"Everything you know is wrong." When she just stared at him, he sigh ed ag ain and said, "Everything you think you know about vampires, you've picked up from books or TV. And it's all written by humans, I'll guarantee that . Nobody in the Night World would break the code of secrecy."
"The Night World. Where's the Night World?"
"It's not a place. It's like a secret society-for vampires and witches and werewolves. All the best people. And I'll explain about it later," James said grimly. "For now-look, it's simple.
I'm a vampire because my parents are vampires. I was born that way. We're the lamia."
All Poppy could think of was Mr. and Mrs. Rasmussen with their luxury ranch-style house and their gold Mercedes. "Your parents?"
"Lamia is just an old word for vampires, but for us it means the ones who're born that way," James said, ignoring her. "We're born and we age like humans-except that we can stop aging whenever we want.
We breathe. We walk around in the daylight. We can even eat regular food."
"Your parents," Poppy said again faintly.
He looked at her. "Yeah. My parents. Look, why do you think my mom does interior decorating? Not because they need the money. She meets a lot of people that way, and so does my dad, the society shrink. It only takes a few minutes alone with somebody, and the human never remembers it afterward."
Poppy shifted uncomfortably. "So you, um, drink people's blood, huh?" Even after everything she'd seen, she couldn't say it without half-laughing.
James looked at the laces of his Adidas. "Yes. Yes, I sure do,"
he said softly. Then he looked up and met her gaze directly.
His eyes were pure silver.
Poppy leaned back against the pile of pillows on her bed.
Maybe it was easier to believe him because the unbelievable had already happened to her earlier today. Reality had already been turned upside down-so, honestly, what did one more impossibility matte r?
I'm going to die and my best friend is a bloodsucking monster, she thought.
The argument was over, and she was out of energy. She and James looked at each other in silence.
"Okay," she said finally, and it meant everything she'd just realized.
"I didn't tell you this just to get it off my chest," James said, his voice still muted. "I said I could save you, remember?"
"Vaguely." Poppy blinked slowly, then said more sharply,
"Save me how?"
His gaze shifted to empty air. "The way you're thinking."
"Jamie, I can't think anymore."
Gently, without looking at her, he put a hand on her shin under the blanket. He shook her leg slightly, a gesture of affection.
"I'm gonna turn you into a vampire, kid."
Poppy put both fists to her face and began to cry.
"Hey." He let go of her shin and put an awkward arm around her, pulling her to sit up. "Don't do that. It's okay. It's bette r than th e alternative."
"You're . . . freaking . . . crazy," Poppy sobbed. Once the tears had started, they flowed too easilyshe couldn't stop them.
There was comfort in crying, and -in being held by James. He felt strong and reliable and he smelled good.
"You said you had to be born one," she added blurrily, between sobs.
"No, I didn't. I said I was born one. There are plenty of the other kind around. Made vampires. There would be more, but there's a law against just making any jerk off the str eet into one."
"But I can't. I'm just what I am; I'm me. I can't be-like that."
He put her gently away so he could look into her face. "Then you're going to die. You don't have any other choice. I checked around-even asked a witch. There's nothing else in the Night World to help you.
What it comes down to is: Do you want to live or not?"
Poppy's mind, which had been swamped in confusion again, suddenly fixed on this question. It was like a flashlight beam in a pitch-black room.
Did she want to live?
Oh, God, of course she did.
Until today she'd assumed it was her unconditional right to live. She hadn't even been grateful for the privilege. But now she knew it wasn't something to take for gr anted-and she also knew it was someth ing she'd fight for.
Wake up, Poppy! This is the voice of reason calling. He says he can save your life.
"Wait a minute. I've got to think," Poppy said tightly to James.
Her tears had stopped. She pushed him away completely and stared fiercely at the white hospital blanket.
Okay. Okay. Now get your head straight, girl.
You knew James had a secret. So you never imagined it was anything like this, so what? He's still James. He may be some godawful undead fiend, but he still cares about you. And there's nobody else to help you.
S he fo und herself clutching at James's hand without looking at h im. "W hat's it like?" she said through clenched teeth.
Steady and matter-of-fact, he said, "It's different. It's not something I'd recommend if there was another choice, but ...
it's okay. You'll be sick while your body's changing, but afterward you'll never get any kind of disease again. You'll be strong and quick-and immortal."
"I'd live forever? But would I be able to stop aging?" She ha d vis ions of herself as an immortal crone.
He grimaced. "Poppy-you'd stop aging now. That's what happens to made vampires. Essentially, you're dying as a mortal. You'll look dead and be unconscious for a while. And then ... you'll wake up."
"I see." Sort of like Juliet in the tomb, Poppy thought. And then she thought, Oh, God ... Mom and Phil.
"There's another thing you should know," James was saying.
"A certain percentage of people don't make it."
"Don't make it?"
"Through the change. People over twenty almost never do.
They don't ever wake up. Their bodies can't adjust to the new form and they burn out. Teenagers usually live through it, but not always."
Oddly enough, this was comforting to Poppy. A qualified hope seemed more believable than an absolute one. To live, she would have to take a chance.
She looked at James. "How do you do it?"
"The traditional way," he said with the ghost of a smile. Then, gravely: "We exchange blood."