Page 127 of Wicked Hungry

“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?”