The Night House (20 page)

I almost gasp at the flare of pain and, as nonchalantly as I can, I wrap my hand around hers and hope she gets the message.

Dad saunters in, and his eyes linger on our hands. “Hello there, Bianca.” He smiles warmly. “I suppose you’re to blame for getting James out of the house?”

“I suppose,” she says. I feel the smallest bit of pride in her.

“That explains it,” Mom says. “It’s lovely to meet you.”

“Thank you.” Bianca smiles. “You too.”

“We’re so happy that James has another friend,” Dad adds. “Someone to help him really enjoy the summertime.”

“We hate to see him cooped up in here with this nice weather,” Mom says. “But now maybe he’ll enjoy himself a little more.”

“Well, not that this hasn’t been embarrassing.” I jump to my feet.

“Oh, sorry, you guys go have fun.” Dad actually winks at me.

Mortified, I try to leave. Bianca takes a step away, but turns back to Mom. “I like your work.” She gestures awkwardly behind her.

Mom beams at her. “Thank you, dear. Do you paint?”

“I just sketch with pencils,” she says. “But maybe one day I’ll try paint.”

“If you want a place to try it, you can join me here anytime,” Mom offers.

They smile at each other, already having reached some secret agreement about being artists. I am almost jealous, but I’m the one Bianca reached for. When we are out of their earshot, I whisper. “Not so bad, right?”

She chuckles. “No.”

“Do you want to stay a little longer?”

Her contentment changes into something a little unsettled. Nervousness? Maybe that’s just me.

“Sure.”

Bianca

James’ room is something between exactly what I pictured and what I least expected. The calm blue wall paper, slightly obscured by posters for movies like
Brick
and bands like Interpol and the three overflowing bookshelves fit in, but then there are the bunk beds and the beanbag chair and the rather impressive collection of clay scattered over a stained desk.

“That’s a lot of clay.”

“Well, when there’s a very restless teenage girl with me at all times, sometimes I have to take it out on something. Working with my hands can help.”

I smirk at him. “And bunk beds? What are you, four?”

He shrugs. “They’re left over from when my parents had foster kids. And I like them quite a bit, I’ll have you know.”

I shove his arm. “So defensive.”

“That’s my bunk bed you’re bashing.”

I sit on the edge of it and try to bounce, but it’s one of those form-fitting mattresses that just sinks underneath you. “Way better than my bed.”

“And it sleeps two. Or four, if you’re feeling lonely.”

“Or eight, if you’re crazy.” I smile at him.

“No. Never. Seven is the absolute limit. You’d be mad to try anything else.”

I laugh and cover my mouth, but James pulls my hand away.

“Don’t hide.”

My lips quiver.

“Should I teach you how to smile?” He shows one off for me.

“What are you talking about?” I ask.

He sits next to me on the bed and puts his feet up on the ladder. “It’s okay, I understand. You always pick when you smile. You’re basically an actress. They’re never spur of the moment. But you should never get to pick when you smile.”

“That hardly seems fair.” I watch him, completely at ease. What must it be like to talk to someone and know how they’re feeling? Does he feel his parents in the other room? Or his sister? And yet, even feeling all that, he’s still able to talk to me. Incredible.

“There are some things in life that you just shouldn’t be allowed to control.” He lies backwards and puts his hands under his head, staring at the underside of the bunk bed like it means something. “If you always choose when to smile, it’ll stop becoming a gut reaction and then it’ll be impossible to tell when you’re happy.”

“You can tell.”

“Yeah, but your smile is beautiful.”

What?
I’m glad I don’t actually say the word. It feels like I’ve been punched in the chest. I’m speechless. And he’s still staring at me.

“Just promise me you won’t stop smiling.” There’s weight to those words, a kind of weight that I feel pressing into my heart.

I lean against the backboard. “I’m not good at keeping promises.”

“How can you know if you don’t try?”

The knot in my throat is coming back. I don’t like this. I don’t want this. I don’t want to associate him with sadness. Why should I be in pain when I don’t have to be? I think I know how to make it stop. I touch his face. His eyes are locked on me.

He has…human skin. It feels so weird to think that. It’s been so long since I touched a human face. James is so different from a vampire. He feels so much more alive. There’s color under his skin.

James starts to sit upright. “Is there something on my face?” He starts to smile again.

“Well, now there is.”

“Oh, this?” He puts his hand over mine, pressing my palm against his cheek. “Wasn’t that always there?”

“This is not fair,” I tell him, fighting a smile. “You can’t be nice to me and make me laugh. You have to pick one or the other.”

“To hell with that,” he says. “You’re smart and beautiful. I’ll take all the help I can get.”

“You’re a damn optimist,” I say, not really meaning to say it like that at all. That keeps happening. He’s making me honest.

He has inched closer. Are we flirting? Is this what that is? It feels good. I’m not thinking. I’m making someone smile. Someone who thinks I’m beautiful and smart. I want to be closer to him. Someone
alive
.

James moves next to me, so our sides touch, and he’s holding my hand in front of us. “I’m having a hard time…telling us apart.”

“I don’t understand.”

He weaves our fingers together. “Sometimes I’ll do something, but I don’t know if it’s because I wanted to, or because you wanted me to.”

His voice is so quiet. “Or I’ll feel something, and I won’t know who’s really feeling it.”

“That sounds kind of dangerous, don’t you think?”

“I think…it doesn’t matter.”

I’m starting to really wish I had his power. I have no idea what he’s thinking or feeling, and it’s driving me crazy.

“What are you saying?”

When he leans his head against mine, I know
exactly
what he’s saying. I feel his hands on mine, his breath on my face. I smell that cologne of his that I can never quite place, as if the color amber could have a scent. He smells like warmth. I close my eyes. I’ve never felt so comfortable in my life.

“Do you mind if we just lie here for a while?” he asks.

“I’d like that.”

So we lie down, and I put my head on his chest and listen to the beating of his heart.

James

The rest of the day slips by as we sit in front of my bookshelves. I had no idea she read so much. She prefers books with happy endings. I like reading about as much emotional trauma as I can.

I take every opportunity I can to touch her. We sit close enough so that our sides touch, or I’ll reach for a book closest to her hand, so our arms brush. I tuck her hair behind her ear while she reads. She’s doing it too. The only thing is, whenever it happens, I feel
both
of our hearts beating, our pulses racing. If I could take this feeling and bottle it up, I’d be addicted to it.

But she’s still afraid of me.

All too soon, she says, “I should go. It’s going to get dark soon.”

“Can I walk you back?”

Bianca leans her head against the bookshelf and her eyes scan over me. “No. I hate the thought of you going anywhere near that place.”

“We could take a cab?” She shifts around, like my words are making her physically uncomfortable. “I won’t even get out. I’ll just come with you and then go right back home. And you won’t have to walk. I know you’re still in pain from last night.”

“I don’t like it…”

“Please?” I find her hand and squeeze it softly. “I don’t want this to be over.”

She punches my arm with the other hand. “You’re made of cheese.”

I smile. “Come on. I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

I stand and pull her up to her feet, but when I try to let go, she keeps her hand in mine. She has long fingers, and soft skin. I like her. I take a deep breath. It’s just the madness of this situation. I don’t know what I feel. I don’t know how to feel.

“You ready?” she asks. I’ve been staring at her hands.

“Yeah, sorry.”

We head out. Everyone else is gathered in the kitchen, and I smell the beginning of dinner.

“I’ll be back in a bit,” I call.

Ally runs out. “Where you going?”

“I’m taking Bianca home.”

Ally fixes me with a stare. She knows what that means. “Really?”

“Yes.”

She looks back and forth between us. “Can I come?”

“No,” Bianca and I both say.

Ally throws her hands up. “Well, I can see where I’m not wanted.”

Once outside, the nearly night air feels good. Bianca shivers.

“Do you want a coat? You can take one with you.

She takes a deep breath before answering. “No, no, I can’t take anything of yours into the Night House. Vamps can track you by your scent. You have enough problems without me handing my boss a map to your house.”

“Sorry.”

Her eyes soften. “It’s okay. Not your fault.”

We both stand on the curb, and I try to hail a cab. She stands close to me, partly for the heat and partly for the feeling of safety that burns inside her. But it’s starting to fade.

One of those red-and-white cabs pulls up. I open the door but Bianca is trying to make a decision, holding herself and staring at me.

“Just do it now,” she says.

I raise an eyebrow. “Do what?”

“Hug me now so you don’t do it in front of the Night House.”

I have to fight a smile.

“I know you want to,” she adds, just to remind me it wasn’t really her idea.

So I hug her as tightly as I can without hurting her, trying to get her to feel what I feel, to share this. Just to see if I can. But she stays the same. Her hands bunch up the fabric of my shirt. Her head rests over my heart. She feels safe.

No,
I feel
safe
. Weird. She’s given me a sense of security. I don’t feel crazy when I’m with her. I am normal. I have a crush on someone, and I think she likes me too. It’s the safest feeling in the world.

The cabbie honks the horn.

We climb inside.

The Night House is at Market and Front, right across from the subway stop. It’s as empty and unnoticeable as any other street in Philly. Except for a single staircase leading down to double doors that I can’t see beyond, it’s normal.

I ask, “When will I see you again?”

“Probably tomorrow.”

I give her my cell phone number. She doesn’t have her own phone, but she can still use a pay phone. I feel the seconds tick away while we fumble with small talk. Finally, Bianca squeezes my hand. “Bye, James.”

But a sound breaks our concentration, and we both turn to see someone crash through the double doors and hit the stairs with a grunt.

“Whoa!” The cabbie jumps. “Check it out!”

Bianca and I press ourselves against the window. The man—no, the vampire, I can feel it—lying on the steps wears a rumpled suit with a dark stain on the front. Another vampire steps through the double doors, brushing his hands off on his jacket.

“Finn,” Bianca breathes.

So that’s her boss. Good to know he’s not the one following me. But he just threw some vampire out of his building like it was nothing.
That’s
who I’m supposed to save her from?

Finn notices the cab, and I flinch. The ejected vamp breaks into a sprint and vanishes around a corner. Then Finn disappears behind those double doors.

Bianca opens the cab door, but I grab her arm. “Shouldn’t we wait?”

“Wait for what?”

The coast to be clear. My heart to stop pounding. Bianca just stares at me. This has happened before, and she doesn’t think twice about it. There is no fear in her right now.

“What just happened?” I ask in a whisper.

She pulls me outside, probably so the cabbie won’t hear. “Maybe he couldn’t pay. Maybe he was a leech and made someone pass out so he could bottle the blood for later. Finn throws people out once a week for stuff like this.”

It really is nothing to her. Now I don’t want to leave her here. I can’t let her walk into that place.

“Bianca—”

She puts her hand on my chest. “James. Nothing’s changed. I’ll be fine.”

Everything’s changed. How does she not see that? I know she can handle herself, but it just keeps getting worse.

Bianca lightly touches my face. “James. I have to go now.”

I want to pull her back into the cab and take her somewhere safe.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

She nods and hurries away, down into the shadows, to become the other girl.

Bianca

Finn waits for me on the other side of the doors.

“So that is the one?” he asks from the shadows.

“Don’t act like you don’t know.”

I walk past him, but Finn is on my heels. “He thinks he can have you.”

“So does Jeremiah.”

“Humans and vampires are not so different after all. Who knew?”

“Finn the philosopher!” I scoff. “Why don’t you go back to your money bath?”

“Before I can do that, I have to sort out a big problem.”

We reach my room, and I turn around to face him. The pin is right there on his coat. It’s dark and flecked with rust. Oxidized iron. Like Micah said.

“What problem would that be?”

His eyes liven up with frustration for a moment. “You have two people vying for control over you. But you need to stay here. Do you understand that? You are safe here. No human can protect you and Jeremiah will…well, that is not a life you want.”

I stare at him, hand anchored at my hip. “My God, is that real genuine
concern
I hear?”

The determination drains from his face. “Forget I said anything. You are free to ruin your life however you please. Just remember that you have a place here, if you want it.”

This is not a Finn I’m used to. The way his eyes don’t quite meet mine, his slumped posture, the low, defeated voice. If I didn’t know him, I’d almost say he wanted me to stay here, not for the money, but for me. It catches me off guard.