"How long?" she said, licking cracked lips.
"I don't know." I smoothed a piece of blond hair out of her eyes. "But you're still with us right now. And that's what matters."
I glanced up at Alex, but he couldn't meet my gaze. He turned away, and his shadow blotted out the sun. But I could see his shoulders shaking in grief.
***
Turning toward Darkness is a gradual process, in all things.
When I was a child, I was taught that evil creeps in stealthily. First there are little things, like coveting a pocket mirror in the sin of vanity. Then lying to one's parents, reading magazines with subversive ideas, drinking beer and smoking. These sins seem small, but they taint the soul and grow larger, become theft and rebellion and turning away from God. Once the seed has taken root, there is no stopping it.
I don't think that I believed that philosophy, then. But I might now, seeing the terrible Darkness of vampirism slowly destroy someone I loved.
Ginger stopped eating that evening. The crab apples had been vomited up in a mess of black blood. She was awake all night. We took the risk of a small fire to make her more comfortable. It was the time of year in which we were beginning to have no choice in making them at night if we wanted to avoid frostbite. But Ginger backed away from it. I saw the fire reflecting in her eyes as she looked out in the darkness.
Somewhere, in the black countryside, something howled.
I wondered if it was one of the wolves from the Animal Farm, or local coyotes. I wondered if he-or they-were following because they were hungry, because they smelled death.
Horace's ears twitched. He'd begun to edge away from Ginger, and the wolves made him nervous.
I sidled up closer to Ginger. "Tell me about your family. What was it like when the kids were little?" I wanted to anchor her as much as I could in her humanity.
She licked her cracked lips. "They were always good kids. Dan and I tried to raise them to be independent. Part of that was me wanting to shield them from being hurt when we moved around so much. Dan would be stationed one place and then another for a year or two at a time. We didn't want them to be crushed when we left their school and their friends."
I couldn't imagine that. I'd lived in one place for my whole life, with the same set of friends. Being under the Bann-being kicked out of my community-was the first time that I'd spent the night away from home. I had cried. I don't think that Ginger or Alex heard me. I didn't want them to.
"I did a good job, I think. Tom and Julia both went to college, far away. Julia isn't as rebellious as Tom, that's for sure. I never caught her smoking weed in the basement." Her eyes glistened. "I think that Julia has a bit of natural faith about her, a docility. Tom, he has to learn everything the hard way. I hope that he's not learning it the hard way now.
But maybe . . . maybe Dan can find them."
Ginger had lived alone after her children went off to college. Her husband had reenlisted in the National Guard and was gone for months at a time. I knew that she had gone home every day to an empty house.
"He will," I said soothingly. "He has all the power of the military around him-all the machines and the minds. He will find them."
Her gaze was unfocused. "I just wish that I could have told them goodbye."
I kissed her cheek. "We will tell them."
Her head lowered, and she smiled ruefully. One of the cracks in her lip split open. "It's funny. As I passed fifty, with the house empty . . . I had developed a fear of dying alone. Of having a stroke or a heart attack and lying dead on the kitchen linoleum for days before anyone found me."
I pressed my hand to her cheek. "That won't happen. I promise."
She took my hand. Hers was cold. "Thank you."
It was the least thing I could do for her, but also the hardest.
Alex and I watched as Ginger grew paler and the flecks of red in her eyes grew over the course of the night. Her gums receded, and I could see the teeth growing. Once, when I approached her to offer her water, I startled her and she hissed. She shied away from the sun the next day, sleeping under a tree. She unconsciously rolled and followed the shade in her sleep. I watched as the fingers wound in her coat contorted and twisted, the skin splintering.
"I don't think she's going to last much longer," Alex said.
I nodded. We kept our distance from her for the rest of the day. Horace would no longer graze near her. He stood on the opposite side of this bit of pasture. I rubbed my eyes, hiccupping.
I knew how to destroy vampires. I knew to cut off their heads, stuff their mouths with garlic if we had it, and burn the bodies. I had done it before, to people I knew.
But never someone I loved.
Alex took my hand. "We'll do it together," he said.
"As gently as we can."
"And it should be before dark. While she's still sleeping." He cast her a troubled look. "I think she'll turn then."
I bowed my head.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
We searched the pasture for a rock. Alex found a big chunk of pink jasper, as large as Ginger's head. We wanted her to feel as little pain as possible, and to our thinking, it would be easier if she was unconscious.
I took the rock from him. He was reluctant to let it go.
"I should be the one to do it," I said quietly. In the Plain way, men prepared men for burial, for reasons of modesty. Women cared for the women. This seemed no different. More grisly, but the same.
And yet . . . these conditions seemed too harsh for those old rules to apply. This was not bundling a peaceful grandmother in her favorite dress to be buried. Ginger had been my friend, had been like a second mother to me for many years. I rubbed my dripping nose and sobbed.
Alex embraced me. "I will help you. We will do this together."
"But I . . ."
"You're not going to be alone in this. I promise."
Once I could draw breath without sobbing, we walked back to the tree and stood over her. I don't know if she felt the cool of our shadows on her, in between the sparse shade of the tree. She was drawn in upon herself, like a ball. Her platinum blond head peeked above her coat and her eyes were closed. I gently tugged the coat up over her head, so I didn't have to see her face. The coat moved against her nose with her breath, outlining the profile of her face.
I lifted the stone twice before I was able to bring myself to slam it down onto her head.