The Night House (11 page)

I reach for my bag, for my copy of
Emma
. A book of endless happy endings. There isn’t a single person who winds up alone when it’s over. Sometimes I wish I could do for Alex what Emma tries to do for Harriet. To match-make. To find her a better life. Alex deserves it. I’m at the part where Emma is trying to get Harriet to refuse a suitor. This is still when Emma is a bit headstrong and selfish. I love what Emma becomes in the end, but sometimes I need a breather in the middle.

That’s when I see him.

Ocean Eyes.

He’s across the street, talking to some boy. Ocean Eyes has his hands in his pockets, eyes downcast. He’s shaking his head at his friend. The friend turns around, scanning every face nearby, probably talking to him about school or girls or movies, or whatever normal boys talk about. Then, of course, he sees me.

I can see his lips form the words, “Oh shit!”

He attempts to casually point me out to Ocean Eyes. When he sees me, I become terrified for some reason. Third time’s the charm, is what they say. I jump to my feet, not sure what I should be doing. The quick movement makes my vision hazy, and my knees hit the pavement.

“Are you okay?” Ocean Eyes holds his hand out to me.

I stand up. My whole body resonates with the ground. He’s floating around in my vision. I can’t see straight. I take a step closer, hand pointed up at him, but I stumble. Heels were not the best choice today.

I fall into his outstretched hands. It’s as if he expected me to collapse.

He answers himself, “I guess you’re not.”

“I’m sorry,” I bark, sounding crazed. He sets me on my feet. I think he’s embarrassed, but I can’t quite tell. My balance slips away again, and he catches me. Again. The faint smell of cologne reaches me.

“You need to eat better,” he says. “More protein.”

“How do you know?” I ask. I must be pretty pale. I haven’t eaten anything except a bite or two of soft pretzel. This is Jeremiah’s fault. If he’d just bitten me like a proper monster…

He lowers his voice. “You’re kind of green.”

“What a charmer.” I take a deep breath and try to ward off the coming sickness. “Were you following me again?”

“I’m not…following you,” he stutters. “I swear.”

“Then what are you doing? You’re starting to creep me out.” But, to be honest, he doesn’t. He’s far too sincere. Maybe I’ve just spent too much time with vamps.

His expression hardens into something slightly resembling confidence. “You
seriously
need some real food, or you’re slowly going to run out of energy. In a permanent way.”

Finally, my vision sharpens with a burst of adrenaline, and I focus on his eyes. He knows something about me, I just don’t know what.

“I don’t understand,” I say. I hate how quiet my voice is.

“Please,” he pleads. “I just want to help you.”

That’s when I vomit.

James

I felt it coming, but it still surprises me when she throws up on the sidewalk.

“Are you okay?” I ask, leaning closer.

She bats me away, embarrassment filling the gap inside her. “Get
away
from me.”

“Just hold on. Let me get you some water and napkins.”

I sprint to the nearby pretzel stand, throwing a five-dollar bill at the vendor and taking as many napkins as I can and a bottle of water. Just when I think she’s making a break for it, I see her shuffle over to another bench. I sit next to her and hand her the napkins. She begrudgingly accepts, spitting on the ground and wiping her face. Then she takes a gulp of the water.

“You misunderstand me,” I begin.

She doesn’t say anything.

“I haven’t been following you or anything creepy. I just…after I saw you that night, I’ve been really worried.”

Relief washes over her, but not enough to cause her muscles to unclench. I decide not to tell her what I was doing before I got to Love Park. How I found myself wandering around the club where she first found me. How I went back to the South Street Diner, wandering slowly through the streets, hoping to catch a glimpse of her.

I’ve never opened myself up as much as I did this morning. My senses were completely vulnerable. Shiloh was there to make sure I didn’t drown in it all. He was my anchor while I searched all of Philly for any trace of this girl.

“I had to see if I could help you.”

“Help?” Pale lips sound out the word. She leans back. “If you know anything about me, you know that I’m a little beyond your scope.”

The sarcasm allows her to take control of the conversation. She folds her arms. I’m still scared she’s going to get sick on me, or that she’s going to make a break for it.

“Well, you don’t know me very well.”

“Which is what makes this stalking.”

She’s losing her grip, I can tell that much. I’m still not connected to her, though. I can only read the surface of her. Discomfort. Embarrassment. Curiosity. This is my chance; I can’t screw it up again.

Shiloh hovers nearby, keeping his distance, but he’s nervous. He wants to make sure I’m okay before he leaves.

“I just want to talk to you, okay? Maybe buy you a decent meal,” I say.

“I suppose you owe me for that kiss,” she says, with a sly smile. My face heats up.

“You kissed me.” I hold my hands up. “I’m just trying to help out.”

“Stop saying the
H
word.” The girl breaks eye contact. Her head droops, and she catches it in her hands. Blond hair falls to one side of her face, a curtain shielding her from me. She’s getting more tired, letting some of her defenses down. “I’ve had a bad couple of days, alright? Be nice.”

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m really not trying to freak you out.”

“A-plus job, man,” she says with a sigh.

Her hands fall to her lap. God, I wish I knew what she was thinking.

“Please, just let me buy you some food. You don’t even have to talk, if you don’t want to.”

She tilts her head toward me. Her hair parts, and I get a glimpse of her eyes.

“You just had to be a nice boy.”

A half smile emerges on my face, despite myself. “Sorry to let you down.”

Bianca

We head off back through the park. He walks with his head high, like he knows where he’s going. I watch him carefully, still waiting for the catch that will explain this anomaly. Who would be so stupid as to get involved with a vamp tramp?

Assuming he knows what I really do.

“Where are you taking me?” I ask.

He turns to me. “Well, if you’ll just follow me into this shady alley, there’s an unmarked white van waiting for us.”

“Are you at least going to give me candy first? Maybe a bike?”

He’s trying not to smile, but it shows through. The mop of brown hair just reaches his eyes. He’s a head taller than me. I’m trying not to let him make me feel small. It’s how sure of himself he seems. Like, maybe this isn’t totally crazy.

“Do you have a favorite place to eat?” he asks.

I let out my breath slowly. “Let’s just go to the South Street Diner.”

“Really?” He sounds amused. “Out of all the places you could go, you pick the South Street Diner?”

“It’s good.” It’s also cheap, and I feel horrible making him pay for me.

This is the strangest situation I’ve ever been in. I keep expecting something totally random to happen. I’ll notice that the sky is green and everything’s upside down and this is just a hallucination. But nothing changes. Everything is normal, and that’s the strangest thing of all. We’re just two kids walking down the street.

“Where do you live?” I ask in a rush. I’m trying not to look at him, but I can’t help myself. I think I might be glad that he came back. Maybe.

“Over in Society Hill.”

“Wow, now I don’t feel so bad making you pay.” I cross my arms. “You like it over there in Society Hill?”

He shrugs, hailing a cab. “It’s better than a lot of other places I’ve been. Where do you live?”

I’m not interested in giving a stranger the address to the Night House, so I ignore his question. “Who was that just now? The guy with you?” I can tell he doesn’t want to talk about him. “Come on,” I say. I feel the pull of withdrawal getting stronger. “You think I’m going to find him? Throw up on him too?”

He laughs as we get into the cab. “He’s my best friend.”

“He mad at you for ditching him?”

“No…he knows what’s up.”

We reach the diner quickly, and he pays before I can even pretend I have money for the cab. The noise of car horns is exchanged for quiet chatter and clinking silverware. The smells go from chemicals to coffee. A waitress seats us by the window and I stare outside, wondering where this is going.

He still hasn’t said anything about vampires. What is he waiting for?

He is scanning over the menu with purpose. I am trying to scan him. To figure out what the hell this is all about. I’m sick of waiting.

“You’re not a mind reader,” I say after a minute. “You’d have given that away by now.”

His mouth falls open.

“Maybe you can see the future,” I try, putting my chin on my hand. “That might explain why you don’t know who I am, but you knew where to find me. But that would probably also mean that something bad is going to happen to me, because why else would you find me?”

“I don’t…know what to say.”

He is taking this way too seriously.

“Just tell me what’s going on.” I plead, tired of the game. “I’m exhausted, and hungry, and I don’t have a lot of patience.”

“It’s been a couple of years since I had to explain it to someone.”

My feet are tapping on the ground, and I can feel myself slipping out of control. “Are you working for vampires? Or are you a hunter? Which is it?”

The look that crosses his face makes me want to crawl in a hole. He’s all “social services” when he tries to disguise his shock. He thinks I’m crazy. I shouldn’t have said it.

“I didn’t mean to upset you.” He meets my gaze with a sad resolution.

My gaze stays glued to the table. I’m not going to keep messing this up by opening my stupid mouth. I pull my bag closer to me, getting ready for this to end very quickly.

The waitress appears, pen in hand. “How you guys doing?”

“Good, thanks,” he says in that special tone of voice reserved for waitresses. “I’ll have a bagel with egg and cheese.”

“Anything to drink?”

“A glass of orange juice.” He weaves his fingers together. I sigh.

“I guess I’ll have a turkey wrap.” I know my voice is quiet. I wasn’t planning on getting anything, but he’s so expectant. Turkey’s got iron, anyway. I shove my hands between my legs, to keep them steady. The tinges of aches and pains that come with withdrawal are nothing compared to the feeling that my brain is suffocating in my skull. I start to rub my thumb along my wrist, to feel the pain of the bites. To keep my mind off of it.

When the waitress leaves, he takes a breath. “My name is James. I’m…I’m an empath.”

He eases into the word, probably because he knows I won’t understand.

“What is that? Some new term for psychologist?”

“No,” he says with a smile. “It’s not my job. It’s what I am. I’m not a mind reader. I’m an empath.”

I can tell he’s going out on a limb here. I don’t blame him. What he’s saying doesn’t make sense. I almost feel bad for not believing him.

“Empath? Like empathy? You’re able to feel what others feel?”

“Yes!” He nods enthusiastically.

“So what?” I ask. “Lots of people are capable of empathy. They don’t get special titles for it.”

He sighs. “You don’t understand. It’s not just empathy. Empathy is a condition. To understand what someone else is going through. I’m not that. I can actually
feel
what other people feel. It happens to me. If you were happy, I’d feel your happiness. If you cut yourself, I’d feel the sharpness of the blade.”

I’m skeptical. I can’t hide it. Vampires, that’s one thing—they’re a different species. But I’ve never seen a human who could do something like what he’s describing. I don’t know what to say. Part of me wants to call him crazy, but the other part of me reminds myself that most of the world doesn’t know about vampires. Who am I to say what else is out there? Maybe there are more monsters than I could have ever imagined. Not that he resembles a monster—

“I’ll prove it,” he says. He closes his eyes, like this isn’t weird. “Do something. Move around.”

“Um…” I put my hand on the table. A few seconds go by and I’m about to declare this total bullshit, when he mimics my action, like a mirror. I take my hand off, quickly, like the table burned me. He does the same.

“You can hear me moving,” I say.

“No, I’m reading you,” he says. “I do this with my sister. It’s an exercise.”

I start going through my bag until I get my sketchbook out. Then I doodle, just randomly. His hands are following mine. I tilt the sketchbook back, so he can’t see my hands or what I’m drawing. I make a large circle, and I watch him mime the same action. I add eyes, and a mouth and a nose and he is doing the exact same things on imaginary paper. I stop because I’m staring at him.

“What the hell?” I say, my voice a whisper.

He opens his eyes, sees the sketchbook. “You draw?”

“Open your mouth,” I say, fear creeping through me. He can’t be human. He can’t be.

“Uh…what?”

“Open your mouth!”

His lips part tentatively. I reach over and grip his jaw, tilting his head back. I’m scanning for fangs—for holes in his gums, lumps of tissue, evidence of nauth. For the smell of blood, the darkness in the eye and the strangeness of the tongue.

Nothing. I slide, defeated, back into the booth. “I don’t understand. It’s a trick, it must be a trick…”

“One more test,” he says. “Can I borrow a piece of paper?”

I rip out a sheet of paper and hand him a pencil. He positions himself to start writing.

“Draw something.” His voice is soft, encouraging. He closes his eyes again. “Slowly, if you don’t mind.”

My hands are far from steady, but it helps to force them onto my sketchpad. With big broad lines, I draw something I know he’s never seen: my mother. His actions are delayed, but there he is, drawing her face. His drawing is a little shaky, and the lines don’t quite add up, but it is unmistakably her. He is following my motions, recreating my drawing, and his eyes are closed and there’s no way he can see what I’m doing.