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CHAPTER

TWELVE

The gym changing rooms smelled infinitely worse now that Theo was a vampire. He pinched his nose hard as he waited for Milly to pick up the phone.

“Come on,” he growled as it rang yet again. “Come on !”

“Hello?”

“Do vampires need human blood?” Theo blurted. “Like, is animal blood not enough? Because if that’s how it works, that’s stupid. Blood is blood!”

There was a long silence. Theo bounced from foot to foot, letting go of his nose. It was useless—he could taste the stale sweat every time he opened his mouth.

“Uh,” Milly said. There was the sound of something boiling in the background. Making dinner, Theo supplied. Like everybody in town who wasn’t in the gym right now, waiting for the basketball game to start.

“In a lot of lore they can survive on animal blood,” Milly said. “Human blood is just…better. Quenching in ways animal blood isn’t. I don’t know what our town lore says, that book I showed you is badly damaged, there isn’t?—”

Theo cut her off. “So you don’t have anything new?”

“I’m sorry. I thought you said your project was due in a few weeks?”

Theo tried to remember what Kade had told her while Theo was dragging him out by his shirt. He’d been tuning Kade out by then.

Somebody knocked on the gym bathroom door. Mr. Hawthorn’s voice drifted through: “Theo, are you still in there? Coach sent me. The game’s about to start.”

Theo ground his teeth.

“I have to go,” he snapped. “Thanks for your help.”

He shoved his phone into his bag, leaving it on the stained wooden bench as he stormed out.

Mr. Hawthorn blinked as the door slammed open. “Wow. The Wayside Hawks really have it coming.”

“We’ll kill ’em,” Theo said, barely keeping the tremble out of his voice. He had no leads. No clue where to look next. He still didn’t know how this vampire shit worked, or who turned him, or why, or who killed Lemmings, or if they wanted to kill him next. No idea why he burned Kade when he touched him. And his hunger just kept getting worse. He wasn’t sure how long he was going to be able to ignore it. It only got quiet in the days after he fed on Kade .

Mr. Hawthorn paused, halfway down the hallway. “You feeling alright?”

Theo ignored him. “You’re a history teacher.”

“Ye-es?”

“Do you know the stories about the hunters who stayed in Lock?”

“Stayed in Lock? They all cleared out once the vampires were dealt with. No more threat.”

“I heard there were other versions of the story. Old ones. Like, eighteen-hundreds.”

Mr. Hawthorn’s face lit up. “Oh! Sorry, I deal so much with the town-approved stuff I kind of forget about the unofficial versions. They don’t pay me to do dramatic retellings of that on Halloween.” He glanced behind him, toward the door. The gym would be full now, Theo could hear the chatter. They were facing the Wayside Hawks, Lock’s sports nemesis since before Theo was born.

“Can’t this wait?” Mr. Hawthorn asked. “Coach Cheech was pretty eager to get you out on the court.”

“Just tell me fast.”

Mr. Hawthorn chuckled. “Hope this sudden history passion will carry over to your assignments! Let’s see, hmmm. My grandparents had this story they heard as kids. Get this: it’s a love story.”

Theo nodded, digging his nails into his palm. Talk faster!

“There was this vampire woman and her lover. I can’t remember their names. The man was…god, I re ally don’t remember. And the woman…Cynthia? Cissy?”

“Cyth,” Theo offered, too fast.

Mr. Hawthorn gave him a surprised look. “That’s it! Anyhoo, she was the leader. Her lover was her second in command. Very loyal, they’d been alive for centuries. Anyway, when the hunters tracked them down, they caught Cyth and stuffed her in that burning coffin, but her lover escaped. He vowed to come back one day and find her. Over the next hundred years he came back to Lock with these outlandish plans, and none of them worked. They chased him off every time. Then around the turn of the century he vanished. Poof! Never seen again.”

“That we know of.” Theo swallowed, hunger pounding through his gut, up into his still heart. “Thanks, sir. I gotta go.”

“Of course.” Mr. Hawthorn raised an awkward fist, stepping out of the way for Theo to walk past him. “Go Nightfowls!”

The gym was overwhelming, all lights and noise. Adrenaline and salt hung heavy in the air, a hundred warm bodies in the stands. His parents, Aaron’s parents, all of them waiting eagerly. Felicity had gone home after detention, saying she didn’t get enough sleep the night before.

There was no Kade. Might see something lethally stupid, he’d sneered. He couldn’t even bother showing up? Sure, he looked ready to fall over in a puddle of his own sweat, but still ?—

“Fairgood,” Coach Cheech shouted from the sidelines. “What the hell are you doing?”

Theo blinked. The referee stood between him and the head of the opposing team, watching him expectantly.

“What?” Theo barked. “Throw the ball!”

The referee snorted, but threw. Theo bounded up, slapping the ball halfway down the court into Aaron’s gut. Aaron doubled over, breath slamming out of him, hands barely coming up in time to grab the ball.

Theo sprinted down the court toward him, weaving around the Wayside Hawks with an ease he’d ever had before. He was good, when he was alive. The best . But this was something else. The impressed murmur of the crowd rose to a roar as Theo caught the ball Aaron threw him, then leapt up to the basket.

Too high. Theo sailed up and up and up, past the net and then the backboard. Until it was less jump and more fly .

He dropped, twisting to throw the ball into the basket as he fell past it. He landed on the polished floorboards lightly, grinning as he turned to look how high up he’d gotten.

Theo whooped. The crowd whooped back, a few confused mumbles lost under the cheers. Theo glanced at his parents and found them clapping hard, no confusion, just pure pride. It made Theo want to jump a thousand feet, ten thousand. Enough of his parents’ applause and he could fly to the moon and back.

The ball went back to the opposition. Rusty Legard, a freckled senior with a perpetual scowl stood in front of Theo in the center of the court.

“Fancy jumps, rich kid,” Rusty jeered. He smelled like hair gel—not overwhelmingly, like Aaron, just a hint of it at the tips of his hair. His heart rate was already up, sweat beading under his armpits, a fine sheen coating his speckled neck. Theo wanted to yank his lightly gelled head to one side and?—

The whistle blew. Rusty tossed the ball at a teammate to his side, but Theo was too fast. He snatched it out of the air, speeding down the court. Four members of the Wayside Hawks crowded him, arms up, like that could stop him. Like Theo couldn’t plow right through them. Their arms were blood-warm and right there, the vulnerable crooks of their arms gleaming pale and unmarked…

A yell rang around the stands. Kill ’em!

I might, Theo realized, and it was like being doused with a bucket of ice water. Holy shit, I actually might.

More boys crowded in front of him, blocking, waiting, warmth radiating from their skin. Theo’s mouth filled with saliva. The ball creaked in his grip, rubber about to give way. He stood perfectly still, predator still, as the crowd screamed and teammates yelled for him to pass or go for the basket .

Theo’s head swam. He needed to get out of here. No, he needed to finish the game. He needed?—

A familiar scent cut through the crush of sweat and adrenaline. Theo jerked around to see Kade, sallow and lanky, wobbling around the corner of the gym hallway. He looked even worse than he did in detention, like he was seconds away from falling down right there on the floorboards.

“THEO,” boomed Coach Cheech from the sidelines. “WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR? THROW THE DAMN BALL!”

Kade grinned. His heartbeat thudded hard and loud, drowning everything else out.

“I need to go,” Theo said, barely audible over Kade’s thundering heartbeat.

Theo didn’t look at Coach Cheech, still yelling, as he stumbled off the court. He didn’t look at Aaron, who tried to get in the way and got pushed aside for his troubles. He didn’t look at his parents in the stands, the Fletchers next to them, their pride turning into something corrosive Theo would have to endure later.

He only looked at Kade. Gray eyes, chapped lips, long fingers shaking at his sides.

Theo barreled into the hallway, past the changing rooms, hauling Kade around the corner by his shirt. Theo expected a quip, some sharp barb, but there was nothing. Just a gasp, lost in the thud of the door to the disabled bathrooms shooting open .

Theo kicked it closed and shoved Kade into the mirror, blurring with speed.

Kade’s breath hitched. His pupils were dark pools, his heartbeat singing in Theo’s ears. Theo’s hunger mirrored in Kade’s face.

Kade twisted his head. His neck gleamed with sweat, vein pumping away underneath. That small mole glinted, dark and beautiful.

Theo lunged. Kade choked out a moan, but Theo barely heard it. He was lost in the taste. It was just like the first time, clutching Kade close, digging his fingers hard into his back, hardly noticing the smoke rising from Kade’s skin.

Too soon, Theo pulled back. He pressed a fumbling hand to the wound, another small noise slipping out of Kade’s slack lips as the sizzling stopped, the burn and tear turning to smooth skin.

Theo looked up.

The unhealthy pale tinge was gone from Kade’s skin. Gone, too, were the dull eyes. Kade’s gray eyes were bright, his cheeks glowing with a healthy flush. His hands were steady as they twisted in Theo’s shirt, his mouth twisting like he was trying to sneer but couldn’t get past the grin.

“Hey, blood boy,” he rasped. “We gotta talk.”