Karen Mahoney: The Eternal Kiss: Vampire Tales of Blood and Desire

Ryan Dugan stepped out from behind a tree that bordered the sidewalk she was on. He leaned against the trunk, brought a little box out of the pocket of his leather jacket, and flipped open a small, silver—

“Is that a lighter?” Becky asked, scowling.

“Yeah,” Ryan said, bringing a cigarette to his lips. “You got a problem with smokers?”

“Way to add to the bad-boy stereotype there,” Becky said, raising an eyebrow at his tone. “How did you get ahead of me anyway?”

“Back alley,” Ryan said, lighting his cigarette. “You know … the stereotypical bad-boy escape route.”

He pointed back over her shoulder.

“If you cut through the gym and across the playground you can hop the fence and skip most of the block,” he said, exhaling a cloud of smoke.

Becky fanned the cloud with her hand and wrinkled her nose.

“Where do you get the money for those anyway?” she asked.

“What is this, the Spanish Inquisition?” Ryan countered. He put a hand to his chest at her look of surprise that he’d mentioned precisely what had been on her assignment. “Wow, how about that? I actually do learn in school. Mr. Hair-off has a particular interest in the history of Spain, and he gives all the first-timers that assignment. So unless you want to learn more about the conquistadors and the Inquisition, I’d keep out of trouble if I were you.”

Becky wanted to laugh at Ryan’s use of the name everyone called the toupee-wearing Mr. Nairhoft behind his back, but thought it would only encourage him.

“What are you doing here, anyway?” Becky demanded, shifting her backpack nervously.

“You have my lucky pencil,” Ryan reminded her, holding out his hand.

“Right.” Becky rolled her eyes as she slung her pack off her shoulder. She pulled out the pencil in question and held it out to him. “Good to know you cut through the gym, across the playground, and jumped the fence just to rescue your pencil.”

“Hey, this is my lucky pencil!” Ryan defended, though Becky knew he wasn’t being serious. He reached for it and smiled a little as she held onto it for just a moment too long as he’d done to her when he’d first loaned it in detention. “For this I would even have rifled Hair-off’s office … which is where I got the cigs.”

Becky looked horrified. “You didn’t!”

Ryan grinned. “These things will kill you, you know. I did him a favor!”

He took a long drag off the cigarette, stabbed it out against the trunk of the tree, and put the remaining half back in the box. He tucked the box away in his pocket along with his silver lighter.

“Well, you looked like you were in a hurry, so …” Ryan gestured down the block as if to excuse her. “Stay out of trouble, huh? You don’t belong in detention with Hair-off and the rest of us delinquents.”

“How do you know I’m not just starting out on delinquency?” Becky asked smartly. “I hear all the cool kids are doing it.”

Ryan laughed.

“Yeah, and you’re just being cool, aren’t you? I’ve seen you around school, in class. You’re about as cool as a jalapeño. See you around, Hot Stuff,” he said, turning to go.

Becky blushed. Yeah … one of the “cool kids,” she wasn’t. She was surprised Ryan even knew who she was.

“I’m really sorry that whole pencil thing cost you another week with Mr. Nair … I mean Hair-off,” she blurted, shouldering her bag again.

Ryan waved a hand.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, walking away. “He won’t make it stick. Besides, some things are worth putting up with a little punishment.”

Funny , Becky thought, that sounds like what I was just thinking about Nana .

Becky hesitated for a moment, watching him go, and then turned back toward home, hurrying even more now. She thought about Ryan, and what he’d said—he’d seen her around? Sure, they had a couple of classes together, but she wasn’t the kind of girl anyone noticed. Just the opposite, really. The only reason anyone noticed her was because of Robin. Robin was the pretty one—the popular one.

Of course! That was probably how Ryan knew why she was in detention, Robin getting busted was the talk of the school, even though it had been Becky’s fault. Robin had only been trying to help.

That might explain how Ryan had known about her, but how had he known which way she was headed home afterward? She could have gone in any direction … unless he knew where she lived.

Becky shook her head, laughing at herself. He’d just guessed lucky or something. He didn’t know where she lived.

Did he?

Becky forgot about Ryan, and Mr. Hair-off, and detention and Robin the moment she walked through the front door of her house. It looked like Nana was having one of her “good days.” Becky was utterly relieved that everything was okay. Nana was sitting in her favorite chair, with Mishka on her lap. Mishka was a grouchy old cat—a big, white fluffy thing that needed lots of brushing. If Nana remembered nothing else, she remembered to brush Mishka.

Not that Mishka minded if she was brushed three or four times a day. That cat loved attention, and would happily sit all day in Nana’s lap being brushed. But only Nana’s lap. Mishka hated Becky, and the feeling was mutual. Mishka was Nana’s cat.

Becky stowed her backpack in the foyer and made sure the doors were locked and the stove off and everything else was safe before greeting her grandmother.

“Hi, Nana!” Becky said as she entered the living room.

“Oh, Becky, you’re home,” Nana said, smiling even though Becky knew she was confused. “Did you have a good day at school?”

Becky nodded as she always did. Even though today had been a horrible day at school, she still told her Nana that everything was fine.

“Do you have a lot of homework?” Nana asked, earning a glare from Mishka as she stood up.

“No, I got most of it done at school,” Becky answered honestly. You could get a lot done in three hours of detention after school. “And I’m really hungry. How about some dinner? It’s my turn to cook tonight.”

Nana’s brow furrowed.

“I thought you cooked last night.” She didn’t sound at all sure.

Becky really didn’t want to lie to her Nana, but Nana in the kitchen was dangerous. Becky cooked every night now, but let Nana think that she only cooked sometimes.

“I was really craving some spaghetti at school,” Becky hedged, steering the conversation away from who was going to do the cooking. “I thought that would be good for dinner. It’s easy to make—I know how.”

Nana nodded absently and went back to brushing Mishka. The cat glowered at Becky as if to say “Well? Go on, then. You’re not needed here.” Becky stuck her tongue out at the evil cat and went into the kitchen to start supper.

Half the dishes on the draining board had been wiped and put away when she heard an insistent pounding at the front door, like someone kicking it. Hard.

Becky scowled as she looked at the clock. It was nearly nine o’clock, and they never had visitors. Well, not anymore. Nana’s friends used to come by, when she could still remember who they were and what they’d been talking about. Becky never had friends over. Not that she had any besides Robin, but even if she did, she wouldn’t have them over anyway. Other people just upset Nana now.

The noise came again, and Becky looked over her shoulder toward the bathroom door. Nana was in there getting ready for bed. Becky hoped she couldn’t hear the racket.

Becky frowned and looked out the peep hole at the dark figure on the porch. She snapped on the porch light, and a blond head cringed away from the brightness with a grimace, but remained still. He kicked at the door again, and Becky could see why. The bloody, unconscious body of the dark-haired boy who had just that afternoon come to get his “lucky pencil” from her filled his arms.