"Don't make it?"
"Through the change. People over twenty almost never do. They don't
ever
wake up. Their bodies can't
adjust to the new form and they burn out. Teenagers
usually live through it, but not always."
Oddly enough, this was comforting to Poppy. A
qualified hope seemed more believable than an abso
lute one. To live, she would have to take a chance.
She looked at James. "How do you do it?"
"The traditional way," he said with the ghost of a
smile. Then, gravely: "We exchange blood."
Oh, great, Poppy thought. And I was afraid of a
simple shot. Now I'm going to have my blood drawn
by fangs. She swallowed and blinked,
staring at
nothing.
"It's your choice, Poppy. It's up to you."
There was a long pause, and then she said, "I want to live, Jamie."
He nodded. "It'll mean going away from here.
Leaving your parents. They can't know."
"Yeah, I was just realizing that. Sort of like getting
a new identity from the FBI, huh?"
"More than that. You'll be living in a new world,
the Night World. And it's a lonely world, full of se
crets. But you'll be walking around in it, instead of
lying in the ground." He squeezed her hand. Then
he said very quietly and seriously, "Do you want to
start now?"
All Poppy could think of to do was shut her eyes
and brace herself the way she did for an injection.
"I'm ready," she said through stiff lips.
James laughed again-this time as if he couldn't
help it. Then he folded the bed rail down and settled
beside her. "I'm used to people being hypnotized
when I do this. It's weird to have you awake."
"Yeah, well, if I scream you can hypnotize me,"
Poppy said, not opening her eyes.
Relax, she told herself firmly. No matter how much
it hurts, no matter how awful it is, you can deal with
it. You
have
to. Your life depends on it.
Her heart was thumping hard enough to shake her body.
"Right here," James said, touching her throat with cool fingers as if feeling for a pulse.
Just do it, Poppy thought. Get it over with.
She could feel warmth as James leaned close to
her, taking her carefully by the shoulders. Every
nerve ending in her skin was aware of him. Then she felt cool breath on her throat, and quickly, before she could recoil, a double sting.
Those fangs, burying themselves in her flesh. Mak
ing two little wounds so he could drink her blood
...
Now it's
really
going to hurt, Poppy thought. She
couldn't brace herself anymore. Her life was in the
hands of a hunter. She was a rabbit trapped in the
coils of a snake, a mouse under the claws of a cat.
She didn't feel like James's best friend, she felt like
lunch....
Poppy, what are you doing? Don't fight it. It hurts when
you resist.
James was speaking to her-but the warm mouth
on her throat hadn't moved. The voice was in her
head.
I'm not resisting, Poppy thought. I'm just ready for
it to hurt, that's all.
There was a burning where his teeth pierced her.
She waited for it to get worse-but it didn't.
It
changed.
Oh, Poppy thought.
The feeling of heat was actually pleasant. A sensation of release, of giving.
And closeness. She and James were getting closer
and loser, like two drops of water moving together until they merged.
She could sense James's mind. His thoughts-and
his feelings. His emotions flowed into her, through
her.
Tenderness
...
concern
...
caring. A cold black
rage at the disease that was threatening her. Despair that there was no other way to help her. And long
ing-longing to share with her, to make her happy.
Yes, Poppy thought.
A wave of sweetness made her dizzy. She found
herself groping for James's
hand, their fingers
intertwining.
James,
she thought with wonder and joy. Her com
munication to him a tentative caress.
Poppy.
She could feel his own surprise and delight.
And all the time the dreamy pleasure was building.
Making Poppy shiver with its intensity.
How could I have been so
stupid? Poppy
thought. To be afraid of this. It isn't terrible. It's
.. . .
right.
She had never been so close to anybody. It was as if they were one being, together, not predator and prey, but partners in a dance. Poppy-and-James.
She could touch his soul.
Strangely enough,
he
was afraid of that. She could
sense it.
Poppy,
don't-so many dark things-I don't
want you to see
...
Dark, yes, Poppy thought. But not dark and terri
ble. Dark and lonely. Such utter loneliness. A feeling
of not belonging in either of the two worlds he knew.
Not belonging anywhere. Except ...
Suddenly Poppy was seeing an image of herself. In
his mind she was fragile and graceful, an emerald
eyed spirit of the air. A sylph-with a core of pure
steel.
I'm not really like that, she thought. I'm not tall
and beautiful like Jacklyn or Michaela....
The words she heard in answer didn't seem di
rected toward her-she had the feeling they were
something James was thinking to himself, or remem
bering from some long-forgotten book.
You don't love a girl because of beauty. You love her
because she sings a song only you can understand....
With the thought came a strong feeling of protec
tiveness. So this was how James felt about her-she
knew at last. As if she were something precious,
something to be protected at all costs....
At all costs. No matter what happened to him.
Poppy tried to follow the thought deeper into his
mind, to find out what it meant. She got an impres
sion of rules-no,
laws ...
Poppy, it's bad manners to search somebody's mind
when you're not invited.
The words were tinged with
desperation.
Poppy pulled back mentally. She hadn't meant to
pry. She just wanted to help....
I know,
James's thought came to her, and with it
a rush of warmth and gratitude. Poppy relaxed and
simply enjoyed the feeling of oneness with him.
I wish it could last forever, she thought-and just
then it stopped. The warmth at her neck disappeared,
and James pulled away, straightening.
Poppy made a sound of protest and tried to drag
him back. He wouldn't let her.
"No-there's something else we have to do," he
whispered. But he didn't do anything else. He just
held her, his lips against her forehead. Poppy felt
peaceful and languid.
"You didn't tell me it would be like that," she said.
"I didn't know," James said simply. "It never has
been before."
They sat together quietly, with James gently strok
ing her hair.
So strange, Poppy thought. Everything is the
same-but everything's different. It was as if she'd
pulled herself up on dry land after almost drowning
in the ocean. The terror that had been pounding in
side her all day was gone, and for the first time in
her life she felt completely safe.
After another minute or so James shook his head,
rousing himself.
"What else do we have to do?" Poppy asked.
For an answer, James lifted his own wrist to his
mouth. He made a quick jerking motion with his
head, as if tearing a strip of cloth held in his teeth.
When he lowered the wrist, Poppy saw blood.
It was running in a little stream down his arm. So red it almost didn't look real.
Poppy gulped and shook her head.
"It's not that bad," James said softly. "And you have to do it. Without my blood in you, you won't become a vampire when you die, you'll just
die.
Like
any other human victim."
And I want to live, Poppy thought. All right, then.
Shutting her eyes, she allowed James to guide her head to his wrist.
It didn't taste like blood, or at least not like the
blood she'd tasted when she bit her tongue or put
a cut finger in her mouth. It tasted--strange. Rich
and potent.
Like some magic elixir, Poppy thought
dizzily.
And
once again she felt the touch of James's mind. Intoxi
cated with the closeness, she kept drinking.
That's right. You've got to take a lot,
James told her.
But his mental voice was weaker than it had been.
Instantly Poppy felt a surge of alarm.
But what will it do to you?
"I'll be all right," James said aloud. "It's you I'm
worried about. If you don't get enough, you'll be
in danger."
Well, he was the expert. And Poppy was happy to
let the strange, heady potion keep flowing into her.
She basked in the glow that seemed to be lighting her
from the inside out. She felt so tranquil, so calm....
And then, without warning, the calm was shat
tered. A voice broke into it, a voice full of harsh
surprise.
"What are you
doing?"
the voice said, and Poppy
looked up to see Phillip in the doorway.
CHAPTER 6
James moved fast. He picked up the plastic tumbler
on the bedside table and handed it to Poppy. She
understood. Feeling giddy and uncoordinated, she took a healthy swig of water and licked her lips to
wash any traces of blood away.
"What are
you doing?"
Phillip repeated, striding
into the room. His eyes were fixed on James, which
was good, because Poppy was trying to position her
self to hide the side of her neck that James had
bitten.
"None of your business," she said, and in the same
instant she knew it was a mistake. Phillip, whose
middle name was Stability, was looking distinctly un
stable tonight.
Mom told him, Poppy thought.
"I mean, we aren't doing
anything, "
she amended.
It didn't help. Phil was clearly in a mood to see ev
erything in the world as a threat to his sister. And
Poppy couldn't really blame him-he'd walked in on
the two of them in a strange embrace on a rumpled hospital bed.
"James was comforting me because I was scared,"
she said. She didn't even try to explain why James
had been cradling her head to his arm. But she
glanced at James's arm surreptitiously and saw that
the wound there was already closed, the mark fading.
"Everything's all right, you know," James said,
standing to fix a mesmerizing silver gaze on Phillip. But Phil hardly gave him a glance. He was staring
at Poppy.
It's not working, Poppy thought. Maybe Phil's too
mad to be hypnotized. Or too
stubborn.