your best friend, or maybe a brother or a sister, and they turned you down and made you feel like a monster even though you only feed on the wicked. But somehow, even that doesn’t feel right anymore. So now you want to end it all. Or at least get an explanation as to why I turned you.”
I find myself nodding.
“We all go through this,” she says. “But sooner or later—if we survive—we learn to leave all the old ties behind: friends, family, ideas of right and wrong. We become what we are meant to be. Predators.”
I think of how I wanted to turn Cassie and start to feel a little sick. Up until this moment, her refusing to be turned had seemed such a personal blow. Now I’m just grateful that of the two of us, she, at least, had some common sense. Bad enough that one of us is a monster.
“What if I don’t want to be a predator?” I ask.
The woman shrugs. “Then you die.”
“I thought we couldn’t die.”
“To all intents and purposes,” she says. “But we’re not invincible. Yes, we heal fast, but it’s genetic healing. We can deal with illnesses and broken bones, torn tissues and birth defects. But if a car hits us, if we take a bullet or a stake in the heart or head, if we’re hurt in such a way that our accelerated healing facilities don’t have the chance to help us, we can still die. We don’t need Van Helsings or chipper cheerleaders in short skirts to do us in. Crossing the street at the wrong time can be just as effective.”
“Why did you turn me?”
“Why not?”
All I can do is stare at her.
“Oh, don’t take it so dramatically,” she says. “I know you’d like a better reason than that—how I saw something special in you, how you have some destiny. But the truth is, it was for my own amusement.”
“So it was just a . . . whim.”
“You need to stop being so serious about everything,” she tells me. “We’re a different species. The old rules don’t apply to us.”
“So you just do whatever you want?”
She smiles, a predatory smile. “If I can get away with it.”
“I’m not going to be like that.”
“Of course you won’t,” she says. “You’re different. You’re special.”
I shake my head. “No, I’m just stronger. I’m going to hold onto my ideals.”
“Tell me that again in a hundred years,” she says. “Tell me how strong you feel when anything you ever cared about, when everybody you love is long dead and gone.”
I get up to leave, to walk out on her, but she beats me to it. She stands over me, and touches my hair with her long cool fingers. For a moment I imagine I see a kind of tenderness in her eyes, but then the mockery is back.
“You’ll see,” she says.
I stay at the table and watch her step outside. Watch her back as she walks on up Bank Street. Watch until she’s long gone and there are only strangers passing by the windows of the Royal Oak.
The thing that scares me the most is that maybe she’s right.
I realize leaving home wasn’t the answer. I’m still too close to the people I love. I have to go a lot farther than I have so far. I have to keep moving and not make friends. Forget I have family. If I don’t have to watch the people I love age and die, then maybe I won’t become as cynical and bitter as the woman who made me what I am.
But the more I think of it, the more I feel that I’d be a lot better off just dying for real.
Four: Cassandra
In the end, I did it for Apples, though she doesn’t know that. I don’t think I can ever tell her that. She thinks I did it to be able to run and breathe and be as normal as an undead person can be. But I could see how being what she is and all alone was tearing her apart and I started to think, who do I love the best in the world? Who’s always been there for me? Who stayed in with her weak kid sister when she could have been out having fun? Who never complained about taking me anywhere? Who always, genuinely enjoyed the time she spent with me?
She never
I find myself nodding.
“We all go through this,” she says. “But sooner or later—if we survive—we learn to leave all the old ties behind: friends, family, ideas of right and wrong. We become what we are meant to be. Predators.”
I think of how I wanted to turn Cassie and start to feel a little sick. Up until this moment, her refusing to be turned had seemed such a personal blow. Now I’m just grateful that of the two of us, she, at least, had some common sense. Bad enough that one of us is a monster.
“What if I don’t want to be a predator?” I ask.
The woman shrugs. “Then you die.”
“I thought we couldn’t die.”
“To all intents and purposes,” she says. “But we’re not invincible. Yes, we heal fast, but it’s genetic healing. We can deal with illnesses and broken bones, torn tissues and birth defects. But if a car hits us, if we take a bullet or a stake in the heart or head, if we’re hurt in such a way that our accelerated healing facilities don’t have the chance to help us, we can still die. We don’t need Van Helsings or chipper cheerleaders in short skirts to do us in. Crossing the street at the wrong time can be just as effective.”
“Why did you turn me?”
“Why not?”
All I can do is stare at her.
“Oh, don’t take it so dramatically,” she says. “I know you’d like a better reason than that—how I saw something special in you, how you have some destiny. But the truth is, it was for my own amusement.”
“So it was just a . . . whim.”
“You need to stop being so serious about everything,” she tells me. “We’re a different species. The old rules don’t apply to us.”
“So you just do whatever you want?”
She smiles, a predatory smile. “If I can get away with it.”
“I’m not going to be like that.”
“Of course you won’t,” she says. “You’re different. You’re special.”
I shake my head. “No, I’m just stronger. I’m going to hold onto my ideals.”
“Tell me that again in a hundred years,” she says. “Tell me how strong you feel when anything you ever cared about, when everybody you love is long dead and gone.”
I get up to leave, to walk out on her, but she beats me to it. She stands over me, and touches my hair with her long cool fingers. For a moment I imagine I see a kind of tenderness in her eyes, but then the mockery is back.
“You’ll see,” she says.
I stay at the table and watch her step outside. Watch her back as she walks on up Bank Street. Watch until she’s long gone and there are only strangers passing by the windows of the Royal Oak.
The thing that scares me the most is that maybe she’s right.
I realize leaving home wasn’t the answer. I’m still too close to the people I love. I have to go a lot farther than I have so far. I have to keep moving and not make friends. Forget I have family. If I don’t have to watch the people I love age and die, then maybe I won’t become as cynical and bitter as the woman who made me what I am.
But the more I think of it, the more I feel that I’d be a lot better off just dying for real.
Four: Cassandra
In the end, I did it for Apples, though she doesn’t know that. I don’t think I can ever tell her that. She thinks I did it to be able to run and breathe and be as normal as an undead person can be. But I could see how being what she is and all alone was tearing her apart and I started to think, who do I love the best in the world? Who’s always been there for me? Who stayed in with her weak kid sister when she could have been out having fun? Who never complained about taking me anywhere? Who always, genuinely enjoyed the time she spent with me?
She never
Similar Books
