The Night House (14 page)

“I already have a life,” I say. “I have friends.”

“Girls who might die any night? You’re not safe here. Finn doesn’t understand your value. He doesn’t protect you as you should be protected.”

“Protected from what?”

“Ah, he still has not told you. Finn has continued to let you down.”

“What should he have told me?” I feel cold, despite the flames at my back.

“You are different, Bianca. Better than the other humans.”

No,
I think.
I don’t want to hear this.
I’ve had enough of being different. I just want to be normal.

“You’re wrong,” I say. “I’m just a stupid teenager who ran away from foster care. I’m nothing!”

He reaches out to my face, to stroke my cheek. I’m too sickened to move. “No, Bianca. That is a fantasy you occupy. But you could
never
be nothing. Despites your efforts. And Finn’s.”

“Is it because I’m AB neg?”

Jeremiah narrows his eyes. “Do you not think I can find a hundred other girls with AB negative blood?”

I feel like a caged animal. My heart races. In a flash, I remember Finn telling me that Jeremiah wanted to impress his friends with my name. “It’s St. Germain, isn’t it?”

He tilts his head back a little, and I know I’m right.

“You think I have something to do with the old St. Germain.”

He fixes the brass buttons on his sleeve. His habit, when he can’t meet my gaze. “There are other St. Germains out there not related to the one I knew. Regardless, there is something about your blood that reminds me of that time. No more talking now, Bianca.”

Jeremiah’s eyes fixate on my wrists. He can dismiss this so easily because he thinks he’s going to win. I’m still in shock.

“Perhaps I should take from somewhere harder to bleed from. That way you might not pass out so quickly.”

Jeremiah smiles at me, teeth and all, and I watch his fangs slide into place. Chills wrack my body. I take a deep breath to calm myself.

“Then again, I am very hungry.”

He puts both of his cold hands on my neck, feeling my pulse. It races, struggling against his fingers. He’s skipping steps. We’re not dancing.

“Your scent is so very unique,” he says. “I could find you anywhere.”

For a brief moment, he takes my face in his hands and pulls me closer. I wonder, in terror, if he’s going to kiss me. Jeremiah is by far the most beautiful creature I have ever met, but I prefer his cruelty to his kindness.

“Do not fear. I will take care of you.”

When he smiles at me, his beauty is breathtaking. Something is different between us. I want so badly to believe that he is capable of caring for me. Because if he is, then he might let me go. Then his hands slide over my shoulders to hold me in place, and I remember what I really am to him.

Jeremiah opens his mouth and already nauth drips from his fangs. Usually, the longer vampires go without feeding, the more nauth they have, but sometimes it’s just a result of how much they like to feed. It can also be a result of how much they like the victim.

Jeremiah presses his lips against my neck in a cold unyielding kiss. Nauth runs down my skin. I know it’s staining the dress. Slowly, he sinks his teeth into my skin. The pain is bearable, but only just. His arms wrap around my back. This is too personal. Too much contact. I’m nauseated with fear and disgust.

Just as the nauth sets its course through my veins, Jeremiah makes a noise in his throat, like a growl, and shoves me away from him. I hit the ground and the room spins. My neck burns with pain.

“What is this?” He wipes my blood from his mouth.

I instinctively press my hand into my neck. Luckily, the wound is already starting to scab over, thanks to the nauth. It’s not
all
bad. Then I’m lifted off the ground by the front of my dress. It happens so fast that I can’t keep up. His good looks have rusted with anger.

“Who have you been drinking from?”

He tastes Micah’s blood in me.

“I…I don’t know what—”

“Do not lie to me, Bianca. I am centuries older than you. I know when there is vampire blood running through a human.”

“I was hurt,” I say. “I needed to get better for you.”

He sets me down but doesn’t release me. “Finn, your
owner,
could have healed you.”

“Finn doesn’t always have blood to spare.”

Jeremiah eyes me, then finally releases my dress. “I could find him, the one you drank from. I know his taste now. I would recognize his scent.”

“Please, no.” I reach my hands out to him and touch his chest, where his heart is supposed to be. “I’ll go to your event. Don’t punish someone else for my stupidity. Please, it was nothing.”

He stands utterly still, staring down at me. He’s waiting for something.

I do my best to erase the hatred and fear from my stare. “I want to go with you.”

He takes my hands and pulls them off his chest.

“Perhaps you will not be so mindless in the future.” Jeremiah raises the back of his hand up to my face. “You are young. You have time to learn all that you should know.” Then he touches my neck gently. “That will definitely scar.”

“Do you still—”

“I did not tell you to speak,” he hisses. “Go. Sit on the couch. I am not done with you.”

The fear returns like a frigid breeze against my skin. I do as he says. He takes his jacket off, which is now stained with my blood, and drapes it over a chair. Then he comes back and stoops in front of me.

“Do not be afraid. I won’t kill you.”

He sits next to me and takes my shoulders again. Then, he bites me, hard. I gasp. The pain is so unexpected and intense that my visions blurs. Without thinking, I grasp his arms, just to hold something. He tightens his grip on my shoulders. Tears well in my eyes.

“You are forgiven.”

Finally, the nauth reaches me.

I go limp.

Then, nothing.

James

I wake to a throbbing neck and the feeling like someone strung up broken Christmas lights under my skin. Sparks of electricity hit my nerves every so often. It’s a mixture of pleasure and pain. I actually see blotches of color under my skin every time it happens.

“Jay? You awake this time?”

“What do you mean,
this time
?”

Shiloh’s blue eyes seem to be turning neon—just keep getting brighter and brighter—and I push myself against the couch, away from him.

“You’ve been sleep talking to me for the past hour.”

I sit upright, but the electricity gets worse, and I stop myself to take a breath. My lungs feel different, like they will just keep expanding if I keep sucking in air. I take a huge deep breath.

“James,” Shiloh barks at me. “What the hell is happening to your girl?”

“My girl?” I hold my head. “Bianca. This is her, not me.”

I close my eyes and try to remember what’s happening. She got her blood drained. So this must be the drugs that come after. I hope she’s okay.

“Nauth,” I say and sink back into the couch. “Vampires.”

“What is in your head?”

“The drugs…”

“Holy sweet heavens, you’re high,” Shiloh stares at me, almost amused. “What’s my middle name?”

“Miles,” I say. “Why, did you forget?” Then I laugh at my own joke.

“You know the drill,” Shiloh says. “I ask you stupid questions until you find your own head. We do this every time you get lost in someone else’s brain. I’ve just never dealt with you when you were high. What’s
your
middle name?”

“I know my middle name,” I say.

“Remind me.”

“Denzel. I’m James Denzel Fields.”

At the sound of my own name, my head clears up a little. I’m reminded why we’re playing this game. Asking me questions I know the answer to helps me focus on myself. But this is different. My mind is running parallel to my body, not quite matching up.

“Where did we meet?”

I massage my temples, trying to will the fogginess away. “School…you found me in the locker room.” He’s forcing me to relive my own memories so I remember how I feel. How
do
I feel?

“Okay, how old were you when you broke your arm?”

My arm tightens at the memory. “Ten.”

“Where did you wind up after you tried to find your biological parents that one time?”

“Thirtieth Street Station. I called you because I didn’t want my foster parents to know what I did.”

My vision settles around Shiloh. The lights have gone away, but I still feel weird shocks in my nerves. Not to mention my neck is killing me, like I’ve been bitten. Bianca must have had a rough night. I just hope she’s taking care of herself.

“Better?” he asks.

“But not perfect,” I say. “Did anyone call for me?”

Shiloh pulls my phone out of his pocket. “I told your mom you were taking a nap.”

I take my phone back, and Shiloh shifts his weight. I know he wants to say something, but he doesn’t know how.

“Do you have to keep this up?” He looks like he wants to take that back. “You know I’m with you no matter what you do but…this isn’t normal. Even for you. You’re going to get hurt, Jay. She’s a junkie.”

I let out my breath and slowly take it back in. Shy’s right, of course. But how do I tell him that I don’t care? Even worse, how do I tell him that I think there’s a part of me that is depending on that pain? Pain means reality. It means I’m alive.

“I keep putting myself in her shoes. If I walk away now, I’ll just be another person who gained her trust and then walked away. She’s not just a junkie; she’s a person. And I think I can help her. But I’m going to need your help, Shy. You know this part of me better than anyone else.”

“Just making sure you’d made up your mind,” Shiloh says with a slight smile. “I’ll be here when you need me, Jay. But on one condition.” He smirks. “You have to let me meet the only girl in Philadelphia that you’re into.”

Bianca

This is the first day in a long time that I’ve wanted to wake up.

I take a hot shower and sit there until my skin feels only slightly used instead of ancient. Then I assess the damage to my neck in the mirror. I’ll be in scarves for a month.

I press a finger to the ripped skin and a pulse of pain ripples through me. It wakes me up. My mind focuses. Then I think of James. Did he feel it? Did he feel everything? The fear—the pain—the nauth?

I sink down to the floor and hold my head. Everything I do to myself, I do to him. My throat stings, and my breath catches. I haven’t felt this since I came to the Night House. Haven’t felt this since I had someone to betray. The guilt swells around me, and it is much worse than the pain.

Everything I do, I do to him.

James

My neck is still sore when I wake up—back at home this time—and I have to take a shower. I hope the warm water distracts me, but it doesn’t. There’s a constant throb of pain in my neck, like a second pulse. Maybe if I give Bianca some aspirin, it will get better.

I wake Ally around eleven and tell her the plan.

“Just tell Mom and Dad that I’m with Shiloh if they ask, okay?”

She nods, sleep clinging to her eyes as she tries to open them wider. “Fine. You have to tell me everything when I get back from Shell’s tonight.”

“Only if you brush your teeth,” I say and stand back up again.

She covers her mouth. “I hate you.”

Downstairs, I find my parents sitting at the kitchen table.

“How are you doing?” Mom props her head on her hand. “Neil told me you were out by yourself yesterday?”

I search around the place for some food, so I can avoid their stares as I lie. “It was good for me, even if I got a little shaky.” I’ve never been too good at lying, so I change the subject. “What are you guys up to?”

“I’m almost finished with my collection on the homeless population,” Dad explains. “I’ll be submitting it later this week, when I print everything. It turns out the homeless photograph nicely.”

If there’s anything that consistently distracts my parents, it’s art.

“And you?” I ask Mom.

“I’ve been working on a portrait. I think it will be good.” She smiles—which means I’m not allowed to see it until it’s done.

I snatch a muffin off the table. “I’ll be with Shiloh for a while, so just call me if you need me, okay?”

There is just a tiny spark of distrust in them, which makes me feel terrible. Then I’m out the door.

Bianca

It’s another warm day in June and for once, my dress doesn’t feel too short. The scarf feels a little weird, but I’m hoping people take it as a fashion statement, not that I’m hiding a nasty wound that still throbs with pain.

I take my time walking to the park. I could still technically back out. But I told him I would go.

Since when has my word meant anything?

I can only think of how much my neck hurts. I feel awful about everything I did last night. I might have put the kid in a coma or something. I have to go to make sure he’s okay. I could have warned him.

Before I know it, I’m in the park, finding the bench that we met on last time. I sit down, and my feet bounce up and down. I’m nervous. This is ridiculous. I take a deep breath and sift through my bag for my sketchbook. Then I start drawing.

James

Seeing her drawing, lost in her own world, I don’t know why, but it erases any doubt I might have had left in my head about her. She’s an artist. Like my parents. Like Ally and Shiloh.

“Bianca?” I hope my voice is quiet enough not to disturb her concentration, but she still jumps when I say her name.

“James,” she breathes. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

I can’t help but smile. I glance at the book to see a black mass on the page that I can’t make out. She shuts the book and hugs it to her chest.

“Sorry. Can I sit?”

She shrugs, sliding over to make room for me. When I sit, I’m hit with her guilt. It’s practically suffocating her. She clings to her sketchbook, hiding behind it.

“You don’t have to apologize,” I say. “I knew what I was getting into.”

“Jesus Christ,” she says with a mixture of anger and relief. “I didn’t even warn you I had a client. Did you really…” She starts to say it, but can’t finish without taking a ragged breath and holding her head. It’s hard to watch her. She’s coming undone.