Temptation (3 page)

He hissed at her, swooped at her face, forcing her to stumble backward and shield herself with her arms. Then, still hissing, up he fluttered until he disappeared against the black sky.

Seconds later Jessica was spinning in the tall grass. Moments after that she fluttered up to join her winged companion in the sky.

I'm so thirsty. So thirsty.

I need the nectar too, she thought.

I need the nectar. I need it so badly.

•   •   •   •   •

Monica Davis carried her sandals as she walked, her feet sinking into the wet sand, studying the rippling light on the ocean as the clouds moved across the moon. Her friend, Elly Porter, bent to pick up a smooth, white stone, then skipped it across the water.

“I'm cold,” Elly complained, jogging rapidly to catch up, her knees high, as if that would keep her warm.

“Feels good,” Monica said, closing her eyes, ocean spray clinging to her curly blond hair. “I'm just glad to get away from the cottage,” she added, picking up her pace, enjoying the sound her feet made squishing over the sand.

“When did you get here?” Elly asked, turning to face her friend, walking backward, the wind fluttering her oversize T-shirt.

“Late last night,” Monica replied. “And, of course, Dad threw a fit. He always does.”

“What was it this time?”

“Two of the screens were torn. And there was some kind of bug nest in the house. Wasps, I think. So he started ranting and raving about how we're paying all this money for a summer house, the least the owner can do is make sure the screens aren't torn. Poor Dad,” Monica said, shaking her head. “He's just so
stressed out. It always takes him a month to unwind. And by that time—”

She stopped suddenly.

Elly stopped too, and followed her friend's gaze up to the blue-black sky. “Oh!” Elly cried out, grabbing Monica's arm. “Are those—bats?”

Monica let out a silent gasp as the two dark forms hovered above. Their wings flapped like bedsheets on a clothesline.

“Run!” Elly screamed, pulling Monica's arm.

Monica held back. “The beach is full of bats at night,” she told her friend, keeping her eyes on the two hovering forms. “They live on that island over there. See?” She pointed to a dark, wooded island out in the ocean beyond a small dock, its outlines visible against the purple horizon.

“Do people live on the island?” Elly asked. “It's completely dark.”

“I think there used to be some beach houses there,” Monica replied. “But you can only get to the island by boat. I don't think there are any people left. Only bats.”

“They're so creepy,” Elly said, close to Monica, her eyes trained on the two bats that seemed to be flying together.

“They flutter around,” Monica said softly, “but they're harmless.”

As she said that, one of the bats plunged toward Elly.

Elly didn't have time to move or cry out.

She saw gleaming red eyes.

Heard the hiss of wind, a shrill whistle, a screech of attack.

She felt it grab her hair. She felt it brush her face. Hot and wet. Hairy. Sticky.

It scratched her.

It beat its wings against her cheek.

“Help me!” she shrieked. “Oh, Monica—please help!”

“Help! Monica!”

Frantically waving her arms, Elly tried to beat away the attacker.

Monica hesitated for a second, horrified by the struggle, then lunged forward to help her friend.

As she moved toward Elly, the second bat swooped down. Monica cried out and raised her hands to shield herself.

She could feel a cold rush of air as the creature darted past her.

Then, to Monica's surprise, the second bat appeared to attack the first, flying at it, pushing it with its wings, hissing at it, bumping it away from Elly.

Screeching its anger, the first bat resisted the attack. But the second bat, its red eyes aflame, snapped and swooped until it pushed the first one away.

And then, as both girls stared openmouthed, their hands still held up protectively in front of their faces, the two bats lifted up into the darkness and disappeared over the dunes.

“Are you okay?” Monica cried, rushing to hug her friend. Elly was trembling all over. Her skin was cold and hard with goose bumps.

“I think so,” she whispered uncertainly.

“Let's go,” Monica said.

They began to run back toward the cluster of beach houses at the north end of the beach.

The whole struggle had taken less than ten seconds, Monica realized.

But it was ten seconds she would like to forget.

What's
with
these bats, anyway? she wondered, studying the inky black sky as she ran.

•   •   •   •   •

On the south end of the beach, beyond the clusters of beach houses, beyond the grassy dunes, a tall rock cliff jutted out over the ocean, leaning into the water as if trying to reach the dark, wooded island across from it.

In the shadow of this granite cliff, deserted and silent except for the relentless wash of waves against the shore, two bats descended to where sand met rock. Whirling furiously in the sand, they transformed themselves and stepped out to confront each other as humans, a boy and a girl.

“What is your
problem
?” Gabri demanded, glaring at Jessica and thrusting his hands angrily on his hips.

“I had no choice,” she replied heatedly, standing her ground.

“But I'm so
thirsty
!” he declared. “One sip—”

“No,” she said firmly.

“It's none of your business—” he started.

She tossed her long hair behind her with a sharp snap of her head. “Did you see how crowded the beach was?” she asked. “Did you see how many people were watching?”

She didn't give him a chance to reply. “Do you want to have everyone terrified before summer even begins? Use your brain, Gabri. Or has that dried up too?” Then she smiled as she made a joke: “You could give vampires a bad name!”

He snarled furiously at her, a frightening animal sound. His fangs curled down on his chin.

Jessica didn't back away. “One stupid attack like that, and all the fresh blood could be scared away. The town could close the beach until the bat problem was solved.”

He turned away angrily, unwilling to admit that she was right, that he had acted foolishly. “She was so soft and ripe,” he muttered.

“You're a jerk,” Jessica said. “Have I mentioned that before?”

He kept his back to her and stared at the rocks sloping up to the cliff. “I'm sick of your insults,” he hissed bitterly.

“That wasn't an insult. It was a compliment,” she joked.

Angry, he spun around to face her, his features tight with fury. “How old are you?” he demanded.

“Huh?” Her full lips formed an O of surprise. “Old enough to know more than you,” she replied, laughing, pleased at her own smugness.

His eyes continued to burn into hers. She tried to look away, but he held her with his stare. “You really think you're hot stuff, don't you?”

She nodded.

“You really think you're better than me.”

She nodded again.

Again she tried to turn away from him. But the powerful hold of his stare was too overwhelming.

They stared at each other in silence for what seemed a long time, locked together by ancient, invisible forces.

“How would you feel about a little challenge?” he asked finally.

“A challenge?” She felt herself pulled toward him, pulled against her will.

“A bet,” he said, a smile slowly forming on his handsome face.

“I'll win,” she said flatly, her face expressionless, only her eyes alive.

The smile faded quickly from his face. “No, you won't. You will lose.”

“What's the bet?” she asked softly, drawn toward him, caught in his grip, a prisoner of his eyes. “Do you want to bet on the Red Sox?”

He didn't laugh. “I hate your sense of humor,” he said heatedly.

“Jealous,” she accused. And then screamed, “Stop staring at me, Gabri!”

To her relief, he obediently averted his eyes. But the curve of a smile on his face revealed that he enjoyed having power over her. “Do you want to hear the bet or not?” he asked sharply.

“Sure.” She moved beside him and leaned back against a sloping rock. It felt cool against her back. Soothing.

“We both need the nectar,” he said, reaching up and sliding his fingers through her long hair. “We need it so badly.”

“Cut to the chase,” Jessica said sharply.

Ignoring her impatience, he continued to comb her hair with his long, slender fingers. “Why not see which of us is better at getting the nectar?” His fingers moved slowly, rhythmically through her hair, giving her chills. “Why not see which of us is more successful with the young humans, which of us is more attractive, more appealing?”

She shuddered, then grabbed his arm, gently pulling his hand from her hair. “What are you suggesting, Gabri?” she asked, not releasing his arm.

“I will get a girl within my power before you can get a boy to succumb to you,” Gabri said, his entire face lighting up with the challenge.

Jessica's face expressed disgust. “You mean you will fly onto the beach and attack a girl before I can attack a boy—like that disgusting, babyish display you put on tonight?”

He squeezed her hand. “No, no,” he said softly. “Not like that. Three sips, Jessica. Three small, measured sips on three different nights. That's what it takes to turn a human into an Eternal One. Take too big a drink, and the human dies. Three small, measured sips—and the human lives
forever,
as we do.”

“So what are you suggesting?” Jessica asked, becoming more interested. “Are you saying that you will choose a girl, a living girl, and take three sips on three different nights, and change her into an Eternal One?”

“Yes!” he agreed excitedly. “I will do that before you can do
the same to a boy. What do you say, Jessica? Do you accept the challenge?”

She closed her eyes and shook her head. “No.”

“No? Why not?”

“It's too easy,” she replied, a mischievous smile forming on her full lips. “I'd win too quickly. You're no competition. By the time you arranged a blind date, I'd have my victim in my power.” She tossed her head back and laughed.

Gabri stuck his tongue out at her. “That's what I think of you. You're all talk, Jessica. You're afraid to compete with me. You know that girls can't resist me.”

“I can resist you,” she replied, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Then why won't you accept my challenge?”

She reached out and playfully squeezed his chin. “Don't get all pushed out of shape, Gabri honey,” she teased. “I just want to make the bet a little more even. You know, give you a tiny chance to win.”

He jerked his chin from her grasp and uttered an exasperated groan.

Jessica snapped her fingers. “I've got it! This'll make our little bet more interesting.”

He turned his eyes to hers. “Well?”

“You select the boy I'm to work on, okay?” she said, pleased with her inspiration. “You select my victim, Gabri—and I will select yours.”

“Yes!” he cried. “Excellent!”

Before they realized it, they were spinning together, whirling with the wind beneath the smooth, steep rock cliff, whirling together—and then rising apart, rising into the dark sky, soaring high, then diving low over the beach, still dotted with groups of young people.

Tender young people, Jessica thought hungrily, swooping low and hovering.

Tender young people.

Fluttering just high enough not to frighten them, she studied their full, happy faces.

And tingled with excitement.

April Blair knew she was trapped.

She backed helplessly into the corner and awaited her fate.

“Oh, no! Stop!” she cried, raising her hands to protect herself.

But her two sisters, Courtney and Whitney, the Terror Twins, as April called them, closed in on her. Giggling madly, Courtney held April's hands, while Whitney dived and began a ferocious tickling attack.

“Stop! Stop!” April cried through tears of laughter.

The two blond-haired, round-cheeked, six-year-old monsters knew that April was extremely ticklish, and they made the most of their knowledge.

“I can't breathe!” April gasped, sinking to the floor. “Really! I can't breathe!”

That only encouraged them.

April tried to roll away from them, but Whitney quickly jumped on her, pinning her against the straw mat that partially
covered the living-room floor. Courtney continued her attack, concentrating on the most sensitive spot—the back of April's neck.

April was squealing with helpless fury when Mrs. Blair burst into the room, loaded down with shopping bags. “April—what are you doing?” she asked, sighing as she set the heavy bags down.

Mom certainly has a flair for asking the obvious, April thought. “I'm being tickled,” she answered.

“We're monsters,” Whitney explained, still straddling April's back, her yellow sneakers digging into April's sides.

“I
know
that,” Mrs. Blair said sarcastically. “But, April, why aren't you helping? There's still plenty to unload from the car.”

“Sorry,” April said quickly, trying unsuccessfully to unload her little sister. “They won't let me help.”

“April, you're ten years older than they are,” Mrs. Blair said impatiently. “Why do you let them push you around the way you do?”

“Mom—” April cried, turning it into a three-syllable word. “They've got me outnumbered, you know?”