‘What happens now? Do you take blood from my wrist or what?’
Andrew shrugged. ‘Your wrist, your neck. Where doesn’t matter.’
‘Will it hurt?’
He nodded slowly. If he’d said or done otherwise, I wouldn’t have believed him. ‘Then you’ll be out of it for a while, but when you wake up, you’ll be . . .’
‘Like you,’ I finished. ‘Let’s get on with it.’
There are no such things as blood drinkers . . . vampires . . . the Undead . . . no such things . . .
Except for the man in Fipoli, and the man in my room and, in just a little while . . .
‘Are you sure?’ Andrew said.
I swallowed hard. ‘Yes. I . . . I think so.’
‘All right, then.’
I nodded my agreement. ‘Do you know exactly what you have to do?’ I asked.
There was a discernible pause before he replied, ‘Don’t worry. I won’t let anything bad happen to you.’
‘Well, the sooner we start, the sooner it’ll be over.’ Get it done, I thought. I just wanted it to be over.
Andrew stood up and came over to sit next to me. ‘Are you afraid?’
‘Petrified!’ I admitted, and I wasn’t joking.
‘Don’t be. In a little while you will be immortal, like a god.’
His eyes were turning ice cold again and I could hear my heart pounding, pounding in my chest.
Don’t do it . . . Do it . . . Don’t do it . . . The words played over and over in my head.
‘Are you going to drink my blood?’ I whispered.
‘Yes. I—Yes.’
I lowered my gaze, then turned away, trying to frame my next question. There had to be another way. We could be together without this . . . couldn’t we? He folded his arms around my body to hold me close to him, before pushing me back onto the bed and joining me there. Andrew felt warm, safe. Still my Andrew. I shuffled up to get as close to him as possible. Suddenly, he leaped back, as if stung.
‘What’s the matter?’ I asked.
He looked from my face to my throat and back again, then smiled. ‘Your cross.’ He gestured. ‘It’s dug into me. Could you take it off?’
‘But I always wear it. Why do I have to—’
‘Come on, Jayna. Please take it off.’
Frowning, I turned my back on him. ‘Undo it for me it, then?’
‘No can do. Sorry,’ he said lightly. I turned my head to look at him. Andrew wriggled his fingers at me. ‘I’m all thumbs. I wouldn’t be able to manage the clasp.’
Puzzled by his refusal, I unclasped the necklace myself. Then a strange, horrific idea entered my head. So horrific I almost laughed out loud. It was preposterous. I dangled my silver cross on its silver necklace and held it out towards him. He immediately drew back. Suddenly it wasn’t so funny any more.
‘That’s not clever, Jayna. You startled me.’ He sat forward to resume his former position, his eyes never leaving the cross in my hand. Slowly, I coiled my fingers around it. It felt warm from contact with my skin and comforting. I squeezed it until it dug into my palm, hurting, then carefully I placed the necklace in the top drawer of my bedside table. I stared down at the now-closed drawer, afraid. Sad. The cross had been a birthday present from my dad, but I’d only started wearing it a couple of years ago. I didn’t see myself as particularly religious – not religious with a capital R – but I did believe in love over hate and right over wrong. So what was I doing? Choosing love over what was right? When had they stopped being one and the same thing?
Andrew placed a hand under my chin, turning me round to face him. He was still smiling. I wished he wouldn’t.
‘Promise me something?’ I whispered.
‘Anything.’
‘Promise me that you won’t leave until I wake up,’ I said. ‘Promise me you won’t leave me alone in this house.’
‘There’s something I need to do. It shouldn’t take too long, though.’
‘Can’t it wait? I don’t want to be left to go through this alone, Andrew. Not even for a minute. Promise me.’
‘OK, I promise. I won’t go any further than your garden.’
He smiled again. Now he looked almost the same as before we went on holiday – before any of this had happened. Almost. Looking at him I tried to believe that what I was about to do was something strange and weird and wonderful. An adventure. Here I was with the chance to be with Andrew for ever. I was going to be immortal. So many other people would give up everything for an opportunity like this. All I had to do was reach out and take it. And still I hesitated. This was something to ensure that Andrew and I were together. For ever . . .
Isn’t that what I wanted?
He kissed the side of my neck, sending a shiver of excitement and something else racing through my body. I held on tightly to his warm, warm hands. He kissed my neck again.
‘You’re salty.’
I could hear the pleasure in his voice. My blood roared in my ears like a storm-swept sea. For ever . . . as a . . . blood drinker. Andrew shouldn’t be kissing me. Not when what we were about to do was so . . . so wrong.
What would I be? What would I become? Time. I needed more time.
Do it . . .
Don’t do it . . .
Do it . . .
‘No . . . No!’ I screamed, and pulled away violently. I fought to catch my breath. Why couldn’t I breathe? ‘I’m sorry . . . I can’t!’ I ran for the landing.
I’d barely taken two steps before Andrew was there facing me, his back against my now closed bedroom door. Stunned, I stared at him. A moment ago he’d been sitting on my bed.
‘How . . .?’ I shut up. Then I tried again. ‘Andrew, I can’t do this. Please understand. You’re going too fast. I’m frightened.’
‘Trust me.’ Andrew smiled, but his eyes . . . his eyes didn’t smile, didn’t blink. They stared at me. Only it was more than just staring. His eyes were changing colour, turning a vivid blood-red as he saw not just me or through me, but into me. Into my very soul. ‘Trust me.’ His voice was so gentle, so soft. He reached out his hand towards me, slowly. Oh, so slowly. ‘Trust me.’
Why did he keep saying that? Over and over. And staring?
Don’t . . .
My hand was in his and my body was next to his as he hugged me to him, and I had no idea how I got there. I wasn’t even aware that I’d moved from the middle of the room.
‘Andrew . . .’ A plea played in my head but I couldn’t get the words out. He was so seductive. It was so hard to say no . . . so hard to remember who I was, what I wanted other than him . . . His eyes burned into me, seeing everything. Eyes like . . . like—
Please . . . more time . . . one more day . . . please . . . Why couldn’t I get the words out?
‘Jayna, trust me.’ Andrew’s voice was no more than a sigh. A breath of the faintest, warmest air caressed my ear, my throat. My eyes were closing. I fought against it.
Do it . . .
Don’t do it . . .
It’s wrong . . .
It’ll be all right . . .
Andrew is right . . .
Andrew is all wrong . . .
Don’t . . .
‘Trust me . . .’ Andrew whispered against my ear.
And then he bit me.
23
IT HURT. IT hurt like hell. My neck was on fire. And that fire spread over my face and down my body. Along with the frantic hammering of my heart, I could hear him gulping. Gulping my blood. The sound made my stomach churn. It was gross. This whole thing was so messed up. And the burning in my neck was getting hotter. Fiery-hot. At that moment I tried to pull away, but his hands were vices holding mine captive. I closed my eyes against the sight and the sound and the smell of my blood.
Don’t do it . . .
This is a huge mistake . . .
I loved Andrew but this wasn’t right. I tried to speak and my tongue felt about fifty times its normal size and so dry. I tried to take a stronger hold of his hands in m
ine but I didn’t seem to be able to move. Mum and Teegan and Pete and Diane . . . everyone I knew seemed to drift into my head to stand before me. My eyelids fluttered open and the pounding of my heart began to subside – I could hardly hear it now. I was so tired, so sleepy, and it didn’t hurt so much any more. But I could still hear him drinking. Drinking my blood. Slurping, gulping sounds. But now they too were far away. Outside of me.
My head was so heavy. My eyelids closed and I let my head nod forward. I’d never felt so weary. Bone and blood weary. I was being carried, then gently lowered onto the bed. It was a struggle to open my eyes again and I only just managed it. Just in time to see Andrew’s flushed red face smiling down at me. A tiny trickle of blood escaped from the corner of his mouth and began to dribble down towards his chin. His tongue snaked out after it and licked it up.
My blood . . .
A blood drinker like him . . .
Not me . . .
His lips were the reddest I had ever seen them. I fought to keep my eyes open.
Something was wrong. I was slipping away from my body. That’s the only way I can describe it. It wasn’t like daydreaming or even sleeping, it was deeper than that. I couldn’t feel any part of my body, couldn’t even feel my heartbeat now. All I was aware of was a faint throbbing in my neck. I was slipping away. I tried to speak, to say Andrew’s name, but I couldn’t.
I realized I was dying.
‘Don’t worry, Jayna, I’m here.’ Andrew’s voice only just reached me, as though I was in a swimming pool with my head underwater and he was calling to me. ‘Don’t close your eyes. Not yet.’
Past the quivering of my eyelids I saw him bite deeply into his own wrist. Immediately he put it over my mouth. You must be joking, I thought with disgust. The thought had me fighting back to consciousness. It was the strongest thought I’d had since he’d bitten me.
No way . . .
Not me . . .
I turned my head away, but not far enough.
‘You must,’ he said urgently. ‘You won’t survive if you don’t.’ He turned my head and placed his wrist against my lips. I gagged as the hot, rust-flavoured liquid ran across my tongue and down my throat, but I couldn’t move away. My stomach started to burn.
‘Drink, Jayna,’ he ordered. ‘You need to take in enough to change. To live again.’
If I’d had the choice, if I could have told him, I would have chosen to die rather than drink his blood. As it continued to fill my mouth I wanted to curl up and hide where no one would ever find me. I tried not to swallow, tried to cough out the sour liquid, but he pinched my nostrils together so I had to gulp to clear my mouth . . . so I could breathe. And still Andrew held his wrist over my mouth.
‘This is how Julius kept me alive in Fipoli.’ His voice was far, far away. I could only just hear it. ‘I would’ve died otherwise . . . but you and I, Jayna, we’ll have each other. We’ll always be together now. I love you so much . . . so much . . .’
I didn’t hear any more. My eyelids were made of lead and I couldn’t have opened my eyes now, even if I’d wanted to – and I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to see anything, least of all Andrew’s face. My stomach cramped up and I felt foul. I was foul, disgusting. I wanted to cry, to howl.
I wanted to die.
Once again Andrew held my hands in his, saying something, and although I could hear the sounds I couldn’t make out the words. The sounds grew more distant. My body grew more and more heavy until I thought I must surely sink through the mattress. I pushed at Andrew’s hands – at least, I think I did.
Then I gave in and allowed myself to sink into slumber.
24
WAKING UP WAS like rushing upwards through fathoms of water to surface and gasp for air. I awoke icy cold, but bathed in sweat. A whole dance troupe were street dancing in my head.
And I was hungry. Ravenously, achingly hungry. My stomach felt as if it was about to collapse in on itself. I struggled to sit up, looking around the darkened room. Something was different. With a start of half-fear, half-excitement I realized what it was. I could see – perfectly.
The curtains were drawn and I instinctively knew it was late at night, but even with the lights off I could see. The colours of my room were so vivid. They didn’t look the same as when viewed by daylight, but they were colours nonetheless – night colours, slightly muted but somehow with a life of their own. Each colour in my room seemed to hum at me, the lurid pink of the wallpaper behind my posters, my pale yellow bottle of body lotion on the dressing table, even the grey hue of my carpet was discernible. I continued to scan the room. I could read Van Gogh’s signature at the bottom of my poster of his sunflowers. I could even read the words on the bottle of baby lotion, and I could see . . .
‘Andrew . . .?’
He was sitting on my bedroom chair next to the dressing table, watching me.
‘Hello, Jayna.’ His voice was strange, sort of raspy. And joyful. Uncertainly, I watched him. He smiled at me, his eyes dark and glittering.
My mind was a jumble of images and voices that I was having trouble straightening out. Andrew was looking at me in a really weird way.
‘How long have I been asleep?’ I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t sure of anything any more. The line between what was real and what was unreal had faded into non-existence.
‘Over twenty-four hours.’
‘A whole day!’ I was stunned. ‘I can’t have been out for a whole day.’
‘You were. I was here the entire time, watching over you,’ said Andrew.
‘It didn’t take you that long to wake up,’ I said, confused.
‘D’you remember the drinks Julius gave us in Fipoli?’
‘Yeah, some sort of wine cocktail.’
‘It wasn’t wine. Well, not all wine. His blood was mixed in it as well. It meant that I was over the effects of the change a lot faster than you as I had his blood in my system to begin with.’
Oh. My. God! My drink had had Julius’s blood in it . . .? It took a moment or two for my stomach to stop rocking.
‘Suppose he has hepatitis or something equally infectious?’ I said, scandalized.
‘Vampires can’t carry or catch human diseases,’ said Andrew, who was being remarkably sanguine about the whole gross idea.
‘Why would he give us a drink mixed with his blood if he was going to kill us?’ I frowned. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘It’s his way of marking his victims, playing with them like a cat plays with a mouse,’ Andrew replied, contempt evident in his voice. ‘He could then choose to kill them or not kill them, turn them or not turn them. And with his blood in them, they’d have no choice but to succumb to his wishes. The vampiric equivalent of Rohypnol.’
Bastard! Julius had done that to us, drugged Andrew and me so he could use us as and when he wanted. What did he have planned for me once he’d killed Andrew? It made me shudder to think about it. I still didn’t know what I’d said to make him change his mind, but thank God something I’d said had had an effect.
I concentrated on my body, my limbs, my torso, my head. Nothing hurt, nothing ached. In fact, apart from my rumbling stomach, I felt alert, buzzy . . . alive.
‘So you bit me, then?’ I struggled to remember just what had happened before I’d passed out.
Andrew didn’t reply; he just kept watching me. I could see him so clearly, as if the sun were parked just outside my bedroom window. All at once I felt uneasy. Seeing so well in the dark wasn’t natural. It wasn’t ordinary. At that moment I needed ordinary. I stretched out my hand towards the lamp on my bedside table. Lamplight was ordinary. The sudden light didn’t even make me blink.
My memory came limping back now. ‘My God – you stopped me from leaving . . .’
‘No, I didn’t,’ Andrew denied. ‘I asked you to trust me. And you did.’
Trust me . . . That memory filled my head now. Maybe I’d got the rest wrong? If only my head would clear, but I felt so peculiar. I forced myself to concentrate. r />
My name is Jayna Zoe Lucas and I’m seventeen years old.
At least my brain still worked. I was a little light-headed, and my hunger was getting worse, but apart from that I was just the same, if not better.
‘It worked, didn’t it?’ I whispered.
Andrew nodded, the smile broadening on his face. I watched him, waiting for the final pieces of the jigsaw to fall into place in my head. It was as if every part of my body were waiting, but I didn’t know for what.
‘I can see in the dark . . . is that part of it?’
He nodded again.
‘Apart from that, I don’t feel much different.’
‘You will.’
Was it a threat or a promise? Then more of what happened came back to me. Without warning, Andrew sprang out of his chair and came over to me. He sat down on the bed, taking my cold hands in his. The memory limp turned into a sprint and I closed my eyes and once again saw Andrew biting into his wrist and holding it over my mouth. I remembered the churning disgust I’d felt as his blood flowed over my tongue. Deep within me, a knot of dread began to unravel and I started to tremble. I pulled my hands out of his and wrapped them around my waist. The trembling was getting worse, deep inside me but spreading outwards like ripples in a pond.
‘You made me drink . . .’ I whispered. I stretched out my fingers until my bones cracked. Even now my stomach turned over at the memory.
‘I had to. It wouldn’t have worked otherwise. I wasn’t even sure how much to drink from you without killing you, like—I had to try and remember all I could of what happened to me and gauge it that way.’
‘You . . . you never told me that.’
‘You wouldn’t have let me do it otherwise. Besides, I would never let anything happen to you. You’re mine.’
The last time Andrew had said that was the first time we’d made love. So much had changed between then and now. What we had then was sunlight and love and something special. What we had now felt . . . sordid. I shut my eyes tight. More details of what had happened filled my head and I covered my face with my hands. My head was about to split open.