thought gave me pause; what was happening to my life?
“Should we start?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said, even though I real y didn’t want to try. Not only was I scared, but I didn’t want to embarrass myself any further in front of Michael.
He said, “When I was first trying, I found it easier to start high and dive down, rather than lift off from the ground. Unfortunately, we don’t have that option tonight. This is real y the only secure area for practice.”
Michael lined me up in front of him. Straightening both of my arms, he positioned them above my head. Then he whispered, “Relax,” and stepped back to watch.
I felt like a dork. At first, I could not rise off the grass. But then I fol owed Michael’s advice; I closed my eyes and envisioned myself ascending. I tried to stop analyzing my every move and summon up the sensation from my dreams. With a lurch, my feet lifted up, and I started to fly.
The feeling was different from my dreams, more halting and awkward. A sensation I knew al too wel from my daytime life. My instincts competed for my attention, begging me to lengthen my arms and legs as I swooped through the air. When I surrendered to my impulses, I recaptured some of the grace from my “dream” flying.
I began to enjoy myself. I climbed and plunged through the night sky like it was my playground. As I made one particularly steep dive, I noticed Michael on the field below watching me. Instead of sweeping back up before I got too close, I decided to land next to him.
But I didn’t quite know how to touch down softly. I landed on my bottom, knocking Michael down in the process. Laying there in the field, we burst into hysterical laughter. I started to wipe my tears away and sit up when he pul ed me back down. He kissed me with such force it took my breath away.
I forgot al about the flying and the field. I yielded to his hands as they ran up and down my arms and legs, tracing circles wherever they went. I submitted to his tongue as it explored my lips and mouth and neck with the lightest touch. And then I tasted the blood.
I felt the blood—his blood—course through me. It burned like the wine I’d snuck once at a wedding, making me feel weak and invincible at once.
As the blood surged through me, a breathtaking image seared my consciousness.
He broke away. “Tel me what you saw.”
A tiny droplet of blood remained on my lip. I licked it before answering. I wanted more.
With effort, I said, “I saw a beautiful winged woman.”
“Winged?” Michael looked confused.
I closed my eyes and tried to remember the image more clearly. “Wel , she didn’t have wings exactly. More like two arcs of light behind her shoulders.”
He nodded, as if that made more sense. “Did you recognize her?”
I suddenly realized who she was. “Yes, it was me.”
He smiled. “Do you believe me now that we are special?”
“Yes.” I did, even though it went against my parents’ teachings. Whether it was the heady influence of the blood or the flying or merely his proximity, it didn’t matter. I believed him.
Michael kissed me again. I could feel myself being overtaken by him. But a tiny, nagging question stood in the way of being total y engulfed by him. I broke away. “How did you discover the way blood affected you? I would never have known unless you showed me.”
Even though it was real y dark, my newly sharp eyesight al owed me to see him blush. “I took this girl to the junior prom last year, when we lived in Pittsburgh.”
“Yes?” I recoiled a little.
“Wel , we kissed at the end of the night and her tongue got cut by my teeth. You know how sharp they are —”
“Yes, I do.” I felt sick at the thought of Michael kissing another girl.
“I got the strongest sensation from it, much more powerful than anything I’d seen by touch. I learned something real y disturbing about her childhood, something she had never told anyone.”
“What was it?”
He hesitated. “Her dad used to hit her mom. They got divorced when she was little, but I got these real y clear images from her childhood. I felt so uncomfortable that I couldn’t even look her in the eye afterward.”
“I’m sorry I made you tel me.” Although I wasn’t sorry that he couldn’t bear to be around her after the incident.
He hugged me. “Don’t apologize, El ie. It’s critical that we tel each other everything. Even real y unpleasant things, okay?”
“Okay.” I paused, weighing whether I should share my “unpleasant” speculation with him. There would never be a better time. “Then I should probably tel you that I think your vampire theory is off the mark. I did a little research, and I don’t think we fit the bil of straight-from-the-grave, bloodsucking ghouls. We must be something else.”
He grew quiet. “We don’t have to resemble movie-character vampires to qualify, El ie. We fly, and I don’t think you can deny the unique sway of blood over us. I don’t know how the whole ‘flash’ thing fits in, but real y, what else could we be?”
I had no idea, but from Michael’s tone, I could tel he didn’t want an argument. I kept quiet. I didn’t want to taint the magic of the night with the questions about our nature.
His tone softened, and he squeezed me tight. “Anyway, what does it matter? We have each other, and we’re
