Eternal Kiss (31 page)

“And now?”

“I’ve already told you I love you.”

“I think … I’m in love with Jack,” I admitted. There, I’d said it. I held my breath, afraid of what his response would be.

“No, you aren’t,” he said so softly I barely heard him.

That was one response I hadn’t expected. “Why would you say that?”

“He’s a vampire.”

“That doesn’t mean that I can’t love him.”

“I’m not saying you can’t love a vampire, just that you don’t love that one.”

“I’m not following you,” I said in frustration.

“He’s mesmerized you.”

I stopped dead in my tracks. Antonio took a few more steps before turning around. The light from the glowstick threw shadows around the cave in bizarre patterns, and they danced across his face. I wanted to tell him that he was wrong, that it was a lie. Somehow I asked instead, “How do you know?”

“I just do. Stop and search your soul. You know it, too.”

Everything seemed to slow down, like in a nightmare. Where my obsession with Jack had flamed and burned, something icy and cold walked over my grave.

I gasped. I hadn’t been myself. He had used me.

As awareness rushed in, I began to shake and cry. In two years, I hadn’t shed a tear for the dead, or the pain. Now it all seemed determined to be released at once.

“What’s happened to me?” I asked Antonio.

When he pulled me close and held me, he was shaking too. “I think Jack mesmerized you to get at me,” he whispered. “I’m so, so sorry. Just remember that as long as you’re aware of it, his mesmerism is broken.”

I pulled away and wiped my eyes on my sleeve. But … but it had been so real. And now—just another vampire lie. They hadn’t come in peace. Jack didn’t come for love.

“Jenn,” Antonio said. “I
am
sorry.”

“We should keep moving,” I said stonily. “We’ve got vampires to kill.”

He nodded and took my hand. As our fingers interlaced, I
felt a peace I had not known for years. He turned and began to move through the caves at a half run. I kept up with him, grateful to be doing something at last.

Winding through the caves, I lost track of time. When we finally emerged from them, I was surprised to see the moon directly overhead. We scrambled up a rocky slope for about a hundred yards before emerging in a clearing.

The vampires were already there. The sick feeling in my gut told me that they had been waiting for us.

And there was Jack. He stretched out his hand toward me exactly as I had pictured him doing the last several, sleepless nights. His grin was wide, no longer as playful as I remembered it, but simply arrogant. His eyes were laughing and cruel. I could see everything that had been hidden to me before. He had mesmerized me. Damn him. He had tricked me.

But I was free now. And he didn’t know it.

I gave Antonio’s hand a squeeze, hoping he understood what I was going to do. I walked forward, a smile on my face, heart pounding out of control.

“Beloved,” Jack said, when I was just a few steps away.

He had called me that before, but this time I blushed out of embarrassment instead of excitement. Out of the corners of my eyes, I could see the other vampires. They wanted me dead. I could feel the hatred coming off of them in waves. More than that, though, they wanted Antonio dead. I understood it all now. I had just been the bait.

If I could kill Jack before they could stop me, then Antonio
would have a fighting chance. An owl hooted not that far off, and I did my best not to turn my head. None of the vampires seemed to notice, but I knew that it wasn’t a real owl—it was our classmate, Jamie. It was a message:
You are not alone
.

And I smiled even more broadly. Jack had his
grupo
and I had mine. This then was the final lesson. We were not alone, not just single hunters against many vampires. We had friends who would fight and die with us, and for us. It was something not talked about in the Universidad because it was something that they couldn’t teach. It was camaraderie built out of shared pain and adversity. I understood everything now.

“Did you miss me?” Jack purred. I came to stand before him. He reached out to me, wanting me to take his hand. I kept my face turned coyly to the ground. When I finally raised my eyes to his, he was still smiling, confident I was still under his spell. Bastard.

I ripped the stake free of its holder in a flash. “No, I didn’t!” His eyes suddenly widened as I raised the stake and ruthlessly drove it straight through his black vampire heart.

His eyes flickered in surprise for a moment that suspended me somewhere humiliating and shameful. I would never let anyone use me again. Never believe in a vampire’s lies again.

Then he was gone. I spun around to ward off the next, nearest vampire, but it threw me to the ground, knocking the wind out of me. Then it leapt in for the kill. Its fangs brushed my throat.

This is it. This is how I die.

Suddenly, something grabbed my tormentor from behind,
and he went flying thirty feet through the air. The only thing strong enough to do that was another vampire. And as I struggled up onto my elbows, that was exactly what I saw.

Antonio turned toward me. I knew it was no trick of the light. The fangs he was baring were real. I gasped and he smiled sadly at me. Then I understood exactly what he had meant that first day at the Universidad when he had said the vampires took everything from him.
His family, his friends, his life.
No wonder he hated them. And no wonder they hated him—one of their own kind who hunted them.

Jamie and Skye burst into the clearing. Antonio turned as another vamp came running toward us. Eriko and Holgar emerged into the battle, bloody and brutal. Vampires turned to ash around us. Our ferocity knew no bounds. This time we would take them all out! Jamie ran toward us, now covered in the blood of the vampires he had recently staked. He skidded to a halt when he got a good look at Antonio.

“Something new?” Jamie asked warily eyeing Antonio’s fangs.

“No, something old,” Antonio said.

“Bloody hell.” Jamie lunged to stake him.

But I stepped in his way.

“No. He saved my life,” I heard myself saying. I was trembling. “He’s … one of us.”

I want to say that then and there, we became a team. Five crazy humans and one vampire. But it took a long time, and we were tested over and over again as the nights unfolded.

But as we stood together on New Year’s Eve, I turned and saw another half dozen vamps emerge from the trees. Their long teeth gleamed in the moonlight, and they were hissing in anticipation of the kill.

“I don’t remember Jack having a group this big,” I said.

“Looks like someone’s been recruiting.”

“Building his own little army,” Antonio added.

I grabbed a stake in each fist. “Good thing we’ve got a vampire of our own.”

“Let’s get this party started!” Eriko shouted.

Antonio spared one look at me, and I felt a strange mix of horror and excitement. Antonio was a vampire. He’d said he loved me.

And I knew it was not a lie.

The knowledge propelled me into battle. I moved like whirlwind, fighting as I had never done before. I was almost crazy, I was so fierce. I felt my stake slam into vampire chests, taking vampire lives.

Miraculously, it was over in under five minutes. Even more miraculously, we were all bloodied but still standing.

“Everyone bandage up.” I set to work on my own wounds. Antonio stood a safe distance away, and by his stance, I knew he was trying to regain control over his vampire self. I had so many questions, but they could wait. When I killed Jack, his power over me had vanished completely. At that moment, I remembered that before I met Jack I had loved Antonio. And not as a brother. Jack had twisted that emotion for his own ends. He
had made me forget who I was for a moment. But that was all over now.

I had loved Antonio, and I loved him again. The idea was strange, and new, and yet it felt old. I thought of my parents and my grandparents, and felt a dizzying connection. Was I going somewhere in my heart that they had never been? Or were the hearts of humans and vampires more alike than different?

I had other questions. Some were for my classmates. Except for Jamie, they seemed fine with the idea of a vampire as comrade. I had fully expected them to turn on Antonio after we had dispatched the rest of the vampires.

I cleared my throat. “Are we going to have any problems?” I asked my new
grupo.

“With Antonio?” Jamie frowned.

I nodded.

“He’s okay with me,” Holgar said. But Jamie said nothing.

I stared at them all in disbelief. After two years of training to kill vampires, of witnessing the horrors they were capable of, I didn’t know how the rest of them could let this go so easily.

“Why? How?” I blurted.

Eriko smiled. “If Father Armand let a vampire study at the Universidad, then he must be one of us.”

Us.
Not one of us
humans
. One of us
hunters
. I hadn’t thought about that. Father Armand personally screened every student for admission. He was a very kind, but intense, priest with a twisted sense of humor. Still, would he have even been able to tell Antonio was a vampire?

“You think Father Armand knew?” I asked.

“He knew I was a witch,” Skye said calmly.

“And he knew I was a werewolf,” Holgar added, as if it was common knowledge.

I stared at them all in shock. Finally I pivoted to face Jamie and Eriko. “Anything about the two of you I should know about?”

“No,” a deep voice answered from the shadows behind us.

I spun around, my hand on a stake, and slumped in relief when I saw that it was Father Armand.

“Each pairing has one normal student, and one with special abilities,” he explained. “It’s safer for everyone that way.”

“But—”

He raised his hand. “You think humans are the only ones who wish to fight evil? No. This war against the vampires has pulled in many people from many groups. A very few vampires retain enough of their original self that with meditation, study, and discipline they can control their bloodlust. Antonio is one of those. Skye is kin to some friends of mine and I recognized her talents when we met. Holgar, years ago, learned how to safeguard himself and others from his wolf aspect. This war touches us all and, I’m afraid, it does not stop here.”

“Then we will continue to fight,” I said. “Or at least, I will.”

“And I,” Holgar said.

“Me too,” Skye put in.

The others echoed in the affirmative, Jamie last. Antonio appeared suddenly nearby, slipping his hand around mine. I
fought the urge to lean against his shoulder. There would be time enough later for the two of us.

“I have only elixir for one,” Armand reminded. “And it is for Eriko.”

“Yes,” I said. I wondered how I had managed to appoint myself spokesperson for the small group, and why no one else seemed to object.

The priest—our priest—smiled at me. “You understand, then. A witch may offer protection to her partner. A vampire may do the same. However, a werewolf has a wild talent. He could inflict unintentional damage on his partner and cannot change at will.”

Eriko bowed her head. “I am not worthy,” she murmured.

Armand put his hand on Eriko’s shoulder and forced her to look up. “Then become so,” he whispered.

We all will
, I vowed.

“
Sí
,” Antonio whispered in my ear.

And so it began.

“Y
OU
I
CAN
change.” He leaned forward, his lips brushing mine. His breath smelled like peppermints and desire, his hair was copper and chocolate. Then he rested his forehead against mine.

Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I’d said no. But he leaned against me, his arm over my shoulders, our foreheads touching, and everything else was so far away. He was beautiful, and he was holding me as if I was his. It didn’t matter that I was cold all over, that I was scared, or that my throat burned like gasoline. The only thing that mattered was that he’d chosen me.

Me.

So I said yes.

What girl wouldn’t?

“God.” Gwyneth lay on the bench, thick waves of golden hair touching the shade-dappled wood. Out here under the fig trees was one of the most desirable spots for lunchtime. “This won’t ever end. I’ll be trapped here for the rest of my
life
.”

“We could skip fifth period.” I hugged my bare knees, my bag a comforting slumped weight under them. It was a way to
get around the indecency of wanting to pull yourself up in a ball while wearing a skirt. Double scabs from rollerblading were rough patches, I pushed my glasses up with the side of one knee in a quick sideways motion. “I’ve got the homework done. So we can get there at a reasonable time.”

“But I’d have to change.” Cornflower-blue eyes blinked. She held up one hand, inspected her French manicure. “I can’t go in this.”

“Schoolgirl is always in.”
Besides, I don’t have anything to change into
. I tried hard not to wheedle. But God, sometimes Gwyn even had to be talked into things she
wanted
to do.

“With perverts.” She stretched again. “Let’s skip fourth as well. You’ve got that homework done too, right?”

She meant, did I have something we could both turn in? I did. But there was a problem. “Quiz today.” I hunched down, my shoulders sharp points. The shade felt good. Dry wind blew across the lacrosse field, full of the tang of sprinkler water and chemical fertilizer. Molly Fenwick and Trisha Brent and their whole crowd were at the benches in the sun, their jackets off and white Peter Pan-collared shirts unbuttoned enough to be daring. Mitzi Hollenweider was telling a story that involved a lot of handwaving and shrieks of
ohmiGOD!
, careless of whether any of the teachers could hear.

The embroidered badge on my jacket scratched as I rubbed my chin against the one unscabbed bit of my right knee. The hairpins hurt, holding my frizz tightly back. That was one of the things about St. Crispin’s—every button buttoned and every
stray hair slicked down. Gwyn’s waves were placid and acceptable, laying tamely wherever she wanted them. But my mess of dark fritz was always working its way free of whatever was used to confine it. I would’ve taken home demerits for that, except I knew when to smooth the teachers over.

They liked me. Adults usually do.

“Dammit.” She stretched again. “So we take the quiz and bail. Right?”

“Tricky.” And it was—Brother Bob, as he liked to be called, pretended to be down with the kids. It was all a big act—he reported to the headmistress
and
to the bishop who made all the big decisions. The rumor was he was stuck in a girl’s school because he liked the other flavor of young kid. Boy: The Other Catholic Meat.

You’d think we’d have some things in common to bitch about with Brother Bob if he liked boys so much. But he was a narc, no matter how much slang he tried to pick up.

“Well, then what do we
do
?” She was getting irritated now.

“We’ll figure something out. We always do.” The wind touched my hair, mouthed my knees. “Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

The bell rang. Second lunch over, freedom gone. A ripple ran through everyone. Mitzi finished up her story, glancing over at us. She always wanted to walk to fourth period with Gwyn. It was getting to the point where being Gwyn’s best friend all the way from second grade was wearing a bit thin, and Mitzi was looking to get her into the popular crowd.

If she could get rid of me.

Gwyn hauled herself up with a groan, like she was forty instead of sixteen. Her knees were smooth, her hair settled into place with a few flicks, and she stood balanced on one leg, propping the other foot on the bench to flick imaginary dust off her shiny Mary Janes. Hers were always polished.

I stood up, and a dragging cramp went through my stomach. Gwyn snagged her brown paper lunchbag, wadded it up. There was half a sandwich still in there.

“We’ll think of something,” I repeated.

“
Gwyneth
!” Mitzi called. “Hey
Gwyneth
!”

“God,” Gwyn said,
sotto voce
. “Her voice drills right through my head. Save my spot in fourth, okay?”

Like anyone else would sit next to me. But I nodded. “Sure. Have fun.”

“Yeah, right. I’ll see what the bitch wants.” Gwyn gave me a weird, stretched-thin smile, and moved out into sunlight. Her hair caught it and glowed, and her legs moved long and lithe, dancing steps as she swung her bag back and forth. I sighed and almost fell off the bench while trying to get myself standing up. My skirt didn’t flip up, though, thank God. Another cramp hit me sideways while I got my books all rearranged inside the regulation satchel.

St. Crispin’s even decrees what bookbag you can buy. They’re like that. Scholarship kids like me get a big break on the prices, though. Not enough of a break, but some.

Mitzi’s voice kept hitting high ugly pitches. I sneaked a glance over while I shrugged back into my blazer. Go figure—
here we were in sunny Cali and they wanted us to wear wool.

The gaggle of girls in sunlight all giggled, the very same high-pitched nasal laughter. I was pretty sure Gwyn was laughing at them, though, not with them. I hitched my bag up on my shoulder and walked to fourth period. I only looked back once, and Gwyn was alight with the rest of them, standing in a flood of sunlight that picked out their glossy hair, their pampered skin, and the little glitters of gold jewelry—balls or small hoops, 24K of course—that St. Crispin’s approved of.

My chest hurt. My stomach growled again, telling me I was hungry, but I ignored it. The school doors swallowed me. Smells of linoleum, oil, chalk dust, the janitor’s harsh cleansers, and the funk of miserable kids in scratchy clothes, repeating drills when the whole world was outside waiting, all closed over my head. I trudged toward the classroom, and nobody yelled my name.

They were a couple minutes late to fourth period, but Brother Bob had been delayed with something or another. It was rare that he wasn’t in the room on the dot, so I opened up my secondhand trig textbook.

Gwyneth slid into her seat next to me. Mitzi gave me a pitying look, tossing her blonde pigtails. I slumped down in my chair.

“There’s a party tonight,” Gwyn whispered. She’d gotten some gum from somewhere, and the perfume of Juicy Sweet touched my cheek. “Out in the Hills. Wanna go?”

“I thought we were—”

“Come on.” She grinned while Brother Bob lumbered to the front of the room. He was sweating, and his round face was red. The collar always cut into the crinkled skin of his throat. Gwyn called the look “choked turkeyneck,” and I agreed.

“I won’t know anyone there.” But it was a mumble, because the class had quieted. Bob’s little, moist, dark eyes raked the rows of seats. Mitzi wriggled in her chair. Trisha shoved her bookbag under her seat and fiddled with her hair ribbon.

“Jesus, just say yes.” Gwyneth’s blue eyes narrowed as she stared at the front of the classroom. Brother Bob gulped and stood up straight. The chalkboard was freshly washed.

“Yes,” I said.

“Quiet down, girls,” Bob said.

Then the fire alarm went off. It was a drill, thank God. Gwyn and I glanced at each other, grabbed our bookbags, and got out of there. I guess we were meant to skip fourth period after all.

We stopped off at Gwyn’s house. Her dad was at work and her mom was off somewhere, so there was only Marisa the housekeeper, who clucked at both of us as we tore in through the door, laughing.

“Did you
see
that?” Gwyn was laughing so hard she hic-cupped. It was a wonder she could drive. Her place was twelve minutes away from St. Crispin’s if the lights were right. Today they hadn’t been, but we were lucky.

Driving with Gwyneth was like playing roulette. You just knew sooner or later you were going to lose. She got distracted and rolled through stop signs, forgot to check oncoming traffic, and didn’t notice red lights sometimes until I pointed them out, usually by yelling
Jesus Christ!
and grabbing for the dash.

She was in hysterics from the fact that we’d rolled right past a cop at a stop sign, blithely disregarding the fact that it wasn’t our turn to go. The cop hadn’t even glanced or flicked his lights. He’d just been
sitting
there.

I was in hysterics because we’d come
this close
to getting pasted by a huge red Escalade. On
my
side, of course. Because nothing would ever happen to Miss Luckypants. But I just went along, laughing. At least hanging out with her was never boring, not since second grade when she fell out of the monkey bars onto me. And when I spent the night in her parents’ glass-and-white-stucco mansion, sometimes I would close my eyes and imagine it was me who lived here and someone else who just visited all the time.

Gwyn dropped her bookbag on a stool at the breakfast bar and swiped her hand back through her hair. “Hi, Marisa.” She tried to put on a serious face and failed miserably.

“
Ola
, Marisa.” I waved, hitching my bag up on my shoulder.

She sniffed at both of us, but opened up the fridge door. In under a minute there was a plate of sugar cookies and two big glasses of milk. Like magic. Round-faced, round-shouldered, and round-eyed, she wore a black dress that seemed to be a uniform. A clean, starched white apron never had the slightest stain.

I took a sugar cookie. She gave me her usual tight smile, one that didn’t reach her solemn dark eyes.

Our laughter drained away. Gwyneth dropped down on a stool, and Marisa pushed the plate a little closer to me. I took a gulp of milk, and my stomach eased up a bit.

“Rolled right past him,” Gwyn giggled, and then we were off and running again.

It took a long time for the giggles to fade, especially with Marisa restocking the sugar cookies and pouring more milk. “So what did Mitzi want? Other than to invite you to the shindig of the week.” I even managed to say it casually.

“Oh, just stuff. You know she doesn’t exist unless everyone around her is adoring her. It’s just sick the way they all stand around and valley each other.”

Yeah. It is.
“You sure you want to go to this party?”
With me
was what I meant, and Gwyn gave me a bright little sidelong glance. She looked so healthy, the roses in her cheeks blooming. I’d torn all the pins out of my hair and I felt greasy. The uniform didn’t help.

“You can borrow my black silk shirt.” She wasn’t quite wheedling. But that black silk was her
baby
. She hardly ever wore it.