Temptation (14 page)

Saw her arms flail the air as she began to drop.

Then silence.

Then he was alone up there.

All alone.

Without realizing it, Matt was at the cliff edge too, on his hands and knees, peering down into the swirling blackness, weighted down by his dread, not even breathing, holding his breath, staring into the rolling, twisting waters.

She's dead too, he realized.

She has fallen to her death.

Frozen by his fears, by the thought of what he knew he would find, Matt stared down into the waters, crashing against the wall of rocks.

And saw Jessica smiling up at him, standing near the shore, waist-deep in the water, her hair catching the bright moonlight.

“Huh? Jessica?” he managed to utter, surprised that he had any voice at all.

She waved up at him, tossing her head back.

Then she motioned for him to come down, to join her.

“You're okay?” he called.

She couldn't hear him way down there. She motioned again for him to come down.

But he couldn't stop staring at her.

How had she survived that fall? he wondered, feeling his heartbeat return to normal, feeling the heavy dread lift from his body.

How did she keep herself from crashing against the rocks?

How did she do it?

He was on his feet now, waving back at her.

So happy. So happy she was alive. So happy that he felt like spreading his arms and taking off, flying off the cliff edge and floating down to her.

But he turned and carefully made his way across the flat stone ledge. The rocky pathway down was steep and slippery, but he ran eagerly, stumbling, kicking stones, sending them scuttling down in small avalanches.

“Jessica—you're okay!”

She still couldn't hear him over the wind and the waves.

Standing on the pebbly shore now, she smiled at him, hair aflame in the bright moonlight, arms at her sides as if patiently waiting for him.

“Hey—you scared me!” he cried, sneakers splashing in puddled crevices in the rock-strewn sand. “You really scared me!”

She didn't reply.

She threw her arms around his shoulders and pulled his face to hers.

The perfume. It seemed to float around him, to hold him, to draw him near.

She felt warm and cold at the same time, wet from the ocean waters, yet her lips were so dry, hot and dry.

Before Matt could take a breath, before he even realized what was happening, she was kissing his mouth, kissing his eyes, kissing his chin.

Kissing him with such surprising passion.

So hot and so cold at the same time.

The tangy perfume, the hot, dry lips, the brush of her hair, the warmth of her face—it all overwhelmed Matt.

The kisses. The kisses.

He struggled to respond.

But he found himself sinking—willingly, so willingly—into dizzying, spinning darkness.

Gabri rose slowly from his coffin, into the blue evening. The dirt that formed his mattress, precious native soil, all that was left of his homeland, of his own true time, clung to his clothing, and he brushed it off wearily.

Just waking, his face revealed the centuries. It took effort to compose himself, to soften the ravages of time; effort to make himself young again, to smooth his features, to bring the spark of life to his eyes, to lift himself through the pain, the ancient pain that swept over him every day as he slept his unnatural sleep.

He groaned and smoothed back his dark hair, practiced motions, so much harder without a mirror.

So much harder to summon the youthful face without a mirror.

Yet somehow, it was much easier to continue the evil, endless journey of a vampire without having to look at oneself, without having to see what one has become.

“Well, well. You're very philosophical today, Gabri,” he said aloud, speaking to shifting shadows on the beach-house wall.

A quiet snicker made him spin around. A soft cry of surprise escaped his lips. “Jessica!”

Her jumpsuit matched the blue of the night. Standing just inside the window, her billowing hair caught the pale light of the rising moon.

At first she seemed to him part of the evening, a shadow stepping out of shadows. But as her eyes lit up, the rest of her appeared to take shape, to come alive. Her laugh sent a dry shiver down Gabri's back.

“Who invited
you
?” he snapped.

“I was in the neighborhood,” she joked.

“What do you want?” he asked impatiently, his expression revealing the sourness he felt, the sourness of her unwelcome intrusion, the sourness of waking up after so many long centuries, of rising up from the dirt one more time to fly and prowl.

“You're not very friendly tonight,” she said, approaching him slowly, a smug smile crossing her face. “What's wrong, Gabri? Not succeeding as well as you planned with the little blonde?”

“I'm succeeding better than you are,” he replied coldly.

Thoughts of April, of the nectar, the sweet taste of nectar, warmed him. “At least I haven't killed anyone.”

“That's no problem,” she said with a nonchalant shrug of her slender shoulders. “No problem at all. You don't think I'd let a little thing like that stand in the way of my winning our bet, do you?”

He uttered an unpleasant curse. “You cannot win. April is a willing victim.”

“Ha!” Jessica cried nastily, crossing her arms. “What did you do? Sneak up from behind and bite her back?”

“No need to sneak,” Gabri replied. “I have won her affections. She has broken off with that boyfriend of hers.”

“What?” For a brief moment Jessica's eyes revealed surprise.

“She is no longer seeing Matt. She is with me now.” The smile that crossed his face was triumphant and leering.

“That's a victory for me—not you,” Jessica said, recovering quickly.

“What do you mean?”

“By splitting up April and Matt, you've made it easier for me to conquer Matt,” she told him.

He shook his head, brushing back his hair once again, smoothing the lines from his cheeks with both palms. “Dream on, Jessica,” he said dryly. “You can stand here and brag about what you're going to do for the rest of eternity, but April will be an Eternal One by the end of the week.”

“I'm not the one who's bragging—” she started.

He pushed past her toward the shadows near the window. And as she turned to face him, the shadows began to whirl, a dark dust storm.

The dust cleared. Gabri emerged in bat form. “I must fly to her now!” he rasped, and took off through the open window, soaring until he disappeared into the darkening sky.

“What a cornball idiot,” she muttered aloud. Reaching into
his coffin, she grabbed up a handful of dirt, the precious dirt that helped maintain Gabri, and tossed it angrily to the floor.

•   •   •   •   •

Courtney jumped on Gabri's shoulders. Whitney grabbed him around the waist. Giggling loudly, they pulled him to the deck and climbed on him.

“No! No!” he cried helplessly, laughing and squirming, trying to unseat them, causing them to hold on even tighter.

“Girls—give Gabri a break!” Mrs. Blair cried, shaking her head.

“It's okay. I can handle them,” Gabri boasted.
“Owww!”

His words caused the two girls to bounce even harder on his back.

“Come on, girls,” Mr. Blair pleaded, looking up from the newspaper. “Gabri isn't a carnival ride, you know.”

“Yes, he is,” Whitney replied.

“He's a roller coaster,” Courtney said. “Wheeeee!”

“Ow!” Gabri cried, laughing through his pretend pain, slapping the deck floorboards like a wrestler.

Finally April appeared from the house. She was wearing snug-fitting white leggings, and a black T-shirt under a bright banana yellow shirt tied in a knot at her waist. “What's going on?” she cried.

“You look very nice,” her mother said approvingly, having to shout over the twins' squeals.

“But what are Courtney and Whitney doing?” April repeated.

“They've really taken to Gabri,” her mother replied in a confidential whisper.

“That's because he lets them do whatever they want!” April
said, amused by the spectacle of seeing a grown teenager helpless beneath two tiny girls.

“Helllllp!” Gabri moaned.

April came to his rescue, grabbing an arm of each sister and pulling the protesting girls off. “Gabri and I have to go,” she told them.

“But the ride isn't over,” Whitney said grumpily, making a move back to Gabri, who was struggling to get to his feet. She caught him around the knees. He grabbed the deck railing to keep from falling.

“That's enough!” Mr. Blair called firmly. “I mean it, Whitney.”

She ignored him, of course, and continued trying to tackle Gabri, who held on to the wooden railing for dear life.

It took another ten minutes to pull the girls away—and convince them to stay away. April's parents kept apologizing, but Gabri insisted he'd had a great time. “Next time, I'll outwrestle you both!” he boasted to the twins. Then he said good night to everyone and he and April stepped off the deck and began to follow the sandy path that led past other beach houses to town.

“My sisters really like you,” April said.

“Because they can beat me up,” Gabri said.

“My parents think you're really nice too,” she added, her eyes on the path.

“Your parents have good taste,” he said, smiling.

“Oh. Look. I almost forgot to show you,” April said, stopping suddenly.

“What is it?”

“My dad got me an early birthday present,” she replied, her hand searching under the black T-shirt. “My birthday isn't until next month, but Dad can never wait.”

The yellow shirt she had on top seemed to shimmer in the moonlight. Gabri stared, following her hand as it found the chain she was wearing around her neck.

“Look,” April said, and raised the small, shiny pendant for him to see. “It's a silver cross. Isn't it elegant?”

The cross caught the moonlight and glowed, the light catching the horror on Gabri's face.

Gabri took a step back and tried to soften his expression before April noticed.

His thoughts churned. The light of the cross had burned him as if it were a searing flame.

“Very beautiful,” he managed to say.

What am I to do? he thought, suddenly in a panic. I dare not come close, I dare not puncture her throat, I cannot taste the nectar while she wears that cross.

What to do? What to
do
?

Its simple power could blind him forever, its light could burn his already-dry flesh; it could consume him in flames.

What to do? What to do?

Then, as April replaced the cross, trying to tuck it back under the shirt, it slipped out of her hand. “Oh!”

Gabri saw it hit the sand.

April bent down quickly, her hands searching the ground. She pulled it back up, a frown on her face. “The clasp is a little
loose,” she said, squeezing the cross in her hand. She turned to him. “Would you help me put it back on?”

“Okay.” He stepped behind her so she wouldn't see his hands trembling.

With the cross at her throat, she raised the ends of the chain behind her neck. “Just clasp it for me.”

“No problem,” he said softly, being careful not to let his eyes rest on the cross. He took the ends of the delicate chain and pressed them together.

He pretended to have difficulty, then pretended to succeed in closing the clasp.

“It should hold,” he told her.

But he had deliberately left the chain unclasped.

“Thank you,” she said, turning to flash him a grateful smile.

He smiled back, careful not to glance at the cross, gleaming just below her throat. “It's very pretty,” he said, a cold tremor coursing down his back from the thought of it.

They made their way toward town, walking slowly past rows of beach cottages, all of their windows glowing with orange and yellow light.

As the houses gave way to a field of tall grass, Gabri saw the unclasped cross slip off and silently fall to the ground.

They kept walking.

April hadn't noticed.

Gabri smiled at her, unable to conceal his joy and relief.

Happily, so happily, eager for what was about to happen, he put his arm around her shoulders and drew her close.

•   •   •   •   •

Later that same night Matt arrived home from his date with Jessica. He stopped at the back door, closed his burning eyes, and pressed his feverish forehead against the cool glass.

I'm so tired, he thought.

So tired, it seemed an impossible effort to pull open the door and get into his bed.

It couldn't be that late, Matt thought, opening his eyes and pushing himself with great effort away from the doorway. The moon was still high in the sky. The air was cold and heavy with dew.

He coughed.

His throat ached.

Hope I'm not getting sick.

To his surprise, his night with Jessica was already fogged in his memory.

Where had they gone? What had they done?

He remembered the dark beach. He remembered her mouth, her lips, her kisses.

He remembered the pain. The sweet pain.

Pain?

No.

Couldn't be pain.

I'm too tired to remember, he told himself.

I'm just . . . so . . . tired.

Somehow he pulled open the door. Silently he moved across
the squeaking floorboards, through the dark kitchen, through the short, narrow hallway, past his parents' room.

Silence.

To his room.

So tired. So weary. It took such effort to push open the door. He felt so heavy. His
clothes
felt so heavy.