Chapter Nineteen
That night, Michael and I lay in our field, spent from flying along the coast. My head rested on Michael’s arm as we stared up at the night sky. The grass was springy and soft after a light afternoon rain, almost as if we’d spread out a blanket. I felt so peaceful that I didn’t want to bring up my flash with Piper. But I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
“What’s wrong, El ie?”
Clearly my attempts to act normal weren’t working.
“I had this real y weird flash today, and I just can’t shake it.”
“What was it?”
I told him every detail of the vision I could remember. The exchange between Missy and Piper. The references to a plan. The strange guy lurking in the background. The fear that Piper experienced.
Michael listened careful y, and then asked, “Of al the flashes you’ve had, why should this one affect you so much?”
His reaction disappointed me; he didn’t seem particularly moved. Maybe I expected too much. Maybe I expected him to feel everything I felt. We were alike in so many ways.
“I don’t know. But I feel like I need to find out more and do something.”
He twirled a strand of my black hair in his fingers and then sighed. “Why, El ie? They’re such jerks. You don’t need to rescue Piper from anything.”
“It’s not Piper that I plan on rescuing. It’s the victim.”
“That’s very noble, El ie. But we’re not superheroes.”
I sat up. Michael had pul ed me away kicking and screaming from my somewhat happy oblivion into this new existence. He basical y made me acknowledge and embrace these “differences” of ours—and now he wanted me to ignore the impulse to help that came along with some of the flashes. This one especial y. “No, Michael, we’re not superheroes. But we’re something more than regular humans.”
“I know. But I don’t see why that obliges us to fly in and clean up whatever mess Missy and Piper are making.”
“Michael, I can’t ignore this compulsion to get involved. Don’t you ever feel it?” I had just assumed that he did. I’d never felt the urge to assist so intensely before, but I did experience it from time to time when a classmate transmitted a particularly troubling image to me.
“A little, I guess.”
“Ever since we started”—I gestured around the field—“al this, I’ve been getting the strong feeling that we should use our gifts for something other than our own entertainment. Like helping the people whose minds we read. Do you ever get that sensation?”
He paused for a second. I saw his hand reaching out to stroke mine, but I drew back a little. I didn’t want this conversation to be tainted by his touch; I was just too susceptible. “I guess I’ve been so wrapped up in you that I haven’t let those thoughts get much play,” he said.
For al my efforts to keep a physical distance, I felt like melting. Here was the guy of my dreams tel ing me that I so distracted him he couldn’t see straight. How could I be irritated with him? Especial y since I felt the same way.
Stil , I wanted him on board with me. Not just about this Piper and Missy incident. I wanted him to feel what I felt. And given al my parents’ training about helping out mankind, I was more than a little disappointed that he didn’t.
“If you did think about this idea—that we have some kind of obligation to others because of our differences—what would you think?”
Even in the darkness of the moonless night, I could see Michael smile at me. “I’ve never heard of do-gooder vampires,” he joked, to which I rol ed my eyes. “What would I think?” he continued. “I’l tel you what I do think. I think that I’m lucky that you are sharing this experience with me. And I think that I’l help you. Because, even though I don’t care about Piper and Missy, I care about you.”
I curled into the crook of his arm, and whispered, “Thank you.”
We talked for a moment about a game plan for gathering information and then Michael whispered, “El ie?”
“Yes?” I answered. His tone was so silky and inviting that I figured he was going to kiss me. He usual y did at the end of the night. But I was always careful to stop it there; those first experiences kissing him real y shook me up, and I didn’t want to lose control.
His lips tickled my cheek, and his sweet breath warmed me. I turned my face toward his, ready.
In that same honeyed voice, he said, “You know if we used their blood, we could find out nearly anything.”
“Michael,” I said in frustration. He knew how I felt about the whole blood thing. And anyway, I wanted a kiss, not another argument on this topic.
“Come on, El ie. It’d be a chance to try out its power.”
Other than those first few, unplanned occasions, I hadn’t tried Michael’s blood. Or let him try mine. I remembered the addictive headiness of its taste al too wel , and it scared me. I was afraid that, once I started, I wouldn’t be able to turn back. But I couldn’t tel Michael that.
“No.”
“It would be for a good cause,” he said suggestively, as he traced his finger up and down my arm.
“You’l try anything to persuade me, won’t you?”
He just smiled, unable to deny it.
“Let’s see if we can’t find another way,” I said and kissed his neck very lightly.
“Now who’s being persuasive?” he said, his voice growing thick.
It was my turn to smile.
He said, “Al right, we’l try it your way first. But promise you’l just consider—”
“I promise.”
I kissed him hard. I was so relieved and happy that he was on my side for the Piper thing, I let my guard down. Within seconds, we were wrapped in each other’s arms. I felt his tongue on mine, and I surrendered to the feeling of it. He must have sensed that I wouldn’t fight him, because I soon felt a tiny cut on my tongue and tasted the blood. His and mine. Together.
The sensation was pure pleasure, unlike anything I’d ever experienced. I closed my eyes and let the bliss wash over me. Until a flash—more like a vision than a memory—came. The light was blinding; I squinted in my mind’s eye. As my vision adjusted, I saw Michael and me standing on a pristine beach of white sand, arcs of light at our backs. We looked so beautiful, so serene. And then I noticed something real y peculiar.
Emblazoned across our chests were letters, written in light. I struggled to read them, but the characters were in an unfamiliar language.
I could have lingered in the moment, but I felt Michael’s tongue graze over my teeth again and I knew he was searching for more blood. I awakened from the image, understanding that, if we continued this practice of blood sharing, we would never, ever stop.
I pushed Michael off me and sat up. I struggled to speak. “Do you understand why we can’t do this with anyone else? Why we shouldn’t even do this with each other? Do you see how you can’t stop hunting for blood once you start?”
“I do.” His breath was belabored.
“Promise me, Michael, you’l never taste anyone’s blood but mine.”
He stared into my eyes, his chest stil heaving but his gaze steady. “I promise.”
Chapter Twenty
Michael and I had agreed to divide and conquer Missy’s clique. I took Piper for obvious reasons and Missy out of guilt, since I’d instigated this whole thing. In exchange for my handling of the heavy hitters, Michael took the remaining six group members—Hal ie, Kristen, Elizabeth, Samantha, Jennifer, and Shadley. Soon we unleashed ourselves on the unsuspecting Til inghast Upper High School.
Or so we believed. We had this fantasy of sauntering in, touching them, and gathering up al their secrets. Not so, when we had specific secrets we wanted to gather.
The stars had to be perfectly aligned to learn the tiniest detail. First, we had to actual y make physical contact. Then, the person had to be thinking about the scheme at the exact moment we touched them. Final y, the flash—if we were lucky enough to get the one we sought—had to make sense.