Almost to Die For (10 page)

V
ampire? Okay, I was kind of almost ready for that, what with all the inferences Mom tossed around earlier with Ramses, but . . . half vampire? Really?

Vampires were real?

If I was a vampire, a half one, then that begged the question, was that what those things in the woods were—vampires? Well, if that was the case, then they were very different from what I would have expected from the movies. And, what? Now I was the princess of the vampires?

How weird was that?

Apparently everyone else in the coven must have been thinking the same thing, because they all stared, openmouthed, at me. Well, except Mom. She turned and fled from the circle in a burst of tears.

Nice. Thanks for the support, Mom.

Bea’s dad no longer met my eye. Actually, when I scanned the crowd for friendly faces, most people turned away or feigned a sudden interest in the grass, their fingernails, or anything else.

I looked at Bea imploringly, hoping for a show of support from my very best and oldest friend. But instead, Bea looked back at me with barely contained horror.

Okay, now
this
was about as horrible as I imagined the Initiation was going to go. Not only did I not pass my magical test, but now I was also apparently some kind of big fat half freak.

Great.

Maybe Mom had the best exit strategy after all. Time to flee.

So I took off into the woods. I ran. I didn’t care where my feet took me as long as it was “away.” As I dashed through the brush, I let myself cry. Tears streamed down my cheeks, blurring my vision—which was probably how I ended up tripping on the exposed tree root and falling flat on my face into a tall stand of ostrich ferns.

I decided not to get up.

I thought maybe I might lie here forever.

Rolling over, I panted and sobbed. The ferns were soft and slick on my back. Mosquitoes hummed in the otherwise quiet, dark forest. As I stared up at the round moon, I tried to make everything add up.

Given the way the creatures—it was hard for me to think of them as vampires yet—shied away when the coven started using magic, perhaps it was no wonder I sucked at it. It was this “blood” that everyone said would “out.”

Ramses had said I had another destiny, even warned me not to come tonight. Had he been attacked by this same group of vampires—What did you call a group of vampires, anyway? A “murder,” like with crows? Given their feline eyes, I thought “pride” might be more accurate.

But Ramses didn’t have eyes like that, did he? Of course, he was wearing clothes too. Maybe he was some different tribe or clan or “pride” or whatever.

It was all so confusing.

And I had no one to ask. The coven had abandoned me. My mom ran off. My best friend . . .

Okay, I’d kind of been prepared for the idea that when I failed the Wiccaning, the coven would freak and Mom would cry. I’d even entertained the idea that Bea might have trouble at first. I thought, with her mom and everything, she’d be the first to sympathize. But she wouldn’t even meet my eye. She wouldn’t even look at me.

I suppose that was better than some of the disgusted looks the other coveners shot me. At least she hadn’t gaped at me in abject horror.

I groaned.

“So you yet live, my lady.”

I sat up with a start. I looked around frantically for the source of the voice and found him lounging in the crook of a solitary crab apple tree. It was the one who had spoken to me before. He looked strangely natural, sitting there, like he was just another part of the wildness of the woods, like a squirrel. No, that was the wrong image. There was nothing cute or skittery about him. He was feral, yes, but more like a mountain lion, full of grace and a languid sort of danger.

He jumped down from the branches with ease. Crouching, he peered at me as though inspecting something. “You’ve left the circle. Were you cast out?”

I didn’t think so. I’d failed, but as far as I knew, I wasn’t banished or anything serious like that. No, in fact, Diane had said something about the coven still protecting me. “I’m not sure,” I said honestly. “But, in a way, I am. I’m not going to be in the Inner Circle anytime soon.”

He laughed slightly. “Their loss.”

I wasn’t sure what to make of that. Was he being sarcastic or sympathetic? After all, if Mom was right, the vampires wanted me to fail tonight. But he didn’t seem all that evil. In fact, other than being naked and the funky, reflective eyes, he seemed really quite normal.

“Who are you?” I asked, and I really wanted to add, “And where
are
your clothes? ” but I thought better of that last part. It seemed a bit rude, although it was really difficult to concentrate on the conversation at hand. The shadows mostly hid the salient bits from view, but I was very aware of just how close I sat to a completely naked man.

He touched his heart slightly again, in that oddly courtly gesture. “Elias Constantine, at your service.”

“Are you really a vampire, Elias?” I liked the way his name felt on my tongue; it was exotic and foreign, but old-fashioned and archaic in a knightly sort of way. Not unlike my name, really.

He flinched at my choice of words, as though I’d slurred him with the term “vampire.” “I’ve been called that,” he said.

“Oh.” I hadn’t meant to insult him. “Well, what would you call yourself ?”

He smiled slightly. “Elias, knight of the dark realm, but that’s not the answer you’re looking for, I know.” Elias seemed to consider his answer further, his cat eyes reflecting moonlight. “ ‘Humanity’s end,’ ‘Witches’ Bane,’ you tell me. What’s your preference, my lady?”

Humanity’s end? WTF? I was beginning to think “vampire” sounded like a much nicer option. “What I mean is . . . ?” What did I ask here? His race? His species? “Um, what are you? What I really want to know is, what am I?”

In the moonlight, his smile was soft and strangely understanding. “You are your father’s daughter and a very, very special lady. You are someone I am sworn to protect, and will, at the cost of my very life.”

The idea that someone had pledged his life to protect me was very romantic, like something straight out of a fairy tale. Who was this guy, really?

And could he be for real?

“So you have a life? You’re not, like, undead.”

He laughed. “No. Not yet, anyway.”

That was an interesting answer. It seemed to imply that he might become undead under certain circumstances. I left that thought for now, however. “Do you drink blood?” I asked.

Elias’s amused smile faded quickly. “Yes.”

Suddenly, the woods seemed very cold and deep.

He shook his head, as though he sensed my change in attitude. “The hunt is a very sacred thing, my lady. But nothing to be afraid of.”

I wasn’t so sure about that. I pulled my knees up under my chin, putting a bit more distance between us.

He watched with sad eyes, but didn’t move from his strangely relaxed yet ready-to-pounce crouch. “Ah, my lady. Much of what you have heard about us are lies.”

That was the thing, though. I hadn’t heard much of anything. Tonight was the first time I’d even heard the word “vampire” outside of books and movies, much less to find out that I was half one. “Will you tell me the truth?” I asked.

Another courtly inclination of his head, and he said, “Anything you wish.”

I considered what I might like to know the most. “Am I . . . are you . . . human?”

In the darkness, his expression was hard to read, especially since I kept finding myself being drawn to the way his short hair was black enough to seem almost a part of the night. His head was tipped downward as he considered my question. When I dared to look at the rest of him, I marveled at the smooth hardness of his marble white skin.

“Are we human? ” he repeated. As he spoke, those cat-slit eyes caught my gaze intensely. “You seem quite desperate for that answer to be yes. Why? I wonder.”

My mouth opened, though I wasn’t sure what to say. Before I could formulate a response, he began again.

“You say you’re still part of the coven, but where are your friends who were so intent on protecting you earlier? It took very little for them to turn on you, didn’t it?” He paused, watching me. But what could I say? He was right. He nodded as though he heard my thoughts or perhaps saw my answer in my eyes. “Trust me, this is a very ancient, ingrained character trait of your adopted people, and it shows little sign of improving over time.”

I frowned, feeling the sting of his remarks and a little insulted as well. I mean, I was at least half human, wasn’t I? “You said you’d answer honestly, but you haven’t answered my question at all.”

He dipped his head as though in acquiescence, but his tone held something else entirely. “I haven’t. But neither have I lied to you, my lady.”

“That’s a technicality,” I said. It was hard to resist the urge to poke him with the toe of my shoe, because there was something about Elias that seemed open to teasing. I had to remind myself I didn’t know this guy at all, and it was possible he could be quite dangerous.

Despite the threat of the sharp canines, I sensed a mischievous twinkle in the smile that spread across Elias’s face. “It’s a hard habit to break, this desire to misdirect. I spent centuries doing only precisely as I was told, nothing more.”

“And you’re still doing it.” I laughed. This time I couldn’t hold back the urge and nudged him playfully. “Answer the question, Elias. Are you human?”

He startled when I mentioned his name, almost as if instead of giving him a gentle poke, I’d slapped him in the face. Straightening, his eyes narrowed. His words, when they came, were very precise and clipped. “I am not. Nor have I ever been. Not the way you seem to be asking, at any rate.”

Not human. I shivered, withdrawing deeper into myself. Not human.

“Now grant me a question of my own, my lady. Is it better to serve in heaven or rule in hell?”

Confused, I looked up to ask him what he meant, when suddenly I heard a shout in the distance.

“Get away from her, demon!”

The coven had found us. I could hear footfalls crashing through the underbrush. People were shouting. Magic was revving up; I felt it like static electricity building in the air. I stood up to ward them off, to tell them that it was okay, that Elias and I were just talking—

But he was already gone.

I
f it was possible, Mom was even angrier. Apparently, it was one thing to fail miserably as a witch, but another thing entirely to talk to a vampire in the forest
alone
.

“. . . irresponsible! I can’t believe you talked to him when you know nothing about who they are, and what they are capable of!”

I tuned out most of Mom’s argument, but I couldn’t ignore this. “Oh yeah? And whose fault is that?”

Mom’s lips pursed like they always did when she was mad and didn’t want to say anything.

We had gone back to the cabin. A potluck meal had been laid out, but almost no one was eating. The large, open room smelled of five-bean casserole and roasting peppers.

People collected in small, subdued knots of conversation near the food tables. Mom had corralled me on the opposite side of the room and had been berating me in harsh whispers. Every so often, eyes strayed in our direction, people trying to eavesdrop subtly.

I’d mostly shut down. I hated being the center of attention even when it was something cool, like my birthday. Now everyone was staring at me like something you might find on the bottom of your shoe.

I’d failed the test. I’d expected that. But I came here not knowing why, thinking I was just some big witch-fail. Now from what I could tell, the way magic reacted to me might not entirely be my fault. I was half vampire. Didn’t that have something to do with it? Shouldn’t Mom have warned me? “I told you that I couldn’t do magic,” I said. “Didn’t it ever occur to you that maybe that was because I was a damp . . . a whatever, a half vampire?”

“Dhampyr,” Mom said quietly. She’d been twisting her lips and staring at the floor, but now she looked me in the eye. “Yes, it occurred to me.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? I mean, you knew I was going to fail.”

“No, I didn’t,” Mom insisted with a sniff. “You might have passed. You are half human and Parker blood is strong.”

“Not strong enough,” I said.

Mom put her hand on my shoulder kindly. “You have the gift. I’ve felt it in you. If they’d only give you another chance, I’m sure—”

I shrugged out from under Mom’s touch. How many times did I have to explain all this? I was a failure, plain and simple.

“I know you can feel magic,” Mom said. “You’re not entirely lost to me.”

I had been starting to walk away, ostensibly to get something from the potluck tables. I wasn’t hungry, but I didn’t want to talk about any of this anymore. Mom’s words stopped me. It was true. How had Mom known?