Kiss Me Deadly: Tales of a Paranormal Romance

“I need to be home before my mom gets back. Walk me out?”

I nodded reluctantly, and we moved down the hall and out the front door with a respectable space between us, like any normal brother and sister, even though I ached to be so close to him.

In the parking lot, I gave him a hug, holding him tighter and longer than I probably should have. “Come see me next weekend?”

His eyes looked weird again when he met my gaze, like the colors weren’t quite steady. “Nothing could stop me, Sabine.”

* * *

On my way back into the building, I was still thinking about Nash and wasn’t watching where I was going. As I rounded the corner onto the front porch, I collided with Becky—one of the day-shift techs—coming up the steps from the other side. She stumbled and dropped a grease-stained paper bag on the step.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, bending to pick it up. The bag smelled like French fries, and my stomach rumbled. But when I handed it to the tech, her hand brushed mine, and I froze beneath the onslaught of images.

Becky, on the floor of a dirty public restroom, vomiting thick streams of greasy, half-digested food. Over and over.

Becky, lying in a hospital bed, her flesh so bloated and distended that it hung over the sides. Her face swallowed by fat cheeks and voluminous chins. In the hall, the nurses laughed and joked about Becky the Blimp, just like the kids had in junior high.

On the steps of Holser House, Becky pulled the french-fry bag from my grip and frowned at me like I’d tried to steal her food—exactly what she was afraid of.

I stared after her as she stomped through the front door and took off toward the staff break room, but I’d already half forgotten her fear. All I could think about as I wandered into the building was that whatever was happening to the Holser girls wasn’t happening to the staff.

Hmmm...

* * *

By that night, my dark hunger was gnawing at me from the inside again, much worse than it should have been by that point, demanding that I feed. And I tried. Fighting chills from the cold, hollow ache inside me, I Sleepwalked into sixteen of the nineteen other residents’ rooms, starving for a taste of fear. I would even have taken a generic naked-in-the-classroom nightmare, but I found nothing. Not one of the natural sleepers—the last three were medicated—gave up even a trickle of discomfort.

Something was definitely wrong, and I wouldn’t make it much longer without feeding. Not with my hunger accelerating for no reason I could figure out. That night, I could only lie in bed and shiver in spite of the warm Texas night, until it was light enough to get up.

Sunday morning, I devoured two helpings of everything at breakfast, hoping that the extra human food would help keep me running until I found a way to fulfill my other, darker appetite. Unfortunately, Greer noticed me shivering while I shoved food down my throat, and when I dumped my trash and set my dirty tray on the stack, she called me into the kitchen.

“Are you okay? You look pale.” She tried to feel my forehead, but I jerked away as soon as her fingers touched my skin. They were scalding, and her touch brought with it only a glimpse of curiosity and a smudge of concern. “Sabine, you’re freezing! You need to go to the doctor.”

I shook my head without meeting her gaze. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not,” she insisted. “But you don’t have a fever, and your appetite seems fine.” She hesitated, glancing around the kitchen, then finally turned to pour a mug of coffee from the half-full pot behind her. “Normally, I wouldn’t give coffee to a fifteen-year-old, but this might help warm you up. There’s cream and sugar on the counter.”

I poured both until the coffee looked like melted ice cream, but it still tasted bitter. However, by my second mug, the chills had stopped, at least for the moment.

“Is there anything you want to tell me?” Greer asked, when I finally pushed the empty mug away. “Are you on something?”

More like off something. But I only shook my head.

“Why don’t you go lie down,” she suggested. “And if you’re not feeling better by tomorrow, you really need to tell Ms. Gomez, so she can get you in to see a doctor.”

But if I wasn’t feeling better by tomorrow, there would be nothing Gomez’s doctor could do for me, short of putting me out of my misery.

* * *

That night, the cold was so bad I could hardly think, the shakes so strong I felt like I was convulsing. How could the hunger have gotten so much worse, so fast?

It couldn’t have. Not naturally. So I got out my cell phone and autodialed. He answered on the third ring.

“Hello? Sabine?” Nash said into my ear. His voice sounded warm and groggy from sleep, and I wanted to roll in it. Wrap it around me so I could share his heat and vitality.

“Yeah, it’s me.” My teeth chattered, even though I’d pulled the covers up over my shoulders, and I couldn’t make them stop. “It doesn’t make sense. Everyone’s scared of something.”

“Huh?” He cleared his throat. “Oh. Still no fear?”

“Uh uh. There should be plenty to eat here, but there’s nothing and I’m cold and it hurts.”

“But this is only the third night, right?” He sounded more alert, and springs creaked as he got out of bed. “You’ve gone longer than that before, haven’t you?”

“I’ve gone a week, several times. But I can’t now. Something’s wrong with this place. There’s no fear here. There’s nothing much left of what I took from BethAnne. It’s nearly gone, and I’m almost empty, like it was never there. I’m cold, Nash, and I’m scared.” The irony of that last statement was even more terrifying.

“Okay, let me think,” he said, and I recognized the soft click of his desk lamp.

But I couldn’t think. I didn’t have the energy, and I wouldn’t until I’d fed. “I have to get out of here. Can you come get me?”

“If you leave, you’ll get arrested again.”

“If I stay, I’ll die.” I knew it, even if I couldn’t explain it. I was getting colder by the minute, like a corpse cooling on the undertaker’s table. Something was draining what little energy I had left from BethAnne’s nightmare. Was this what she felt like when I fed from her? Was she cold and empty and lonely?

“Sabine, you’re not going to die. Just give me a minute to think.”

“I have to find something to eat. If you can’t come get me, I’ll go out by myself and meet you somewhere in the morning.” And the truth was that I couldn’t come back, if it was only going to happen again. If something was going to drain away the energy I’d stolen fair and square.

“You can’t walk around in the middle of the night by yourself. Especially if you’re sick.”

“Nash, I’m the only thing out there to be scared of.”

“Tell that to the bus that runs you over, or the drive-by bullet that doesn’t bother to look deep into your scary eyes. I’m getting dressed right now. Promise you’ll wait for me.”

“I swear. Hurry.” I flipped the phone closed and pushed the covers back, mildly surprised that the chattering didn’t get worse. Until I realized that the cold was coming from inside me—the covers made no difference, either way.

I’d slept in my clothes, hoping to preserve warmth, so all I had left to do was pull my hair into a ponytail and step into my shoes. And wait. It only took five minutes of shivering and staring at my bedroom door for me to decide I’d rather wait outside.

I snuck out of my room and closed the door softly, then started down the hall with my arms crossed tightly over my chest, grateful that my sneakers didn’t squeak on the floor. The nightshift tech was asleep, sitting up in the common room, lit by the game show she’d been watching.

This is too easy, I thought. And I was right. I was halfway across the main room when a door creaked open behind me, and I froze.

“Sabine?”

I turned slowly, still shaking from the cold, to find Kate Greer, the cook, staring at me. One of her hands was still on the cafeteria door, which she’d just locked. At two in the morning.

“Are you okay? Still sick?” she asked, brows lowered in a frown that looked more irritated than