Heather Terrell - Eternity (v5)

I felt the blood—his blood—course through me. It burned like the wine I’d snuck once at a wedding, making me feel weak and invincible at once.

As the blood surged through me, a breathtaking image seared my consciousness.

He broke away. “Tel me what you saw.”

A tiny droplet of blood remained on my lip. I licked it before answering. I wanted more.

With effort, I said, “I saw a beautiful winged woman.”

“Winged?” Michael looked confused.

I closed my eyes and tried to remember the image more clearly. “Wel , she didn’t have wings exactly. More like two arcs of light behind her shoulders.”

He nodded, as if that made more sense. “Did you recognize her?”

I suddenly realized who she was. “Yes, it was me.”

He smiled. “Do you believe me now that we are special?”

“Yes.” I did, even though it went against my parents’ teachings. Whether it was the heady influence of the blood or the flying or merely his proximity, it didn’t matter. I believed him.

Michael kissed me again. I could feel myself being overtaken by him. But a tiny, nagging question stood in the way of being total y engulfed by him. I broke away. “How did you discover the way blood affected you? I would never have known unless you showed me.”

Even though it was real y dark, my newly sharp eyesight al owed me to see him blush. “I took this girl to the junior prom last year, when we lived in Pittsburgh.”

“Yes?” I recoiled a little.

“Wel , we kissed at the end of the night and her tongue got cut by my teeth. You know how sharp they are—”

“Yes, I do.” I felt sick at the thought of Michael kissing another girl.

“I got the strongest sensation from it, much more powerful than anything I’d seen by touch. I learned something real y disturbing about her childhood, something she had never told anyone.”

“What was it?”

He hesitated. “Her dad used to hit her mom. They got divorced when she was little, but I got these real y clear images from her childhood. I felt so uncomfortable that I couldn’t even look her in the eye afterward.”

“I’m sorry I made you tel me.” Although I wasn’t sorry that he couldn’t bear to be around her after the incident.

He hugged me. “Don’t apologize, El ie. It’s critical that we tel each other everything. Even real y unpleasant things, okay?”

“Okay.” I paused, weighing whether I should share my “unpleasant” speculation with him. There would never be a better time. “Then I should probably tel you that I think your vampire theory is off the mark. I did a little research, and I don’t think we fit the bil of straight-from-the-grave, bloodsucking ghouls. We must be something else.”

He grew quiet. “We don’t have to resemble movie-character vampires to qualify, El ie. We fly, and I don’t think you can deny the unique sway of blood over us. I don’t know how the whole ‘flash’ thing fits in, but real y, what else could we be?”

I had no idea, but from Michael’s tone, I could tel he didn’t want an argument. I kept quiet. I didn’t want to taint the magic of the night with the questions about our nature.

His tone softened, and he squeezed me tight. “Anyway, what does it matter? We have each other, and we’re the same. Whatever we are.” He gave me a mischievous smile. “Even if I stil think we’re vampires.”

In a way, he was right about it not mattering. Soon enough, we’d have to figure out who—or what—we were. So I relaxed into his arms and let my questions rest. For the moment, I al owed myself to just be, whatever I was—with Michael.

Chapter Seventeen

I did transform, though the change did not happen overnight. I discovered that, as I acknowledged the existence of my powers to myself, they grew.

A new El ie struggled to come into being sooner than I imagined possible, one that liked the gifts—the differences—that surged beneath the surface. Almost as if she’d been sleeping for a long, long time and had final y awakened.

At first, I managed to keep the two parts—the powerful nighttime self and the ordinary daytime self—completely separate. But then, my nocturnal side began to creep into the day. As I walked down the school hal ways, I felt the power race through my fingertips, and a war began to simmer beneath my seemingly normal surface. I knew I had the ability to see the other kids’ true identities and darkest secrets—and I itched to do it.

Sometimes, it was al I could do to stop myself from reaching out and touching them, even helping them with their secret problems. Was this compulsion part of whatever I was? It was heady, tempting stuff, and I could barely maintain the facade of the old El ie.

But I had to keep up appearances; otherwise my dual existence would unravel. This meant stopping for coffee with Ruth and having dinner with my parents, as wel as paying attention in class and laboring at my homework. As if nothing had changed. Even though I’d tried to keep my normal routines with Ruth—lunch every day, coffee after school on Fridays, even the Odeon—I knew that the veneer wasn’t without cracks. I had a whole life with Michael from midnight to five A.M.—not to mention a whole new secret self—and it made regular activities chal enging, to say the least. The role-playing made me feel exhausted and conflicted, particularly around Ruth, with whom I’d vowed to share everything.

One morning, after the ongoing torture of Miss Taunton’s class, I stopped in the bathroom on the way to calculus. I needed a minute alone to compose myself.

The bathroom looked empty, but as I washed my hands, I thought I heard an odd noise in the back stal . I turned off the water and waited a minute in silence. The total quiet made me doubt myself. I reached for the faucet to finish cleaning up when I heard a stifled sob.

The girl must have thought the stil ness signaled my departure, because the stal door slammed open a second later. Out stepped Piper.

I was so shocked to see a pretty, popular girl crying in the school bathroom stal that I froze. Girls like her never showed weakness, at least not during school. When I final y regained my composure, my compassion, and my manners, I asked, “Are you al right, Piper? Here, let me get you something.” I rushed over to the paper towel dispenser. Although Piper and I usual y ignored each other in school, we had long maintained a civil, albeit secretive, relationship outside of it.

The typical school Piper resurfaced, and she waved her hand dismissively as if I was her servant. “No, no, El ie. I’m fine. I’ve just got something in my eye.” I hated it when she reverted to her school behavior, as if I didn’t know the other side of her.

I caught a glimpse of her in the bathroom mirror as she patted down her face. A wayward eyelash could not possibly explain her swol en eyes, tear-streaked cheeks, and blotchy nose. If it had been any of her jerky friends, for whom I couldn’t muster up a shred of sympathy, I might have laughed at the lame excuse. But I couldn’t mock Piper under the circumstances.

“Come on, Piper. You look real y upset. Can I do anything to help?”

She stopped her ministrations and gave me a cold, hard stare. “Yes, you can.”

“What can I do?”

“Don’t tel anyone that you saw me in here crying.” And with that command, she pul ed out her makeup bag and started to powder her mottled face.

“Tel who? Ruth?”

“I don’t care about Ruth.” She waved her hand dismissively. Then her voice changed. “But everyone knows that you and Michael Chase are seeing each other. Don’t tel him, okay? He knows a lot of the guys. He could real y spread it around if he wanted to.”

Piper wouldn’t care so much if her friends weren’t the source of her tears. I was real y curious to know what they did to cow the indomitable Piper.