Afterlife (5 page)

Was he benevolent or evil? Did the actions of wraiths even
fit into any kind of morality I understood? The only thing I knew for sure was
that Christopher had power and influence among the wraiths. Now that I had
become one, our paths were certain to cross again.

Thinking about this made me nervous. I managed to ask, “He’s
sort of
the .
. . wraith in charge, right?”

“Nobody’s ‘in charge.’ But plenty of us listen to
Christopher. He has a lot of power, a lot of wisdom.”

“How did he get so powerful? Is it because he’s especially
old?” That was how it worked for vampires. “Or is he, well, like me
?
” I’d already figured out that my status — as a child born
of two vampires, and therefore able to die a natural death and yet become a
ghost — gave me abilities most ghosts could never claim.

“Neither,” Maxie said. “He Wasn’t born to be a wraith, like
you were. Christopher learned everything on his own. He has this amazing inner
strength. You’re going to like him, Bianca. Why don’t you come with me now?”

I couldn’t do it. Christopher might have amazing strength he’d
used to save me — but he had also attacked me. The world of the wraiths
remained foreign and frightening; I had no idea how my powers related to the
cold, revenge — driven creatures I’d encountered at Evernight Academy. Maybe it
was crazy to still be frightened of ghosts after I’d become one myself, but the
thought of joining them forever scared me deeply. More than that: going into
that world felt like giving up on life.

“I can’t,” I whispered. Maxie’s face fell, but she didn’t
argue.

I pulled away from the room, away from her, and vanished
again into the bluish fog that was my mind’s way of making sense of pure
nothingness. Lucas filled my thoughts, and I willed myself back to his side.

When I reappeared in the wine cellar, I immediately got the
sense that more time had passed for Balthazar than it had for me; he’d finished
his glass of wine and was across the room, lying on our bed.

Lucas lay exactly as he had fallen. The sight of him as a
corpse hit me anew, and it took my whole strength not to fade out again so I Wouldn’t
have to bear the loss for a while. He deserved better than that. No matter how
difficult it was to endure, I would remain by his side.

Balthazar realized I was there with a start, but he said
nothing.

I didn’t want to argue with him anymore; I was too sad for
that, too tired. Instead I asked, “Isn ‘t there anything we can do for him?”

“No.” Balthazar sat up. His curly hair was mussed, and I
realized he’d been asleep. No doubt he was exhausted; it hadn’t exactly been an
awesome couple of days for him, either. “The urge to kill — it’s powerful,
Bianca. It can be overwhelming. The vampires You’ve known have nearly all been the
ones who mastered that urge, but they’re a minority.”

“You mean, most of them end up like — like Charity.”

He closed his eyes briefly at the mention of his younger
sister’s name. “No. Charity and her kind are special cases. Individuals with
the strength to keep going, but who have lost touch with what it meant to be
human. They’re the most dangerous. And, fortunately, the most rare.”

“Then what happens to the others?”

Balthazar rubbed his temple. If vampires could get
headaches, I’d think he had one. “They self — destruct,” he said quietly. “They
get taken out by Black Cross, or by humans who’ve seen just enough horror
movies to get the idea. Or they end themselves. Set a fire and walk into it.
They’d rather burn than endure the killing rage any longer.”

I wanted to say that there was no way Lucas would ever do
that, but I couldn ‘t. No, Black Cross wouldn
‘ t
be
able to take him down easily. But hating his vampire nature as he did, already
burdened with the fact that he’d tried to kill both his mother and one of his
best friends — it was entirely possible that Lucas could end his existence. He’d
see it as the right thing to do, the only way to keep people safe.

“The hunger is stronger for some of us than it is for
others,” Balthazar continued. “As badly as I crave blood sometimes
.. .
it’s
nothing compared to what
some other vampires endure. The ones who self — destruct are always the ones
with the greatest hunger. It makes them crazy, turns their minds inside out.”

Our eyes met, as if he was asking me whether he had to go
on. But I knew I needed him to say what came next. Balthazar, understanding,
said, “It looks like Lucas is one of the hungry ones.”

“Isn’t there anything we can do for him?” I said. “Any way
to make this easier?”

Slowly Balthazar rose from the bed and walked toward me, his
expression uncertain. “I don’t think we can make it easier, exactly, but there’s
a place where we can keep him away from most humans, and from Black Cross, too.
Where Lucas might be able to learn how to handle what he’s become.”

I brightened until I realized what Balthazar meant. Or did I
?
Surely he couldn’t be thinking about that. “Where?”
Balthazar confirmed my worst suspicions by saying, “We have to take Lucas back
to Evernight.”

“TAKE LUCAS TO EVERNIGHT ACADEMY?” I repeated. “Have you
gone insane? Balthazar, think about it! Lucas was Black Cross. He spied on
Evernight for them. Mrs. Bethany hates him — everybody there hates him. They’ll
kill him on sight.”

“They won’t. They can’t,” Balthazar insisted. “Any vampire
can come to Evernight at any time and ask for sanctuary. No matter who it is or
what they’ve done, Mrs. Bethany has to take them in.”

“But that’s Mrs. Bethany’s rule, isn’t it? She can break it
any time she wants.”

Balthazar’s mouth twisted, the closest he could come to a
smile on a day as dark as this one. “Mrs. Bethany doesn’t break rules. You
should know that. Remember, she let Charity in.”

True, and Mrs. Bethany and Charity hated each other
fervently. I Wasn’t convinced, though. Lucas had been a vampire hunter; surely
that was worse than being any kind of vampire, no matter how dangerous.

Some of my reluctance was more selfish. Going back to
Evernight Academy would mean returning to my parents. On one hand, I wanted to
see them again so badly it hurt; on the other, I knew that they’d always feared
and rejected wraiths. If they rejected me — as Kate had Lucas — I didn’t think
I could bear it.

I heard footsteps on the concrete steps outside and went to
the door to let in Vic and Ranulf, who had a large sack full of what I
suspected were pints of cow’s blood. Vic did come in this time, but he didn’t
move more than a couple steps past the door. When he caught me looking, Vic
handed over the bag, then fished out a single bottle of Mountain Dew. “I figure
I should probably hang in the backyard for a while,” he said, his eyes focused
nervously on the floor where Lucas lay. “Until you guys chill Lucas out.”

“Good idea.” I took the shopping bag to the folding table.
“Thanks again, Vic.”

“Just give me another day or so before we get attacked
again. That’s thanks enough.”

Balthazar and Ranulf each took a pint from the sack, each one
in a little plastic container, like the kind they use to serve soup to go at a
deli.

They both opened them up and started drinking, while Lucas
still lay on the floor. At first I thought they were being selfish, but I soon
realized what they were doing: regaining their strength. If Lucas awoke as
savage as he’d been when Balthazar staked him, they’d need it.

I took a couple of pints and put them in the microwave.
Blood always tasted better at human body temperature. When they were ready, I
glanced over at my friends. Ranulf was finishing, tipping up his cup to get the
last drops; Balthazar’s lips were tinted dark red. Drinking blood had been so
delicious. I realized that I missed it, maybe more than anything else about
being alive.

The guys were prepared. I knelt at Lucas’s side, putting the
pints within reach. Slowly I wrapped my hand around the protruding handle of
the stake. Splinters jabbed into my palm, and I imagined the pain Lucas must
have felt in the seconds before he passed out.

“On the count of three,” I said. “One
.. .
two
— ”

I tugged the stake out. It made a wet, disgusting sound.
Lucas writhed on the floor, and his eyes opened wide. He inhaled, deliberately
sniffing the air. I knew he’d caught the scent of blood.

“Drink,” I whispered. “Drink.”

Lucas’s hand shot out to clutch one of the containers. In an
instant he was gulping down the blood, thick swallows that made his Adam’s
apple bob in his extended throat. Within seconds, he emptied the first
container, dropped it on the floor, and lunged for the second one. That one he
drained even faster. I watched him, fascinated.

When that one was done, Lucas looked around wildly, and
Ranulf threw him another container from the bag. Though I hadn’t warmed that
one, he drank it just as quickly. As it fell to clatter on the floor, he didn’t
go after one more — but he ran his tongue around his mouth, catching stray
drops, then lifted his bloodstained fmgers to his mouth to suck every last bit
of it.

“Is that better?” I asked.

“Bianca.” Lucas turned to me, body remaining tense, but his
expression no longer looked like that of an animal — it was his own. “That wasn’t
some hallucination. You’re really here.”

“Really here. How do you feel?”

Instead of answering. Lucas pulled me roughly into his arms.
The embrace was too hard, but it was human emotion, and for that I was
grateful. His hands combed through my hair, which must have felt more or less
real to him.
l
was very present in that moment.

I repeated, “How do you feel?”

“Better.” His words came haltingly. “Before, all I could
think about was — no, I couldn’t think. I was just this
hungry
…
thing.”

“You’re okay now.”

“As long as you’re with me.” His voice was tight, and I
realized that he remained troubled. The blood hunger wasn’t his only problem.
He shifted away from me, hanging on tightly to my hand, to look up at Balthazar
and Ranulf. “I didn’t dream you two either.”

“Welcome to death,” Ranulf said cheerily. “It is not so bad
once you get what is called the ‘hang of it.’ “

“Thanks, buddy.” Lucas simply nodded at Balthazar;
apparently he remembered the conversation they’d had. But then he froze, and
his face twisted like he was about to be sick. I wondered if he’d drunk the
blood too fast until he whispered, “Mom. Vic. I went after — I wanted
— ”

“Everybody’s fine. You didn’t hurt anyone.” I closed my
fingers around his.

“I could have. I wanted to.” There was something in Lucas’s
eyes that made me wonder if, instead of saying wanted, he’d nearly said want.

“Mom’s never going to speak to me again.”

Balthazar folded his arms. “Do you really want to talk to
her again, after the way she turned on you?”

“It doesn’t work like that,” I said. As bitterly as my
parents and I had parted, I wanted to see them again every single day. When my
eyes met Lucas’s, I could see he felt the same way. He understood Kate’s
revulsion and distrust of his new nature; he shared them.

Ranulf stepped forward, helpful as ever. “Vic bears you no
ill will. He is outside drinking the Dew of the Mountain and will be glad to
see you yourself again.”

Lucas shook his head. “He can’t want to hang out with me
after I went for his throat.”

“I believe that he is
somewhat …
overwhelmed by the day’s events, but he will not abandon you,” Ranulf said.

“None of us will.” I wanted to embrace him again, but Lucas
remained distant, focused inward. When I glanced at Balthazar, he shook his
head slightly, a warning for me not to push. The control Lucas had gained was
temporary, and we all knew it.

“Can you guys give us a few minutes
?
”
Lucas said, running one hand through his dark gold hair, which was even more mussed
than Balthazar’s.

“I’m glad to see you and everything, but Bianca and I have
to talk.”

“Sure.” Balthazar nudged Ranulf. “Come on, we’ll help Vic
with the home repair.”

After the door closed behind them, Lucas and I looked at
each other, and the sadness of it struck me so hard it almost hurt. I found
myself remembering a time a few years ago, when I’d first learned he was Black
Cross. Once he’d escaped from Evernight, we had faced one another through a
pane of stained glass, unable to believe there was any way we could ever be
together again. I could picture it so perfectly, each shade of the glass, as
though it still hung between us.

“What was it like for you?” I asked. “Being dead?”

“I don’t remember anything about it.” Lucas leaned his head
back against the leg of our folding table, giving in to the exhaustion that
followed rising from the grave. We remained on the floor, unable to summon the
will to move. “Just now, when Balthazar staked me — that sounds so weird to say
— whatever. Well.
after
that, I dreamed. Thought I saw
Charity chasing after us.” He half laughed, a bitter sound, and looked up at
the ceiling. “The last thing I needed was her in my nightmares.”

I shivered. Charity looked innocent, with her youthful face
and bedraggled, waiflike appearance; she was anything but. I figured I would
have nightmares about her forever, too, if I could still dream. I wasn’t sure
about that yet.

“What was it like for you?” he asked, focusing on me again.
“Did you become a ghost right away, or was there some time between? It’d be
nice to think you got a sneak preview of heaven. “

“No sneak previews.” I folded my arms atop my knees and
rested my chin there. “I think I turned into a ghost pretty much instantly, but
it took me awhile to realize what had happened. At first I just drifted in and
out.”