Cliff was everything Poppy's father wasn't: responsible, disciplined, hardworking. He fit in perfectly with Poppy's mom and Phil. So perfectly that sometimes Poppy felt like the odd one out in her own family.
"I miss Dad," Poppy said softly.
"I know. Sometimes I do, too," her mother said, surprising her.
Then she said firmly, "We'll find him, Poppy. As soon as he hears, he'll want to come."
Poppy hoped so. She didn't suppose she'd get a chance to see him-after.
It wasn't until an hour or so before dinnertime, when Phil and Cliff were out doing errands, and her mother was taking a nap, that Poppy got the chance to call James.
"I'll come right over," he said. "I'll let myself in." Ten minutes later he walked into Poppy's bedroom.
Poppy felt strangely shy. Things had changed between her and James. They weren't simply best friends anymore.
They didn't even say "Hi" to each other. As soon as he came in, their eyes caught and met. And then, for an endless moment, they just looked at each other.
This time, when Poppy felt the quick pang in her chest that always came when she saw James, it was a throb of pure sweetness. He cared about her. She could see it in his eyes.
Wait a minute, hang on, her mind whispered. Don't jump the gun here. He cares about you, yes, but he didn't say he was in love with you. There's a difference.
Shut up, Poppy told her brain soberly. Aloud, she said, "How come you didn't want Phil to know you were here?"
James threw his light windbreaker over a chair and sat down on Poppy's bed. "Well-I just' didn't want to be interrupted," he said with a gesture of dismissal. "How's the pain?"
"It's gone," Poppy said. "Isn't that weird? It didn't wake me up at all last night. And there's something else. I think I'm starting to-well, read people's thoughts."
James smiled slightly, just one corner of his mouth up. "That's good. 1 was worried-" He broke off and went to turn Poppy's CD player on. Plaintive Bantu wailing's emerged.
"I was worried you didn't get enough blood last night," James said quietly, resuming his seat. "You'll have to take more this time-and so will I."
Poppy felt something tremble inside her. Her revulsion was gone. She was still afraid, but that was only because of the consequences of what they were going to do. It wasn't just a way to get closer or to feed James. They were doing it to change Poppy.
"The only thing I don't understand is why you never bit me before." Her tone was light, but as she spoke the words, she realized that there was a serious question behind them.
"I mean," she said slowly, "you did it with Michaela and Jacklyn, didn't you? And with other girls?"
He looked away but answered steadily. "I didn't exchange blood with them. But I fed on them, yes."
"But not me."
"No. How can I explain?" He looked up at her.
"Poppy, taking blood can be a lot of different things-and the Elders don't want it to be anything but feeding. They say all you should feel is the joy of the hunt. And that's all I ever have felt before."
Poppy nodded, trying to feel satisfied with this. She didn't ask who the Elders were.
"Besides, it can be dangerous, " James said. "It can be done with hatred, and it can kill. Kill permanently, I mean."
Poppy was almost amused by this. "You wouldn't kill."
James stared at her. Outside, it was cloudy and the light in Poppy's bedroom was pale. It made James's face look pale, too, and his eyes silver.
"But I have," James said. His voice was flat and bleak. "I've killed without exchanging enough blood, so the person didn't come back as a vampire."
CHAPTER 7
Then you must have had a reason," Poppy said flatly. When he looked at her, she shrugged. "I know you." She knew him in a way she'd never known anyone.
James looked away. "I didn't have a reason, but there were some ... extenuating circumstances. You could say I was set up.
But I still have nightmares."
He sounded so tired-so sad. It's a lonely world, full of secrets, poppy thought. And he'd had to keep the biggest secret of all from everyone, including her.
"It must have been awful for you," she said, hardly aware that she was speaking out loud. "I mean, all your life-holding this in. Not telling anybody. Pretending ..."
"Poppy." He gave a shiver of repressed emotion. "Don't."
"Don't sympathize with you?"
He shook his head. "Nobody's 's ever understood before." After a pause he said, "How can you worry about me? With what you're facing?"
"I guess because -I care about you."
"And I guess that's why I didn't treat you like Michaela or Jacklyn," he said.
Poppy looked at the sculpted planes of his face, at the wave of brown hair falling over his forehead like silk ... and held her breath. Say "I love you," she ordered mentally. Say it, you thickheaded male.
But they weren't connected, and James didn't give the slightest sign of having heard. Instead he turned brisk and businesslike.
"We'd better get started." He got up and drew the window curtains shut. "Sunlight inhibits all vampire powers," he said in a guest lecturer voice. .
Poppy took advantage of the pause to go to the CD player. The music had changed to a Dutch club song, which was fine for doing the Netherlands skippy dance to, but not very romantic.
She punched a button and a velvety Portuguese lament began.
Then she twitched the sheer hangings around the bed dosed.
When she sat down again, she and James were in their own little world, dim and secluded, enclosed in misty eggshell white.
"I'm ready," she said softly, and James leaned in close to her.
Even in the semidarkness Poppy felt mesmerized by his eyes.
They were like windows to some other place, someplace distant and magical.
The Night World, she thought, and tilted her chin back as James took her in his arms.
This time the double sting at her neck hurt good.
But best was when James's mind touched hers. The feeling of oneness, of suddenly being whole-it spread through her like starshine.
Once again she had the sense that they were melting together, dissolving and merging everywhere they touched. She could feel her own pulse echoing through him.