Jessica's Guide to Dating on the Dark Side (42 page)

"SHE'S SETTING LUCIUS up," I told my parents. "Faith swore she'd get back at him for breaking up with her. She made it all up."

They shot each other looks that said they were uncertain.

"Lucius broke up with Faith days ago," I added, pleading his case. "And I'm pretty sure it was because he was afraid he was going to bite her. He knew he was getting out of control, but he stopped himself."

Mom was clearing plates from my dismal party. "Jessica, Lucius has been going through something very difficult, struggling within himself. We can't be sure what happened."

"Nothing happened!"

"And was 'nothing' happening in your room?" Dad asked. "You are too involved with Lucius to be objective, Jessica."

“He's a Vladescu," Mom added, dumping plates in the sink. She seemed very upset. "He wants not to be, but perhaps he couldn't fight that side of himself. Perhaps it was even dangerous to allow him to live here. I'm not even sure we did the right thing anymore."

"You're not being fair. Just because his uncles are terrible doesn't mean Lucius is a monster! He
didn't
bite Faith. Please, let's go to the police station!"

My parents shared another uncertain look. Then Dad said, "Jessica, no matter how we feel, Lucius asked us to let him handle this alone. We are going to respect his wishes. And so are you."

"I'm eighteen now," I pointed out. "I don't need your permission to do anything."

"But you do need a car," Mom noted.

I hurried to the hook by the back door where my parents kept the keys. Gone. "Where are the keys?"

"This is for your own good, Jess," Dad said. "You've gotten in way too deep with Lucius. You need to step back."

"And it is our responsibility to protect you," Mom added. "We want to help Lucius, too, of course. But you are our first priority."

I stared at them, betrayed.

"He doesn't want us right now, Jessica. We've done all we can," Dad said.

The phone rang, and I snatched up the receiver. "Lucius?"

"No, it's Mindy."

"I can't talk now—"

"It's about Lucius," Mindy said. There was panic in her voice.

"What is it? What's going on?"

"I don't know if I should tell you."

"Just say it, Mindy. Please."

"They're out of control," she said. "They're talking about beating him up for what he did to Faith. Frank has them all worked up, with all that vampire stuff. They're crazy!"

My fingers clutched at the receiver. "What exactly did you hear?"

"Some of the guys . .. They're waiting for Lucius. They're going to take him out to Jake Zinn's barn and 'teach him a lesson.' " She paused. "I'm scared for him, Jess. I don't know what he did to you—"

"Nothing!"

"But I'm scared for him. They're talking about the blood on you, and the scratches on Faith, and how his leg healed so fast. . . and all that stuff they found on the website about Lu-cius's family, Jess." She paused. "Faith heard you call him a vampire, too. In the barn."

That day in the barn so long ago. Again I made things worse for Lucius. Me. . . I'm the dangerous one. . .
.

"They keep talking about vampires and stakes," Mindy cried.

"Stakes?" The receiver nearly slipped from my grasp.

"Yes, Jess. They're taking
stakes,
like it's the Middle Ages or something! In case he's really a vampire! They're crazy!"

Stakes. Out-of-control people. Mobs. My birth parents were destroyed that way. . . .

I struggled to remain calm. "Did they say when this is all happening?"

"Tonight. Later tonight. They're going to get Luc when he comes out of the police station . .. Everybody heard about him getting arrested ..."

Of course. The rumor mill was probably going berserk. "Thanks, Mindy."

"I... I know we haven't been friends lately . . . but this— this is crazy. I thought you should know."

“I gotta go.”

"And Jess?"

"What?"

"Happy birthday."

"Bye, Mindy." I hung up the receiver, tore out the door before my parents could stop me, and ran for our barn to saddle up Belle.

Chapter
56

DEAR VASILE,

Pardon the Mount Gretna Police Station letterhead on the admittedly cheap stationery. I am fortunate to have even this with which to write you.

It appears that I am accused of "attacking" a local girl here, Faith Crosse, and biting her in the neck. They will finish "processing" me soon (like the region's famous bologna!), so I shall try to keep this "short and sweet," as the Americans say. Most importantly, I did NOT sink my fangs into that insufferable girl. She completely fabricated the injury. The police officers slid a series of "shocking" photographs under my nose, watching my face. I could but laugh. Bite marks, yes. But from a vampire? No. A clever fakery, though. Faith is nothing if not clever. And apparently admirably inured to pain. The marks appeared rather deep. She had a few good bruises, too. Bravo. Excellent work.

During a particularly dark time, I rather enjoyed Faith's devious nature. Now my dalliance comes back to bite
me.
Almost deliciously ironic, isn't it?

Regardless, I sense that the mood in this little village is rather unforgiving at
present.
Although I am to be released "upon my own recognizance" until formally charged,
I
have a strong suspicion
—
vampire's intuition
—
that "the jig is up." (You must sample some of the old American crime dramas available on
DVD.
They have a certain grimly humorous sensibility that connects with a vampire.)

Or, to put it in terms you are more likely to understand, the mob is gathering, as I have anticipated for some time now.

I write because I know that you had longed for the pleasure of destroying me yourself for defying you. For breaking the pact and ruining your plan. Oh, how you no doubt thirsted to thrust the stake deep. But now the much-yeamed-for task will fall to a gang of ridiculous American teenagers. In a sense, they have bested you, Vasile. Is it cruel of me to feel so happy to deprive you of that which you so desired? And yet I do feel a certain joy to know that you will always wish it had been you. .
. .

Thus, I go willingly to my fate in humble Lebanon County, Pennsylvania. Thus, history repeats itself.
Yet
another Vladescu destroyed. I shall strive to go as bravely and stoically as my parents. To uphold the honor of the ckm
—
which is more than you have done, Vasile, in my view.

I also write on behalf of Jessica. I never bit her, Vasile. She remains an American teenager. Leave her be. The dream of a Dragomir princess is over.

Is there more to say? It seems odd, given my penchant for rambling missives, that my final letter is so brief. But, in truth, I am done
—
in more ways than one. (Who can resist gallows humor? Is it not a mark of courage to laugh at one's own demise?)

I entrust this now to the United States Postal Service. Very reliable organization. It is the rare bureaucracy that one would trust to deliver one's last words. And yet I feel confident this will reach you expeditiously.

Your nephew in blood and memory,

Lucius

Chapter
57

BELLES HOOVES THUNDERED in the rainy night. I was freezing on her back. It was late winter, and the night was still icy cold, the sleet pelting against my face, melting through my thin shirt. There had been no time to grab a coat.

"Come on, Belle," I urged, slamming my heels into her flanks, willing my mare to go faster. It seemed like she understood my urgency, for she flew across the frozen field. I prayed she wouldn't hit a groundhog hole and snap a leg, the night was so dark and we tore so recklessly across the uneven terrain.

Save Lucius . . . Save Lucius. . .
That's what I heard pounding in my ears with every hoofbeat.

Ahead of me, finally, the Zinns' barn loomed, pale gray and arched like a tombstone against the sky. A little cry escaped my lips. There were cars there. Already.
But I can't be too late. I just can't.
As I leapt from Belle's back before she even reined to a stop, I heard raised voices from inside the barn. Angry, male voices, and the sound of a scuffle. Running to the barn, I tore open the heavy door, hauling it back on its rusty track.

Inside: pandemonium. The struggle was already underway. The mob was loosed.

"Jake, no," I cried, seeing my ex-boyfriend there in the middle of the melee. But he didn't pay any attention. No one did. No one even noticed me running into the fight, trying to drag the boys off of Lucius. The crowd was in a lather. There was blood everywhere, fists flying, and Lucius struggling alone against them. He was so strong, but not strong enough for this. . . .

"I'll kill you for what you did to her," Ethan Strausser was screaming, pounding on Lucius. I tried to grasp Ethan's fists, but someone pushed me away, flinging me against a wall. I came back, yelling at them to stop, but no one paid attention. They were drunk on revenge and fear and hatred, hatred of someone different than themselves.

"Stop it," I begged. "Leave him alone!"

Lucius must have heard my voice, because he turned toward me, just for a second, and I saw surprise in his eyes. Surprise and resignation.

"Lucius, no," I begged, knowing what he was about to do.

Get himself destroyed.

But he made the fatal move, anyway. He turned back to the already furious boys and bared his fangs.

Macho bravado was abandoned among the attackers.

"Vampire!" Ethan cried, terror and shock mingling in his voice.

"Son of a bitch . . ." Frank Dormand backed away, looking petrified, as if he'd suddenly realized that it wasn't just a terrible game anymore. He'd unleashed a power he had never really expected to loose, for all his talk of vampires and websites and stakes.

Ethan scrambled backward on the hay-covered floor, too, but he was reaching blindly behind him for something.

I saw it before he located it. The stake. Homemade. Crude. But lethal. Half buried in the hay. I dove for it—but Jake saw it, too, and he was faster. He snatched it up and stalked toward Lucius, who was fighting his way to his feet, squaring off against the shorter but still powerful wrestler.