The kiss hardened—became painful.
Jack’s hand that had been so gently resting on Damien’s shoulder was suddenly viselike, holding him in place so that he couldn’t move when Jack wrenched his lips from their kiss. Jack snarled, baring his teeth—and then his free hand was snaking around Damien’s neck—
“Aaah!” Other Jack shrieked, jerking his hand away from the slim strand of turquoise it had found.
Damien stood so fast that he overturned his chair. Duchess moved quickly, too, positioning herself between Jack and Damien, though she didn’t growl and she didn’t threaten. She simply sat there, looking at Jack as she whined pitifully.
Other Jack cradled his hand against his stomach and used his legs to push himself backwards on the bed. “Go. And take her away, too. I don’t want either of you to see me like this.” His voice was rough, and Damien could see the red glow of his changed eyes.
“No.”
“Go on! I’m a monster! And I can’t help myself even though I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” he sobbed brokenly.
“I’m not going anywhere.” Damien took the blood jug from the bedside table and tossed it to Jack, who caught it with the preternatural speed of a predator. “And you’re not a monster. You’re sick. That’s all. And I believe we’re going to figure out a way to make you well.”
“You should stay away from me until then. I can’t control myself.” He unscrewed the cap of the jug and downed the rest of the liquid thirstily.
“Jack, you did control yourself.”
Jack swallowed, wiped his lips, and then looked down at his hand, which was red and blistered, but was already beginning to heal. “What was that?”
Damien righted his chair and sat down, petting Duchess reassuringly. “Turquoise infused with the love of a grandma.”
Jack looked at Damien. His eyes were already beginning to fade from red back to hazel. “It hurt me.”
“Not you. It hurt the Darkness inside you that’s making you sick. Do you really want us to leave?”
“No,” Jack’s voice was muted, broken. “But you should. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t. We won’t let you—Duchess, Grandma, and me.”
“You really won’t leave?”
“Not unless you truly want me to,” Damien said.
“Please don’t,” Jack said so faintly Damien almost didn’t hear him. “I’m so tired of being alone.”
“Then I won’t leave.” He bent and opened the picnic basket, taking out the thermos and the two cut-crystal wine glasses.
“Ooooh, those are so pretty!” Jack said, sounding more and more like himself.
“They are lovely, aren’t they? Here, one is for you.” He offered it to Jack, who hesitantly scooted to the edge of the bed to take it. Then Damien opened the thermos and poured them both full glasses of the warm red liquid that filled the room with the enticing fragrance of fresh blood.
Damien watched Other Jack carefully. His eyes began to change color, but as soon as he drank from the glass they faded again. Remembering what Grandma had said, Damien felt around in the bottom of the basket and found a fresh Himalayan chew, which he tossed to Duchess. She caught it neatly, then jumped up on the foot of Jack’s bed, circled a few times, and with a happy sigh, lay down and began to chew.
“I really, really like her.” Jack spoke in a hushed voice, as if he was afraid of startling Duchess, but all the big lab did was wag her tail.
“You always have,” Damien said. Then he looked back in the basket, and pulled out the copy of Last Seen Leaving. “You know what else you’ve always liked?”
Jack sipped from the wine glass before saying, “No, tell me.”
“You’ve always liked it when I read to you.”
“You’ve never read to me before.”
“Seriously?”
Jack nodded. “Yep. You were too busy studying or writing papers and such.”
“Well, I’m not too busy now. Would you like me to read to you?”
“Yeah, I would.” Jack took the thermos from where Damien had put it on the night table and refilled his glass. “But I’m going to fall asleep as soon as the sun sets. I can’t help it.”
“Then I’ll sit here and read you to sleep.”
Jack’s eyes were shining again, but this time with unshed tears. “Will you be here when I wake up, too?”
“Always,” Damien told him firmly. “Always, my love.” Then he opened the book and began reading, “Last Seen Leaving by Caleb Roehrig. Chapter One. ‘Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely.’—Edna St. Vincent Millay. There was a corpse in my neighbor’s front yard …”
19
Aphrodite
The Escalade pulled up in front of Aphrodite, the newly applied chains on its tires making a god-awful sound against the blowing snow as it slid to a stop. The passenger’s door opened and Darius peered out at her in the gray light of a predawn blizzard.
“You are not going to walk. I do not care what you say, and I do not care that you have that electric gun. I am taking you. I am picking you up. Get in.”
Aphrodite sighed, but climbed into the SUV. “You sound pissed.”
“I sound annoyed.”
“Nope, pissed. I know pissed. I do it well.” She leaned across the seat and kissed his cheek, nuzzling him intimately. “But thank you.”
Darius caressed her hair back from her face and kissed her properly. “You are welcome.” Then he started slowly forward, picking his way carefully through the parking lot, heading to the school’s gate that opened to Utica Street.
“How did you know I was going to walk to the hospital?”
“Zoey told me. And I could feel you. I knew you were up to something.”
“You know me well,” she said.
“Are you certain it is a good idea for you to visit your mother?”
“Actually, I’m pretty certain it isn’t a good idea. But she’s going to die in three days. I think that means I have to visit her. Those are the mother-daughter rules.”
“I believe that rule holds only when a mother truly acts like one,” Darius said.
“Well, she’s the only mother I have, so she’s going to have to do. Plus, I’m not going to see her for her sake. I’m going for me. I don’t ever want to be sorry that I didn’t when I could.” Aphrodite studied Darius’ profile as he concentrated on the snow-covered road. “I’ve never asked you about your parents. What are they like?”