Rachel Caine & Kristin Cast & Claudia Gray & Nancy Holder & Tanith Lee & Richelle Mead & Cynthia Leitich Smith & P. C. Cast (21 page)

Her mom would never say anything like that, of course.

Because she was dead.

But she had never talked like that, not even when Jilly was the most drug-crazy; she had said Jilly was hurting.

But even when Jilly was at her worst, she still would have done anything to help Eli become more, and more, and more of all the wonderful things Eli was.

“God, I'm glad you're here,” he whispered, nuzzling the back of her head. She cried some more, and he held her.

There was a soft knock on the door. Mrs. Stein whispered, “It's dinner time.”

Jilly was very hungry, and the smell of food was making her clench and unclench her hands. But Eli had fallen asleep with his arm over her. She tried to figure out a way to slide out from underneath him without waking him up. She couldn't manage it, so she stayed beside him. Her arm began to ache. Her stomach growled.

As she contracted and released her muscles, trying to keep the blood circulating, she heard Mrs. Stein crying. It was a high-pitched, irritating kind of weeping, and it set Jilly on edge.

“No one is helping us!” Mrs. Stein cried. “No one.”

Jilly, hungry and despairing and exhausted, listened to the rain, and imagined New York City going up in steam. Then she let herself go fully to sleep for the first time since she had turned sixteen.

The yelling jerked Jilly awake.

“You will die!” Mr. Stein shouted downstairs.

“Stop yelling!” Mrs. Stein was crying again. “You'll drive him away, the way you always have.”

“What, drive away? Didn't you hear what he just said? He's leaving anyway!”

Jilly groaned, feeling in the bed for Eli, realizing he'd gotten up. His parents were trying, in their way, to tell him that
they loved him and didn't want him to risk his life by leaving their home. She felt the same way. She didn't want to get out of bed. She knew Eli so well, knew they were going to leave as soon as she emerged from the bedroom—
maybe we can eat first—
and it wasn't going to be a graceful exit.

“It's because they blame you for not fixing me,” Eli told her as they left his parents' house. It was still raining; Mrs. Stein had given them parkas with hoods and umbrellas. The rain seemed to have cleared the sky of the vampire birds of prey. Another miracle.

At least they had gotten to have some breakfast first—last night's brisket, and pancakes. And blessed coffee. While she'd been on the street, she'd heard a story that one man had knifed another over the last cup of coffee in a pot in a diner.

She didn't say anything. She couldn't forgive Eli's parents for being so narrow-minded as to pick a fight with their son and his best friend, when they might never see either of them alive again.

She adjusted the heavy backpack, filled with extra clothes, shampoo, toothbrushes, and toothpaste. Eli was carrying the heavier one, packed with food. He had a small satchel over his shoulder too, packed with photographs of Sean, seven of them, as if someone might not recognize him in the first six. Sean was weird-looking, with almond-shaped eyes and a long, hooked nose in a long, narrow face.
So he wasn't handsome, he wasn't nice, and there were other gay guys in their school if Eli wanted a boyfriend. Gay guys who liked Jilly a lot. Unfortunately, Sean was the guy for him.

Eli groaned when they reached the pocket park, site of their first make-out session, after her birthday party in the eighth grade. She'd been so excited and happy she hadn't slept all night.

“Even the trees got burned up,” he said. They walked close together, holding hands. She had a strange floating sensation; if he hadn't held on to her, she thought she might have floated away from sheer fear.

They passed dozens of burning buildings, sizzling and steaming in the rain. The subway station split the sidewalk; by mutual unspoken consent, they gave it a wide berth. Darkness and seclusion—perfect vampire territory.

Shadows and shapes moved in the alleyways; they walked down the center of the street, gripping each other's hand. It was strange, but Jilly was more afraid with Eli there than she had been by herself. She didn't think she could stand it if something happened to him. He was so nervous; he was broadcasting “come and get me” to anyone interested in easy pickings.

He pulled a cell phone out of his parka and dialed numbers, listening each time. Finally he grunted and put it back in his pocket, and moved his bangs out of his eyes. Her heart stirred, and she touched his cheek. He smiled distractedly; she knew he was glad she was there, but it was Sean he most wanted to see.

She used to have these long conversations with her girl friends about if Eli would ever come back to her. Eli had been her actual boyfriend for two years. They had made out all the time, but never gone any farther than that. They'd been too young. Then he and Sean had found each other . . . or rather, Sean had found him. Sean had moved to New York and zeroed in on Eli, even before Sean was sure Eli was gay. So Eli had given Jilly the “we can still be friends” speech.

Only in their case, it was true. They were excellent friends. They thought alike, read alike. He thought NYU was a great goal. He talked about going there too. They both hated sports. And Sean, who was a jock, hated that.

He never said a word about it to Eli. As far as Eli was concerned, Sean loved Jilly like a sister. Had used those exact words, in fact, the one time Jilly tried to discuss it with him. But when Eli wasn't paying attention, Sean zinged her out with vast amounts of passive-aggressive BS—veiled threats and lots of snark. He picked fights just before they were supposed to meet her somewhere—like Watami. Being somewhere in midtown when he was supposed to celebrate with her was classic Sean, King of Bitter Homosexuality.

Eli brushed it off, refused to agree to her reality. So she didn't bring it up again, ever. She didn't want to give Sean the ammunition for an “It's either her or me” speech.

As they walked out of the burn zone, the sky began to darken, and a rush of resentment roared through Jilly. Her tired body was aching for Eli's soft, clean bed. She wanted to take another shower, and brush her teeth for a year. She
didn't want to be risking her life, or Eli's, for someone who hated her.

Her mind was trying to figure out what life would be like if they found Sean. And then, before she knew what she was doing, she said, “Watami. The club. Maybe he went there.”

He looked at her. “He wasn't going to go. And he'd come to my house first, or try to get to me through our friends.” And they did have other friends, gay friends, who envied them for having Jilly's family to hang with.

“Okay, never mind. Maybe he went to school.”

Eli raised his brows. “Maybe.” He smiled. “It's big. Maybe they're doing like a Red Cross shelter there.” He hugged her. “You're a genius, Jilly.”

Too smart for my own good
, she thought. The old Jilly, pre-rehab—the one without the boundaries—might not have suggested places to look for Sean. But Jilly was a good, nice person now. Maybe that was why he didn't love her. She wasn't edgy enough. She could change. . . .

But he can't. He is gay
, she reminded herself.

It was nearly dark. It was so dangerous to be out like this; she'd seen vampires leap from the shadows and drag people away. Sometimes they growled; sometimes they were silent. Jilly had been sleeping next to an old lady in a store one night. In the morning, all that was left of the lady were her shoes. Jilly had no idea why she herself had been left alive. Maybe the old lady had been enough.

They met a man on the street a few blocks from the school named Bo. He staggered when he walked and he
talked very slowly. There was a scar across his face from the slice of vampire fangs.

“They have to feed as soon as they change,” he told them. “The vampire who tried to kill me was brand new. There was another one with him, the one who made him into a vampire. He was laughing. My friends staked him. They don't change to dust.”

Then he staggered on.

“Wait!” Jilly cried. “Tell us everything you know.”

“The new ones are the worst,” he said. “They're the most lethal. Just like baby snakes.”

Now, as the gloom gathered around them in the rain, they hurried to their old high school. There were lights on and shadows moving in the windows. Neither spoke as they crossed the street and walked past the marquee. The letters had been stolen; there was no school news.

Rose bushes lined the entrance. She couldn't smell their fragrance but the sight of them, drenched by the downpour, gave her a lift. The double doors were painted with crosses; so were the walls and the windows. The taggers had written VAMPIRES SUCK GO TO HELL VAMPIRES on the walls.

There were two guards at the doors—a male teacher named Mr. Vernia and her English teacher, Mary Ann Francis. They hugged both Eli and Jilly hard, asked for news—asked how it was—then ushered them in.

It smelled, and the noise was unbelievable. Students, adults, little kids, and teachers—everyone was milling around; the noise was deafening. People who hated her ran up and hugged her, crying and saying how glad they were
that she was alive. She realized she and Eli should have eaten a good meal before they'd come in. If they opened up their pack now, they would have to share.

“Jilly. Eli,” their principal, Ms. Howison, said when she spotted them. There were circles under her eyes and deep lines in her forehead. She looked like a skeleton. “Thank God.”

Ms. Howison had tried to keep her from coming back to school after rehab. But crises did strange things to people.

Eli skipped the pleasantries and pulled out all his pictures of Sean. Men and women, computer nerds and cheerleaders, carefully examined each one, even if they knew exactly who Sean was, before passing it on. No one had seen him.

Jilly got too tired to stay awake any longer. Principal Howison promised her that all the doors and windows had been covered with crosses and the ground was dotted with garlic bulbs and communion wafers. Jilly wondered if the rain had dissolved the wafers. How many molecules of holiness did you have to have to keep the monsters at bay?

Bazillions of cots were set up in the gym and sure enough, there were Red Cross volunteers. Eli and Jilly pulled two cots together, stashed their packs underneath, and lay down in their clothes. It was better than what she'd been sleeping on before she found Eli, at least.

Eli touched her face with his hands. “I'm so glad you're here.”

“Me too,” she said, but what she meant was,
I'm so glad you're with me
.

Eli fell asleep. She looked at the diffused light drifting
across his face, making him glow. She wanted to kiss him but she didn't want to wake him; correction, she didn't want him to wake up and remind her that he didn't love her that way.

Then she heard someone crying. It was muffled, as if they were trying not to make any noise. She raised her head slightly, and realized it was Ms. Howison.

Jilly disentangled herself from Eli slowly. Then she rocked quietly onto her side, planted her feet underneath herself, and sat up. She walked over to where the woman was sitting in a chair, facing the rows and rows of cots. She looked as if she'd just thrown up.

“Hey,” Jilly said uncertainly, “Ms. Howison.”

“Oh, God,” she whispered, lowering her gaze to her hands. “Oh, God. Jilly. You're still here. I was hoping. . . .” She turned her head away.

“What?” Jilly asked.

She took a deep breath and let it out. She was shaking like crazy. “I need you to come with me for a second.”

“What's wrong?”

“Just . . . come.” The principal wouldn't look at her. Jilly shifted. “Please.”