Almost to Die For (25 page)

A slide and a click in my jaw, and down came my fangs. The moment my fangs emerged, I felt an electric pulse race along my skin. It blasted through the cottony web of Mom’s spell like it was nothing.

My ears popped, and suddenly I could move; I was free. I could bite Bea now. I could use my sharp teeth and rip and tear her skin until blood flowed like wine. A snarl escaped my throat.

Bea sensed the change in me and tried to pull her hand from where I grasped it to my mouth. My grip tightened, and I shot her a possessive look.

“Class started,” she reminded me, and I could feel a defensive spell boiling up under her skin, poisoning the sweet taste of the blood.

What was I doing?

I dropped her hand guiltily and straightened up, horrified at myself. I couldn’t even contain my desire for blood when it was my sometime BFF; the hunt would have been a total disaster. My stomach started to roil at the thought.

“Oh, Bea. I’m so sorry!” I could tell by the tremble in my voice that her spell had worked. I was no longer under the cloud of Mom’s spell. I started to dance with happiness. “It worked!” I hugged her tightly. “Oh, thank you! It worked!”

“We’re going to be in so much trouble,” Bea muttered. “You’re kind of strong in your vampire form, by the way.”

I laughed. I would have kissed her if I didn’t think it would smear her cheek with blood. “Come on. We’re only a few minutes late.”

I started to pull her out the door, but she stopped me. “You need a napkin,” she said, pointing to her own lips. In the mirror I could see what she meant. I looked like I’d had a very bad accident with a lipstick tube. She dug through her purse and offered me a Kleenex and found a Band-Aid for herself. “Okay,” she said, snapping her purse shut. “Now we can go.”

Mr. Martinez was none too pleased by our unexcused interruption. I pointed to Bea’s palm and said we’d had to stop at the nurse’s office. He seemed skeptical, and suggested that next time we should ask for a tardy slip. We nodded contritely and slipped into our seats.

While we continued reading the play, I noticed Bea watching me. Were my fangs still visible? I hadn’t felt them slide back into wherever it was they came from, but no one was pointing and staring either.

I wished I could talk to her. She’d been so brave. I couldn’t imagine it had been easy for her to decide to help me, especially when it meant giving me her blood. I wondered what made her change her mind. It must have really bothered her to see me caught in Mom’s spell.

Speaking of which, I felt as though I just woke up. Everything was brighter, crisper. I could have broken out into song or danced a jig, but Mr. Martinez would have sent me to detention for sure. As it was, I was just grateful I’d been paying attention when it was my turn to read.

There would be a test on Monday, and everyone groaned when Mr. Martinez reminded us to review the play and all our notes. We could expect essay questions.

Yet I couldn’t keep a smile off my face. I would have floated out of the room, but Mr. Martinez called me back. Bea gave me a look that I hoped meant she’d wait for me. I nodded.

“I’m worried about you,” he told me. “Your behavior has been very erratic. Are you using?”

Using? It took me a second to grasp his meaning. “Drugs? No. No way!” He looked at me as though he expected some sort of explanation. “There’s some . . . trouble at home.”

That was an understatement, but it seemed to satisfy him. “You know you can always talk to me. The school has counselors too.”

Like I could tell them about my new interest in sucking people’s blood!

“Yeah, thanks,” I said, anxious to go.

“Go on,” he said with a smile. “But do take care of yourself. I don’t want to lose a good actress. There are so precious few.”

A compliment from Herr Director? Would wonders never cease?

 

 

BEA AND TAYLOR WERE WAITING for me by Bea’s locker. Taylor glanced between Bea and me curiously. “So we’re all friends again?”

I started to nod enthusiastically, but Bea said, “We have a temporary truce.”

Temporary?

“Does this mean the party is on?” Taylor asked.

“Party?” Bea asked.

Taylor’s face fell. “Birthday. For Ana?”

“Oh,” Bea said, looking at me. “Well, there is that house party at Nik’s tonight. Should we make it a twofer?”

“I can’t get into that,” Taylor said. “It’s sold out.”

“You can get us in, can’t you, Ana?” Bea said. There was an icy edge to her voice as she added, “Nik is your boyfriend, after all. What do you say?”

I got the impression that if I had any hope of making our truce permanent, I had no other option than to smile and say, “Sure!”

With Taylor hanging on excitedly chattering about the possibility of getting into THE social event of the season, I never got a chance to ask Bea what had motivated her to help me out. Especially since it was clear she was jealous of me and Nikolai.

And I had another, more serious problem. Mom would be able to tell we’d broken her spell. I could hardly waltz in like nothing had happened. I’d risk being snared up again.

But where to go? I considered calling Nik, but I knew he’d be busy getting ready for the big gig tonight. I didn’t want to be in the way, especially since I needed to ask him a huge favor already. While I was thinking of it, I texted him to ask if it would be okay if I brought along two friends as guests. I buttered him up a bit by adding that from all accounts he was the hottest ticket in town. Maybe flattery would work. I had no idea how Bea would react if I couldn’t come through with tickets.

I got onto the school bus and found a seat. I decided I might as well take it back to my neighborhood while considering where to go. The sun was hot on the vinyl seats. I was glad of the brisk September breeze coming in from the half-opened windows. I squinted in the brightness.

Maybe I should try to find Elias. I felt like maybe I owed him an explanation for Nik and my quick escape last night. The thought of creeping through the underground of St. Paul, however, didn’t appeal.

The bus bounced along. I watched traffic out the window. Soon we were turning down quieter streets, and I started to gather things together because I spotted my stop coming up.

And Mom waiting at the corner.

What was she doing there?

H
oly crap! Mom was waiting for me.

I slid down in my seat to avoid being noticed. Mom must have sensed the moment Bea and I shattered her spell. The bus came to the stop just before mine. I quickly grabbed my stuff and piled off with the group of girls. The bus driver gave me an odd look, but didn’t say anything.

Meanwhile, I tried to blend. Luckily, this was a busy stop. There were a few little kids who had parents waiting for them, and I followed one of them, trying to act like we were all one big happy family. As soon as we turned the corner, I started to run.

The high I’d gotten from Bea’s blood had worn off, and I found myself sweating in less than a block. The sun’s heat seemed to drag my heels, but I kept going. I ran up the hill toward the University Club and then down the steep drop toward the children’s hospital and the edges of downtown.

I had to slow down or risk tumbling down the sharply angled walk. I didn’t think Mom had seen me get off early, but I checked behind me regularly. My phone rang, startling me. I dug it out. Mom, of course. No way I was answering that; I let it ring through to voice mail.

But it got me thinking. Could I call Bea? Maybe she’d let me hang out at her place until the party. No, her mom and mine were pretty tight. And besides, there was the temporary truce. I didn’t want Bea to have to choose between witch and vampire again, especially since she’d seen me all bloodlusty and vamped out.

Taylor? I’d never been invited to her house. Of course, she’d never been to my house either. I wasn’t allowed to bring home anyone who wasn’t clued in to the True Witch thing.

It was times like this I wished I had more friends.

I’d made it to the bottom of the hill. Now where? I thought I might just try to find a coffee shop to hang out in. Rush hour traffic was beginning to rev up. Vehicles of all shapes and sizes crowded the narrow downtown streets. St. Paul didn’t have much hustle, but knots of hospital workers in their Snoopy-decorated scrubs waited for city buses or walked briskly to parking ramps. Pinking sunlight glinted off glass windows. The industrial-cafeteria smell of the nearby café mingled with the scent of exhaust and city.

I settled into an easy pace. The city moved around me as the sun sank into the west. A five-foot-tall Woodstock statue painted dark blue to resemble deep space and decorated with white star clusters grinned at me as I passed. Up ahead, I spotted a café/ coffee place.

The shop was crowded with after-work business, but I found a seat. I checked the time on my phone. The house party at Nik’s wasn’t until eight tonight. So, after buying an orange juice, I pulled out my homework and tried to concentrate on Shakespeare, the Great Depression, and calculus.

I was deep into a formula when my phone blipped. I glanced at it. A text from Nikolai! He said that my friends were always welcome to come to the gig, but he couldn’t pick me up. Could I find a ride?

I was sure I could. If nothing else, there was the bus. I told him so. And then I reminded him to “break a leg.”

He sent me back a smiley face two seconds later.

The coffee shop had emptied out as the sun faded. A glance toward the street showed the sidewalks were similarly quiet. I had to laugh. St. Paul had a reputation for rolling up its streets after five. It really seemed to be true.

You could tell that autumn was fast approaching. The sun was going down earlier and earlier. Soon, many office workers would be going to work in the dark and coming home as the sun set. They’d miss what little sunlight winter had to offer in Minnesota.

Bending my head over my books, I went back to studying. At this rate I was going to get an A average. But what else was there to do? I still had hours to kill before even considering heading over to Nikolai’s.

I took a sip of OJ and sighed. What was I going to do? At least Bea was my friend again. Sort of. Anyway, I was just so grateful she helped me shake off the zombie spell. Where had my power come from? Vampires weren’t supposed to have any magic beyond their superpowers.

Yet, if I concentrated, I could still feel tremors of an electric force, slipping back and forth, just under my skin. Absently, my fingers flipped through my science text, as if seeking the answer there. My gaze strayed to a picture of a magnet. There was some kind of diagram about building an electric current using a magnetic wheel, called a dynamo or something—I wasn’t sure—but the image stopped me cold.

Hmmm, the energy was created by attraction and repulsion of two opposing forces. Magnets had two poles, a north and south, positive and negative. . . . A little like me. Hmmm, now, here was an interesting theory.

Maybe Taylor was right. Maybe not choosing one heritage or the other allowed me to access both, and the two conflicting polarities created the spark of energy between them—magic.

That made a lot of sense. I smiled at the thought. Cool. I finally had a power all my own.

But why had it originally felt cold, like ice?

Through the window, I watched a city bus lumber awkwardly around the corner. It was one of those superlong ones with the accordion division between the two halves.

I looked back at my science book, and scratched my head thoughtfully. Maybe my magic needed a jump start, like the dynamo had to have something to crank its wheel. Perhaps it felt cold because to get my energy moving, I’d had to draw energy from somewhere first. If I unconsciously pulled my own internal energy first, I might experience an actual drop in body temperature or something.

Which was why I’d had to taste Bea’s blood! It was the thing that got my own magic rolling.

Okay, I was into this hypothesis. Now, if only I could test it in real life!

I smiled as I closed up my book. Being a science nerd paid off, after all. Now on to conquer American history—maybe I could find some clue about vampire culture buried in there. Ha!

 

 

THERE WEREN’T MANY ANSWERS IN American history, it turned out. When I looked up again, I felt someone watching me. I scanned the coffeehouse. It was virtually deserted. The barista busied himself behind the counter, and one other customer stared intently at something on her laptop screen. Otherwise, I had the shop to myself.

Outside, the darkness was complete, and I saw little besides my own spooked reflection, but I still felt the phantom sensation of eyes on my back.

Deciding it must be my imagination or maybe my constant watcher, Elias, I stood up and stretched my legs, which had started to cramp. The door opened to admit two men. They looked like a pair of Mormon missionaries, wearing white shirts, dark ties, dress pants, and trench coats. The only things they lacked were the bike helmets tucked under their arms. I started to turn back to my books, but they were walking intently in my direction in a way that made me reassess them.