I'm a vampire. Everybody's scared of me. ME. And Lucas? He's the only guy who can scare vampires. All these rough-looking people—if they knew—they'd run for their lives.
When I could breathe again, I stepped back from Lucas and tried to examine our situation calmly. It was hard to think about anything besides him, though, and how lost we were. The fluorescent streetlight drained all the brightness from Lucas's bronze hair, so that it looked simply brown. Maybe it was exhaustion that made his face so pale and drawn; I could only imagine how tired I looked.
"It's nearly midnight. Where are we going to stay?" My cheeks flushed with heat as I realized what I'd said—which sounded a lot like an invitation for Lucas and me to spend the night together. Then again, hadn't we run off together? Maybe it was natural for him to assume that we'd go to bed. Maybe it would've been natural for me to assume that, and there had been times I'd wanted to be with him too desperately to sleep. Tonight, though, on top of everything that had just happened, the prospect only made me feel awkward and nervous.
Lucas seemed to have realized our predicament at the same moment I had. "I haven't got my credit cards with me. Kinda left in a hurry. We just spent the only cash I had in my pocket."
"The only thing I brought was a flashlight." Too-bright signs from the few open stores made me squint. "We'd have been better off with a slingshot and Oreos."
The rainstorm that had been raging in Riverton hadn't made it here, so we didn't have to worry about getting soaked as we walked around, trying to think of what to do. We were damp and exhausted and unsure of each other, and we did a poor job of acting casual as we passed bail bondsmen and liquor stores. Spending the night curled on different benches in some run-down park wasn't an appealing prospect.
For reassurance, I lifted my hand to my sweater, the place just beneath my collarbone where I'd pinned my brooch this morning. It seemed like a thousand years ago. But the brooch was still there, the carved jet edges of each petal cool against my fingertips.
At that moment, we walked past a pawnshop, three golden spheres outlined in neon above its door, and I realized what I had to do.
"Bianca, don't," Lucas protested as I pulled him inside the seedy little store. Shelves were piled with randomly stacked junk, all the things people had to get rid of, like brightly colored leather coats, sunglasses with metallic frames, and high-end electronics that were probably stolen. "We can go back to the bus station."
"No, we can't." I unfastened the brooch from my sweater, trying hard not to look at it. If I caught sight of the perfect black flowers, I'd lose my nerve. "This isn't about being comfortable, Lucas. It's about being safe and having a place to talk. And—" And to say good-bye, I thought but could not say.
Lucas thought that over for a second before he nodded.
We probably both looked completely dejected as we walked to the pawnbroker, but he didn't seem to care. A skinny man in a polyester shirt, he hardly paid any attention to us. "What's this? Plastic or something?"
I quickly said, "It's genuine Whitby jet."
"I don't know from Whitby." The pawnbroker tapped his fingernails against the carved leaves. "This thing is pretty old-fashioned."
"That's because it's antique," Lucas said.
"I hear that a lot," the pawnbroker sighed. "Hundred dollars. Take it or leave it."
"A hundred dollars! That's only half what it cost!" I protested. And it was worth so much more than money. I'd worn it virtually every day for months, the visible symbol of the love I felt for Lucas. How could this man look at it so coldly?
"People don't come here for the best return on their investment, sweetie. They come here to get some cash in their hands. You want the cash? You've got my offer. Otherwise, get outta here and stop wasting my time."
Lucas wanted to take the brooch back rather than let it go for so much less than it was worth. I could tell that much by the stubborn set of his jaw. I was learning that Lucas would often do something he felt strongly about, even if it wasn't the right move—and for us, keeping the brooch wasn't the right move. Resolutely, I held out my hand, palm up. "A hundred dollars, then."
For our sacrifice, we received five twenty-dollar bills and a paper ticket that promised us we could reclaim the brooch later, if we somehow came into a fortune in the next couple of days. "I'll get the money," Lucas insisted as we walked outside and turned toward the one motel we could see. "I'll get it back for you."
"You said you were rich, when you bought the brooch for me. Was that true?"
"Uh—"
I raised an eyebrow. "Not exactly?"
"I have access to Black Cross money, and there's a decent amount of that. But I'm supposed to spend it on supplies. Necessary stuff." He shrugged. "Not jewelry."
"You got into trouble, for buying that for me."
Lucas shoved his fists into his pockets, his mood black. "I told them that I work for them, basically. But I don't get a salary or hazard pay, so as far as I'm concerned, they owe me. That's exactly what I'm going to tell them when I explain that I'm buying the brooch back. Because it's yours, Bianca. It belongs to you, period."
"I believe you." I put my hands on either side of his face. "But it's not the most important thing, okay? The most important thing is that we're safe, we're together, and we get a chance to figure this all out."
"Yeah." Lucas's damp, rumpled hair was warm against my fingers, and he closed his eyes as I brushed it backward. "Now let's find a place to stay."
We had to walk only a couple more blocks before we found a cheap hotel. At the front office, a small room that smelled like beer and cigarettes, Lucas made sure to get us a room with two beds, which made the clerk look at us funny from behind her wall of bulletproof glass. I tried not to think about the precious brooch being sold to pay for one night in a small room with rickety twin beds and dark blue woolen covers, with only the light from one small porcelain lamp to see by. We didn't touch each other as we walked in, not even to hold hands, but I was incredibly aware of the fact that we were alone together in a bedroom. He turned on the lamp between our beds, but that didn't put me at ease. Instead, I found myself noticing how Lucas's white shirt was slightly stuck to his body because of the rain. The near-transparent cotton outlined the muscles of his back.
"You want to get undressed in the bathroom?" Lucas asked gently. "I'll slide under the covers. Turn off the lamp. By the time you come out, I won't be able to see a thing."
I laughed, both relieved and nervous. "You have some of our powers now. And some of us can see in the dark."
"Not me. I swear." He gave me a lopsided grin.
So I went into the tiny bathroom and peeled off my waterlogged clothes, piece by piece. At least my T-shirt and underwear were fairly dry. I washed my face and braided back my damp, curling hair; on the other side of the door, I could hear Lucas speaking briefly, then hanging up the phone. No doubt he had just left the message that would tell Black Cross where to find us.
Then I stared at myself in the mirror. It wasn't as if I'd never paid attention to my body before, but I'd never looked at myself and wondered how somebody else would see me. Lucas would see me, any second. Would he think I was beautiful? I realized that I felt beautiful, that I wanted him to see me. I brushed my hands over my stomach, then down the sides of my hips, newly sensitive to my own touch. The whole time, Lucas was just on the other side of the door. Getting undressed. Waiting for me.
The sliver of light beneath the bathroom door went dark. I took a deep breath, snapped off the light, and opened the door. Only the dim glow of city lights, filtered by the curtain, illuminated our room. Peering into the dark, I could see Lucas in the shadows; he'd taken the bed farther from the bathroom. He was already beneath the covers, one bare arm and shoulder visible.
I took a couple of breaths, then walked to Lucas's bed. He looked up at me, disbelieving, but lifted up the cover to invite me in.
"Just to sleep." My words came out as a whisper. My pulse pounded in my veins, and my
voice sounded thin and strange even to me. I felt warm all over, even between my fingers and my toes.
"Just to sleep," he promised. I wasn't sure I believed either of us.
So I slipped into the bed, and Lucas drew the blanket over us both. I lay my head upon the pillow, only inches away from his. The twin bed was so narrow that we couldn't help but touch each other—my bare legs brushing against his, his boxer shorts rough against my thighs, my breasts close enough to feel the body heat of his bare chest.
Lucas's eyes never left mine. "I need to know that you believe I'm doing the right thing."
I considered that. "I believe that you're doing what you think is right."
"Close enough," he said wearily.
"I love you."
"And I love you."
At that moment, I wanted to pull him against me so we could get lost in each other and forget about everything else. I didn't care if we were safe, if we would ever see each other again, even that it would have been my first time. But before I could make a move, Lucas simply folded my hands between his, as reverently as someone about to pray. "We can't get carried away," he murmured. His eyes burned into mine, as if there was nothing in the world he wanted more than to get carried away.
My voice shaky, I ventured, "Maybe we could."
His hands tightened around mine, and something inside me leaped in response. Still, Lucas didn't move to kiss me. "We can't." He said it like he was trying to convince himself as well as me. "We're both too close to changing into vampires as it is. If either of us lost control—if we both did—You know it could happen, Bianca."
"Would that be the worst thing?"
"Yeah, I think it would." Before we could start arguing again about what vampires were and weren't, who was good and who was bad, Lucas added, "Besides, we're meeting up with a group of vampire hunters tomorrow. Maybe it's a bad time to be a vampire."
Okay, that made sense. It didn't mean I had to like it. "All right," I murmured. "But, Lucas—"
"Yeah?"
"Someday."
His voice rough, Lucas repeated, "Someday."
I closed my eyes and lowered my face so that his fingertips touched my cheek. I could sleep now. I could believe that everything would be all right. Maybe it was only another dream, but we were in the place for dreaming.
* * *
"Lucas?"
I heard the woman's voice through a haze. At first I wondered why Patrice was talking about Lucas, then realized it wasn't Patrice speaking.
Startled, I sat upright. The events of the night before flooded my memory, dazing me, even as I blinked in the sudden light. Instead of waking up in my dorm room, I was lying in bed next to Lucas, who was pushing himself up and running one hand through his rumpled hair—and a woman in her forties was standing in the doorway of our motel room, staring at us.
Lucas swallowed hard, then grinned. "Hi, Mom."
Chapter Eighteen
"Okay, it's the twenty-first century, so I never thought you'd wait until you were married." Lucas's mother leaned against the doorjamb and folded her arms across her chest. "But honestly, Lucas. You knew I was coming. Do you really have to throw it in my face?"
"It's not what it looks like," Lucas said. How could he be so calm? Instead of stammering out apologies and explanations like I would've done, he simply put one hand on my shoulder and smiled. "Bianca and I shared a room because we're broke. We had to hock something even to get this. And nobody made you pick that lock either. So take it easy, all right?"
She shrugged. "You're almost twenty. You make your own choices."
"You're twenty?" I muttered.
"Nineteen and change. Is it important?"
"I guess not." Compared to everything else I'd learned about Lucas in the past day, what did it matter that he was three years older than me?
Lucas smoothly pushed himself out of bed. Just my luck: The first time I saw him wearing only boxer shorts, and I couldn't even relax to enjoy the view. "Bianca, this is my mother, Kate Ross. Mom, this is the girl I've told you about, Bianca."
She gave me a friendly nod. "Call me Kate."
Now that I was awake enough to focus, I could see how strongly she resembled Lucas. She was tall—even taller than Lucas, maybe—with chin-length golden-brown hair only a shade lighter than his and the same dark green eyes. Like Lucas, her face was angular: square jawed and sharp chinned. She wore faded blue jeans and a maroon Henley shirt tight enough to outline the sculpted muscles in her arms. I didn't think I'd ever met anyone who seemed less like a mom. I mean, what kind of mother found her son in bed with his teenage girlfriend and just smiled?
Then again, it beat having her flip out. I held up one hand in an awkward wave. "Hi there."
"Hey yourself. You guys must've had a rough night. Let's pour some coffee into you and figure out how to help Bianca." Kate nodded toward the street. Lucas was already running his hands through his hair and grabbing his jeans, unembarrassed in front of his mother. I wanted to wrap myself in the bedspread or something, but that would have been even more humiliating; instead I bounded out of bed and into the bathroom in about two steps.
Once inside, I recovered a little of my dignity by getting dressed again. My clothes were now dry, if rumpled. I loosened the braid I'd slept in, and my hair fell down around my face in soft waves. Not much of a hairstyling trick, but that was what they'd relied on in the seventeenth century. With a pang, I remembered my mom showing me. "Let's go."
Lucas shot me a look as we went out the door, perhaps trying to evaluate how I was holding up. Kate might be fooled by my false bravado, but he knew me better than that. I lifted my chin proudly, so that he'd know I was determined to make the best of our increasingly odd situation.
Kate led us to a battered old pickup truck from the 1950s, one with faded aqua paint and headlights shaped like the engines of the starship Enterprise. The whole time we got in, she kept looking around us, scanning every single passerby. "Do you guys think you were followed? The teachers can't look kindly on runaways."
"They didn't get as far as Riverton, not before we left," I said hastily as I scooted into the center and Lucas got in beside me. "The running water stopped them."
She froze that second, with one hand on the keys in the ignition. She stared at Lucas, not the usual upset-mom stare, the one that clearly says you're two seconds from being grounded. This was harder—the way I imagined army leaders looked when they sent traitors to firing squads. "You told her?"
"Mom, you need to listen for a sec." Lucas took a deep, steadying breath and held his hands out, as if he could actually hold her back. "Bianca knew the truth about Evernight already. I only explained Black Cross because I had to. It's not like she didn't realize vampires existed before. Okay?"
"No, it's not okay. Your mistake might be understandable, but it's still a mistake. You should know that by now." She shoved her bangs back and studied me more intently than she had at first. Kate's casual attitude had dissolved. "How did you find out about them?"
I thought she meant Black Cross at first. It took a second for me to understand that "them" meant "vampires" to her. Lucas hadn't told her what I truly was—and I realized, as he shifted in his seat next to me, that he was hiding the truth for my protection. Undoubtedly he also hadn't mentioned the fact that he now had some measure of vampiric power himself.
So I did what Lucas and I were apparently best at: I lied. "There were all kinds of clues. The fact that the school never served food for its students, so everyone ate in private—the dead squirrels all around—the way that so many people had attitudes and ideas that came from other centuries. It wasn't that hard to figure it out."
"Doesn't sound like much evidence." Kate, unconvinced, gunned the motor and sped out down a frontage road that led us out of the city area. "You never ran into the supernatural before, and you put it together from no more than that?"
"Bianca's hiding part of the truth because she's trying not to scare you," Lucas said. "She was the on
e who helped me after this happened." He then carefully pulled open the neck of his shirt. There, still dark pink against his skin, were the scars left from my second bite.
"Oh, my God." Immediately Kate reached across me to touch Lucas's arm. So she really was a mom after all, even if she didn't always show it. "We knew this could happen—we knew it—but I told myself it wouldn't."
Lucas ducked away, abashed. "Mom. I'm fine."
"You got away. How did you manage it?"
"I killed one of them—a vampire called Erich, one who had been threatening other human students. We got into an altercation. He had the worst of it. That's really all there is to say."
Lucas's talent at lying was easier to admire when I wasn't the one he was lying to. Of course, the genius of it was that Lucas wasn't actually making any of it up. Every word he'd said to his mother was factually true. He'd simply unfolded those facts in a way that led his mother to believe in an alternate sequence of events, one in which Erich had bitten him and I was the sweet, savvy, totally normal girl who had helped him recover afterward.