I look at Sebastian. Was this what he wanted me to realize? Was this what he wanted me to see? I am as shocked by his behavior as I am by my own. By his own unexpected display of humanity. He seems so cold and heartless, but he isn’t.
All the anger and resentment I’ve felt melts away. He is not my enemy. He is my mentor. My friend.
But when I meet his gaze, I don’t see that spark of humanity. I see brutal cruelty.
“No,” he says softly. “Look again. You made yourself see her as a girl. A living human. But look again.”
I do. This time I see both the blood and the girl. I see the fear and the food.
“She is not you,” he murmurs, his words as seductive as they are chilling. “She is not your sister. Not your friend. She is your food. The sooner you acknowledge that, the better.” He jerks her forward until she is right under my nose. I breathe through my mouth to make her less appealing, but I can feel her scent on the roof of my mouth. “She is veal. She is meat. She is the best steak you’ve ever eaten. She is a Kobe burger from the best restaurant. She is the hot dog from that childhood backyard barbecue. Your favorite ice cream melting on your tongue, an icy Popsicle on a scorching day. That last perfect day of summer. The last time your family was all together. She is the last meal you will ever eat. Once you taste her, all of those other flavors will pale in comparison. You will never want anything else again.”
I try to resist. I rub my tongue against the roof of my mouth, trying to scrub away the scent of her blood. I make myself look at her eyes. To see her pain. Her fear. Her anguish. I even remind myself of what Sebastian once said, back when I was still human. That those particular human emotions make the blood bitter. That she will not be as delicious as he has made her sound. She will be bitter with terror.
Despite that, when I look in her eyes, all I see are the tiny blood veins clutching her irises in their grasp. All I see is that ephemeral pulse against the white.
I make myself close my eyes. I blot out the reality of this girl and imagine she is Lily. She is my sister. My mirror image.
Slowly, torturously, I move away. I pull myself from his grasp. He holds tight, but he is holding her and me. I slam my arms down on his hand and he lets go.
“No!” he barks again and I find myself frozen by his words. “You
“I didn’t at Sabrina’s. I was strong enough to resist then. You don’t know that I won’t always be this strong. Just because you weakened and gave in to your baser instincts. That doesn’t mean I will.”
He doesn’t even flinch at the insult. “Back at Sabrina’s you’d fed recently. You weren’t hungry. Besides, you were too frightened of Sabrina. You have to train yourself. You have to learn to keep your instincts in check. You do that by giving in now.”
“I will not do this.”
“You will. The question is, who do you want your first kill to be? This girl? Or some other girl? Lily, maybe? Or even Carter. Which would be worse for her? Dying or losing that whelp of a boy she adores? Which would be worse for you?”
I look at the girl again, trying to make myself see the girl and not the blood.
“Please,” she whimpers, her thrasing still now. “Let me go.”
I back away a step. “No,” I say, shaking my head.
“You will drain her,” Sebastian repeats.
I am sure he is wrong. I am sure I can resist. As delicious as she smells, I am sure I will not devour her. Just as I am sure I would never devour my sister.
But he does the unthinkable. He draws his dagger and slices open her arm from shoulder to elbow. A long, curvy slice down her bicep. Her blood leaps through her skin and she screams in pain.
I lunge for her, managing—just barely—to dart out of the way at the last instant. I follow my body’s momentum. I run. I flee from Sebastian and the girl and all that delicious blood seeping onto the ground. The air is thick with it. I taste her on every breath. I feel her death creeping into my nostrils. Through the pores of my skin.
Even as I run, I fear it will not be far enough or fast enough. It will never be enough. Because I can’t run from my own gut. I will never outrun my hunger. I am not fast enough to outrun him.
And I am right.
He is on me before I even reach the woods. He knocks me to the ground only to pick me up again. He throws me over his shoulder and carries me back to her. She is scrambling away, clutching at her arm. Her movements are slow and jerky, like stop-motion animation.
He thrusts me at her and we both tumble to the ground. I try to use the movement to roll right off her, but her blood covers her body. It’s on my hands. And before I can stop myself, it’s in my mouth. Just a drop. Then a gulp. A pint. A gallon. I can’t stop. I don’t want to. My whole body sings with the delight. Feeding on her is rapturous. Intoxicating.
I drink her fear and it is heady on my tongue. It is bitter, but not unpalatable. Like Granny’s mustard greens and vinegar. Like Swiss cheese drizzled on broccoli. Her blood is soul food.
It nourishes me. Feeding from her with Sebastian, I am more powerful than I have ever been. I am more powerful than a mountain lion. Deadlier than an orca. A predator like no other on earth. And my whole body sings with the joy of it. More than that, my world sings. The music, which I missed so sorely, so achingly, vibrates in the air around me.
Sebastian and I are one in our hunger. It is a frenzy of feeding by immersion, to satiation and completion. To a state of total insentience.
When I am myself again, when the euphoria fades and the endorphins peter out, when the reality returns, I am full as I have never been before, but my soul is empty. What is left of my clothes is bloodied and tattered. I am unclean and impure. The girl is not the only human who died here, for I am gone as surely as she is.
I back away from her corpse. She lays on the ground, her body all awkward angles. Her dead eyes stare at the heavens, unseeing. But I see. I see her body sprinkled with bloody wounds. I am terrified by myself. But the blood that has been spilled tonight is everywhere. Yet, it is not until I see Sebastian unsheathing my own katana and handing it over to me, that I understand the last violation I must commit. I have killed this girl. Now I must guarantee she remains dead.
It is done with one clean slice. Then I clean the blade on the grass and return to the bodies of the Ticks and do the same to them, making sure her blood does not mingle with theirs. I don’t know if this is respect for the dead or protection of the living. My venom is in her blood. Perhaps they could regenerate as vampires. Perhaps I am merely being superstitious.
It is nearly dawn and when I see Sebastian watching me, I take off, bolting for the tree line and running through the woods. I don’t care if he follows me. I don’t even care if he catches me. I don’t know what I’m looking for until I find a stream with icy water. Even that doesn’t wash away all the blood. I scrub with sand and dirt until the last traces of it are gone. And still I am not clean.
Sebastian finds me. He stands on the bank of the stream and watches. If I didn’t know better, I might imagine there is regret on his face. But it is the distance and the play of light that make it seem so. Vampires regret nothing.
Only my ire exceeds my disgust.
“Why?” I scream.
He watches for a moment, stoic and silent. “Why what?”
“Why did you make me do that? Why?”
“I didn’t
But I am in no mood for his irritating sophistries. “Were you trying to prove how weak I am?”
He cocks his head, looking baffled for a moment. “How weak you are? If I thought you were weak, I would have left you with Sabrina. I would not have given you the choice to come with me at all. No, my dear, of course not. I didn’t prove you are weak.” He stalks down the bank until he is standing before me. I shiver in the cold, but have no clothes to hide beneath. “She
