"He's not, and I want him out of here," Poppy said.
The nurse fluffed up Poppy's pillows, put a gentle hand on her forehead. "Only family members are allowed to stay overnight," she said to James.
Poppy stared at the TV and waited for James to go.
He didn't. He walked around the bed to stand by the nurse, who looked up at him while she continued
straightening Poppy's
blankets. Then her hands slowed and stopped moving.
Poppy glanced at her sideways in surprise.
The nurse was just staring at James. Hands limp
on the blankets, she gazed at him as if she were
mesmerized.
And James was just staring back. With the light
on, Poppy could
see
James's face-and again she had
that odd feeling of not recognizing him. He was very
pale and almost stern looking, as if he were doing
something that required an effort. His jaw was tight
and his eyes-his eyes were the color of silver. Real silver, shining in the light.
For some reason, Poppy thought of a starving
panther.
"So you see there's nothing wrong here," James
said to the nurse, as if continuing a conversation
they'd been having.
The nurse blinked once, then looked around the
room as if she'd just awakened from a doze. "No,
no;
everything's fine," she said.
"
Call
me
if
..."
She looked briefly distracted again, then murmured, "If,
um, you need anything."
She walked out. Poppy watched her, forgetting to breathe. Then, slowly, moving only her eyes, she
looked at James.
"I know it's a cliche," James said. "An overused
demonstration of power. But it gets the job done."
"You set this up with her," Poppy said in a bare whisper.
"No."
"Or else it's some kind of psychic trick. The Amaz
ing Whatshisname."
"No,"
James said, and sat down on an orange plas
tic chair.
"Then I'm going
crazy. "
For the first time that eve
ning Poppy wasn't thinking about her illness. She
couldn't think properly about anything; her mind
was a whirling, crashing jumble of confusion. She
felt like Dorothy's house after it had been picked up by the tornado.
"You're not crazy. I probably did this the wrong
way; I said I didn't know how to explain it. Look, I know how hard it is for you to believe. My people
arrange
it that way; they do everything they can to
keep humans not believing. Their lives depend on it."
"James, I'm sorry; I just---" Poppy found that her
hands were trembling. She shut her eyes. "Maybe
you'd better just-"
"Poppy, look at me.
I'm telling you the truth. I swear it." He stared at her face a moment, then let
out a breath. "Okay. I didn't want to have to do this, but
..."
He stood, leaning close to Poppy. She refused to
flinch, but she could feel her eyes widening.
"Now, look," he said, and his lips skinned back
from his teeth.
A simple action-but the effect was astonishing.
Transforming. In that instant he changed from the
pale but fairly ordinary James of a moment ago-into
something Poppy had never seen before. A different
species of human being.
His eyes flared silver and his entire face took on a predatory look. But Poppy scarcely noticed that; she
was staring at his teeth.
Not teeth. Fangs. He had canines like a cat's. Elon
gated and curving, ending in delicate, piercing points.
They were nothing like the fake vampire fangs sold
at novelty stores. They looked very strong and very sharp and very real.
Poppy screamed.
James clapped a hand over her mouth. "We don't
want that nurse back in here."
When he lifted the hand, Poppy said, "Oh, my
God; oh, my
God...."
,
"All those times when
you
said I could read your
mind," James said. "Remember? And the times
when I heard things you didn't hear, or moved faster than you could move?"
"Oh. my God."
"It's true, Poppy." He picked up the orange chair
and twisted one of the metal legs out of shape. He
did it easily, gracefully. "We're stronger than hu
mans," he said. He twisted the leg back and put the
chair down. "We see better in the dark. We're built
for hunting."
Poppy finally managed to
capture an entire
thought. "I don't care
what you
can do," she said
shrilly. "You can't be a vampire. I've known you
since you were five years
old.
And you've gotten
older every year, just like me. Explain
that."
"Everything you know is wrong." When she just
stared at him, he sighed again and said, "Everything
you think you know about vampires, you've picked up from books or TV. And it's all written by humans, I'll guarantee that. Nobody in the Night World would
break the code of secrecy."
"The Night World. Where's the Night World?"
"It's not a place. It's like a secret society-for vam
pires and witches and werewolves. All the best peo
ple. And I'll explain about it later," James
said
grimly. "For now-look, it's simple. I'm a vampire
because my parents are vampires. I was
born
that
way. We're the lamia."
All Poppy could think of was Mr. and Mrs. Ras
mussen with their luxury ranch-style house and their
gold Mercedes. "Your
parents?"
"Lamia is
just an old word for vampires, but for us
it means the ones who're born that way," James said, ignoring her. "We're born and we age like humans-
except that we can stop aging whenever we want.
We breathe. We walk around in the daylight. We can even eat regular food."
"Your parents," Poppy said again faintly.
He looked at her. "Yeah. My parents. Look, why do
you think my mom does interior decorating? Not be
cause they need the money. She meets a lot of people
that way, and so does my dad, the society shrink. It only takes a few minutes alone with somebody, and
the human never remembers it afterward."
Poppy shifted uncomfortably. "So you, um, drink
people's blood, huh?" Even after everything she'd
seen, she couldn't say it without half-laughing.
James looked at the laces of his Adidas. "Yes. Yes,
I sure do," he said softly. Then he looked up and
met her gaze directly.
His eyes were pure silver.
Poppy leaned back against the pile of pillows on
her bed. Maybe it was easier to believe him because the unbelievable had already happened to her earlier
today. Reality had already
been turned upside
down-so, honestly, what did one more impossibil
ity matter?
I'm going to die and my best friend is a bloodsuck
ing monster, she thought.
The argument was over, and she was out of energy. She and James looked at each other in silence.
"Okay," she said finally, and it meant everything
she'd just realized.
"I didn't tell you this just to get it off my chest,"
James said, his voice still muted. "I said I could save
you, remember?"
"Vaguely." Poppy blinked slowly, then said more
sharply, "Save me how?"
His gaze shifted to empty air. "The way you're
thinking."
"Jamie,
I
can't
think anymore."
Gently, without looking at her, he put a hand on her shin under the blanket. He shook her leg slightly,
a gesture of affection. "I'm gonna turn you into a
vampire, kid."
Poppy put both fists to her face and began to cry.
"Hey." He let go of her shin and put an awkward
arm around her, pulling her to sit up. "Don't do that.
It's okay. It's better than the alternative."
"You're . . .
freaking
. . .
crazy," Poppy sobbed.
Once the tears had started, they flowed too easily
she couldn't stop them. There was comfort in crying,
and -in being held by James. He felt strong and reliable and he smelled good.
"You said you had to be born one," she added
blurrily, between sobs.
"No, I didn't. I said I was born one. There are
plenty of the other kind around. Made vampires.
There would be more, but there's a law against just
making any jerk off the street into one."
"But
I
can't.
I'm just what I am; I'm
me. I
can't
be-like that."
He put her gently away so he could look into her
face. "Then you're going to die. You don't have any
other choice. I checked around-even asked a witch.
There's nothing else
in
the Night World to help you.
What it comes down to is: Do you want to live or
not?"
Poppy's mind, which had been swamped in confu
sion again, suddenly fixed on this question. It was
like a flashlight beam in a pitch-black room.
Did she want to live?
Oh, God, of
course
she did.
Until today she'd assumed it was her unconditional
right
to live. She hadn't even been grateful for the
privilege. But now she knew it wasn't something to
take for granted-and she also knew it was some
thing she'd fight for.
Wake up, Poppy! This is the voice of reason calling.
He says he can save your life.
"Wait a minute. I've got to think," Poppy said
tightly to James. Her tears had stopped. She pushed
him away completely and stared fiercely at the white hospital blanket.
Okay. Okay. Now get your head straight, girl.
You knew James had a secret. So you never imag
ined it was anything like this, so what? He's still
James. He may be some godawful undead fiend, but
he still cares about you.
And
there's
nobody
else to
help you.
She found herself clutching at James's hand with
out looking at him. "What's it like?" she said through clenched teeth.
Steady and matter-of-fact, he said, "It's
different.
It's not something I'd recommend if there was another choice, but ...
it's okay. You'll be sick while
your body's changing, but afterward you'll never get
any
kind
of
disease
again.
You'll
be
strong
and
quick-and immortal."
"I'd live forever? But would I be able to stop aging?"
She had visions of herself as an immortal crone.
He grimaced. "Poppy-you'd stop aging
now.
That's
what happens to made vampires. Essentially, you're
dying
as a mortal. You'll look dead and be unconscious for a while. And then
...
you'll wake up."
"I
see." Sort of like Juliet in the tomb, Poppy
thought. And then she thought, Oh, God
...
Mom
and Phil.
"There's another thing you should know," James
was saying. "A certain percentage of people don't
make it."