Thicker Than Water (25 page)

Kia smiled nervously as she slipped off her coat.
He thinks I'm here to sleep with him.
Of course he did.

“You look ... tasty,” he said, his eyes traveling up and down her body.

Kia took a step toward the enormous bed. “I—there's something I want to tell you.”

“Oh?” The candle flickering by the bed cast shadows on his face, making his dark eyes even more intense. He rolled over and lit some incense in a burner on the other side of the bed.

Kia knelt on the edge of the bed. “There's something I need you to do.”

“Name it. I'll do my best to accommodate you.” He moved toward her but didn't touch her.

She couldn't look at those eyes, that mouth. She wanted to forget why she was there and melt into him. But she had to stay on track.

“I—I know your secret, Damon,” she whispered.

“Do you?” He looked amused.

“I do,” she insisted. “And it's all right.”

“Is it?” He inched closer. She could feel his breath. “I'm glad.”

“It's why I'm here. Because of your secret.”

“Is that why?” His hand was in her hair.

She had to say it out loud. Or else she'd never be able to continue.

“I know you're a vampire.”

There, she'd said it.

He froze a moment and searched her face. Then he smiled. “And you like that about me.”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Good,” he said, pulling her up against him.

She let him kiss her, to let him know she meant it. She wasn't afraid of his truth. Then a thought drew her away from him. What if being sired, being turned into a vampire, was painful? She didn't want to do anything to hurt her mother.

I'll never have to lose her,
she reminded herself. The cancer had already caused her mother long, constant pain. How bad could it be? How long could it take? Her mother had been in pain for months and months.

This was the right thing to do.

She knew he was waiting for her to say or do something.

“I want you to be your vampire self for me,” she spoke up.

“Why?” he asked, his voice husky. He began to untie one of the lacings in the front of her dress. “Are you offering yourself as my victim?”

She put her hand on his, stopping him from undoing the next lace. “I need something else.”

He looked puzzled but intrigued. “All right. I'm game. What do you want from Damon the vampire?”

Kia swallowed and pulled her hand from his because she saw that it was shaking and she didn't want him to think she was afraid. “It's not me. I want you to turn my mother.”

Damon dropped his hand from her dress. “What?”

“You have to understand,” Kia blurted. “She's dying. I need you to make her a vampire so that I'll still have her. So she won't be gone. Then she can live forever. Please.” The words came out so quickly they ran together.

Damon retreated from her, sitting up, leaning against the wall at the head of the bed. “Okay, this has just gotten strange.”

Panic made Kia's heart beat fast. Her brain reeled, trying to find a solution. If he wouldn't turn her mother into a vampire, he could turn Kia into one. He had always seemed as if he wanted to be her sire. Then she could turn her mother. They'd be vampires together. Maybe that would be even better.

She crawled toward him. “I'm sorry. I was wrong. I shouldn't have asked that.”

She lowered herself so that her neck was at his mouth. “Make me a vampire instead.”

His hands wrapped around her and he ran his tongue along her neck, then, pulling her down hard, he started to suck on her skin.

It felt incredible.

He moved under her so that she was straddling him, never letting go of her. Her back arched with the biting sensation on her neck, but then she realized he wasn't piercing her flesh; there were no fangs. He was just giving her a class-A hickey.

She broke away. “No,” she said. “I mean it. Bite me for real. Draw blood. Make me a vampire. I want to be one too.”

His dark eyes clouded for a moment, as if he was trying to figure out why she had stopped him. Then her words seemed to sink in. “I'm not going to do that.” He slid out from under her. “That's not my ... That's not my main . . .” He shook his head. “Not with you. That wouldn't be right.”

“But I want you to,” she said.

“No.” He rolled off the bed and started flipping through CDs.

Kia stared at his back, then stood and flung herself into the bathroom. She paced the tiny tiled room, then perched on the edge of the bathtub. Her fingers drummed the porcelain rim. How could she make him do what she wanted?

She stood and yanked open the medicine cabinet. She pulled out his razor and the spare blades and plunged a blade into her skin, tracing her veins. Over and over.

He won't be able to resist.
She had witnessed it herself—what happened to him at that party once he saw the blood onstage. His fangs just appeared.

Slice. Slice.

She started on the other arm.

Good
. Slice.
Good.
Slice. He'd know she was doing this of her own free will. No guilt for him.

She'd never cut this much before. The red was blurring together and there was less and less white skin between the cuts.

But was it enough? She peered at her arms, watching the blood. She had to bleed enough to make him drink. Make it impossible for him to control himself.

Slice. Slice. Slice.

“Kia,” he called from the other room. “You okay in there?”

She opened the door. He was standing right in front of her.

“You see?” she said, holding up her dripping arms. “I want this.”

He stumbled backward. “What the—?”

She stepped toward him, and to prove how serious she was, she slashed again. She had to use the tops of her arms this time. She'd run out of space.

“Drink the blood, Damon. I want to be like you. I need to be like you. It's my only hope.” She held her arms out to him.

“Are you nuts?”

She stood still. He sounded angry.

“It's all right, Damon,” she told him. “I want to be a vampire. I
need
to be one of the undead.” Then she smiled as she realized her mistake—for him to drink, it probably had to be from her throat. She lifted the razor to cut herself again.

Damon lunged forward and grabbed her arm, making her wince in pain. He yanked the razor out of her hand and flung it away, then shoved her onto the bed.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he shouted, pacing back and forth at the end of the bed. “Why are you trying to freak me out?”

“I'm not. I'm not,” Kia moaned. “I need you to make me a vampire. Why don't you understand that?” Why was he so mad at her?
Please oh please don't be mad
.

Damon stopped pacing and stared at her. “Are you serious?” he demanded, his voice incredulous. “It's a fucking game. There's no such thing as vampires.”

Kia stared at him openmouthed, her arms beginning to ache, to sting. She couldn't understand what he was saying. It made no sense.

“You actually believe all this crap?” He shook his head. “What are you, a gullible kid with morbid fantasies?”

Kia's body shuddered, and then she collapsed in sobs. “It was supposed to be for my mom,” she choked out, his words bleeding into her brain, understanding oozing through her, clumping and clotting inside her.

His eyes suddenly narrowed. “How old are you?” he demanded.

Kia sucked in air. “Seventeen,” she admitted in a tiny voice.

“Oh, man.” He grabbed his leather coat from where he dropped it on the floor and pulled out his cell phone.

Kia huddled on the bed. She didn't even try to keep from crying. What did it matter if Damon hated her now? Thought she wasn't cool? None of it mattered.

“Kali, get over here, I need your help. I screwed up with the new girl.”

Kia rolled over, the sheet sticking to the blood on her arms. She could feel it trickling out of her.

Kali burst through the door a few minutes later. “Jesus, Damon, what did you do to her?”

“Nothing, I swear. She did it to herself.”

“Yeah, right.” Kali crossed to the bed. “Get me towels.”

“He's telling the truth,” Kia murmured. “It was me. I wanted ... I was wrong.”

Damon came back to the bed with two towels. Kali pulled away the sheets, making Kia wince. She wrapped Kia's still-bleeding arms with the towels and forced her to sit up. The room spun a little and Kia planted her palms hard on the bed.

“Get her out of here. She's underage.”

“Real genius,” Kali said.

“Hey, you thought she was in her twenties. You invited her to the private stuff too. So don't get all haughty on me.”

“Come on,” Kali said to Kia. “Playtime is over.”

Kali led Kia downstairs and propped her in the doorway while she called 911. “So did you do this because of Damon?” Kali asked after she hung up. “'Cause I have to tell you, he's not worth it. No guy is.”

“That's not why,” Kia mumbled. Then she decided it was better for people to think she cut herself up over some guy than the truth—that she had believed the unbelievable.

 

Kia and her father rode home from the hospital in silence. She'd been trapped waiting in the emergency room for five hours, and then they wouldn't release her until she'd been evaluated by the psych department. She had wanted them to call Aaron, or Carol, or Hecate instead of her dad, but they wouldn't do it. She was a minor, blah blah blah.

Kia stared out the side window groggily. After they tested her for drugs and she came up clean, they gave her a sedative. She figured her dad could have used one too.

When was the yelling going to start? It was almost harder waiting than just having him lay into her.

She stuck with Kali's cover story—it was all over some guy. That was a lot easier to explain. She also told the shrink that she only wanted to scare the guy—she wasn't actually trying to kill herself. She just wanted to guilt him. The shrink bought that, which was probably why they were willing to release her.

She had no idea what the shrink told her dad, other than that she now had follow-up appointments and that “family therapy” was recommended. Her dad had probably told them about her mom going into the hospice.

Shutting her eyes, she sighed and thought about how heavy her body felt. That must be the sedative. Leaning back against the seat, she rolled her head slowly back and forth. “I thought I could do this for her. I thought it would work.” She felt tears leak out of her eyes. “I thought I could save her.”

Kia heard a sharp intake of breath, and she opened her eyes, remembering her dad was sitting beside her. She hadn't meant to say that out loud.

Her father took her hand and held it with both of his. “Kia.”

She turned her head and stared out the window again.

The cab pulled up to their building and they rode the elevator in silence. Once Kia and her father were inside the apartment, Kia headed straight for her room.

“Kia, wait,” her dad said. “We need to talk.”

“I'm tired,” Kia said.

“I know,” her dad said. “But there are some things I need to say. Tonight.”

Kia leaned against the wall.

“I'm sorry,” he said.

Her eyes flicked up to his face. She hadn't expected that.

“I'm sorry,” he repeated. He looked so much older than he had yesterday. But younger too, somehow. As if he were the same age as Kia.

“What you said in the taxi.”

“I was dopey,” Kia said. “Don't pay any attention.”

“I have to. Because I think somehow you believe what you said. That in some way I don't understand you thought you could sacrifice yourself to save your mother.”

Kia could feel her insides shudder as if her guts were sobbing. She steadied herself by putting a hand on the wall.

“I need you to hear me,” her dad said. “Loud and clear. There is absolutely nothing you can do to make your mother better. Nothing. It isn't up to you to keep her alive. It's not possible, and more important, it isn't your burden.”

“I wanted to—” Her voice broke off.

Her father stepped toward her.
If he hugs me, I'll snap in two,
she thought. He seemed at a loss, though, so he leaned on the wall next to her.

“I know you did. You do. But she would never have wanted you to sacrifice anything for her. Not school. Not your friends. Certainly not your health.”

Kia nodded as she stared at her shoes.

“I—I don't know what you told the doctors, but I think you were trying to show me how much all of this has been hurting you. I'm sorry. I wasn't paying enough attention.”

“That's okay,” Kia said.

“No, it isn't.” He ran his hand through his hair several times. “Do you know why your mother and I split up? It wasn't over a woman, it wasn't because I didn't love you. It was because I just didn't know how to be married. Or a dad. What I know how to do is work.

“I guess . . .” He was telling her too much, but she didn't know how to stop him.

“I left because I hate failing. And I was failing. Your mother. You.” He shook his head. “I like things that make sense. Your mom and I—we didn't make sense. Your mother getting sick, well, that makes no sense at all. So I'm fumbling along looking for logic. And failing.”