"And
we
belong together. Nobody can separate us.
We don't have to hide."
"Oh
..."
Poppy whispered again. Then she said,
"James, pull the car over. I want to kiss you."
When they were in motion once more, Phil said, "But where are you two going to go now? Poppy
can't come home."
"I know," Poppy said softly. She had accepted that.
There was no going back for her; the old life was
over. Nothing to do but build a new one.
"And you can't just wander around from place to
place," Phil said, doggedly persistent.
"We won't," Poppy said calmly. "We'll go to Dad."
It was perfect. Poppy could feel James think,
Of
course.
They would go to her father, the always-late, always-impractical, always-affectionate parent. Her
father the witch who didn't know he was a witch.
Who probably thought he was crazy when his powers
acted up.
He'd give them a place to stay, and that was all they needed, really. That and each other. The whole Night World would be open to them, whenever they
wanted to explore it. Maybe they could come back
and visit Thea sometime. Maybe they could dance at
one of Thierry's parties.
"If we can
find
Dad, that is," Poppy said, struck by
sudden alarm.
"You can," Phil said. "He flew out last night, but
he left an address. For the first time."
"Maybe somehow he knew," James said.
They rode for a while, and then Phil cleared his throat and said, "You know, I just had a thought. I don't want any part of the Night World, you under
stand-I don't
care
what my heritage is. I just want
to live like a human-and I want everybody to be
dear on
that...."
"We're dear, Phil," James interrupted. "Believe
me. Nobody in the Night World is going to force you
in. You can live like a human all you want as long as you avoid Night People and keep your mouth shut."
"Okay. Good. But here's my thought. I still don't
approve of vampires, but it occurs to me that maybe
they're not as completely bad as they seem. I mean,
vampires don't treat their food any worse than hu
mans do. When you think of what we do to cows
...
at least they don't breed humans in pens."
"I wouldn't bet on it," James said, suddenly grim.
"I've heard rumors about the old
days...."
"You always have to argue, don't you? But my other thought was that you're part of Nature, and Nature just is what it is. It's not always pretty, but ... well, it's Nature, and there it is." He wound up
glumly, "Maybe that doesn't make any sense."
"It makes sense to me," James said, entirely seri
ous. "And-thanks." He paused to look back at Phil
in
acknowledgment. Poppy felt a sting behind her
eyes. If he admits we're part of Nature, she thought,
then he doesn't believe we're unnatural anymore.
It meant a lot.
She said, "Well, you know,
I've
been thinking, too.
And it occurs to me that maybe there are other
choices for feeding besides just jumping on humans
when they don't expect it. Like ' animals. I mean, is
there any reason their blood won't work?"
"It's not the same as human blood," James said.
"But it's a possibility. I've fed on animals. Deer are
good. Rabbits are okay. Possums stink."
"And then there must be
some
people who'd be
willing donors. Thea was a donor for me. We could
ask other witches."
"Maybe," James said. He grinned suddenly. "I
knew a witch back home who was
very
willing. Name
of Gisele. But you couldn't ask them to do it every
day, you know. You'd have to give them time to
recover."
"I know, but maybe we could alternate. Animals one day and witches the next. Hey, maybe even werewolves on weekends!"
"I'd rather bite a possum," James said.
Poppy socked him in the arm. "The point is, maybe
we don't have to be horrible bloodsucking monsters.
Maybe we can be
decent
bloodsucking monsters."
"Maybe," James said quietly, almost wistfully.
"Hear, hear," Phil said very seriously from the
back.
"And we can do it together," Poppy said to James.
He took his eyes off the road to smile at her. And
there was nothing wistful about his gaze. Nothing
cool or mysterious or secretive, either.
"Together," he said out loud. And mentally he
added,
I
can't wait. With that telepathy of yours
you
realize what we can do, don't you?
Poppy stared, then felt an effervescent rush that almost shot her out of the car.
Oh, James-do you
think?
I'm certain. The only thing that makes exchanging blood so special is that it enhances telepathy. But you don't need
any enhancement
you little dreamer.
Poppy sat back to try and still her heart.
They would be able to join their minds again. Any
time they wanted. She could imagine it, being swept
into James's mind, feeling him surrender his
thoughts to hers.
Merging like two drops of water. Together in a way
that humans could never know.
I can't wait, either,
she told him.
I
think I'm going to
like being a witch.
Phil cleared his throat. "If you guys want some
privacy
.. ."
"We can't have any," James said. "Not with you
around. Obviously."
"I can't help it," Phil said through his teeth.
"You're the ones who're yelling."
"We're not yelling. You're snooping."
"Both of you give it a rest," Poppy said. But she felt warm and glowing all over. She couldn't resist
adding to Phil, "So, if you're willing to give us some
privacy, that means you trust James alone with
your sister...."
"I didn't
say
that."
"You didn't have to," Poppy said.
She was happy.
It was very late the next day. Almost midnight, in
fact. The witching hour. Poppy was standing in a
place she'd thought she'd never see again, her moth
er's bedroom.
James was waiting outside with a carload of stuff,
including one large suitcase of Poppy's CDs, smuggled
for them by Phil. In a few minutes James and Poppy
would be heading for the East Coast and Poppy's
father.
But first, there was something Poppy had to do.
She glided quietly toward the king-size bed, mak
ing no more noise than a shadow, not disturbing ei
ther of the sleepers. She stopped by her mother's
still form.
She stood looking down, and then she spoke with
her mind.
I know you think this is a dream, Mom. I know you
don't believe in spirits. But I had to tell you that I'm all
right. I'm all right, and I'm happy, and even if you don't
understand, please try to believe. Just this once, be!ieve in what you can't see.
She paused, then added,
I
love you, Mom. I always
will.
When she left the room, her mother was still
asleep---and
smiling.
Outside, Phil was standing by the Integra. Poppy
hugged him and he hugged back, hard.
"Goodbye," she whispered. She got into the car.
James stuck his hand out the window toward Phil.
Phil took it without hesitation.
"Thank you," James said. "For everything."
"No, thank
you."
Phil said. His smile and his voice
were both shaky. "Take care of her
. . .
and of yourself." He stepped back, blinking.
Poppy blew him a kiss. Then she and James drove
off together into the night.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
LISA JANE SMITH is the author of more than a
dozen books for young adults. Since childhood she
has been fascinated by the night and the way the
ordinary world changes in moonlight. Many of her
books are about the mysterious things that happen
after darkness falls. She lives in northern Califor
nia, in a rambling house in a small town. On
warm summer nights she watches the stars while
deer feed on the hill around her. Her Archway
trilogies include
The
Forbidden
Game
and
Dark
Visions.