El ie remained to make me protective of my parents. More specifical y, I guessed that I wanted to protect them from me, from the vampire, or whatever it was, that I’d become.
Kneeling on the window seat, I created an opening wide enough to slip my body through. I planned on closing it once I made it into the nighttime air, as nothing would awaken my parents quicker than a cold blast. I worked my head, arms, and torso through the aperture and was just about to slide my legs through when I felt a hard tug on my ankle. For a second, I thought that my leg had gotten tangled in one of the blankets folded on my window seat. I shook my leg a little, trying to loosen it from the blanket. But the grasp only tightened.
I froze. The blanket felt distinctly like a hand.
Part of me wanted to just kick my leg loose and fly off, but I knew I couldn’t. I had to face him or her. Or worse, I suspected,
Final y, I mustered up the courage to turn around. There my parents sat, looking oddly vulnerable in their pajamas. My dad settled on the window seat—his hands must have been the ones to pul at me—while my mom perched on my bed. Right on top of the blanket I’d stuffed it with, as a matter of fact. We stared at one another in complete silence. I didn’t know what to say or do, and they didn’t seem to either.
“Just where do you think you are going, El speth?” my dad asked, breaking the silence. His tone sounded hurt, and he was using the formal
“El speth.”
“Nowhere,” I whispered.
“Does this ‘nowhere’ include meeting Michael?” my mom asked. Her voice bore none of the soft, injured qualities of my dad’s. She was furious.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I sounded unconvincing, even to my own ears.
“We may be trusting, El speth, but we’re not fools,” she said.
I didn’t know how to respond. Obviously I was trying to sneak out, although I hoped they hadn’t witnessed the flying piece. I had no idea what they knew or for how long they had been aware of my nocturnal activities. Given that I had no desire to educate them about the details if they were blissful y unaware, I kept quiet.
“El speth, al ow me to make clear to you what seems very apparent to your mother and me.” My dad’s tone started to match my mom’s—less hurt and more angry.
“Al right,” I said.
“We have grounded you for that Facebook incident, which mystifies your mother and me. But you stil want to see Michael. So you two thought you’d sneak out of your respective houses late at night and rendezvous somewhere. Am I right?”
I wondered whether I should just cop to my father’s tale. After al , his theory was pretty close to reality, and it was far less damning than the ful truth. Plus, I could feel the need for Michael’s blood pulsating through me. Maybe if I just came clean, they would leave me alone, and I could stil meet Michael. Even now, Michael was my focus.
As I considered my response, my mom interjected, “Is Michael waiting for you out in the yard?”
“No,” I practical y shrieked. Michael and I had planned on meeting in town. But I was late, and I couldn’t take the chance that he’d come to my house looking for me. And I absolutely couldn’t risk my mom peering out the window for him, only to witness him flying by in search of me.
“Do you admit that you made arrangements to meet him somewhere? Just not here?”
“Yes.”
My dad shook his head. “El speth, we are so disappointed in you. This behavior is so uncharacteristic for the daughter we’ve raised and loved.”
He looked over at my mother, who nodded in encouragement. “We can’t help but think that Michael is somehow influencing your actions. For your own protection, we have decided to ban you from seeing Michael.”
“No!” I cried out.
“Yes, El speth.” My dad’s voice was unusual y firm. “We wil do whatever it takes to keep you from seeing him.”
I could not al ow my parents to separate me from Michael. I no longer cared about being a dutiful daughter—al I cared about was Michael and the blood. I felt myself getting furious, felt that expansion I first experienced when I lashed out at Missy. My words and my actions were no longer under my control.
I stood up from the window seat, defiant in the face of their attempt at restraints. “You cannot stop me from seeing him.”
My mom rose and got right in my face. She looked the way I felt. “Oh, yes, we can.”
“You have no idea what I’m capable of.”
“El speth, I think your dad and I know exactly what you are capable of.”
Placing my hands on my hips, I matched her expression and then smiled smugly at her. “Oh, real y? I don’t think that’s possible.” I didn’t wait for her response; I headed straight for the window. I had every intention of flying right out of it, into Michael’s arms. I didn’t care if they saw. I needed to get to Michael, and I would not let them constrain me.
As I lifted the sash once again, I heard her cal out, “You think you’re a vampire, don’t you?”
Chapter Twenty-seven
I spun around and stared at my mom. Her eyes were so certain and knowing, yet contained no judgment of me and no incredulity. She knew who I was, what I was. I wanted more than anything to ask her how she knew, but the words stal ed on my lips. How could I ask an unthinkable question?
