The Night House (13 page)

Twenty suits Micah. Even though he’s sick, he’s beautiful. It’s as if he knew he was going to wind up on his deathbed, because he could use it to his advantage. He’s got an innocent face, a pitiable one, and those sad, blue eyes. Any girl could fall for him: the sweet boy with a death sentence. They could make a movie about him.

“You look tired, Bee.”

I let out a sigh and lean my head on his chest. He rests a hand on the top of my head.

“It’s not often I’m the one who’s holding you up,” he whispers.

My smile is fleeting. Gravity feels stronger here. All I want to do is lie down.

“I’ve had a long day…” I say.

“You’ve had a long life.” Micah strokes my hair.

We stay like this for a while. These moments are rare, when I’m not donating, when he’s not dying. It feels great to actually be friends, even for just a few minutes at a time. But I realize my temples are starting to get pins and needles—a sign that I’m going to pass out.

“Do you need to sleep here?” Micah whispers.

“Maybe…I’m feeling a little tired.”

He immediately takes my face in his hands, studying me. “You seem more pale than usual.”

There is a chill creeping up my spine and a sickness in my gut. I take a slow breath.

“Bee?”

“I might be sick.” The nausea comes hard. Before I know it, he has me in his arms. The motion sends me spinning, and I close my eyes tight. He sets me on his bed, and I immediately lie back.

He is setting a cold washcloth over my forehead. I’m shaking, so I try to pull the covers over myself, but they slip out of my grasp.

“Oh, Bee…”

Time is a blur for a while. I’m in and out of consciousness, forgetting where I am. I wind up vomiting all the food James bought me. I am deflated. There’s nothing in me, no bones, no muscles, just pain and sickness.

Micah’s voice floats through my mind, but I don’t grasp any of his words. It’s all just concerned mumbling. I’m sinking farther and farther down into the sheets, through the mattress and into the floorboards. It’s freezing cold. Now I’m falling past the concrete and cement, into the subway. The trains are screaming toward me, but I’m stuck on the tracks, frozen to the metal. They are shaking the earth around me, and the lights are blinding. Just when I think I am going to be run down, I’m drowning—gagging on water.

Micah is trying to get me to drink, but it’s warm and my throat is resistant. He slows up, and I manage to get some down before I start coughing. Darkness comes rushing in.

Nothing.

As soon as the light starts coming back, I feel better. I’m not as heavy as I was before. It takes a long time to feel like I can open my eyes. When I do, Micah lets his head drop onto the mattress with a sigh. He is kneeling by the bed, like he was praying to me.

“Thank God,” he says into the covers.

“Do vampires believe in God?” My voice is hoarse.

He touches my arm lightly. “Maybe some.”

I take a deep breath. “How long was I out?”

“It’s almost dark out.”

My gaze drifts to the window. The sky is starting to turn red.

“Bee, I thought you were dying.”

I turn my head back to him. “Don’t be dramatic.”

But the expression on his face tells me he isn’t.

“I came back, though,” I mumble.

“I had to give you my blood.”

I don’t understand the science behind vamp blood. Why only certain vampires can heal you and how it works. Micah says that vampires evolve faster than humans, and the healing blood started occurring because vampires were starting to depend on humans for more than just food. I think Micah’s a dreamer.

I realize what this means: he gave me some of his precious blood.

“Take some of mine.” I reach for him. “You have to.”

“Hey,” he whispers, pulling my hands away. “I can’t undo what I just did. You needed that more than I did.”

“You always need it more than I do.”

His lips thin. “You’re going to die if you keep ignoring yourself like this.”

There is an edge to his voice that I’ve never heard before. Like he’s mad at me. It stings more than I expected.

“You should leave the city, Bee.” Micah clutches my hand. I feel the back of my throat burn. “You’re almost eighteen. You could really be on your own.”

It’s not easy, but I force the tears back down. “Yeah, right. Finn would love that.”

“He doesn’t own you,” Micah says, gentle but stern.

“Maybe not, but I have this client. He’s so obsessed, he’d probably come running after me if I ever left.”

“You’ve never told me about him.” Micah sits up, and I open my eyes. “Is someone giving you trouble?”

“No, Micah, calm down. He’s just another power-hungry vamp. They’re all the same; you know that. You worked for one.”

He frowns. “I don’t like it.”

“Too bad.”

A long, dramatic sigh escapes him before he stands up. I just watch as he goes to his open closet and reaches into the back. Then he unfolds the black button up shirt and black slacks of his officer uniform. Just as I remember. The shiny black pin that signified his position is still there on the front. He unhooks it and holds it out to me.

“I want you to have this.”

“But why?”

He closes my hand around it. “It’s more than just a badge.”

I examine the pin. The base is old. When I touch it, some of it flakes off in my hand. “Is this iron?”

He nods and flops beside me on the bed. “Yeah. All our pins are.”

“But…doesn’t iron kill you?”

“You little hunter, you,” he says with a smirk. “You’re not supposed to know that.”

“I’m guessing I’m one of only a few,” I say, studying the little weapon.

He nods. “Hunters are far and few between, and they are certainly the most knowledgeable. But a lot of your old human lore says that iron can repel demons. Problem is, most of them don’t know it’s not just the iron.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s the rust,” he says.

“Rust?” I set the pin on my stomach. “I always thought it was weird that iron was used as a weapon, when human blood has iron in it.”

“Yeah, when rust gets into our blood, it’s over. It’s like a poison that attacks our own bodies. Tries to rust us from the inside.”

I shiver and pull the covers closer.

“Why are you giving this to me now?”

He sits next to me, placing a hand on my face. “I almost lost you, Bee. I can’t protect you anymore. So the next time someone tries to hurt you, if you think they’re going too far, use this. Your life is more important than theirs.”

I run my thumb over the tiny pin. So much power in such a small thing.

“Promise me you’ll protect yourself,” Micah says.

I take a breath and close my hand around the pin. “I’ll try.”

James

To my great disappointment, Ally and Shiloh wait for me in my room.

I shut the door gently and lean my back against it. The two of them stare at me as if I’ve greatly offended them. Ally actually feels that way, but Shiloh’s upset is twisting into worry. I slide down until I’m sitting on the floor and hold my hands in front of me, trembling like my own personal earthquake. I have to get better at controlling this.

“What the hell did she do to you?” Ally leans closer.

Shiloh’s mouth drops open. “You connected.”

“Not quite,” I say. “It’s not as intense. But it’s definitely getting there.”

Shiloh sits down in front of me. “You have to tell us what happened.”

I hold my hand up, hoping they’ll stop. They are too much for me right now. I’m still getting used to her. Bianca. So I take a moment and reach out to Shiloh, with a hand on his shoulder, and with my mind. Though he is anxious and concerned, he is much calmer than Ally and that is what I latch onto. For a moment, I drown myself in Shiloh’s calm. I inhale his emotions and, just for a second, Bianca fades to the background. Then I exhale, and she slowly comes back to me, erasing Shiloh’s calm.

“I had to tell her.”

“Tell her what?” they both ask.

I face Shiloh so that I can ignore Ally’s hungry stare. “What I am.”

“Shit, James,” he says and covers his mouth. “Did she believe you?”

“I think so.” I wipe my now sweaty hands on my jeans. “It took a while, but yeah.”

“So she trusts you?” Ally asks.

“I don’t know. She told me her name. Bianca St. Germain.”

I can tell from Shiloh’s gaze that he understands how I feel. A name is personal. She’s given me a part of herself.

“How do you know she isn’t lying?” Ally will only settle for the cold hard truth. I don’t think this is quite the right time to tell them about Bianca’s line of work. I still don’t know how to process that.

I meet her stare with some trouble. “I felt how vulnerable she was. I don’t think she tells people her real name very often.”

Ally chews on this for a moment. I try to convey to Shiloh my desire for Ally to leave me alone.

“You look awful, Jay,” he says. “You need to eat something. When’s the last time you got some chicken fingers?” He slaps my knee. “I know. We’ll fill you up with cheap fast food, and you’ll feel good as new.”

Ally scoffs at us. “Disgusting. Go have fun at your murder factory. I’ll be here when you’re ready to talk.”

Shiloh helps me to my feet, and we leave Ally behind.

I smile. “That was good.”

“Let’s just get out of here.”

Fresh air makes me feel slightly better, but Bianca isn’t doing so well. I can feel myself wilting.

“What’s up?” Shiloh asks.

“She’s going through withdrawal.”

Shiloh sucks in air through his teeth. He looks horrified. “Withdrawal? From what?”

“I don’t know.” I hate lying to him, but he’s not ready for the truth. I barely was. “She didn’t tell me.”

“Jesus, Jay, you don’t need this.” He sighs, and I feel the pity in him. “There’s still time to back out.”

“No, there isn’t. If I back out on her then I’m afraid she’s really going to lose all hope.” The edges of my vision turn black. I stumble. Then gravity flips upside down, and my stomach reels.

Shiloh helps me down onto the ground, and a wave of chills crashes over me.

“Jesus,” Shiloh whispers. “I need to get you home.”

“Your house, not mine,” I say. “I don’t want Ally or my parents to see me like this.”

I feel his arm support my back as he tries to lift me up. With some effort, I manage to get to my feet and we limp away. I cling to him and feel some of his own anxiety roiling inside me. It occurs to me that Bianca deals with this all the time. She deserves more credit than I’ve given her.

Brakes squeal. The smell of exhaust makes me even sicker. Shiloh steps away, and I feel myself turn to rubber. My legs tremble under my own weight.

“Is he okay?” an accented voice asks.

“Don’t worry. He’s just had a long day,” Shiloh answers and pulls me toward the cab.

Somehow, I get inside, but not without hitting my head twice. Each time, it sends me spinning around my own mind. I barely make it inside Shy’s house, and he helps me onto the couch. I don’t worry about anyone else finding us because Shiloh’s mom works long hours at a hospital.

“This is only going to get worse, isn’t it?” Shiloh asks.

“Not if I can help her.”

Bianca

I walk home from Micah’s place feeling better but not great. Then I remember James. Does he feel the same way? Oh, God. Did he feel it when Micah force-fed me his blood?

At the Night House, I run into the available shower before someone else claims it. The water feels good, like it’s washing away a second skin. The needle marks are barely noticeable. But soon enough I’m rubbing my wrists in apprehension. Jeremiah’s coming. I’ve always hated the expression “butterflies in your stomach.” It’s too cute. I think there are moths in mine.

Someone pounds on the door. “There are other people who live here, you know!”

I walk back to my room with heavy feet. It’s time to become the other girl, the one who’s itching to get bitten, the one with a death sentence.

I put on the dress, the shoes, and everything else that Jeremiah requires. Then I sit in front of my mirror, staring at myself through the mask of makeup. Which girl is going to win this? The one who’s dying or the one who wants to live? I touch my neck. It feels so good to stand on that cliff.

Finn’s voice startles me back into the Night House. “He’s here. Fire Room again.”

I don’t look at him. “I’ll be there.”

***

It feels like weeks since I was last in here. I run my fingers along the mantelpiece, and let the fire warm me. I wish it would just catch the dress and burn me to the ground. But then James…

“Bianca.”

Jeremiah’s voice sends shivers up my spine. I turn to face him. It’s hard to keep my mouth shut, to keep myself from screaming out loud. My pulse quickens.

His eyes shine with something that I can’t identify, but the rest of his face remains still, a perfect, emotionless painting. “Happy to see me?”

Bastard. So easy to hate, but impossible to turn away. He glides over to the phonograph, and music surrounds us.

“I have been awaiting this.”

Jeremiah pins me to the spot with those beautiful glassy eyes. I try to stay calm and focused. This is no different from any other appointment. Jeremiah doesn’t mean anything.

“Give me your hands.”

I walk to him and hold them out, palms down. It takes all of me to stop them from shaking. He turns them over and touches my scars.

“I haven’t been careful with you,” he observes. “I will be better.”

He runs the tips of his fingers over my forearms, and I shiver. Again, a smile that doesn’t show on his mouth, reaches his eyes. I hate that he can do this to me.

“I have an…event coming up,” he says. “There will be many vampires attending. There are certain things that a being of status requires. In order to prove myself to the others, I need to bring a human with me.”

My mouth hangs open and I want to step away, but I don’t.

“I can give you so much more than this place,” Jeremiah continues. “If you leave here and come to work for me, you can have a life. Go ahead—you may speak.”