Temptation (18 page)

Someone at the tiny dock. Someone climbing into one of the rowboats.

Someone helping someone into the rowboat as it bobbed unsteadily on the rolling waves.

April!

Gabri was helping April into the narrow boat.

No!

Jessica put her arms around Matt's shoulders. Her perfume invaded his nostrils. He inhaled deeply, unable to resist it.

April was sitting in the rowboat now. Gabri was taking the oars.

No!

Jessica pulled Matt to her. Dizzy from the perfume, he peered over her shoulder as Gabri began to row and the rowboat slid away from the dock.

“I missed you yesterday, Matt,” she whispered, lowering her head and pressing her lips against his earlobe.

The rowboat moved easily from the dock, Gabri rowing steadily, effortlessly.

Just one kiss, Matt thought, drowning in the perfume.

Just one.

The rowboat was disappearing into the darkness, heading toward the tiny island offshore.

April. April and Gabri. Rowing away.

Rowing away forever.

“No!” Matt screamed aloud, and pushed away from Jessica, pushed her hard. Her mouth opening wide in astonishment, she staggered back, and Matt made his escape.

“Matt—come back!” she called after him.

But he was running to the dock now, away from her eyes, away from the perfume, away from her powers. Running, running full out, his sneakers sliding over the sand, panting loudly, eyes on the dock where two remaining rowboats bobbed in the water.

The photos dropped from his back pocket as he ran. He hesitated for only a moment, then kept running.

No time for photos now. No time for accusations and proof.

Gabri was rowing April away, rowing April to the mysterious, wooded island where all the bats lived.

No time. No time. No time.

Matt ran onto the dock and didn't stop until he reached the end. “April!” he called, cupping his hands around his mouth, trying to shout over the ocean wind.

“April! April!” he called.

She didn't turn around. She didn't hear him.

The rowboat was a dark silhouette now, shimmering ghostlike as it moved into the blackness.

“I'm too late,” Matt whispered to himself.

Seconds. It took precious seconds to untie one of the rowboats from the dock.

Then more precious seconds to leap inside the bobbing boat, to grab up the oars.

Tick tick tick. The seconds were passing.

He could hear Jessica now, close behind, calling to him, begging him to come back. He turned for a second and saw her running toward the dock, seeming to glide over the sand. But in the next second, he was hunkered low, pulling the oars, pulling away from the shore, Jessica's calls fading behind the wind.

The incoming current was stronger than Matt had imagined. Each time he rowed, leaning forward and pulling his arms back with all his strength, the boat seemed to lurch forward a foot, and slide back two.

Puddled water on the floor of the small rowboat rolled over
his sneakers, soaking his socks. Salty spray off the waves forced him to close his eyes.

I'm too late, he thought. Too late. Too late.

But he knew he couldn't give up.

Where was April's boat?

Probably already at the island.

Matt squinted toward the black island silhouette ahead of him, low in the water like an enormous sea creature waiting to swallow him up. He couldn't see April's boat.

Turning his eyes to the sky, he saw the flickering forms of bats hovering over the island. And as he drew closer, the fluttering of their wings drowned out the rush of the water, the wind, drowned out all other sounds, even the sounds of his own breathing.

There were hundreds and hundreds of bats, he saw, fluttering noisily, swooping and darting over the trees, filling the sky, buzzing and cluttering, nearly as thick as a swarm of bees.

Drawing near to the island, Matt spotted a small dock tucked into the tree-laden shore. A rowboat—April's rowboat—bobbed at one side.

Empty.

He pulled his boat to the dock, leapt out without bothering to tie the boat up, and looked around. A narrow dirt path curved through the trees.

Matt had started down the path when he realized he was carrying one of the oars. My only weapon, he thought as a chill of renewed dread pulsed down his spine. He crouched down as he hurried through the trees, bending away from the relentless
fluttering above his head, the flapping wings, the shrill whistles that echoed through the woods.

The low, shingled beach house at the end of the path was completely dark. As Matt drew near, he saw that the windows had no glass.

Bats swooped over the low, angled roof. A bat hovered by one window, just inches from Matt's face, then fluttered away with a shrill cry.

Leaning against the oar, holding it firmly with both hands, Matt peered into the window. It was pitch-black inside, blacker than the night. He couldn't see a thing.

Having no choice, he transferred the oar to one hand, lifted a leg over the windowsill, and lowered himself into the house.

It smelled so musty in there, even with all the windows open.

Musty and . . . dead.

He gasped from the foul smell, then forced himself to breathe normally.

Waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, he stood still, the fluttering of bat wings from outside following him into the house.

The room came into focus. A long, narrow room. A bedroom without a bed.

And then he saw April.

Against one wall. Slumped in an oversize armchair. Her head down on the large padded arm of the chair.

She's dead, he thought, hurrying to her, bending over the chair.

He's killed her.

But, no. He heard her soft breath, wheezing slightly, her lips parted.

Still alive.

Still alive—but what has Gabri done to her?

Outside, the fluttering suddenly grew louder, nearer. The room darkened as if bats were covering the window, shutting out all light.

What was that against the opposite wall, away from the window?

Was it a bed?

Matt turned away from April, squinting against the darkness, leaning against the oar, trying to think over the relentless flapping, the maddening fluttering, the flickering of the dim light—and realized that he was staring at a coffin.

Its lid closed tightly, the smooth-wooded coffin was set against the wall.

“Oh!”

Matt realized his entire body was trembling. He grasped the oar tighter, steadying himself against it.

The fluttering seemed to fade, then grow louder. He pictured the bats sweeping the sky over the house, preparing to attack through the paneless windows.

“April, we've got to get out of here,” he said in a quavering voice that barely escaped his throat.

He hurried back across the room to April and grabbed her by both shoulders. “April? April?”

She shuddered but didn't open her eyes.

“April?” He shook her a little harder.

Again she shuddered, but her head slumped back onto the arm of the chair.

He picked up her head, tried to pry open her eyes, shook her by the shoulders again.

“April—wake up! Wake up!” His cries were choked by his fear. “April—please! We have to get
out
of here!”

April stirred.

Her eyes opened slowly. She stared at him groggily. “Huh? Matt?” She tried to focus, but quickly gave up and closed her eyes again.

“April—”

Matt felt a presence behind him. A heavy presence.

He turned—and cried out as Gabri advanced.

Fangs sliding down his chin, his mouth wide in open glee, his eyes glowing red with fury, Gabri lunged forward to attack.

“Nooooooooo!”

Matt didn't even realize that the hideous shriek that roared through the long room came from his own throat.

With an animal grunt, Gabri lunged at Matt, fangs plunging toward Matt's neck.

Matt wheeled around in terror.

He didn't have time to think. He didn't have time to make a plan.

Reflexively, he turned, pulled his arm back, and thrust the oar handle forward toward his attacking foe.

Gabri ran right into it.

With a sickening, wet crack, the oar handle punctured his chest.

Gabri's eyes bulged, their flame extinguished.

He opened his mouth to cry out, and a gray moth fluttered out.

The moth floated up to the ceiling, then out the open window.

Gabri's eyes closed. His head tilted back.

And as Matt stared in horror, Gabri's body collapsed to the floor, folding like an accordion. His eyes stared lifelessly up at Matt, and Gabri's face began to crumble, the skin drying and peeling, flaking to powder until the entire skull was revealed.

And then the skull too disintegrated. Fell apart and crumbled.

Matt continued to gape in disbelief until Gabri's dark clothes lay crumpled on the floor, empty except for a low pile of gray ashes. A gust of wind from the window fluttered the ashes, causing most of the pile to scatter.

“Oh!”

Matt finally found his voice.

“April—” he called, turning back to her on the chair.

“April—are you awake? Let's go! Hurry!”

“Where are you going?” a girl's voice—not April's—called.

Matt held up his hands as if to shield himself as Jessica stepped in front of him. Her hair floated over her shoulders. Her face was twisted in anger.

“Jessica—leave us alone!” he screamed in a terror-filled voice he didn't recognize.

She tossed back her head and laughed, a loud, scornful laugh.

“Jessica—please! Let us go!” Matt cried.

Without replying, she uttered a growl, grabbed Matt's face tightly with both hands—such cold, cold hands—and buried her fangs in Matt's throat.

I'm dead, Matt thought, helplessly sinking, feeling the pain of her deadly bite.

I'm dead now.

Feeling the pain course down his neck and through his entire body, Matt closed his eyes, sinking, sinking under the weight of Jessica's fangs.

I'm dying now, he thought helplessly.

You win, Jessica. As you knew you would.

Then, to his surprise, the pain lifted.

He cried out, startled, opening his eyes, trying to focus through the blur of motion in front of him.

Jessica was no longer gripping his head in her frozen hands; her fangs were no longer in his throat.

A struggle across the room. Groans and cries. Shifting, wrestling, grappling bodies.

Finally it all came into focus.

“April!” he cried, falling back against the wall, trying to stand up, to regain his balance.

April had revived and pulled Jessica from him.

Now the two of them were wrestling by the window, scratching at each other, pulling hair, grabbing and hitting, crying out their desperation.

Feeling a little steadier, Matt took a step away from the wall. He stumbled back, the room tilting. The crackling flutter of bats grew louder, louder, until the sound seemed to be coming from his own head.

“No!” he cried, holding his hands over his ears.

The fluttering faded.

He couldn't just stand there defeated. He had to help April.

Jessica was overpowering her frail foe, shoving April hard against the frame of the open window, pushing her chin with one hand, holding her head down with the other. Jessica opened her mouth in a victorious grin, her slender, pointed fangs sliding down her chin.

April cried out as Jessica lowered her head to bite.

What can I do? Matt wondered, his eyes darting frantically around the dark room.

What can I do?

I have to act—now!

Spotting the oar, still resting on top of Gabri's wrinkled heap of clothes, he grabbed it up, turned the handle toward Jessica—and charged.

She ducked under it easily, reaching a hand up and pulling the oar out of Matt's grasp with inhuman strength.

Startled, Matt fell back as Jessica heaved the oar out the open
window. Then she turned back to April, pressing her back against the window frame, her fangs lowering to April's pale throat.

Gasping for air, Matt stared in horror. His mind whirred faster than the room.

He had to save April. But how?

Fire, he thought.

Fire kills vampires.

And with that thought, he remembered the plastic butane lighter in his pocket. Todd's lighter.

Thank you, Todd, Matt thought. Thank you. Thank you.

His hand trembling, he jammed it into his jeans pocket and pulled out the lighter.

Thank you, Todd.

Thank you for rescuing us.

“Jessica!” Matt shouted. “Jessica!”

Inches from April's throat, Jessica turned her eyes to Matt.

His chest heaving, his hand trembling, Matt lurched forward and thrust the lighter in Jessica's startled face.

She cried out in horror as he nicked the lighter.

“Oh!”

No flame.

Matt flicked it again.

No flame.

The lighter didn't work.

Staring at the lighter in Matt's trembling hand, Jessica snickered, her eyes glowing triumphantly. “You're both losers,” she sneered.

Tossing her hair behind one shoulder, she turned back to April.

Losers, Matt repeated to himself, squeezing the lighter.

And now we're going to lose our lives.

In frustration, he flicked the lighter one more time.

This time it caught. A bright yellow flame shot up.

Jessica screamed as the flame caught her hair.

Slapping frantically at her head as the flames spread, Jessica leapt back, away from April, who scrambled, dazed, from the window.

“Aaaiiiiiii!” Jessica's scream filled the air as the flames ringed her head. Her wild cry faded only when her face began to melt, rivulets of skin dripping down like a burning wax candle.