“No, Ruby, don’t!” Ambrosia pleads, whimpering like a small, terrified dog.
I turn my back to Roderick and the other vampires to face Ambrosia and throw her a wink. As I start to wink, Ambrosia looks intently at something over my head, and knifelike fingernails land on my shoulder—pushing as hard as they can without breaking the skin.
“Time to let her go, love,” Roderick says, his voice sounding even creepier when he’s close enough for his breath to touch me.
His other hand grabs Ambrosia by a blue ponytail and yanks her completely away from me—her shoulder smacking mine in the process. I didn’t even notice her wrist coming free from my hand—ripped away so forcefully, so quickly.
He drags her toward the window. Both of my former guards stand there—the two of them scratched up pretty badly—they must’ve been the ones coming through the window when we first walked in here.
I call out at Roderick’s back, “Alright, now bring me to Simon.”
He swings Ambrosia around by her ponytail, sending her stumbling and crashing into Carvelli. Carvelli grabs her by her arms, twisting them behind her back, and holds her captive—both of her wrists grasped tightly together with just one of his hands—his other squeezing where her neck meets her shoulder.
Roderick turns his attention to me.
“Your wish is my command, young lover,” he says as he bows mockingly toward me, “Grab her and drag her to me now!”
Hands grab at me from all sides—they pass me up through the crowd from one sharp, nasty hand to the next—my feet dragging on the floor as they yank me closer and closer to Roderick and the busted window.
Smoke starts to billow in through the window, creating a thin, gray mist around Roderick. Gray—how sweet the color looked to me just a short while ago—been my favorite shade next to the blue of Simon’s eyes since my world was changed on that dance floor. Now that Simon’s gone—the gray of the smoke just looks evil.
The girl I fought in the hallway stands beside him—her eyes still raw and red. She must’ve been in the crowd rushing up the stairs earlier—maybe she went outside and came back in the busted window—scary how fast they move—evil how fast they recover.
Roderick’s filthy fingers with razor-like tips seize my neck and lift me off the ground—my feet dangling. Eyes feel like they’re bulging from his strangling grip.
The patchouli girl swipes at me—trying to get her nails into my arm—without looking in her direction, Roderick shoves her backward with his foot.
Ambrosia calls out, “Ruby! Jealous friends say stupid things, especially when they’re drunk…I’m sorry.”
I try to say don’t worry about it, but Roderick’s pressing fingers keep me from speaking.
If a second were a vast ocean, before even one droplet could pass, he spins around flinging his arm and me hanging from it out the jagged hole in the window. Between his hand clasping my neck and the thick, smoke-filled air, I don’t know if I’ll ever breathe deeply again.
Stare at the moon above—starts to go out of focus.
“Edgar’s gone!” a female voice declares loudly from inside the room.
Can’t see inside, but know the voice—familiar—can’t place it.
The familiar female continues, “He’s gone, and he took two of the human girls with him.”
“What?” Roderick demands, his fingers squeezing my neck tighter, “What are you doing here, Maxine, and what the hell are you wearing?”
Of course—was Maxine’s voice.
She says, “Just trying something different.”
“And the clothes?”
“Them too.”
A different woman’s voice cuts through the air—harsher than Maxine’s—must be patchouli girl, “So what? What about the stuff—the new breed? Said he was going to get the stuff for me!”
Roderick grunts.
Maxine answers, “The girls are pregnant—vampire babies are the new breed.”
Many feet rush toward the other side of the room, must be heading to the opening in the bookshelf—fast footsteps, loud with desperation.
Roderick’s hand releases me —— I drop —— falling through the hazy, hot air—transferring the heat of the fire onto me—penetrating deep into my skin.
Sound of cracking and metal wrenching—something scrambling beneath me. My legs hit something—then my back hits something else.
Simon. Caught me mid-air. His arms holding me—standing crooked—at an angle. He smiles at me, wobbles, and falls—both of us crashing to the broken bit of balcony that still stands.
Fire flickers near our feet—we’re sliding down the slope of the balcony toward it. His arm wraps tightly around my waist—his other grabs the top edge of the balcony and starts pulling us higher and away from the hungry orange and red tongues flickering at us—waiting for us to slide down into them.
He pulls us up higher and lodges his arm around the edge of the balcony—his other arm still pressing me to him—snugly wrapped around my waist.
He drags me up his body until my face is just above his.
“How’re you doing, Bright Eyes?”
Press my lips against his. So tense—emotion exploding.
His chest convulses—I pull back—he starts to cough.
“Can’t hold you much longer, Ruby—too weak—too much of that poison in me—can’t breathe—can’t last much longer. Gotta get you out of here.”
Put my hand to his cheek—it’s cold, even with the flames coming so close to us. Look down at his hand holding me to him—his wrist is bruised horribly—like he’s broken out of shackles.
“Bite me, Simon.”
“Have to try to throw you over the flames onto the yard—your only chance.”
“No, Ambrosia’s up there—gotta save her too. Bite me—bite me now!”
“Throw you clear—you try to roll when you hit the ground. I’ll try to get back up there to help her—you get out of here—far away and safe.”
“Dammit!” I shout and grab his face with both hands, kissing him very hard, then backing off and staring into his eyes that are starting to look faded and pale, “Bite me, Simon! Do it—now!”
He kisses me quickly, slides his lips over my cheek and down my neck. Lips make a circle on my neck. Sudden sting. Tender, but still feels like a kiss—enough to force an exhale charged with emotion out of me.
His free hand still holds me to him, but he’s moved it to the small of my back, his fingers caressing me.
My eyes close—all I feel are his teeth and lips—and the tender stroke of his touch. The blackness behind my eyelids turns teal.
His mouth leaves my neck, and his hand tightens at my back. He starts to stand—pulling me up with him. Still at an angle, but he feels balanced now—strong enough to hold me steady too. Bruise on his wrist looks much better—fading away already. His eyes blaze bright blue.
“Going in the window now—get on my back, put your arms around my neck—wrap your legs around my waist—as tight as you can—quickly.”
“Okay,” I answer as he’s already turned around, looking at the wall he must climb.
Sliding my arms and legs around him, I know the danger we’re heading into—I feel the heat of the fire below us—hear the broken balcony creaking and threatening to give way at any moment, but I still feel tingles spark through me with my body wrapped around him—pressed to him. Even the threat of probable death can’t hold back the sensation. So insane. So wonderful. So deadly.
He reaches his hands up, digging his fingernails into the wood and lifting the both of us off the balcony—climbing the wall up to the hole in the window, one floor above us.
Think about what was in that room when I was dropped out of it—know what waits for us up there—a feeling surges up inside me. Can’t go another second without doing it. Might never have another chance to do it.
“Simon, stop—look at me.”