Wicked Hungry (27 page)

Suddenly, Nye groans.

“You’re injured, Neiran,” Morgaine says. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“But I did,” I say. “I just told you. A crossbow dart.”

Nye’s face has grown even paler; I wouldn’t have thought that was possible. He staggers and falls down into a chair, squeezing his wound.

“We thought perhaps you could heal him, Morgaine,” Connor says.

“Of course,” she says. “If it’s not too late. We’ll let the others sleep now.” But then she catches sight of Karen holding her arm.

“But he is not the only wounded. Hail, Sister of the Night.”

Karen nods her head. “It’s nothing, really, just a scratch.”

“We’ll see about that in a moment.”

Her hands are already on Nye’s shoulder. She probes the wound, pulling apart the soft cloth. She lays her hand on the wound and gasps.

“What?” says Blaine.

“Poisoned. This is wicked work, here. I would have thought the Seelie court...”

Nye has his teeth clenched, but doesn’t move as she continues probing him with her pale white fingers, blackened by his blood.

“Can I suck out the poison?” she asks quietly, her voice barely audible.

“Milady, I—”

“There’s no other way?” Blaine asks.

Morgaine shakes her head. “He’ll be dead in minutes, before we can get to the shop and my stores. Which won’t help him anyway, if we can’t get the poison out of him.”

“But the taint—”

Morgaine scowls at her husband. “You know as well as I that the Fair Folk are immune to the taint. I can’t turn him, and neither can you. But if I don’t act fast, he’ll die.”

Has Nye already turned paler? Or is it just all this talk of death?

“Do it, then, and quickly,” growls Blaine.

Is he jealous? Or just concerned?

“Do I have your leave, then, Neiran?” she asks, her voice quiet and sweet as her lips approach his shoulder.

“Milady, I—”

She puts her finger to his lips. “Yes or no — time presses.”

He nods his head, and she puts her lips to his wound.

Nye’s eyes open wide and he gasps. His body jerks once, twice, yet her mouth stays against his shoulder, her arms clamped against his arm like a vise. Then, finally, she lets him go and turns, her face purple, to spit black blood onto the floor.

“Milady, I must thank—”

“I’m not done,” she says, and grabs him again, reattaching her bloody face to his shoulder, and Nye groans, his eyes rolling up, and starts to fall. She follows him down, quick like Karen, catching his head before it hits the wood floor, cushioning his fall. She spits one last time onto the ground. Then she gives one, last tentative lick with the tip of her tongue.

“His blood is clean,” she says, standing back up. “Now, Karen, let me see your arm.”

I look back at Karen. Here eyes are wild, her face flushed. Is it the poison in her wound or watching Morgaine do her work? There’s no way of knowing. Karen hisses as Morgaine approaches, and Morgaine does a double take, standing up straight, hissing, too.

“What?” I ask. “What’s going on, Karen? She wants to heal you.”

“I saw her...
feed
on him,” Karen says, backing away from Morgaine. “There’s black blood still on her lips, on her face. She’s killed him.”

Morgaine shakes her head. “You saw what you expected to see, Karen. I’ve had no feeding here — I’ve drunk nothing. You’ll find all the blood and poison down there on the floor. Now, let’s have a look, and then I can clean up and get this dirty blood off of me.”

But Karen shakes her head, covering the wounded arm with her uninjured hand. Still, her movements are slow and sluggish — what’s happened to the red blur she was before?

“Karen,” I say, reaching out to her. “Let her see the wound.”

Karen turns to me, looks me unsteadily in the eyes. “Only if you hold me.”

“If I hold you?” I ask stupidly.

“I’ll feel safer,” Karen says. “We don’t have to touch skin to skin. Just put your arms around me, Stanley. Hold me in your arms from behind, and don’t let me struggle.”

Everyone is watching us. It must be really hard for her to ask me this. Am I just going to stand there like an idiot, or am I going to do the right thing? I want to reach out and hold her like she wants me to, but it’s scary. Scary partly because she’s a vampire now, but mostly scary because she’s always been so strong and sure of herself when I was scared, and now she’s the one who’s weak. But she groans then, despite herself, her teeth clenched, and I act without thinking. She’s in my arms now, held from behind. And she’s so hot; instead of her normal cold, she’s hotter than me. Her red hair is in my face.

Everyone is just kind of frozen, looking at us. Everyone who’s awake, that is.

“Morgaine, please,” I say.

Then she’s all action. She grabs Karen’s arm, pulling her shirt away, ripping it in her haste. I hold Karen tightly like she asked, in case she struggles, but she’s almost limp in my grasp. How could someone so fast and strong become so weak so quickly?

“I need to lay my lips upon you, Sister,” Morgaine says.

“Drink, then,” whispers Karen. “But be quick. All I want is to... sleep.”

If she falls asleep now, she’ll die — I can just feel it. I hold her tighter, willing her to live. “Come on, Karen,” I say. “You can do it.”

Her body is so hot against mine; she’s burning up.

Morgaine puts her lips to Karen’s arm and starts to draw blood, then pulls back, spitting and gasping.

She shakes her head, her eyes wild with shock.

Karen goes limp and sighs once, leaning back into my arms. I let her head fall into my lap. “Kiss me, Stanley,” she whispers. “Kiss me one last time, like you kissed Meredith.”

Gently cradling her, I move my lips down to her lips. They are so full, and my senses fill with roses.

But the roses are black.

Her lips burn against mine, and she bites my lip, draws blood, then shudders and is still.

I try to kiss her again, but there is no response. I hug her, shake her. Nothing. I feel hands on me and look up.

Morgaine shakes her head. “I could taste her death in her blood,” she says.

“Zach did this,” I say. “With my
athame
.”

“I’m so sorry,” Morgaine says.

“Maybe he’s drugged her?” I say. “Turned her into a zombie?”

But she shakes her head again. Karen’s body grows cold against me, but it’s not the cold of vampires; it’s the rigid cold of death.

“But she’s a vampire,” I say, looking earnestly at Morgaine. “She can’t die, right? Not without a stake to the heart.”

But Morgaine is shaking her head. “There may only be one way for humans to kill our kind,” she says. “But there are all too many other ways for the Fair Folk.”

I’m growling now, my hackles rising as I hold her cold body in my arms. Beside me Max stands, hissing. For once, we are together.

“You’re lying to me,” I say. “You’re lying to me, because she knows things you don’t want her to know. You want her dead. This is all a trick, isn’t it? More of your witchery.”

Morgaine shakes her head slowly. “I’m sorry, Stanley. I’m really, really sorry.”

“Where are my friends?” I ask, looking around. Maybe Jonathan will have some ideas. Or Enrique. There must be something that can be done. Morgaine can’t be right. Karen can’t really be dead. Not dead-forever dead.

Morgaine nods to Blaine, who walks out of the room. “They are waiting for you outside. It won’t be a moment.”

“What time is it, anyhow?”

“Just a few minutes past midnight.”

“But that’s not possible!” I say. “We were gone for so long.”

“Time passes differently in different realms,” Connor says. “You know that.”

“I don’t know
anything
,” I say, still holding fiercely to Karen. “I’m not even sure Morgaine helped Nye. Look at him lying there. She probably killed him, too.”

“Stanley,” Connor says, touching my arm. “Stanley, you need to let it go. Karen’s dead, but Morgaine didn’t kill her. She tried to save her. And she saved Nye.”

Neiran groans on the floor, sits up. “Am I still alive?”

Connor helps him up.

“The poison,” Nye says. “It’s gone.” He looks around wildly, then sees Morgaine, drops to his knees at her feet. “Milady, you saved my–”

Once again she stops him with a finger to the lips, nodding toward me. Toward Karen.

“Oh,” Nye says, standing unsteadily and looking at Karen, then at me. “Is she hurt?”

“Dead,” I say. “She’s dead.”

Max starts to lick my hand.

And I let the tears flow.

I
don’t really see when Enrique and Jonathan come in. They kind of hover around me. I mean, I can feel their presence, and it’s a small comfort in the coldness where I’m stuck. But I can’t really see anything, except these memories of Karen that keep running through my head, like some kind of infinite film loop. Playing cards at my party. Sitting with her in Burger King. All the labs together in science.

Holding her hand those two times. The warnings she gave me.

There’s a hand on my shoulder. I turn. It’s Jonathan.

“I’m sorry, Stanley.”

“Is that all anyone can say?” I ask.

“Dude,” Jonathan says. “There’s nothing else to say.”

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“They’ve come for her,” Enrique says. “And we need to go home.”

“Who’s come for who?” I ask, confused.

“Her sisters,” Morgaine says, coming back into the room. “They’ve come for Karen.”

“Sisters?” I ask. “Karen’s an only child.”

Morgaine looks at me patiently. “Stanley,” she says. “They’re her sisters of the night. You know she wasn’t alone.”

“No,” I say. “She needs to go to her parents.”

“How will that help?” she asks. “Her parents will never understand. It will drive them crazy.”

“Oh,” I say. “And what’s the other option? Karen just disappeared? Ran away?”

“You need to let her go, Stanley,” Enrique says. “You really need to let her go.”

That’s when I realize that I’m still holding on to her cold, stiff body.

I let her down, slowly, to the ground. She seems light, and cold. Why won’t she get up and wink at us and tell us this is all some bad joke?

“They can’t come inside here,” Morgaine says.

“What do you want me to do?” I ask.

“Do you want to carry her?” Enrique asks. “Or we can carry her together. They’re waiting for her outside.”

“Now?” I ask.

“Now,” Jonathan says. “Come on, dude, we’ll help you.”

“No.” I shake my head. “I’ll carry her.”

I stand up and pick her up. None of this is fair. I want to shout and growl and scream and squeeze my hands into tight fists. But instead I just pick her up. She seems light as a feather. Maybe it’s just my anger. I follow Morgaine out of the room, out of her house, out into the night. I can feel Enrique and Jonathan behind me.

There are three of them just outside the house, but I can feel more all around. Waiting. Sisters of the Night. Where are the brothers, or are there none? I cradle Karen’s body in my arms. What will they do with her? I look at the three of them, staring at me, impassive, their faces as white as snow, their lips dark blue, almost black.

“My name is Sarah,” says the vampire in the front. She looks all of fourteen or fifteen, but what does that matter? Her looks, I mean. She could be a hundred for all I know.

“What are you going to do with her?” I ask.

Around me I feel anger. The two vampires behind Sarah hiss, but she raises her hand and the night is silent.

“Our rites are secret,” she says. “I’m sorry.”

“But how do I know—”

“You know she is one of us. Forever. Only we can help her on her next journey.”

“And her parents?”

“We’ll do what we can to ease the pain,” Sarah says. “Nothing’s been decided yet. This is sudden for all of us.”

“And her friends?”

“She had us,” Sarah says. “And she had you. We can still see the mark. I know she loved you, Stanley. I’m very sorry.”

“Everybody’s sorry, but that doesn’t change much. She’s still dead, isn’t she?”

“Yes,” Sarah says. “She is.”

What would Karen have wanted? She wanted me to hold her one last time, didn’t she? What now? I kiss her lightly one last time on her cold lips.

And feel... nothing. Just this black emptiness all around me.

I look up at them. They stare at me, impatient in their patience. They can move so fast or just stand immobile like that, without moving a muscle, without blinking an eye.

What are they feeling?

“What do I do, now?”

“I’ll take her, Stanley.”

My arms hold Karen up in front of me and Sarah reaches out, pulls the body to her. For a moment I want to hold on, to keep her with me. But then something breaks inside me and I let go, and there are tears in my eyes again.

“Goodbye,” I say.

“Goodbye,” the vampires say, though I wasn’t talking to them.

M
y mother is standing over me. I have no idea how she got there, but she is not alone. There are many more women all around us.

“I’m so sorry, Stanley,” she says.

“Mom, what’s going on?”

“She called the coven,” my mother says. “We gathered in the forest, did a ritual to reach you.”

“Who?” I ask, wiping away tears. “Did what?”

“Morgan. She called the coven. And we came.”

“Too late, really.”

She shakes her head. “I’m sorry, Stanley. We did what we could.”

“It’s all my fault,” I say.

“You saved lives. And your brother’s cat. That’s something.”

“My friend died,” I say. “But I saved a cat.”

She waits there for a moment. Maybe she’s waiting for me to cry some more. But I’m all cried out for the moment.

“Stanley?” she says finally. “I’m sorry, but I need you to look me in the eyes.”

Does she want to see my tears? I shake my head, angry.

She reaches out, grabs my shoulder. I try to shake her off, but she holds tight. Max is mewling for attention at my feet. He’s all skin and bones. Maybe I’m not the only one who’s hungry. Not the only one who’s suffered.