Secret Vampire (11 page)

"Poppy." He gave a shiver of repressed emotion.
"Don't."

"Don't sympathize with you?"

He shook his head. "Nobody's
's ever understood be
fore." After a pause he said, "How can you worry
about
me?
With what you're facing?"

"I guess because -I care about you."

"And I guess that's why I didn't treat you like Mi
chaela or Jacklyn," he said.

Poppy looked at the sculpted planes of his face, at
the wave of brown hair falling over his forehead like
silk
...
and held her breath. Say "I love you," she
ordered mentally.
Say it, you thickheaded male.

But they weren't connected, and James didn't give
the slightest sign of having heard. Instead he turned
brisk and businesslike. "We'd better get started." He
got up and drew the window curtains shut. "Sunlight
inhibits all vampire powers," he said in a guest lecturer voice.
.

Poppy took advantage of the pause to go to the CD
player. The music had changed to a Dutch club song,
which was fine for doing the Netherlands skippy
dance to, but not very romantic. She punched a but
ton and a velvety Portuguese lament began.

Then she twitched the sheer hangings around the bed dosed. When she sat down again, she and James
were in their own little world, dim and secluded,
enclosed in misty eggshell white.

"I'm ready," she said softly, and James leaned in
close to her. Even in the semidarkness Poppy felt
mesmerized by his eyes. They were like windows to
some other place, someplace distant and magical.

The Night World, she thought, and tilted her chin
back as James took her in his arms.

This time the double sting at her neck hurt good.

But best was when James's mind touched hers.
The feeling of oneness, of suddenly being whole-it spread through her like starshine.

Once again she had the sense that they were melt
ing together, dissolving and merging everywhere
they touched. She could feel her own pulse echoing
through him.

Closer, loser
... and then she felt a pulling-back.

James? What's wrong?

Nothing,
he told her, but Poppy could sense that it
wasn't quite true. He was trying to weaken the growing bond between them ... but why?

Poppy, I just don't want to force you into anything.
What we're feeling is-artificial....

Artificial? It was the realest thing that she'd ever
experienced. Realer than real. In the midst of joy,
Poppy felt a surge of hurt anger at James.

I don't mean it like that,
he said, and there was desperation in the thought.
It's just that you can't resist
the blood-bond. You couldn't resist it if you hated me. It
isn't fair....

Poppy didn't care about fair.
If
you can't resist it,
why are you trying?
she asked him triumphantly.

She heard something like mental laughter, and
then they were both clinging together as a wave of
pure emotion swept them.

The blood-bond, Poppy thought when James raised
his head at last. It doesn't matter if he won't say he
loves me-we're bonded now. Nothing can change
that.

And in a moment or so she would seal that bond
by taking his blood. Try and resist
that,
she thought, and was startled when James laughed softly.
"Reading my mind again?"

"Not exactly. You're projecting-and you're very
good at it. You're going to be a strong telepath."
Interesting
. . . but right now Poppy didn't feel
strong. She suddenly felt kitten-weak. Limp as a wilt
ing flower. She needed
...

"I know," James whispered. Still supporting her, he started to lift one wrist to his mouth.

Poppy stopped him with a restraining hand.

"James? How many times do we have to do this
before I-change?"

"Once more, I think," James said quietly. "I took
a lot this time, and I want you to do the same. And
the next time we do it ..."

I'll die, Poppy thought. Well, at least I know how
long I have left as a human.

James's lips slid back to reveal long, delicate fangs,
and he struck at his own wrist. There was something
snakelike in the motion. Blood welled up, the color
of syrup in a can of cherry preserves.

Just as Poppy was leaning forward, lips parted,
there was a knock at the door.

Poppy and James froze guiltily.

The knock came again. In her muddled and weak
ened state, Poppy couldn't seem to make herself
move. The only thought that resounded in her brain
was
Oh,
please. Please don't let it be
...

The door opened.

Phil.

Phillip was already speaking as he poked his head
in. "Poppy, are you awake? Mom says-"

He broke off abruptly, then lunged for
the
lightswitch on the wall. Suddenly the room was
illuminated.

Oh,
terrific,
Poppy thought in frustration. Phil was
peering through the filmy draperies around the bed.
Poppy peered back at him.

"What
is going-on?" he said in a voice that
would have gotten him the lead role in
The
Ten Com
mandments.
And then, before Poppy could gather
enough wits to answer, he leaned in and grabbed James by the arm.

"Phil,
don't," Poppy
said. "Phil, you idiot
..."

"We had a deal," Phil snarled at James. "And you broke it."

James was gripping Phil's arms now, as ungently
as Phil was grasping him. Poppy had the dismayed
feeling that they were going to start head-butting
each other.

Oh, Lord, if she could only
think
straight. She felt
so brainless.

"You've got the wrong idea," James said to Phil
through clenched teeth.

"The wrong
idea? I
come in here and find the two
of you in bed, with all the curtains drawn, and you're
telling me I've got the wrong
idea?"

"On
the bed, Poppy interjected. Phil ignored her.

James shook Phil. He did it quite easily and with
an economy of movement, but Phil's head snapped back and forth. Poppy realized that James was not at
his most rational right now. She remembered the
metal chair leg and decided it was time to intervene.

Let
go,"
she said, reaching in between the two boys to grab for hands. Anybody's hands. "Come on,
you guys!" And then, desperately, "Phil, I know you
don't understand, but James is trying to
help
me-"

"Help you? I don't think so." And then to James:
"Look at her. Can't you see that this stupid pretending is making her
sicker?
Every time I find her with you, she's white as a sheet. You're just making things worse."

"You don't know anything about it," James
snarled in Phil's face. But Poppy was still processing
something several sentences back.

"Stupid? Pretending?" she said. Her voice wasn't very loud but everything stopped.

Both boys looked at her.

Everyone made mistakes then. Later, Poppy would
realize that if any of them had kept their heads, what
happened next could have been avoided. But none
of them did.

"I'm sorry,"
Phil
said to Poppy. "I didn't want to
tell you-"

"Shut up,
"
James said savagely.

"But I have to.
This-jerk-is
just playing with you.
He admitted it to me. He said he felt sorry for you,
and he thinks that pretending he likes you makes
you feel better. He's got an ego that would fill
Dodger Stadium."

"Pretending?" Poppy said again, sitting back. There
was a buzzing in her head and an eruption gathering in her chest.

"Poppy, he's crazy," James said. "Listen-"

But Poppy wasn't listening. The problem was that
she could
feel
how sorry Phil was. It was much more
convincing than anger. And Phillip, honest, straight
forward, trustworthy Phillip, almost never lied.

He wasn't lying now. Which meant
... that James must be.

Eruption time.

"You
. . ."
she whispered to James.,"You
. . ."
She
couldn't think of a swear word bad enough. Some
how she felt more hurt, more betrayed than she had
ever felt before. She had thought she
knew
James;
she had trusted him absolutely. Which made the betrayal all the worse. "So it was all pretending? Is
that it?"

Some inner voice was telling her to hold on and
think.
That she was in no state to make crucial deci
sions. But she was also in no state to listen to inner
voices. Her own anger kept her from deciding if she
had any good reason to be angry.

"You just felt
sorry
for me?" she whispered, and suddenly all the fury and grief that she'd been sup
pressing for the last day and a half flooded out. She
was blind with pain, and nothing mattered except
making James hurt as much as she hurt.

James
was
breathing hard,
speaking rapidly.
"Poppy-this is why I didn't want Phil to know-"

"And no
wonder," Poppy
raged. "And no wonder
you wouldn't say you loved me," she went on, not
even caring that Phillip was listening. "And no won
der you would do all that other stuff, but you never even kissed me. Well, I don't want your
pity-"

"What
other
stuff?.
All
what
other
stuff?"
Phil
shouted.
"I'm
gonna kill you, Rasmussen!"

He tore free of James and swung at him. James
ducked so that the fist just grazed his hair. Phil
swung again and James twisted sideways and
grabbed him from behind in a headlock.

Poppy heard running footsteps in the hall. "What's happening?" her mother gasped in dismay, regarding the scene in Poppy's bedroom.

At almost the same instant Cliff appeared behind
Poppy's mother. "What's all the shouting?" he asked,
his jaw particularly square.

"You're
the one who's putting her in danger,"
James was snarling in Phillip's ear. "Right now." He
looked feral. Savage.

Inhuman.

"Let go of my brother!" Poppy
yelled. All at once
her eyes were swimming with tears.

"Oh, my God-darling," her mother said. In two steps she was beside the bed and holding Poppy.
"You boys get
out
of here."

The savagery drained out of James's expression,
and he loosened his hold on Phillip. "Look, I'm sorry.
I have to stay. Poppy
..."

Phillip slammed an elbow into his stomach.

It might not have hurt James as much as it would
a human, but Poppy saw the fury sweep over his
face as he straightened from doubling up. He lifted Phil off his feet and threw him headfirst in the gen
eral direction of Poppy's dresser.

Poppy's mother let out a cry. Cliff jumped in be
tween Phil and James.