we’ve
agreed. You can bite David if Shane supervises.”
My mouth falls open. “Bite . . . David?” I can’t even look at him. The first time
I saw him after I turned, we practically jumped into each other’s arms. The attraction
wore off once I got into a regular feeding schedule and David got used to me being,
well, magnetic. But we have a history.
The love of his life—before Lori—was a woman named Elizabeth who broke his heart and
their engagement when she became a vampire, but fed on him (and only him) until she
died permanently. At which point he got me and her mixed up inside his heart, because
we looked sort of alike and he was lonely. At the time, I was insecure about my future
with Shane, so we almost—
“I can’t do that,” I tell them.
“Ciara,” David says. “It’ll be all right, I promise.”
“The important thing is to make sure you’re okay,” Lori adds.
Shane’s face displays a hundred and two emotions.
“What do you think?” I ask him.
He comes and sits on the edge of my desk, taking my hand. “I think we should do whatever
it takes to keep you well.”
I look at Lori. “Do you want to be there when I—”
“No.” She takes a step back. “I love you guys. I trust you guys. But I do not want
to see it.”
I lower my head, feeling relieved and grateful but also very sad. I can’t believe
it’s come to this.
10
Kashmir
Obsessive-compulsive disorder has at least a hundred different manifestations in both
humans and vampires. Shane sorts. Regina counts. Spencer cleans. Noah watches where
and how he walks, aligning his feet with the pattern of the carpet or grains of hardwood.
Monroe and I share an obsession with words, rearranging the letters on signs or parsing
definitions (he’s learned to do it all in his head, while I often blurt out a grammatical
correction in a rude and embarrassing way).
Jim? He was a hoarder.
I always knew this in the abstract, because he was such a trivia buff. But apparently
he collected more than facts. On my only other visit to his room, I was too busy trying
to escape to notice how much stuff he had. Besides, he kept most of it below.
Regina, Spencer, Noah, and I gather around the four-by-eight-foot trapdoor in Jim’s
floor. It lies open, revealing part of a tomblike cavity.
“How far does it go?” I ask Spencer.
“Bigger than this room. Pity is it’s not nearly so tall.”
“Can’t we just leave all that shit there?” Regina’s hands are twitching, and I can
tell she’s dying to jump down and count the boxes and their contents. “Nail the door
shut and put the rug back over? Pretend it doesn’t exist?”
“Adrian should have a clean place to live,” Noah says. “Free of Jim’s bad energy.”
The skeptic in me hates to admit it, but there’s some seriously unhealthy vibes in
this room. Then again, I almost died here, so I could be biased.
Spencer holds out a box of latex gloves in one hand and a box of garbage bags in another.
“Let’s get started.”
One by one we drop into the crap-oleum (like a mausoleum for crap, is where I’m coming
from, linguistically). I put on the gloves—not because I can get an infection or even
a cut that’ll last more than a few seconds, but because something down here might
be icky. Like I told Lori, I’m a terrible vampire.
“Ciara, do you need this to see?” Noah holds up a fluorescent lantern, the kind used
for camping.
I peer around at the darkness and marvel as the shapes and shadows come into sharp
focus. “No, my eyes are adjusting. But thanks.” Next to Shane, Noah’s by far the most
considerate vampire DJ. He’s too polite to say it out loud, but he seems to sense
my uneven development. One day soon (or one hour soon) I need to tell them all that
I’m fading fast.
The closest box has a distinct metallic smell, like stale blood. Ugh, did he keep
leftovers down here?
No one else is touching
agreed. You can bite David if Shane supervises.”
My mouth falls open. “Bite . . . David?” I can’t even look at him. The first time
I saw him after I turned, we practically jumped into each other’s arms. The attraction
wore off once I got into a regular feeding schedule and David got used to me being,
well, magnetic. But we have a history.
The love of his life—before Lori—was a woman named Elizabeth who broke his heart and
their engagement when she became a vampire, but fed on him (and only him) until she
died permanently. At which point he got me and her mixed up inside his heart, because
we looked sort of alike and he was lonely. At the time, I was insecure about my future
with Shane, so we almost—
“I can’t do that,” I tell them.
“Ciara,” David says. “It’ll be all right, I promise.”
“The important thing is to make sure you’re okay,” Lori adds.
Shane’s face displays a hundred and two emotions.
“What do you think?” I ask him.
He comes and sits on the edge of my desk, taking my hand. “I think we should do whatever
it takes to keep you well.”
I look at Lori. “Do you want to be there when I—”
“No.” She takes a step back. “I love you guys. I trust you guys. But I do not want
to see it.”
I lower my head, feeling relieved and grateful but also very sad. I can’t believe
it’s come to this.
10
Kashmir
Obsessive-compulsive disorder has at least a hundred different manifestations in both
humans and vampires. Shane sorts. Regina counts. Spencer cleans. Noah watches where
and how he walks, aligning his feet with the pattern of the carpet or grains of hardwood.
Monroe and I share an obsession with words, rearranging the letters on signs or parsing
definitions (he’s learned to do it all in his head, while I often blurt out a grammatical
correction in a rude and embarrassing way).
Jim? He was a hoarder.
I always knew this in the abstract, because he was such a trivia buff. But apparently
he collected more than facts. On my only other visit to his room, I was too busy trying
to escape to notice how much stuff he had. Besides, he kept most of it below.
Regina, Spencer, Noah, and I gather around the four-by-eight-foot trapdoor in Jim’s
floor. It lies open, revealing part of a tomblike cavity.
“How far does it go?” I ask Spencer.
“Bigger than this room. Pity is it’s not nearly so tall.”
“Can’t we just leave all that shit there?” Regina’s hands are twitching, and I can
tell she’s dying to jump down and count the boxes and their contents. “Nail the door
shut and put the rug back over? Pretend it doesn’t exist?”
“Adrian should have a clean place to live,” Noah says. “Free of Jim’s bad energy.”
The skeptic in me hates to admit it, but there’s some seriously unhealthy vibes in
this room. Then again, I almost died here, so I could be biased.
Spencer holds out a box of latex gloves in one hand and a box of garbage bags in another.
“Let’s get started.”
One by one we drop into the crap-oleum (like a mausoleum for crap, is where I’m coming
from, linguistically). I put on the gloves—not because I can get an infection or even
a cut that’ll last more than a few seconds, but because something down here might
be icky. Like I told Lori, I’m a terrible vampire.
“Ciara, do you need this to see?” Noah holds up a fluorescent lantern, the kind used
for camping.
I peer around at the darkness and marvel as the shapes and shadows come into sharp
focus. “No, my eyes are adjusting. But thanks.” Next to Shane, Noah’s by far the most
considerate vampire DJ. He’s too polite to say it out loud, but he seems to sense
my uneven development. One day soon (or one hour soon) I need to tell them all that
I’m fading fast.
The closest box has a distinct metallic smell, like stale blood. Ugh, did he keep
leftovers down here?
No one else is touching
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