“Do you know him?” Tiffany asked. When I shook my head she said, “That’s Diego. He’s one of the smartest kids in school, but he’s been out with the flu since Halloween.”
“A lot of kids have been,” Aaron said. “They even had to shut down the school for a couple days to keep it from spreading around. Hey, maybe we’ll get lucky and there’ll be another outbreak.”
Tiffany prodded him. “You just want to lay around all day and watch TV.”
“That’s not what we did the last time,” he teased.
As Tiffany protested I leaned over to Gray, who hadn’t said a word. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing.” He abruptly stood up. “I’ve gotta go.”
After my brother left I gave my new friends a wry look. “Sorry. He’s shy.”
“Most big guys are,” Tiffany said. “Present company accepted, of course.”
“Your brother ever think about playing football?” Aaron asked me. “He’d make a great front lineman.”
“Gray’s really not into sports.” I felt a little dizzy. “Both of us love to ride, though. Do you guys have horses?”
As we talked the dizziness faded, and didn’t come back for the rest of the school day. I met Gray out by his truck in the student parking lot feeling pretty good about our new school. Maybe this time we’d be able to make some real friends and be more like other teenagers.
My brother didn’t say anything on the way home, but once we were home he offered to help me make dinner.
“Are you running a fever?” I demanded.
Gray shrugged. “Trick said you shouldn’t have to do all the cooking.”
“I like doing the cooking,” I reminded him. “It gets me out of clearing the table and washing the dishes. Don’t ruin things for me.”
I decided to make spaghetti for dinner, and I was browning the ground beef and onions when Trick came in from the barn.
He went to the sink to wash his hands. “How was your first day?”
“Unusually terrific,” I told him as I added some diced garlic to the skillet. “My student mentor is the school’s head cheerleader, and she’s great. So is her boyfriend. I like all my classes and my teachers. I just wish Grim weren’t so … grim.”
“A new school is always an adjustment. Give him some space,” my brother advised. “Any problem today with your head or your shoulder?”
“I felt a little dizzy at lunch, but it went away. It was probably because I was hungry.” I glanced at him. “I know you’re worried about me, but you need to lighten up, too. I’m good.”
Trick sat with me and talked about his plans for the farm as I made the salad and garlic bread. While he was setting the table I took my backpack upstairs and unloaded it so I could do my homework after dinner. I dropped one book, and as I bent down to pick it up I noticed something sticking out from under the edge of my mattress. It was a note written in block letters on thin, stiff paper.
Meet me tonight by the moonflowers.
I stared at the note as I slowly straightened. My head pounded as I kept reading the words over and over. Meet who? What moonflowers?
A moment later the sensation passed, and I calmed down. Gray must have stuck it there as some sort of weird practical joke. I’d have to pay him back by leaving a note in his underwear drawer: Stay out of my bedroom, you sneak.
My spaghetti turned out as it always did: tasty but nothing special. For once my brothers didn’t seem to have much appetite, and I remembered what Boone had said about the flu.
“We should get flu shots this year,” I said. When they both stared at me, I laughed. “Someone told me today that it’s been going around the school. What, do you want the flu?”
“I’ve got to check on Flash.” Gray got up, took his dishes to the sink and then stalked out.
“What is with him?” I asked Trick.
“He’s a teenager,” my brother said, as if that explained it all.
I thought about mentioning the note Gray had stuck under my mattress, but something stopped me. I couldn’t tell Trick about the note because … I didn’t know why, but I couldn’t.
Gray never came back to the house, so I helped my brother clear the table and wash the dishes. Then I went upstairs to do the rest of my homework, but I kept looking at my bed. Finally I got up and went to the side, lifting the mattress to see if the big grump had hidden anything else under there.
The bundle of letters I found was very old, and the envelopes each had my father’s name written on them in beautiful script.
I sat down on the bed, holding them as if they might crumble into dust. I’d never seen them before, but they looked so familiar. My fingers slipped the last envelope out of the bundle, and I opened the flap and took out the folded sheet inside.
Thomas,
I heard my parents talking in the library. Someone saw us together, and now my father knows about us. He knows what you are. He’s going to gather the family and hunt you down. Thomas, he intends to kill you.
I can’t stay here or let them hurt you. I know you said we can’t be together because of what we are, but I know you love me. You’re the only one who can protect me and the baby now.
I’ll be at the mill after midnight. We have to go tonight. Please, be there.
Your Rose
The letter floated from my fingers to the floor beside my feet as I heard someone calling me. I got up and turned around, but no one was there.
I picked up the letter, put it back in the envelope, and hid the letters in my sock drawer. I couldn’t read them anymore. I couldn’t know what my mother wrote to my father. The compulsion was so strong I almost took them out of the drawer to tear them into pieces.
But a part of me knew I had already read the letters. I knew. I knew.
I didn’t look at the drawer again. Instead, I made myself finish my homework, and take a shower, and get ready for bed. When Trick came up to say good night, he found me reading the book for my English class.
“Moby Dick again.” He sounded amused. “What is this, the sixth or seventh time you’ve read it?”
“Eighth,” I told him, closing the book and setting it on my nightstand. “At this point? I’m cheering for the whale.”
He chuckled and bent over to kiss the top of my head. “Get some sleep.”
I didn’t sleep. I waited. I listened to the sounds downstairs, and when they quieted and I knew my brothers were asleep, I got up and changed into my riding clothes. I wasn’t supposed to go riding at night, but I needed to get out of the house. I needed to find the moonflowers, and see who was waiting for me there.
Sali whickered to me as I went to her stall, and once I saddled her she trotted out eagerly. I didn’t try to guide her but let her have her head, and she loped across the pastures, taking me to the very back of our property where it bordered a dense, thick woods.
I reined her in as we reached an old black oak with low-hanging branches, and after I dismounted I tied her up there. Then I walked toward the fence, and the brush hanging over it, and the dark boy standing next to a cluster of white flowers that were just now blooming.
“You shouldn’t ride alone at night,” the boy said. “It’s dangerous.”
I glanced at the big black tied up on the other side of the fence. His name was Prince, and he was very strong, and very fast. Sali liked to race him.
“Do you know who I am?” the boy asked.
I reached out to touch one of the moonflowers. I looked up into his beautiful gray eyes, like dark, glittering marcasite. Then I held up my bare fingers, but the ring I expected to see wasn’t there.
“He took it away from you and gave it back to me.” The boy took my hand in his and slid a heavy, old-fashioned ring on my finger. “It was part of the bargain he made with my parents. They made me swear I would not try to see you again.”
“But you’re here.”
“I’ve come every night since the dance.” His mouth hitched. “I even thought about having Prince thro
w me into the fence again, if I saw you out riding Sali.”
I closed my eyes and crumpled, but the dark boy caught me in his arms. He held me as my mind filled with voices and images rushing into my mind, and my body shook, and I cried out as the pain grew and built and then shattered.
When I opened my eyes, he was still holding me in his arms. My dark boy. My love. “Jesse. Oh, God.”
“I’m here.” He held me close, rocking me as I wept, stroking my hair and murmuring to me.
I felt empty by the time my tears ebbed, and tired, and filled with despair. “It was Patrick. He took away all my memories of moving here, meeting you, everything that’s happened. I thought today was my first day of school.” I remembered how friendly Tiffany had been. Tiffany, who had first despised me, and then had helped me during Barb’s attack. “They didn’t shut down the school because of the flu.”
He shook his head. “Your brother’s ability is very powerful, but he needed time to erase you from the memories of the people who live here. The sheriff helped him by conducting interviews about the incident during the dance. They were very efficient.”
“So everyone’s forgotten me. Diego. Boone.” I closed my eyes briefly. “What about Barbara?”
“She had a complete breakdown that night.” He brushed some hair back from my cheek. “Her parents have taken her for treatment at a mental health hospital in another state. They will not be returning to Lost Lake.”
Trick couldn’t have done this all on his own. “Your parents helped my brother do this.” He nodded. “Why?”
“He promised that he would keep their secret, and help protect them, if they would do the same for him.” He used his thumb to wipe the last tears from my face. “He loves you very much.” Then he looked away from me.
“There’s something else.” When he didn’t reply, I drew back. “Jesse, tell me.”
“You remember that you gave me your blood?” When I nodded, his expression grew tentative. “It should have finished the change, but it didn’t. It only strengthened the bond we have. I can hear your thoughts now, as plainly as if you were speaking to me.” He stopped talking and looked into my eyes. Inside my head, I heard his voice. And now that you are listening, you can hear mine.
“Yes. I can.” As stunned as I was, I still didn’t understand. “You said that vampires can only bond with other vampires.”
“That is true.” He looked as if he were groping for words. “Catlyn, I didn’t know. Not until your brother came to the island to bargain with my parents.”
Words from my mother’s last letter to my father flashed in my mind. He knows what you are. He’s going to gather the family and hunt you down. Thomas, he intends to kill you.
“My blood didn’t change you because it’s not all human,” I said slowly. “My father was a vampire, wasn’t he?”
His arms tightened around me. “Your father was like me and my parents. He never made the final change. It’s why he came here after he married your mother. He was one of our trainers. He survived the attack on our caravan, and was taken to the caves with us. He must have escaped some time that night. My parents didn’t see him again until he came to Lost Lake with your mother.”
I understood why he hadn’t wanted to tell me this last part. My brothers and I were part vampire, part vampire-hunter. That was the last of the family secrets, and maybe the worst of all, but I didn’t feel crushed. Despite their differences, their natures, and even their fates, my mother and father had found each other. They’d married, and had a family. They’d chosen hope over hatred. Faith over fear. Love over death.
Just as Jesse and I had.
“If Rose and Thomas could make a life together,” I told my dark boy, “then so can we.”
Acknowledgments
I would like to thank those who in so many ways contributed their time and knowledge to help me with the writing of this novel:
My daughter, Katherine, who first requested the story, and who remained on-call as my primary consultant for the entire time I was writing it. I know how annoying I can be, honey, and I appreciate your patience. Now you have to read it.
Hayley Brown, who generously served as both story consultant and manuscript reader whenever I needed. Hayley, you are a treasure and a true friend.
James Davis, who provided much expertise and insight about high school football and student athletes, and helped me understand that it is so much more than just a game. I wish you all the best, James.
Corie Robbins, whose friendship, training, and enormous love for horses provided so much material for this story. We miss you and think of you often.
Last but not least, I’d like to thank Brian Farrey, Sandy Sullivan, and all the terrific folks at Flux for working with me on After Midnight. You’ve made this experience one of the best I’ve ever had as a novelist, and that I will always remember with a smile.
About the Author
New York Times bestselling author Lynn Viehl has published over forty-seven novels in six genres. On the internet, she hosts Paperback Writer, a popular publishing industry weblog and writers’ free online resource. When she’s not writing or reading, Lynn lives a quiet life with her family in the country, where she spends her spare time collecting great books, sewing traditional quilts, painting terrible watercolors, and rescuing lost farm dogs, wayward baby birds, and the occasional runaway horse.
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
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About the Author
Lynn Viehl, After Midnight
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