Heather Terrell - Eternity (v5)

I was about to disagree—maybe Piper and Missy couldn’t take the heat of an AP class but they were no dummies in the scheming department—

when she blurted out, “Is everything al right, El ie?”

It was the question I’d been dreading. I real y hated to lie to Ruth outright. “Yeah, of course. Why do you ask?”

“You seem so distant sometimes.”

“I’m real y sorry, Ruth. It’s just that—” I started to trot out the excuse I’d prepared just for this occasion, when Ruth’s attention drifted off. She was staring at something or someone behind me. Wondering if she was trying to demonstrate just how inattentive I’d become, I twisted around to fol ow her gaze.

She openly gawked at a guy sitting in the red club chair in the corner of the coffee shop—the guy I’d nearly crashed into when I walked in. From afar, he appeared even cuter, since the distance muted the whole disconcerting quality. He held a cup of coffee and a newspaper like most of the other people in the store, but somehow they looked like movie props and his clothes looked like a costume. Because he was far too good-looking for Til inghast.

I spun back to Ruth to discuss him, and realized that she would disagree with any observation of him I might have. He mesmerized her. I literal y had to snap my fingers and cal her name before she tore her eyes away from him. And when she did, I was thankful he’d visited our coffee shop rather than the Starbucks across the street, whatever lingering eeriness I felt about him. Because the very presence of this strange man made Ruth forget al about her question.

Chapter Nineteen

That night, Michael and I lay in our field, spent from flying along the coast. My head rested on Michael’s arm as we stared up at the night sky. The grass was springy and soft after a light afternoon rain, almost as if we’d spread out a blanket. I felt so peaceful that I didn’t want to bring up my flash with Piper. But I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

“What’s wrong, El ie?”

Clearly my attempts to act normal weren’t working.

“I had this real y weird flash today, and I just can’t shake it.”

“What was it?”

I told him every detail of the vision I could remember. The exchange between Missy and Piper. The references to a plan. The strange guy lurking in the background. The fear that Piper experienced.

Michael listened careful y, and then asked, “Of al the flashes you’ve had, why should this one affect you so much?”

His reaction disappointed me; he didn’t seem particularly moved. Maybe I expected too much. Maybe I expected him to feel everything I felt. We were alike in so many ways.

“I don’t know. But I feel like I need to find out more and do something.”

He twirled a strand of my black hair in his fingers and then sighed. “Why, El ie? They’re such jerks. You don’t need to rescue Piper from anything.”

“It’s not Piper that I plan on rescuing. It’s the victim.”

“That’s very noble, El ie. But we’re not superheroes.”

I sat up. Michael had pul ed me away kicking and screaming from my somewhat happy oblivion into this new existence. He basical y made me acknowledge and embrace these “differences” of ours—and now he wanted me to ignore the impulse to help that came along with some of the flashes. This one especial y. “No, Michael, we’re not superheroes. But we’re something more than regular humans.”

“I know. But I don’t see why that obliges us to fly in and clean up whatever mess Missy and Piper are making.”

“Michael, I can’t ignore this compulsion to get involved. Don’t you ever feel it?” I had just assumed that he did. I’d never felt the urge to assist so intensely before, but I did experience it from time to time when a classmate transmitted a particularly troubling image to me.

“A little, I guess.”

“Ever since we started”—I gestured around the field—“al this, I’ve been getting the strong feeling that we should use our gifts for something other than our own entertainment. Like helping the people whose minds we read. Do you ever get that sensation?”

He paused for a second. I saw his hand reaching out to stroke mine, but I drew back a little. I didn’t want this conversation to be tainted by his touch; I was just too susceptible. “I guess I’ve been so wrapped up in you that I haven’t let those thoughts get much play,” he said.

For al my efforts to keep a physical distance, I felt like melting. Here was the guy of my dreams tel ing me that I so distracted him he couldn’t see straight. How could I be irritated with him? Especial y since I felt the same way.

Stil , I wanted him on board with me. Not just about this Piper and Missy incident. I wanted him to feel what I felt. And given al my parents’ training about helping out mankind, I was more than a little disappointed that he didn’t.

“If you did think about this idea—that we have some kind of obligation to others because of our differences—what would you think?”

Even in the darkness of the moonless night, I could see Michael smile at me. “I’ve never heard of do-gooder vampires,” he joked, to which I rol ed my eyes. “What would I think?” he continued. “I’l tel you what I do think. I think that I’m lucky that you are sharing this experience with me. And I think that I’l help you. Because, even though I don’t care about Piper and Missy, I care about you.”

I curled into the crook of his arm, and whispered, “Thank you.”

We talked for a moment about a game plan for gathering information and then Michael whispered, “El ie?”

“Yes?” I answered. His tone was so silky and inviting that I figured he was going to kiss me. He usual y did at the end of the night. But I was always careful to stop it there; those first experiences kissing him real y shook me up, and I didn’t want to lose control.

His lips tickled my cheek, and his sweet breath warmed me. I turned my face toward his, ready.

In that same honeyed voice, he said, “You know if we used their blood, we could find out nearly anything.”

“Michael,” I said in frustration. He knew how I felt about the whole blood thing. And anyway, I wanted a kiss, not another argument on this topic.

“Come on, El ie. It’d be a chance to try out its power.”

Other than those first few, unplanned occasions, I hadn’t tried Michael’s blood. Or let him try mine. I remembered the addictive headiness of its taste al too wel , and it scared me. I was afraid that, once I started, I wouldn’t be able to turn back. But I couldn’t tel Michael that.

“No.”

“It would be for a good cause,” he said suggestively, as he traced his finger up and down my arm.

“You’l try anything to persuade me, won’t you?”

He just smiled, unable to deny it.

“Let’s see if we can’t find another way,” I said and kissed his neck very lightly.

“Now who’s being persuasive?” he said, his voice growing thick.

It was my turn to smile.

He said, “Al right, we’l try it your way first. But promise you’l just consider—”

“I promise.”

I kissed him hard. I was so relieved and happy that he was on my side for the Piper thing, I let my guard down. Within seconds, we were wrapped in each other’s arms. I felt his tongue on mine, and I surrendered to the feeling of it. He must have sensed that I wouldn’t fight him, because I soon felt a tiny cut on my tongue and tasted the blood. His and mine. Together.

The sensation was pure pleasure, unlike anything I’d ever experienced. I closed my eyes and let the bliss wash over me. Until a flash—more like a vision than a memory—came. The light was blinding; I squinted in my mind’s eye. As my vision adjusted, I saw Michael and me standing on a pristine beach of white sand, arcs of light at our backs. We looked so beautiful, so serene. And then I noticed something real y peculiar.