lamia."
He shifted. "Let's see. You already know
about being able to see and hear better than humans.
And you're a whiz at reading minds."
"Not everybody's mind."
"No vampire can read everybody's mind. Lots of
times all I get is a sort of general feeling for what
people are
thinking.
The only certain way to make a
connection is to-" James opened his mouth and
clicked his teeth. Poppy giggled as the sound traveled
through her skull.
"And how often do I have
to-?" She clicked her
own teeth.
"Feed." She felt James getting serious. "About
once a day on average. Otherwise you'll go into the
bloodlust. You can eat human food if you want, but
there's no nutrition in it. Blood is everything for us."
"And the more blood, the more power."
"Basically, yes."
"Tell me about power. Can we-well, what can
we do?"
"We have more control over our bodies than hu
mans. We can heal from almost any kind of injury
except from wood. Wood can hurt us, even kill us." He snorted. "So there's one thing the movies have
right-a wooden stake through the heart will, in fact,
kill a vampire. So will burning."
"Can we change into animals?"
"I've never met any vampire that powerful. But
theoretically it's possible for us, and shapeshifters and
werewolves do it all the time."
"Change into mist?"
"I've never even met a shapeshifter who could
do that."
Poppy thumped the bed with her heel. "And obvi
ously we don't have to sleep in coffins."
"No, and we don't need native earth, either. My
self, I prefer a Sealy Posturepedic, but if you'd like
some dirt ..."
Poppy elbowed him. "Urn, can we cross running
water?"
"Sure. And we can walk into people's homes with out being invited, and roll in garlic if we don't mind
losing friends. Anything else?"
"Yes. Tell me about the Night World." It was her
home now.
"Did I tell you about the dubs? We have clubs in
every big city. In a lot of small ones, too."
"What kind of dubs?"
"Well, some are just dives, and some are like cafes,
and some are like nightclubs, and some are like
lodges-those are mostly for adults. I know one for
kids that's just a big old warehouse with skate ramps
built in. You can hang out and skateboard. And there
are poetry slams every week at the Black Iris."
Black
iris,
Poppy thought. That reminded her of something. Something unpleasant ...
What she said was, "That's a funny name."
"All the dubs are named for flowers. Black flowers
are the symbols of the Night People." He rotated his
wrist to show her his watch. An analog watch, with
a black iris in the center of the face. "See?"
"Yeah. You know, I noticed that black thing, but I
never really looked at it before. I think I assumed it
was Mickey Mouse."
He rapped her lightly on the nose in reproof. "This
is serious business, kid. One of these will identify you
to other Night People-even if they're as stupid as
a werewolf.'I