“Who are you? What are you?” she demanded.
“Me?” He looked puzzled for a moment, and then stretched his neck. She could see the wound just underneath his chin more clearly this time. Two punctures. Scabby and … blue. They were a deep indigo color, not the brownish-red she had been expecting. “I think I’m what you call a vampire.”
“A vampire?” Hannah recoiled. If he were a ghost, it would be a different story. Hannah’s aunt had told her all about ghosts—her aunt had gone through a Wiccan phase, as well as a spirit-guide phase. Hannah wasn’t afraid of ghosts. Ghosts couldn’t harm you, unless it was a poltergeist. Ghosts were vapors, spectral images, maybe even just a trick of the light.
But vampires … There was a Shelter Island legend about a family of vampires who had terrorized the island a long time ago. Blood-sucking monsters, pale and undead, cold and clammy to the touch, creatures of the night that could turn into bats, or rats or worse. She shivered, and looked around the room, wondering how fast she could fly out of bed and out the door. If there was even time to escape. Could you outrun a vampire?
“Don’t worry, I’m not that kind of vampire,” he said soothingly, as if he’d read her mind.
“What kind would that be?”
“Oh you know, chomping on people without warning. All that Dracula nonsense. Growing horns out of my head,” he shrugged. “For one thing, we’re not ugly.”
Hannah wanted to laugh but felt it would be rude. Her fright was slowly abating.
“Why are you here?”
“We live here,” he said simply.
“No one’s lived here in years,” Hannah said. “John Carter—the caretaker, he said it’s been empty forever.”
“Huh,” the boy shrugged. He took the corner seat, across from her bed.
Hannah glanced at him warily, wondering if she should let him get that close. If he was a vampire, he didn’t look cold and clammy. He looked tired. Exhausted. There were dark circles underneath his eyes. He didn’t look like a cold-blooded killer. But what did she know? Could she trust him? But he had visited her twice already, after all. If he’d wanted her dead then, he could have killed her at any time. There was something about him—he was almost too cute to be scared of.
“Why do you keep doing that?” she asked, when she found her voice.
“Oh, you mean the thing with the lights?”
She nodded.
“Dunno. For a long time, I couldn’t do anything. I was sleeping in your closet, but you didn’t see me. Then I realized I could turn the lights on and off, on and off. But it was only when you started noticing that I began to feel more like myself.”
“Why are you here?”
The boy closed his eyes. “I’m hiding from someone.”
“Who?”
He closed his eyes harder, so that his face was a painful grimace. “Somebody bad. Somebody who wants me dead—no, worse than dead.” He shuddered.
“If you’re a vampire aren’t you already dead?” she asked in a practical tone. She felt herself relaxing. Why should she be scared of him when it was so obvious it was he who was frightened?
“No, not really. It’s more like I’ve lived a long time. A long time,” he murmured. “This is our house. I remember the fireplace downstairs. I put the plaque up myself.” He must be talking about that dusty old plaque next to the fireplace, Hannah thought, but it was so old and dirty she had never thought to notice it before.
“Who’s chasing you?” Hannah asked.
“It’s compli …” but before the boy could finish his sentence, there was a rattle at the window. A thump, thump, thump, as if someone—or something—was throwing itself against it with all its might.
The boy jumped and vanished for a moment. He reappeared by the doorway, breathing fast and hard.
“What is that?” Hannah asked, her voice trembling.
“It’s here. It’s found me.” He said sharply, edgy and wired as if he were about to flee. And yet he remained where he was, his eyes fixed on the vibrating glass.
“Who?”
“The bad … thing …”
Hannah stood up and peered out the window. Outside was dark and peaceful. The trees, skeletal and bare of branches, stood still in the snowy field and against the frozen water. Moonlight cast the view in a cold, blue glow.
“I don’t see any—Oh!” She stepped back, as if stabbed. She had seen something. A presence. Crimson eyes and silver pupils. Staring at her from the dark. Outside the window, it was hovering. A dark mass. She could feel its rage, its violent desire. It wanted in, to consume, to feed.
It knew her name.
The words had a hypnotic effect, she walked back toward the window, and began to lift the latch.
“STOP!”
She turned. The boy stood at the doorway, a tense, frantic look on his face.
“Don’t,” he said. “That’s what it wants you to do. Invite it inside. As long as you keep that window closed, it can’t come in. And I’m safe.”
“What
“A vampire too. Like me, but different. It’s … insane,” he said. “It feeds on its own kind.”
“A vampire that hunts vampires?”
The boy nodded. “I know it sounds ridiculous …”
“Did it … do that to you?” she said, brushing her fingers against the scabs on his neck. They felt rough to touch. She felt sorry for him.
“Yes.”
“But you’re all right?”
“I think so.” He hung his head. “I hope so.”
“How were you able to come inside? No one invited you,” she asked.
“You’re right. But I didn’t need an invitation. The door was open when I came. But so many doors were open on all the houses, but I couldn’t enter any of them but this one. Which made me think that I’d found it. My family’s house.”
Hannah nodded. That made sense. Of course he would be welcome in his own home.
The rattling stopped. The boy sighed. “It’s gone for now. But it will be back.”
He looked so relieved that her heart went out to him.
“What do you need me to do?” she asked. She wasn’t scared anymore. Her mother always said Hannah had a head for emergencies. She was a stoic, dependable girl. More likely to plant a stake in the heart of a monster than scream for rescue from the railroad tracks. “How can I help?”
He raised his eyebrow and looked at her with respect. “I need to get away. I can’t stay here forever. I need to go. I need to warn the others. Tell them what happened to me. That the danger is growing.” He sagged against the wall. “What I ask you to do might hurt a bit, and I don’t want to ask unless it’s freely given.”
“Blood, isn’t it? You need blood. You’re weak,” Hannah said. “You need my blood.”
“Yes.” The shadows cast his face in sharp angles, and she could see the deep hollows in his cheeks. His sallow complexion. So perhaps some of the vampire legends were true.
“But won’t I turn into …?”
“No.” He shook his head. “It doesn’t work that way. No one can make a vampire. We were born like this. Cursed. You will be fine—tired and a little sleepy, maybe, but fine.”
Hannah gulped. “Is it the only way?” She didn’t much like how that sounded. He would have to bite her. Suck her blood. She felt nauseous just thinking about it, but strangely excited as well.
The boy nodded slowly. “I understand if you don’t want to. It’s not something that most people would like to
