Needless to say, my mother did not take it very well at all when I said my dad had agreed. There was a lot of crying and hugging and leafing through old photo albums to endure, as well as a complicated and awkward meal with Kevin to endure.

"So Christine says you're an artist?" Kevin asked.

I missed a beat while I remembered that my mom's name was Christine. Maybe I'm old fashioned, but I always called my mom Mom. Even though she always wanted me to be her friend. "Yeah." My shin took a hit from my mother's high-heeled sandal. "Yeah, I'd like to major in art in college." Another kick. I looked at her and shrugged. I'd never been one for small talk.

"She's also a writer," my mother added.

"Great," Kevin said.

"Um... so how do you know my mom?" I asked.

"We met online," he said.

We all nodded awkwardly.

I began to be thankful that I was moving out.

Never mind that Lane arrived in my room each night, silently and without warning. I didn't want to start packing until the day I was going to leave, even though this gave my mother idea that I would decide not to go, because I knew that if he saw any sign of it, I'd never get away.

The first night I held onto the hope that he wouldn't come. I scanned the yard and the street outside the windows for the wolves. Empty. I closed my curtains and crawled into bed, lying awake for a long time. After about two a.m. I drifted off to sleep, feeling almost safe.

"You're all pink tonight." His voice in my ear.

I didn't have a chance to resist him before his hands soothed my hot skin. "I forgot sunscreen," I said.

He kissed my neck with his cool lips. It felt almost like ice cream sliding across my skin, only dry and not sticky. "Does it hurt?"

"Not right now," I said. I tried to wrap my arms around his neck so that the sunburned tops were touching his skin.

"Poor little Amy." He took my arms and began kissing them starting at my hands and working his way up. "I suppose it might be cruel to hurt you more... your neck is quite red."

"I'm sorry," I said.

"No worries, love."

"Were you really born in the Renaissance? Because you sounded British right then."

He raised his eyes to mine. "I've spent my time in London. You really must learn to trust me."

"I don't trust anyone anymore..." I sighed.

"Not even your best friend Veronica?" He pouted. "I dearly hope that had nothing to do with me."

I assured him that wasn't the case. No, Veronica had done something else to betray me, hadn't she?

It was just a stupid game, Amy...

"Tell me about London," I asked quickly. "Tell me what it was like when you were there?"

Lane settled in beside me, keeping me captive with his eyes and his hands, which he ran over my hot skin. He felt better than the aloe. "I went to London during a time of plague... it was a good time to be a vampire. Those inflicted were expected to die quickly, and I could drink as much as I liked... wholly unlike these times, when it is difficult to get my fill. I must kill as infrequently as possible... although your police forces could never find the evidence needed to convict, nor would they ever be able to detain me. However, I must remain hidden as per Samael's edicts."

"The Black Plague?"

"There were many plagues in those times, Amy. Certainly you don't want to hear of the squalor people lived in then?"

"No..."

"I didn't think so. I stayed in London and its vicinity for hundreds of years. There were many opportunities, wars and battles and murdering, and with the weather there I could spend many days walking around like any man. But soon it became too crowded, too difficult to hide there. Word of the New World was on everyone's lips, and I came overseas on a large ship, all the easier to hide below deck during the day and drink from rats and the dying at night. Many died on those voyages, although probably more than might have died naturally." Lane's white teeth gleamed in the darkness.

"Have you ever tried drinking only from animals?"

"Of course I have subsisted on the blood of animals when no other prey was available. But I have never made an oath. Never again taste the sweetness of human blood? There would be no point to my life, then."

"Really? That is all you live for?"

"What else is there?"

It was difficult to think when his eyes held me this way, but finally I was able to suggest, "Love?"

I did not expect laughter as his response.

"Love? Please. There is no more fleeting emotion than love. Lust, at least, may last for hours or even days, depending on the lover."

"But... I love you."

"Of course you do."

"Do you love me?"

"Yes," he said, his blue eyes darkening. "Yes."

"But you say love is fleeting."

"Love... for humans love is fleeting. That is not to say that your love is fleeting. But for a being such as myself, who has lived over centuries, who has seen what I have seen... love cannot be the reason to live. Nor ought it to be the reason one dies."

"You have seen many people die for love?"

"Too many." His eyes drifted away. "That is why I say I do not live for love, or anything but my own pleasure."

To make his point, he kissed my sore neck, and bit down. I gave a soft cry at the pain—it was more painful than the night before—but soon the euphoria took over, and I was wrapped in darkness in his arms.

***

On the second night, I made sure to hide away the items I had packed, a suitcase full of clothes, my backpack filled with books and CDs and blank notebooks and my current knitting project. I had considered packing some of my favorite movies, but upon looking at all the vampire-related titles, I couldn't. I had no desire to be part of that world.

I also wasn't sure if my room at my father's house would have a DVD player or even a television, and I knew I couldn't watch any of those movies while my stepbrothers and stepsister were awake. I had plenty to write about, anyhow.

Again I waited, but Lane didn't come until after I had crawled into bed and fallen asleep.

"You certainly taste better than your friend," Lane said against my neck.

I jumped awake. "What?"

"Your friend.... was not nearly as pure as you."

"Which friend?" I sat up in bed.

"Does it matter?"

"Do you mean Veronica?"

"I prefer virgins," he said lazily.

To my knowledge, Veronica had been a virgin.

"It is rare to find someone with blood as sweet as yours." Gently he pulled me back down to his side, as gently as one could be whose hands are stone solid and who doesn't care if you don't want to go. "Which is why I like to save you for dessert."

I managed to cling to my consciousness while he drank. "I don't want to be a vampire," I said.

This made him pause. He licked the blood dripping down my throat, then said, "I think I prefer you as a human as well."

"Why is that?" I said faintly, black spots blinking around my vision.

"Vampire blood does not have nearly the same flavor. I find it very metallic-tasting."

"So my blood... is the only reason... I'm still alive?"

He chuckled deep in his throat. "There are many reasons why you are alive."

"But you said... oblivion... or immortality... You gave me... a choice... and I don't... know when you're going to make me choose."

"The human idea of a deadline is not the same as an immortal's idea of a deadline," Lane said. He stroked my neck. "I'd like to finish now, if you don't mind."

"Of course."

This time, I blacked out almost immediately.