The Night House (29 page)

“What are you doing?” he breathes. He looks like a scared little boy.

“Saving you.”

Memories rise up from the depths. She was nothing more than a name when he took her in. He knew she would be profitable, but it didn’t take long before she was a person. Maybe more than that. She was stronger than the others, smart if a little crazy. He admired that. He didn’t want her to lose herself. She was funny. She could joke with him. She wasn’t afraid of him. She didn’t resent him. She cared about him.

No one has cared for him in centuries.

He never fed from her. He gave her his healing blood whenever she was hurt. He did his best to keep her from rough clients, even if they requested her. He protected her as best he could. Not because he had to, but because he wanted to.

It was almost like having a daughter.

This has been buried deep down in the black pit of his heart, but what he feels is real.

With my free hand, I clutch his face and keep the other pressing the iron against his neck.

“Finn,” I say, “I’m going to make you a deal.”

Bianca

Jeremiah doesn’t feed on me while we’re in the limo. He muttered something about privacy before he turned to the window; the rest of the trip has been silent. At the outskirts of the city, the limo stops. Jeremiah opens the door and, with a tight grip on my arm, drags me outside. We are in front of a large, gaudy home. Two vampire officers stand by the double front doors. Jeremiah leads me forcefully toward the house.

“You’re dismissed,” he says to the officers as they open the doors for him.

The house is insanely decadent. Gold inlaid into the staircase, giant paintings adorning the walls, a statue in the center of it all. And yet, not a single sound coming from within. No life at all.

“Welcome home,” he says.

He drags me through the main entrance into a dim hallway; we go past dining rooms and seating areas and offices. I knew Jeremiah was rich, but this is nuts. By the time we stop, I am exhausted. Jeremiah, on the other hand, couldn’t be more excited. He holds open a thick door and shoves me inside.

The room is a library, with a fireplace and one of those long couches that someone in therapy would sprawl out on. The sofa is flanked by end tables piled high with expensive-looking books.

“My favorite room,” Jeremiah says, as if it matters. This
would
be his favorite room. Books for company and no people to disturb him.

He removes his jacket, pin and all, and drapes it across the arm of the sofa. Then he sits me down and kneels in front of me. “Here we are.”

Now the real feeding starts. His fangs gleam in the firelight as he leans forward into my neck. The garlic has had time to work—I have to make my move before it wears off. I place one hand on his chest; with the other, I slowly reach toward his jacket.

He whispers in my ear, “Maybe I should just rip your throat out.”

His hands are around my neck. I gasp, but barely any air gets through.

“Scentless garlic. I knew you were smart. You wanted me disoriented, so you could try to fight me. Very admirable.” He breathes into my neck. “You will make a fine vessel. And to think, this is all possible because of your love, that disgusting spawn. He’s dead, you know. Finn killed him.”

James. He’s talking about James.

James is dead?

“I was sickened at the thought of you with that
creature,
that half breed playing at being a vampire, but it did give me an idea.” Jeremiah’s hand pushes through my hair. “I was going to simply keep you alive and consume your blood. Instead, we will create the most powerful spawn to ever be, and they will help me rule—vampires and humans alike.”

I’m sickened and infuriated; more than anything else, I’m terrified. James is dead, and Jeremiah wants to…

“Can you imagine,” he pants, “what our progeny could do?”

I reach blindly for the end table behind me. My fingers find a book, and I smash it into his mouth.

An inhuman roar rips out of his throat as he stumbles backwards.

I dive for the jacket with its pin, but Jeremiah catches me by my waist and throws me against the couch, trapping my arms. Wheezing, I stare up at him and see blood pouring out of his mouth, his broken fangs oozing nauth.

I shout, “I won’t let you touch me!”

A twisted smile spreads over his bloodied mouth. His eyes are crazed with pain and garlic. “I don’t need your permission.”

His broken fangs tear at my neck. I scream in pain—there’s no nauth for me, and he can’t drink my blood with those jagged teeth.

Between the garlic, his injuries, and my terror, I’m able to wrench my arm free. He bites harder, slicing his broken fangs across my neck. My vision blurs from the agony. Frantic, I reach up to his face. My thumb finds his eye. It feels like pressing against a grape as I dig my nail in.

Jeremiah rears back, howling in pain.

I scramble for his jacket and rake my hand over the pin.

He snarls, “There will be no forgiveness for this!”

“You’re right,” I say, unhooking the pin as fast as I can. “I’ll never forgive you.” And then I aim for his neck, putting all my strength into it.

I expected it to be difficult to stab him, as if his skin would be made of leather. But it pierces him easily.

He throws me like a ragdoll, and I collide into a bookshelf. Hardcovers rain down on me, clipping my head and shoulders.

Jeremiah’s hands are on my shoulders; his shattered fangs are on my neck.

He coughs his own blood onto my skin.

I shove him back and he collapses onto the ground, panting.

Rage swells within me, fuels me enough so that I can crawl over to Jeremiah and take his face in my hands. His good eye is wide and he’s gagging as the rust poisons him.

“This is for Micah,” I say. “And James. And me!”

I make myself watch, so I’ll never forget what I’ve done. What he did to me. Jeremiah does not turn to ash, or melt away like a villain should. He thrashes violently and claws at me. He cries out and curses me. He stares wildly at me with his one good eye until there is nothing left inside him. And even after he’s dead, he looks up at me.

I don’t enjoy watching him die. I cry, hard, like a child. I cry like the day my parents died.

I did what I needed to do, finally.

I cry for Micah, because I couldn’t save him.

I cry for James, who only wished to save me.

I cry for myself.

I have ended so much tonight without even a thought for my future. I did exactly what James wanted me to do: I survived.

For what?

This isn’t all Jeremiah’s fault.

It’s both of our faults.

I try to walk away from his body, but I collapse to the ground. My neck is still bleeding, and the world is turning black and red. I have to close my eyes.

I’m allowed to give up now. I won. The enemy is dead and gone.

My hands have gone numb. Pins and needles are working their way through my body.

He’s gone.

I feel nothing but pain. It is what I live off now.

And soon, I feel nothing at all.

James

I slam on the brakes of the van I took from Finn. I’m seriously regretting not learning how to drive. Luckily, it’s nearly three in the morning, so no one is on the road. My whole body shakes as I step on the gas. After I made Finn return my wallet and phone, he told me where Bianca is. But knowing the address doesn’t make the drive easy.

I grab my chest, expecting my heart to stop beating. My mouth falls open and I force myself to keep breathing, but each breath comes quicker than the last. My lungs can’t expand wide enough. My head starts to pound. My whole body is shaking.

Bianca is living through hell.

I reach out to her with every bit of strength I can muster.
Just keep fighting
. “I’m almost there,” I say out loud.

My whole body tenses; every part of me aches. There is so much fear and anger trying to control her. I can barely keep the van on the road.

Then something breaks in her. All the tension is gone, and I want to collapse. For a split second, there is an intense feeling of relief, and then almost immediately she is overtaken by sadness.

I’m coming
, I tell her in my mind, over and over again.
I’m coming for you
.

Bianca

I don’t feel alive. I’m in Jeremiah’s home, his dead body inches away from me. I have no desire to leave. I don’t even want to move. All I want is to lie here and fall asleep and never wake up.

There’s nothing left for me. James and Micah are gone. I may as well be gone too.

Something comes back to me: Alex’s sad smile before we said goodbye. Ally’s determination to find out about her mother.

Maybe there is something else I can do in this world.

My vision returns with a burst of energy. I have to get out of here. Alex is waiting for me. Maybe I can rescue her from Finn. And I know I owe Ally an explanation. She and her parents deserve to know how brave James is. Was.

Another wave of sobs threatens to crash into me. Instead, I force myself to my feet. I stand up too fast, and the room spins. I catch myself on the couch, and then I’m staring back down at Jeremiah.

Did I make my parents proud tonight?

As I make my way toward the door, a terrible thought occurs to me. I just killed the King of the Northeast. Surely there will be consequences. The rest of the vampires will not let his death go unpunished.

I have to leave. Run away to some other city. Start over from scratch.
Definitely
change my last name. Maybe Alex will come with me. A sob begins to build inside of me because I can’t picture myself going anywhere without Micah, or James.

Before I leave him forever, I force myself to sit by his side, and pull his eyelids closed “Goodbye.”

Then I run through the halls. Jeremiah dismissed his staff when we arrived; the house is completely empty. I throw the front doors open. The cool air stings, but I don’t stop moving. When I’m across the street, I vomit into the grass until my stomach burns.

I start crying again, crying so hard that it hurts. There’s blood all over me. I want to tear this dress off and shed my skin and cry until I’m shriveled up and there’s no hope of ever rehydrating me.

The sound of tires squealing forces my head up. A white van pulls up to the curb.

Have they already realized what I’ve done?

The door is thrown open with such force, at first I think it’s a vampire stumbling out, calling my name. But it’s not a vampire.

It’s James.

He seems like he’s been dragged through the streets. A couple of times. His clothes are dirty and rumpled. His hair is plastered to his face. A gash on his cheek is still bleeding, and he cradles one arm against his chest. But there he is.

“James…”

He runs to me as I try to get up, but now his arms are around me and we sink down onto the ground together.

I’m weeping and laughing when I say, “I thought you were dead.”

He cradles my head against his chest. “I’m full of surprises.”

“Jeremiah is dead. I…I killed him. James, we have to get out of here.”

He gently leads me to the van that he was driving, and we leave this ugly scene behind us.

James

We stay away from the city for now. I stopped at a twenty-four-hour store for a new set of clothes for Bianca, who had to get out of that dress. The clerk didn’t say anything about my bruised face, but I saw the shock register on his face when I asked if he sold tee shirts. I grabbed things as fast as I could, and as I hovered in the candy aisle, I sent Shiloh a text.
We’re okay.
Immediately my phone began buzzing, but I didn’t answer. There was too much to say and Bianca was waiting.

Now we’re sitting in a hotel room with the blinds drawn and the lights on. “I’ve had enough of the dark,” Bianca said when I offered to shut the light off.

She swims in the giant
I Love Philly
T-shirt that I bought for her. When she leans her head on me, her freshly showered hair dampens my shoulder. I don’t care. I pull her closer, wrapping her up as much as I can. We wind up lying on top of the covers, curled around each other.

“Jeremiah told me what a spawn is,” she says quietly.

“I already know,” I tell her, holding her hand. “I hope it’s not…hard for you to be around me.”

She catches me off guard with a fierce kiss that leaves me a little dizzy. “I don’t care what you are. It doesn’t matter.”

I take her face in my hands. “You’re right. None of it matters right now. We’ll figure it out tomorrow, okay? Everything. How to deal with me being a rare half breed, which makes vampires want to kill me.”

“And having vampires come after me for the murder of their king.”

“Tomorrow,” I whisper. “I’ll figure out what to tell Ally and Shiloh and my parents.”

“And how to get Alex out of the Night House,” she murmurs into my chest.

Her arms wind around my neck, and I rest my cheek on the top of her head.

“Let’s just live tonight.”

THE END

Too many people, not enough space.

First of all, Dad, your crazy journey into publication made me think I could write a novel that wasn’t just for me. You inspired me.

Mom, you’re the greatest support system a daughter could ask for.

Elena, you’re descent into reading teen lit helped me justify my own passion.

Dave, you showed me all the music that I used to write the first draft of this.

Jackie, you’ve proven to be a lovely and patient editor who understands all the madness that real life throws at us. And yet you’re still comfortable with pushing me to get this done. I’m not sure I would have finished Night House without that.

Everyone at Month9Books is so incredibly passionate and enthusiastic about writing, it’s quite amazing and sometimes overwhelming, which is really the way a publisher
should
be.

Sara, you’re an awesome agent, who somehow found this book a home after I’d given up on it. I’ll be forever grateful for that. You helped make my writing dreams a reality.