Page 106 of Life and Death

I knew it wasn’t normal, facing death like this without any real sense of fear. It wasn’t that I was super brave, I knew that. It was just that I wouldn’t have chosen differently, even knowing it would end this way.

She looked angry again, but I didn’t think she was angry with me. “Of course there’s hope. Of course I won’t . . .” She left the sentence hanging. Her eyes felt like they were physically burning mine. “It’s different for us. El . . . these were strangers she happened across. It was a long time ago. She wasn’t as practiced, as careful as she is now. And she’s never been as good at this as I am.”

She fell silent, watching me intently as I thought it through.

“So if we’d met . . . oh, in a dark alley or something . . .”

“It took everything I had—every single year of practice and sacrifice and effort—not to jump up in the middle of that class full of children and—” She broke off, her eyes darting away from me. “When you walked past me, I could have ruined everything Carine has built for us, right then and there. If I hadn’t been denying my thirst for the last . . . too many years, I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself.”

She stared at me grimly, both of us remembering.

“You must have thought I was possessed.”

“I couldn’t understand why. How you could hate me, just like that . . .”

“To me, it was like you were some kind of demon, summoned straightfrom my own personal hell to ruin me. The fragrance coming off your skin . . .I thought it would make me deranged that first day. In that one hour, I thought of a hundred different ways to lure you from the room with me, to get you alone. And I fought them each back, thinking of my family, what I could do to them. I had to run out, to get away before I could speak the words that would make you follow. . . .”

She looked up then, her golden eyes scorching from under her lashes, hypnotic and deadly.

“You would have come,” she promised.

I tried to speak calmly. “No doubt about it.”

She frowned at our hands. “And then, as I tried to rearrange my schedule in a pointless attempt to avoid you, there you were—in that close, warm little room, the scent was maddening. I so very nearly took you then. There was only one other frail human there—so easily dealt with.”

It was so strange, seeing my memories again, but this time with subtitles. Understanding for the first time what it had all meant, understanding the danger. Poor Mr. Cope. I flinched at the thought of how close I’d come to being inadvertently responsible for his death.

“But I resisted. I don’t know how. I forced myselfnotto wait for you,notto follow you from the school. It was easier outside, when I couldn’t smell you anymore, to think clearly, to make the right decision. I left the others near home—I was too ashamed to tell them how weak I was, they only knew something was very wrong—and then I went straight to Carine, at the hospital, to tell her I was leaving.”

I stared in surprise.

“I traded cars with her—she had a full tank of gas and I was afraid to stop. I didn’t dare to go home, to face Earnest. He wouldn’t have let me go without a fight. He would have tried to convince me that it wasn’t necessary. . . .

“By the next morning I was in Alaska.” She sounded ashamed, as if she was admitting some huge display of cowardice. “I spent two days there, with some old acquaintances . . . but I was homesick. I hated knowing I’d upset Earnest, and the rest of them, my adopted family. In the pure air of the mountains it was hard to believe you were so irresistible. I convinced myself it was weak to run away. I’d dealt with temptation before, not of this magnitude, not even close, but I was strong. Who were you, an insignificant human boy”—she grinned suddenly—“to chase me from the place I wanted to be? Ah, the deadly sin of pride.” She shook her head. “So I came back. . . .”

I couldn’t speak.

“I took precautions, hunting, feeding more than usual before seeing you again. I was sure that I was strong enough to treat you like any other human. I was arrogant about it.

“It was unquestionably a complication that I couldn’t simply read your thoughts to know what your reaction was to me. I wasn’t used to having togo to such circuitous measures, listening to your words in Jeremy’s mind. . . .His mind isn’t very original, and it was annoying to have to stoop to that. And then I couldn’t know if you really meant what you were saying, or just saying what you thought your audience wanted to hear. It was all extremely irritating.” She frowned at the memory.

“I wanted you to forget my behavior that first day, if possible, so I tried to talk with you like I would with any person. I was eager, actually, hoping to decipher some of your thoughts. But you were too interesting, I found myself caught up in your expressions . . . and every now and then you would move and the air would stir around you. . . . The scent would stun me again. . . .

“Of course, then you were nearly crushed to death in front of my eyes. Later I thought of a perfectly good excuse for why I acted at that moment—because if I hadn’t saved you, if your blood had been spilled there in front of me, I don’t think I could have stopped myself from exposing us for what we are. But I only thought of that excuse later. At the time, all I could think was,Not him.”

She shut her eyes, her expression agonized. For a long moment she was silent. I waited eagerly, which probably wasn’t the brightest reaction. But it was such a relief to finally understand the other half of the story.

“In the hospital?” I asked.

Her eyes flashed up to mine. “I was appalled. I couldn’t believe I had put us in danger after all, put myself in your power—youof all people. As if I needed another motive to kill you.” We both flinched as that word slipped out, and she continued quickly. “But the disaster had the opposite effect. I fought with Royal, El, and Jessamine when they suggested that now was the time . . . the worst fight we’ve ever had. Carine sided with me, and Archie.” She frowned sourly when she said his name. I couldn’t imagine why. “Earnest told me to do whatever I had to in order to stay.” She shook her head, a little indulgent smile on her lips.

“All that next day I eavesdropped on the minds of everyone you spoke to, shocked that you kept your word. I didn’t understand you at all. But I knew that I couldn’t become more involved with you. I did my very best to stay as far from you as possible. And every day the perfume of your skin, your breath . . . it hit me as hard as the very first day.”

She met my eyes again, and hers were oddly tender.

“And for all that,” she continued, “I’d have fared better if Ihadexposed us all at that first moment, than if now, here—with no witnesses and nothing to stop me—I were to hurt you.”

“Why?”