Читать книгу Afterlife - Claudia Gray, Claudia Gray - Страница 7

Chapter Four

“TAKE LUCAS TO EVERNIGHT?” I REPEATED. “HAVE you gone insane? Balthazar, think about it! Lucas was Black Cross. He spied on Evernight for them. Mrs. Bethany hates him—everybody there hates him. They’ll kill him on sight.”

“They won’t. They can’t,” Balthazar insisted. “Any vampire can come to Evernight at any time and ask for sanctuary. No matter who it is or what they’ve done, Mrs. Bethany has to take them in.”

“But that’s Mrs. Bethany’s rule, isn’t it? She can break it any time she wants.”

Balthazar’s mouth twisted, the closest he could come to a smile on a day as dark as this one. “Mrs. Bethany doesn’t break rules. You should know that. Remember, she let Charity in.”

True, and Mrs. Bethany and Charity hated each other fervently. I wasn’t convinced, though. Lucas had been a vampire hunter; surely that was worse than being any kind of vampire, no matter how dangerous.

Some of my reluctance was more selfish. Going back to Evernight Academy would mean returning to my parents. On one hand, I wanted to see them again so badly it hurt; on the other, I knew that they’d always feared and rejected wraiths. If they rejected me—as Kate had Lucas—I didn’t think I could bear it.

I heard footsteps on the concrete steps outside and went to the door to let in Vic and Ranulf, who had a large sack full of what I suspected were pints of cow’s blood. Vic did come in this time, but he didn’t move more than a couple steps past the door. When he caught me looking, Vic handed over the bag, then fished out a single bottle of Mountain Dew. “I figure I should probably hang in the backyard for a while,” he said, his eyes focused nervously on the floor where Lucas lay. “Until you guys chill Lucas out.”

“Good idea.” I took the shopping bag to the folding table. “Thanks again, Vic.”

“Just give me another day or so before we get attacked again. That’s thanks enough.”

Balthazar and Ranulf each took a pint from the sack, each one in a little plastic container like the kind they use to serve soup to go at a deli. They both opened them up and started drinking, while Lucas still lay on the floor. At first I thought they were being selfish, but I soon realized what they were doing: regaining their strength. If Lucas awoke as savage as he’d been when Balthazar staked him, they’d need it.

I took a couple of pints and put them in the microwave. Blood always tasted better at human body temperature. When they were ready, I glanced over at my friends. Ranulf was finishing, tipping up his cup to get the last drops; Balthazar’s lips were tinted dark red. Drinking blood had been so delicious. I realized that I missed it, maybe more than anything else about being alive.

The guys were prepared. I knelt at Lucas’s side, putting the pints within reach. Slowly I wrapped my hand around the protruding handle of the stake. Splinters jabbed into my palm, and I imagined the pain Lucas must have felt in the seconds before he passed out.

“On the count of three,” I said. “One . . . two—”

I tugged the stake out. It made a wet, disgusting sound. Lucas writhed on the floor, and his eyes opened wide. He inhaled, deliberately sniffing the air. I knew he’d caught the scent of blood.

“Drink,” I whispered. “Drink.”

Lucas’s hand shot out to clutch one of the containers. In an instant he was gulping down the blood, thick swallows that made his Adam’s apple bob in his extended throat. Within seconds, he emptied the first container, dropped it on the floor, and lunged for the second one. That one he drained even faster. I watched him, fascinated.

When that one was done, Lucas looked around wildly, and Ranulf threw him another container from the bag. Though I hadn’t warmed that one, he drank it just as quickly. As it fell to clatter on the floor, he didn’t go after one more—but he ran his tongue around his mouth, catching stray drops, then lifted his bloodstained fingers to his mouth to suck every last bit of it.

“Is that better?” I asked.

“Bianca.” Lucas turned to me, body remaining tense, but his expression no longer looked like that of an animal—it was his own. “That wasn’t some hallucination. You’re really here.”

“Really here. How do you feel?”

Instead of answering, Lucas pulled me roughly into his arms. The embrace was too hard, but it was human emotion, and for that I was grateful. His hands combed through my hair, which must have felt more or less real to him. I was very present in that moment.

I repeated, “How do you feel?”

“Better.” His words came haltingly. “Before, all I could think about was—no, I couldn’t think. I was just this hungry . . . thing.”

“You’re okay now.”

“As long as you’re with me.” His voice was tight, and I realized that he remained troubled. The blood hunger wasn’t his only problem. He shifted away from me, hanging on tightly to my hand, to look up at Balthazar and Ranulf. “I didn’t dream you two either.”

“Welcome to death,” Ranulf said cheerily. “It is not so bad once you get what is called the ‘hang of it.’ ”

“Thanks, buddy.” Lucas simply nodded at Balthazar; apparently he remembered the conversation they’d had. But then he froze, and his face twisted like he was about to be sick. I wondered if he’d drunk the blood too fast until he whispered, “Mom. Vic. I went after— I wanted—”

“Everybody’s fine. You didn’t hurt anyone.” I closed my fingers around his.

“I could have. I wanted to.” There was something in Lucas’s eyes that made me wonder if, instead of saying wanted, he’d nearly said want. “Mom’s never going to speak to me again.”

Balthazar folded his arms. “Do you really want to talk to her again, after the way she turned on you?”

“It doesn’t work like that,” I said. As bitterly as my parents and I had parted, I wanted to see them again every single day. When my eyes met Lucas’s, I could see he felt the same way. He understood Kate’s revulsion and distrust of his new nature; he shared them.

Ranulf stepped forward, helpful as ever. “Vic bears you no ill will. He is outside drinking the Dew of the Mountain and will be glad to see you yourself again.”

Lucas shook his head. “He can’t want to hang out with me after I went for his throat.”

“I believe that he is somewhat . . . overwhelmed by the day’s events, but he will not abandon you,” Ranulf said.

“None of us will.” I wanted to embrace him again, but Lucas remained distant, focused inward. When I glanced at Balthazar, he shook his head slightly, a warning for me not to push. The control Lucas had gained was temporary, and we all knew it.

“Can you guys give us a few minutes?” Lucas said, running one hand through his dark gold hair, which was even more mussed than Balthazar’s. “I’m glad to see you and everything, but Bianca and I have to talk.”

“Sure.” Balthazar nudged Ranulf. “Come on, we’ll help Vic with the home repair.”

After the door closed behind them, Lucas and I looked at each other, and the sadness of it struck me so hard it almost hurt. I found myself remembering a time a few years ago, when I’d first learned he was Black Cross. Once he’d escaped from Ever-night, we had faced one another through a pane of stained glass, unable to believe there was any way we could ever be together again. I could picture it so perfectly, each shade of the glass, as though it still hung between us.

“What was it like for you?” I asked. “Being dead?”

“I don’t remember anything about it.” Lucas leaned his head back against the leg of our folding table, giving in to the exhaustion that followed rising from the grave. We remained on the floor, unable to summon the will to move. “Just now, when Balthazar staked me—that sounds so weird to say—whatever. Well, after that, I dreamed. Thought I saw Charity chasing after us.” He half laughed, a bitter sound, and looked up at the ceiling. “The last thing I needed was her in my nightmares.”

I shivered. Charity looked innocent, with her youthful face and bedraggled, waiflike appearance; she was anything but. I figured I would have nightmares about her forever, too, if I could still dream. I wasn’t sure about that yet.

“What was it like for you?” he asked, focusing on me again. “Did you become a ghost right away, or was there some time between? It’d be nice to think you got a sneak preview of heaven.”

“No sneak previews.” I folded my arms atop my knees and rested my chin there. “I think I turned into a ghost pretty much instantly, but it took me awhile to realize what had happened. At first I just drifted in and out.”

“Do you think there’s an afterlife for vampires? Do they— do we all go to hell, if there’s a hell?”

“Don’t say that!”

“Holy water burns me. I’ll never be able to set foot on consecrated ground again,” Lucas said. “God’s made it pretty clear where he stands, don’t you think?”

I cupped his face with my hands. “I know you hate this, but there are ways to go on, to enjoy the years to come. Think about it: We’re immortal now. We lost each other once, but at least we never have to again.”

Lucas pulled away, breaking contact between us. Slowly he pushed himself to his feet. He walked a few steps farther into our makeshift apartment in the wine cellar, studying it as though he were seeing it for the first time: the hot plate, the air mattress on a bed frame, the cardboard drawers that held our things. There were times in the past few weeks when I’d thought this was the most perfect, romantic place on earth. Now it seemed shabby and small, its beauty our last shared illusion.

He said, “Bianca, I don’t know if I can do this.”

“You can.”

“You’re saying that because you want to believe it. Not because you do.”

“You’re giving up without even trying.”

Lucas turned to me, his eyes anguished. “I’m going to try. Jesus, Bianca, do you think I wouldn’t try for you? As much as I hate this—this hunger inside me, this cold, disgusting, dead feeling—if it means being with you, I’ll try.”

“You’ll make it. You’ll learn how to handle the hunger. I promise.”

“How is that supposed to happen?” He gestured at the empty blood containers on the floor. “That’s, what, three pints of blood? It’s as much as I can do right this second not to tackle that bag and drink the rest immediately. Already when I think about Vic outside—it’s not about Vic anymore, it’s about the fact that he’s alive and he’s got blood I could drink. In another few minutes—”

“We have more blood. Drink as much as you need. We can get more.” But that was a purely temporary solution, and we both knew it.

He needed hope, and only one suggestion gave us any hope. I laid aside my own objections and fears about my parents; Balthazar’s plan was the best we had.

“Classes start in two weeks,” I said. “At Evernight. You’re going to go back there.”

Lucas stared at me for a second, then thumped his head against one of the wine racks so that the bottles rattled. “Great. I’m already hearing things. Halfway to crazy.”

“You’re not hearing things. You’re enrolling in Evernight Academy again as a student, a vampire student this time, and they’ll take care of you.”

“Take care of me? Bianca, the last time I visited, I rode with the guys who burned the place down.”

I remembered what Balthazar had said and clung to it. “You’re a vampire now. If you ask for sanctuary, Mrs. Bethany has to give it to you. They might not be friendly, exactly, but they’ll give you a place to stay, and plenty of blood to drink, and advice about how to deal with the hunger. For weeks or months, however long you need.”

“Or years,” Lucas said. “Balthazar’s kept coming back for years.”

Balthazar had attended Evernight Academy for different reasons, ones more focused on the school’s true mission: helping young-looking vampires pass for human by keeping them up-to-date with the modern world. I wasn’t about to point that out to Lucas, though. The last thing he needed to hear was how well all the other vampires could manage.

Lucas added, “Besides, it doesn’t matter how much they hate me. We’re not going to Evernight Academy because it’s dangerous for you.”

“For me?” I had hardly had a moment to consider this, but Lucas was right. We knew from the events at school last year that Mrs. Bethany was no longer merely the headmistress at Evernight; she was also using the school as a means of finding— and perhaps capturing—ghosts like me. Why she was doing this remained a mystery, but there was no doubt that she loathed the wraiths. Whatever she was up to couldn’t be good for us.

Seeing realization dawn on my face, Lucas nodded. His expression had become truly grim. “I’ve already screwed things up so badly that you died,” he said. “No way am I ever going back to the one place where that situation could get even worse.”

What else could we do, though? I forced myself to be brave. “We’ll figure it out.”

“Don’t ask me to go there without you. I couldn’t take it.” Lucas said it simply, like it was obvious; if he was parted from me, the thin tether of will that kept him going would snap.

“You’re going to Evernight Academy, and I’m going with you.”

“Bianca, no. It’s too dangerous.”

“Lucas, yes.” He always wanted to protect me against every risk, but it was time for a reality check. “Is it more dangerous than my being a vampire in a Black Cross cell? I made it through that, and I’ll make it through this. Besides, there are wraiths who managed to be at Evernight without being destroyed by Mrs. Bethany. Maxie’s one of them. It can be done. At least I know to be careful.”

Lucas didn’t look convinced. “We could do something else. Lock me up someplace until I—”

“Until you stop wanting blood?” I kept my voice low, to soften the impact of my next words. “That’s not going to happen. And I’m not turning you into a prisoner in some basement somewhere. I’m telling you, we can do this. We can because we have to.”

“I don’t like it.”

“I don’t either, but I’ll be all right. You’ll have a structure there, a blood supply, other vampires who can help teach you how to handle this. Ranulf and Balthazar will go with you,” I promised. “And Vic’s going back, too, remember?”

His dark green eyes widened, and I knew that Vic wasn’t a source of comfort for him; he wasn’t a friend. He was prey.

Hurriedly, I added, “You’ll be able to be around Vic while others are there to help you. Eventually it’s going to seem easy.”

Lucas stared down at the floor, and I hated myself for being so glib, so casual. Maybe he would learn to bear it, but it would never be easy. It didn’t help either of us for me to pretend that it could.

I remembered what Balthazar had said, about vampires walking into a fire rather than going on. Lucas knew better than most how to destroy a vampire’s body.

“Okay. It won’t be easy,” I said. “It never has been. And that’s never kept us apart.”

He held out his arms, and I ran into them. Already his embrace had cooled, but it was still Lucas, still us.

Into my hair, Lucas whispered, “Will I only see you in my dreams?”

“As long as you have my brooch, I can get to you.”

He frowned, then pulled the brooch from his back pocket. The Whitby jet flower, ornately carved, had been a gift from him to me when we were first dating. He’d taken it with him when he went into the fight, to die; that was the only thing that had allowed me to reach him. “Why the brooch?”

“Things that wraiths bonded to strongly in life, meaningful things—like this brooch, or my bracelet, or the gargoyle outside the window of my old room—well, we can use them to travel. They’re like stops on a subway line; I can travel to them, just sort of appear wherever they are. The coral bracelet and the jet brooch are especially powerful, because they’re made out of materials that were once living creatures.” I closed his hand around the brooch. “So as long as you keep this with you, I’ll always be able to find you. See, you’ll still have a way to make sure I’m safe.”

“Evernight,” he said. “Okay.” I could tell I hadn’t convinced him as much as worn him down. He remained more frightened for me than for himself. But we truly had no other place to turn.

We hugged again, more tightly this time. How badly I wanted to believe that Lucas had found a reason to hope. Even as we embraced, though, I could tell he was looking over my shoulder, staring at the blood.