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  “Are you falling asleep?” Sam called from the cave in the bluff face.

  Who ’s Sam? Shay’s thought asked, drifting in from some faraway place.

  “I might be.” It was hard to stay awake in the heat of the late afternoon, with the sun on her body like a blanket. “Will I always feel cold now?”

  “No,” Sam said.

  “It’s hard to imagine life without the sun.” She opened her eyes, blinking in the dazzling light, and slowly sat up.

  “We still have fire. And wraps.” Sam’s voice sounded amused, even across this distance. “And it never turns too cold here, as you know.”

  “Very unlike Germany. Ernst spent nearly a century there, shivering the entire time.” Shay laughed, the sound deep and strong. She got to her feet and sprang across the five feet of grass that separated the edge of the cliff from the cave.

  “He might’ve come south sooner, if it was that cold,” Sam agreed with a chuckle.

  Inside the cave, it was nearly black. Lichen overhung the entrance from above; tall grass hid it from below. It was a deep cleft in the ancient bluff, and the dazzling sun of Greece didn’t reach inside. Even so, Sam sat huddled as far back as was possible, bathed in darkness so complete that Shay had to squint to see him at all.

  “Fire isn’t sunlight.” Shay moved back toward the entrance of the cave. She could see the ocean far below, the sun’s reflection dancing on the aquamarine surface. “It will be different.”

  “You will be different, Gabriel. Your senses will be intensified. You, more than anyone, will appreciate that.” Sam’s tone was serious now.

  “But the sun …”

  “We pay a price for our strength,” Sam said. “It is not to be taken lightly, Gabriel. You know what would happen if you sought the sun after undergoing the ritual.”

  “I would turn to ash.” Shay said the words, but she didn’t quite believe them.

  “I saw it happen. Ernst’s original partner, Gret, had tired of her long life.” Sam’s voice was thick with sadness now. “She was gone when we awoke from the death sleep of daytime, and when we looked for her outside there was nothing left. Just a pile of ash like black sand.”

  Shay—Gabriel—was silent, trying to picture it. It was as unimaginable as life without the sun.

  “Gabriel. Are you certain you’re ready?” Sam asked gently. “The ritual need not be tonight.”

  “Ernst has been patient. I’m nearly twenty years old.”

  “You speak of Lysander,” Sam guessed. “He turned at seventeen.”

  “I feel I’ve let Ernst down.” Shay felt the weight of worry in her own chest, the love and respect for Ernst, the powerful sense of doubt.

  “You have not let him down. He loves you. We all love you.” Sam’s voice was calm, comforting. “No one joins the family until it is right in their heart. You and Lysander are very different. Sander has always been rushing forward, wanting to get to the next thing, whatever it was. But you—you experience things very deeply, Gabriel. It’s been that way since you were a little boy. I can still picture you on the beach, holding a seashell in your hand, tracing all the curves, smelling it, holding it to your ear, even giving it a little lick.”

  Gabriel and Sam laughed together at the memory. “You and Sander both want to experience everything, but you’ve always gone deeper,” Sam said. “I’m not surprised you haven’t undergone the transformation yet. I wouldn’t expect you to, until you felt you’d fully understood and enjoyed the parts of the world you’ll have to give up.”

  “The sun,” Gabriel said. He tilted his head back, letting the sun’s warmth stroke his face. “It’s hard to imagine ever having enough of it.”

  “There ’s no rush,” Sam told him.

  Shay turned and peered through the darkness, studying Sam’s face. He was tired, she could see. Beyond tired. The death sleep must be pulling at him, but he was forcing himself to remain awake against every instinct, just to be there for Gabriel. It was hard to even imagine what this effort was costing Sam. He should be asleep during the day, not playing nursemaid to an ambivalent youth.

  “It’s time. I am ready.” Shay drew in a deep breath, filling her powerful lungs with the sea-salt air. “Tonight I join my family.”

  “Then I will leave you to bid the sun farewell.” Sam gestured toward the entrance to the cave. “Go back out into the light while you can. I will wait.”

  “You should sleep.”

  “I’ve wakened for this long; I can make it through the day.” Sam smiled, weakly. “I will wait.”

  The warmth of the sun felt like a magnet, drawing Shay forward. From the cave’s entrance, out onto the bluff. And then down, down the winding path from the top of the cliff to the beach. As soon as her feet—his feet—hit the sand, he began to run. Straight toward the horizon, right into the surf. He swam, arms lithe and powerful, slicing through the sea as he followed the golden-red trail the sun left on the surface of the water. It hardly took any effort. His pulse remained slow, his heartbeat regular.

  So strong, and he doesn’t even know it, Shay’s own thought whispered in her head. Gabriel turned over—floating—cool, silky water against sun-heated skin, a fish occasionally flicking against him.

  From now on, he would swim only in darkness. For a lifetime—or ten lifetimes—he would never see the sun on the water again.

  The sadness of that realization almost crushed him. Slowly, reluctantly, he swam back to shore, not wanting to know if the salt on his lips was from the water or from his own tears. Crawling onto the beach, the sand felt hot and soft under his feet … but the sun was sinking now, its heat beginning to fade. The change was almost imperceptible, but Gabriel felt it. Shay felt it.

  This is the last time I will ever see the sunset.

  Shay lifted her hand—his hand—and felt tears on the smooth skin of his cheek. The sun dropped quickly toward the horizon, growing larger every second, until it was a tremendous ball of fire, deep red in color.

  “Like blood,” Shay whispered.

  Would blood be enough to replace the sun? The way the family spoke of it—warm, life-giving—sounded wonderful. But Gabriel had grown up on the sun-drenched islands of Greece. Could anything ever take the place of that beauty in front of him? The entire sky seemed lit from below, streaks of shocking pink and hazy purple breaking through clouds that glowed orange.

  Faster now, the sun dropped, dipping below the ocean it seemed. Sending its ruby reflection into a million lights that danced crazily on the darkened water … and then it was gone.

  Gabriel blinked. The pink and purple streaks still filled the sky, but they were fading. Twilight had come. It felt like a spear piercing his heart.

  Shay gasped, her hand moving to her heart. Somewhere, Martin took her hand, felt for the pulse at her wrist. But it wasn’t real, not compared to the grief overwhelming her—overwhelming Gabriel.

  He crumpled onto the sand, crying. Never to see the morning glories in bloom again, never to hear birdsong when he awoke, or see the early morning dew on the grass. How could anything take the place of day?

  “It is not the end, Gabriel.” Sam’s arms were around him now, Sam’s voice strong in his ear. “The ritual is not an end, but a beginning. You have lived with the family almost all your life, and yet you have not known all that we know or felt all that we feel. But now you will. You say good-bye to the light, but you begin anew in the darkness.” Sam ran his finger over the stylized tattoo of the phoenix on the side of his neck. Soon, Gabriel would have a matching tattoo, a symbol of his rebirth into a new life. But the phoenix had lost its old life too.

  “You are not tired anymore,” Gabriel said, surprised by the power of Sam’s voice.

  “It is the sun that saps my strength. But the sun has set.”

  It was true. The beach was dark now, the water a deeper black even than the sky. Sam must have climbed down from the cave while Gabriel cried. And suddenly he understood why Sam had forced himself to stay awake—to
be here for Gabriel’s last sunset. “You knew I would need you,” Shay said with Gabriel’s mouth. “You knew I would be weak.”

  “I knew you would need a brother to help you,” Sam said. “And after the ritual, that is what we will be. Brothers.”

  “That’s what I’ve wanted since I was a child.” Shay pushed herself to her feet, ready to follow Sam. Eager for her new beginning.

  “Shay! Lie back!” Martin’s voice broke into her thoughts, harsh and grating. He slid the needle from her arm, and Shay cried out.

  “But the ritual,” she moaned. “I want to see it.”

  “You were standing up in the middle of a transfusion.” Martin gently eased her shoulders back against the pillows, his big arms holding her there without effort, even though strength and energy was pulsing through her body. “What were you thinking?”

  “I was … I was dreaming,” she said, still in shock at the sight of her bedroom and her stepfather. The beach, the bluffs … they had felt so real.

  “Do you still feel tired?” Martin’s brow furrowed as he studied her. “You fell asleep last time too.”

  “No. I feel great,” she said, stretching her arms up. The vision was gone, but the health and vitality she ’d felt in it were still there.

  “Well, do me a favor and stay in bed for a while. Your mother wanted you to rest today, and if the transfusion is making you sleepy, it couldn’t hurt to take it easy.” Martin collected his supplies and headed for the door, wheeling her IV pole.

  “Tell Mom to bring me up some bagels,” Shay called after him. But when he was gone, she reached over to her bedside table and grabbed her journal. Martin might want her to sleep, but that was not going to happen. The blood in her veins felt like some kind of energy drink or at least what she imagined those felt like. She could run around the entire track at school right now without breaking a sweat; she was sure of it.

  Did Martin put steroids in this new blood or what? It’s like blood and a drug all at the same time. I wonder what it would do to normal, nonsick people. Turn them into superheros? J If this keeps working, maybe it’ll turn out to be Martin’s artificial heart or polio vaccine—his chance for immortality, as he calls it. He wants to be one of those doctors who have made such a contribution that they’re never forgotten. And I, personally, am never going to forget this!

  I don’t even care what he’s done to the blood. I just love it. And I love the dreams it gives me. Or visions. Whatever. There was another one while I had the transfusion just now. It felt as if I was actually there, in the body of this guy. I knew everything he knew—like that we were in Greece and that he really loved his friend Sam. When I moved my arm, it was his arm. And my thoughts were his thoughts. Wait, that’s not right. His thoughts were my thoughts; his emotions were my emotions. It was incredible—even the sadness. I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything that powerfully in my whole life.

  And now I’m sitting here in my pathetic hospital bed, all by myself, and what is there to feel? It’s not like I can get all worked up about doing my homework. Just in that one dream, I did more than I’ve ever done in my real life. I climbed, and ran, and swam in the ocean.

  Well, I guess I ran in gym. So I can check that off.

  But I’ve been alive for seventeen years, and all I’ve done is just survive. It’s not really living. It’s not experiencing life the way that the people in my dream talked about—I haven’t fully understood and enjoyed the parts of the world I’ll have to give up when I finally get too sick.

  I want to run again, for more than twenty feet. I want to try things I haven’t—and not just Martin’s beer. I don’t even know what, just … everything. I want to feel everything as deeply as I did in that dream.

  I am going to Kaz’s party tonight! I don’t care what Mom says; I’ll climb down the tree near my room if I have to. God, I feel so good! Like I could do anything, without even needing to take a rest. Is this what it’s like to be normal? I can’t remember. I always say I can’t remember, but the truth is I never even knew. Just because I didn’t need transfusions all the time when I was little doesn’t mean I was healthy then. I still couldn’t even climb the swing set in Olivia’s backyard without passing out. But still, is this what it’s like? Does everybody feel this way, so strong?

  I never knew it would be this good.

  It just seems stupid now to worry about the things people worry about—like grades, or boyfriends, or getting grounded, or whatever. I couldn’t care less about any of that crap, not when I’m so healthy! If this is normal, people take it WAY too much for granted. So what if Mom is mad at me for going to Kaz’s? So what if idiot Mr. Bonetto was insulted that I corrected his mispronunciation of deoxyribonucleic yesterday? (Not that he could do anything about it. When the Sick Girl calls you out on being stupid, you know two things: 1. You are stupid, because the Sick Girl knows everything about DNA. And 2. You can’t reprimand her, because only unforgivable meanies yell at sick girls.) I’m healthy enough to sneak out, and I’m healthy enough to talk back to a teacher, and I’m healthy enough to take the punishment!

  That’s it. I promise myself that I’m going to experience everything I can before I’m forced to say good-bye. I don’t want to use all this wonderful health just to stay alive. I want to use it to live, to take in everything the way he did in my dream.

  Honestly, I don’t think I was dreaming. I’ve never had a dream like that, where it felt so completely true and real. And where I remembered every single detail afterward. And besides, I don’t think I ever really fell asleep.

  But mostly I don’t think it was a dream because I was with the same person as during the last transfusion. Gabriel. His name is Gabriel.

  And I think he’s a vampire.

  CHAPTER

  THREE

  “YOU’LL CALL ME THE SECOND you feel tired.” Shay’s mother anxiously kneaded the steering wheel with her fingernails, one of the habits that Shay hated the most.

  “I won’t feel tired. I’m doing great,” Shay said for the hundredth time.

  “And make sure Olivia keeps tabs on you. Tell her she can call me if you’re too sick.”

  “Mom, God,” Shay burst out. “Olivia is not my doctor. I’m perfectly capable of dialing a phone. But I won’t need to, because I feel great. Which part of that do you not understand?”

  “What I don’t understand is why you insist on pushing yourself too hard,” her mother replied. “Honey, I know it seems important right now—”

  “Do not even give me that speech.” Shay grabbed the door handle. They’d been parked outside Kaz’s house for five minutes now, having this same conversation, while music blared from inside and people walked by them on their way in.

  “I know friends and parties seem like a huge deal, but in the big picture, high school really doesn’t even matter that much,” her mom went on, undeterred. “Once Martin finds the right treatment for you and we get the disease under control, you’ll have your entire life to socialize.”

  “The reason parties are a big deal to me is that I’ve never managed to go to one. And, no, sitting on the couch for twenty minutes and then leaving does not count as actually going to a party, and that’s all I’ve ever done.” Shay shook her head. “Don’t you get it? Maybe this is my entire life. I don’t know if there is a future. You always want me to be patient, wait until I’m better before I do anything. Well, I’m sick of waiting.” She wanted to be like Gabriel, squeezing every drop out of every experience. Even if Gabriel didn’t exist, even if he was the product of some random neurons firing in her brain, she wanted his passion for the world.

  “Honey, if you’re feeling depressed about the sickness—”

  “I’m going.” Shay opened the door. “I’ll get a ride home. Don’t spend the whole night staring at the phone.”

  “But you’ll call me—”

  “No. Mom, I’m going to stay as late as I want, and then someone will take me home. That’s what high school seniors do. Everyone drive
s, and everyone has a car, except me.” Shay climbed out of the Mercedes and smoothed her shirt over the skinny jeans she’d finally decided on.

  “Please, Shay …” her mother’s voice trailed off. Shay leaned down and looked in the car door. Her mother’s expression was confused and frightened, and Shay’s stomach did a little roll. Mom wasn’t trying to be a pain in the butt, she was just terrified of letting her sick baby out of her sight.

  “Mom, trust me. I am fine.” She smiled. “Go have a date night with Martin or something.” Although that was kind of hard to picture. Her mom and Martin had never really done the traditional dating thing. They couldn’t have—Mom would never leave Shay’s bedside for long enough. They’d maybe gone out to dinner a few times, but mostly they’d been with Shay. They’d only had a honeymoon weekend. Her mother hadn’t wanted to stay away from Shay any more than that, even though Martin had hired the best round-the-clock nursing care available.

  Shay closed the car door and turned away before there was any more pleading. She couldn’t handle the parental anxiety. It was too much a part of the disease, and Shay wasn’t going to think about the disease tonight. Walking up Kaz’s driveway, Shay thought she could probably fly if she wanted to. Her body was strong, her heart beat like a machine, and all her senses were sharp. That kind of feeling had to be used.

  Tonight was for enjoying this rush of energy that had filled her ever since the transfusion.

  Tonight was the first night of her life on her own, without her mother, and without her disease. She didn’t care if morning never came.

  “Oh my God, it’s Shay!” Lai-wan squealed as soon as she stepped in the door. She threw her arms around Shay as if they were besties, and Shay almost recoiled from the smell of alcohol on her breath.

  “Hey, Lai-wan,” she said, peeling the girl off her.

  “I can’t believe you made it. Do you have to leave early?” Lai-wan asked. “You really looked sick in gym yesterday.”

  “No, I feel better,” Shay said. “Where’s Kaz?”