The Night House by Rachel Tafoya

on your face.” He touches his own, where Jeremiah slapped me.
    My hand flies to my cheek. “It’s nothing.”
    Finn’s eyebrows rise.
    “I can still leave whenever I want, remember?” I say this to comfort myself. To remind myself that I’m not tied here by anything other than my own stupidity.
    He starts to turn away but stops himself. “Maybe one of these days you will take your own advice.” His cold, dark eyes are less cold and dark every day. “Be home before dark. Jeremiah will be waiting for you.”
     
    ***
     
    I walk out into a warm morning, thinking about what Finn said. Nobody has ever remarked about my name before. I had no idea the name St. Germain meant anything. It makes me wonder whether my parents knew the original St. Germain. Maybe that’s why they decided to hunt: they didn’t want to be someone else’s trophy.
    Two hours go by, and I find myself sitting on a bench in Love Park eating a soft pretzel. It does absolutely nothing to soothe my shaking body or my aching veins. I can see the entrance to Suburban Station across the street. Behind me, kids eat their lunches and play loudly in the fountain. For a moment, I close my eyes and just listen.
    It’s hard to believe I’m a part of it. Sometimes it feels like I’m not really here. These people don’t exist. All of this is simply put on by the Night House to make me feel like I have some sort of freedom. But I know that being allowed to walk among humans during the day is nowhere near freedom.
    I reach for my bag, for my copy of Emma . A book of endless happy endings. There isn’t a single person who winds up alone when it’s over. Sometimes I wish I could do for Alex what Emma tries to do for Harriet. To match-make. To find her a better life. Alex deserves it. I’m at the part where Emma is trying to get Harriet to refuse a suitor. This is still when Emma is a bit headstrong and selfish. I love what Emma becomes in the end, but sometimes I need a breather in the middle.
    That’s when I see him.
    Ocean Eyes.
    He’s across the street, talking to some boy. Ocean Eyes has his hands in his pockets, eyes downcast. He’s shaking his head at his friend. The friend turns around, scanning every face nearby, probably talking to him about school or girls or movies, or whatever normal boys talk about. Then, of course, he sees me.
    I can see his lips form the words, “Oh shit!”
    He attempts to casually point me out to Ocean Eyes. When he sees me, I become terrified for some reason. Third time’s the charm, is what they say. I jump to my feet, not sure what I should be doing. The quick movement makes my vision hazy, and my knees hit the pavement.
    “Are you okay?” Ocean Eyes holds his hand out to me.
    I stand up. My whole body resonates with the ground. He’s floating around in my vision. I can’t see straight. I take a step closer, hand pointed up at him, but I stumble. Heels were not the best choice today.
    I fall into his outstretched hands. It’s as if he expected me to collapse.
    He answers himself, “I guess you’re not.”
    “I’m sorry,” I bark, sounding crazed. He sets me on my feet. I think he’s embarrassed, but I can’t quite tell. My balance slips away again, and he catches me. Again. The faint smell of cologne reaches me.
    “You need to eat better,” he says. “More protein.”
    “How do you know?” I ask. I must be pretty pale. I haven’t eaten anything except a bite or two of soft pretzel. This is Jeremiah’s fault. If he’d just bitten me like a proper monster…
    He lowers his voice. “You’re kind of green.”
    “What a charmer.” I take a deep breath and try to ward off the coming sickness. “Were you following me again?”
    “I’m not…following you,” he stutters. “I swear.”
    “Then what are you doing? You’re starting to creep me out.” But, to be honest, he doesn’t. He’s far too sincere. Maybe I’ve just spent too much time with vamps.
    His expression hardens into something