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  “No time tonight, I have to get back to the lab. We’ll send Richard and Luis tomorrow.” Gabriel turned away from the bats and let go of the rock. Down was even better than up—like flying. He didn’t bother preparing to land. He knew the strength of his legs would absorb the impact.

  Shay gasped with pleasure right along with Gabriel. To fall through the air with absolutely no fear … it was exhilarating! But is that my feeling, or his? she wondered. This vision felt so odd, so different from the others, that there was a creeping sense of confusion in Shay’s mind. Or was it Gabriel’s mind?

  He’ s more closed-off than usual, Shay’s thought told her. But then Gabriel took a deep breath, and a dozen different scents filled her nose. Shay’s thoughts vanished, melting into the sensations Gabriel was experiencing.

  The entrance to the cavern was a ten-minute hike from here, following a trail they’d marked fifteen years ago, when the family first came to Tennessee. The scents coming from outside the cave were so familiar to Gabriel—pine, sandy clay, oil, dogwood, algae from the lake—and, yet, somehow forever fascinating.

  “What are you going to tell the Duke people?” Millie asked, landing beside him.

  “It’s just the quarterly update on our research. They want to know that their money isn’t being wasted.” Gabriel shrugged. He wasn’t like Sam had been. He didn’t enjoy interacting with humans. But he could handle it. The scientists from the university were passionate about the bat project, interested in the sonar applications. It wasn’t hard to talk to them. And as long as he had fed recently, the scent of their blood didn’t bother him.

  “I could do that. I could absolutely do that. Tell Ernst to give me the chore,” Millie coaxed. “I know you don’t like it.”

  “You’re young. It’s easier for me to withstand the temptation of their blood.” Gabriel was old enough now that he could go for weeks at a time without feeding. Millie had given up the sun less than a century ago. She still needed human blood at least once a week. Perhaps that was another reason Ernst trusted only Gabriel with the scientists. The rest of their new family was still so young that they might lose control, do something … inhuman … and put the whole family in danger.

  Shay shivered at the fear that spiked through Gabriel just thinking about humans. He didn’t want Millie to see how frightened he was by this meeting, by every meeting with their university colleagues. It was always Gabriel, alone, who did it.

  Ernst hated humans too much to trust himself near them. He could control his hunger, but not his raw fury. He couldn’t bring himself to have a civil conversation. And for other members of the family, like Millie, there was a temptation to be too friendly, too curious about the outside world. Gabriel was the perfect spokesman. He hated the humans as much as Ernst did, but he could control himself enough to present the facade of a genial colleague. And he would never be tempted to get too close.

  He knew the consequences.

  Another wave of guilt, hot and nauseating, swamped Gabriel. Sam … Shay caught a flicker of Sam’s face, but Gabriel pushed the thought away. Had it been his thought or hers? She couldn’t tell.

  “How many people are coming?” Millie asked. “I like to know just who I’m hiding from.”

  “It’s not hiding; it’s simply staying in the private quarters,” Shay said with Gabriel’s mouth. In the living facility, it was only the family. Most of the time, it was just family in the labs, too. All they needed was each other. The only time they even ventured into town was if they needed to feed and the blood shipment that they ordered through the Internet was late.

  “Say hello to the world for me.” Millie sounded sad, so Gabriel slipped an arm around her shoulders.

  “You aren’t missing anything. I’m just going to give a tour of the lab, answer some questions,” Gabriel told her. She sighed. “You weren’t one of us yet when it happened. You don’t understand,” he continued. “But the isolation is necessary for our safety.”

  “I trust you and Ernst,” she said. “I just get cabin fever sometimes, all alone up here. Luis says some families live in cities.”

  “He doesn’t know any more than we do. He grew up in our family.” Gabriel could feel by the pull of the moon above that it was getting late. “I need to run, Mils.” He gave her shoulders a squeeze and took off through the darkness.

  The trail was marked, but Gabriel didn’t need it. He knew the twists and turns of these caverns by heart. They were his whole world now. He was running fast, jumping over the biggest rocks, almost flying. The ten-minute hike would take about two minutes this way, and it was fun. It got his blood pumping to run.

  Fun. The pounding pulse, the air rushing past my skin. It is fun, Shay’s thought whispered.

  Outside, the moon was rising. The scientists would be here at eight o’clock. Gabriel rushed into the lodge, where Ernst was waiting.

  “They’ll be here soon, I can smell them,” Ernst said. “Here’s the paperwork, numbers on the diseased colonies, updates on the sonar findings.” He handed Gabriel a binder full of charts and papers.

  “Ernst … in another year or so, I’ll have to go back to school. The date on my doctorate doesn’t exactly match my face anymore,” Gabriel said. “Even though, as we all know, I was a savant who skipped most of high school.”

  Ernst sighed. He hated moving the family, establishing new identities. But it was necessary every few decades, to avoid detection by the humans.

  “It’s different for you. You’re elusive, with a reputation for eccentricity. No one has seen even a picture of you in years,” Gabriel went on, choosing his words carefully. “We can all ride on your degrees for another ten years, since none of the humans see you—they’d probably be willing to do a conference call instead of coming in person. If we say that the famous Dr. Ernst Geiger will be on the call—”

  “No.” The word was like an angry bark. “We need the humans, my son, but I am not ready to interact with them, even to that degree,” he added, his voice softening. “I can’t bear to put on a show, the way you do when the scientists insist on visiting here.”

  The alarm sounded from the laboratory building, signaling that the Duke people were at the door. Ernst turned and vanished into his private rooms, and Gabriel headed toward the hallway that connected the lodge to the main lab. Out of habit, he stopped at the mirror, just to make sure he looked normal enough for the humans.

  His hair was a mess, and there was a smudge of dirt on one cheek—

  “All done,” Martin’s voice sounded harsh.

  Shay gasped, grabbing for the needle as he pulled it away. Martin frowned down at her hand, clutching his like a claw.

  “I need more,” she whispered. Just enough to figure out what’s going on with Gabriel.

  “No, that’s enough.” Martin pulled away from her. “I think you’re still half-asleep. I’m not sure yet why this treatment makes you so fatigued initially. You conk out every time.”

  Shay collapsed back against her pillows as he left the room. She felt stunned. The blood had left her strong, like it always did. But the dream this time … it was bizarre. Gabriel in modern clothes, with different people, in America. It had seemed like a different world from the previous visions.

  Shay grabbed the journal from her nightstand.

  I saw him! I saw Gabriel! I mean, in the vision I was looking at myself, because in the vision I am Gabriel. But I remember how he looked. And wow. Seriously, wow. He’s got this incredible hair, dark and curly and thick. And his eyes are almost the same color, this rich dark brown, sort of a chestnut color. I sound like a dork. But he’s gorgeous.

  Okay, that’s creepy.

  It’s creepy, right? I was looking in the mirror, at myself, but at the same time I was also thinking, “Damn, he’s hot!” That’s how it is in those visions, or dreams, or hallucinations. Whatever they are. I am Gabriel, I’m in his body, I feel what he feels, and I see what he sees. But on some level I’m also myself, kind of. It’s as if I’m watching
from somewhere way in the back, and I can’t say anything or do anything, or even really think my own thoughts very much. But then, when it’s over and the transfusion is done, I remember it all and I can make my own judgments. So it’s not like I was actually feeling attracted to myself. But still. Weird.

  I know I should be worried because I’m seeing things. I should tell Martin what happens every time I have a transfusion of this new blood, because it’s obviously a side effect. I never had visions or dreams during my treatments before. But it seems, I don’t know, private.

  And I don’t want to bring up anything thing that will make Martin—or my mom—decide my new transfusions should be stopped and re-evaluated. I have to have my visions. There’s so much I want to know about Gabriel. So much I don’t understand.

  Like Sam.

  In this last vision, Sam was gone. I don’t know what happened, but I could tell he wasn’t part of Gabriel’s life anymore. Whatever it was, it made Gabriel feel overwhelming grief and guilt. Maybe they had a fight? Do vampires do that? It seems so mundane. But I still want to know! It’s as if every vision gives me a different piece of a puzzle. Is Sam the good friend who was there to support Gabriel’s decision to join the vampire family? Or is he the scary man who kidnapped Gabriel when he was small? (Although he seemed gentle, even in that vision. But WTF? How could someone do that to a little boy?)

  And the same with Ernst. Sometimes he’s frightening, like when he attacked the orphanage and when he talked about how he hates humans. But then when I had a vision during my transfusion on Thursday, Ernst was so compassionate toward a little human girl.

  In that one, Gabriel and Ernst were by themselves, watching a house at night. I don’t know when it was, but the air was cold enough that I could see my breath. I mean, Gabriel could see his breath. So maybe they’d already left Greece? Anyway, someone in the house had died of influenza. The father. And Ernst thought the mother might die too. If she did, they were going to sneak in and take the little girl who lived there. They would make her part of their family, just like they had with Gabriel when he was little. Ernst terrified me in that vision when he attacked Gabriel’s orphanage. But this time, he was incredibly thoughtful. He kept saying that he hoped the mother lived, that he didn’t want the little girl to experience such a terrible loss. To lose both parents, such a tragedy.

  What’s funny is that Gabriel couldn’t quite get it. He’d never known his own parents, so he didn’t mourn for them. He kept thinking how Ernst was basically his father, and how he loved Ernst and would hate to lose him. That was the only way he could relate to the idea.

  It’s how I feel about my father. I never knew him, so there’s never been anything to feel sad about. I know Mom hates him. She never said so, but I could always tell. Her mouth gets all pinched whenever she even mentions him and she never wants to talk about him. He left her, abandoned her—and me, I guess. So I get that she hates him for it. But I don’t. You have to know someone in order to feel anything for them, and I don’t know my dad.

  That’s what Gabriel said, to Ernst. That he’d never known his parents. Then he asked if that meant he didn’t really know himself.

  But Ernst just smiled. He said that even if your conscious mind doesn’t hold memories of your parents, your soul holds on to them. Your body knows who they were; the knowledge is written in your very cells. Who they were is who you are, so there’s no need to trouble yourself. That’s what he told Gabriel, and Gabriel thought it was so beautiful.

  I think it’s beautiful too. Maybe my soul knows my father, the way my conscious mind knows my mother. I always think that all I have of my dad is the locket he gave Mom and maybe my disease. But now I think Ernst was right. I think my dad is inside me, all the pieces of him, somewhere.

  That makes it easier. I might die without ever even meeting him. I probably will. But that doesn’t mean I don’t know him down in my soul.

  See—Ernst was very cool that night.

  I guess if you look at somebody’s life over hundreds of years, they’re nice sometimes and scary sometimes, but it makes the visions kind of hard to track, especially because I’m seeing all these snippets out of order.

  When Gabriel was young, in Greece, the clothes were strange and the places were simple. Old-fashioned. I don’t know when it was that Sam took him from the orphanage, but it was definitely a long time ago. But then today, I had a vision of Gabriel wearing normal clothes, living in Tennessee, using modern technology.

  I have no idea if whatever it was that happened between him and Sam took place hundreds of years ago or just last week. Vampires are immortal, at least in the movies. How long has Gabriel even been alive?

  Okay, I know he’s not actually alive, but still … I want to know more. I want to know how the puzzle fits together.

  I’m sure I’ll have another vision—another transfusion—in a few days. Soon enough, I’ll need them every day, and then every hour, and then not at all.

  I’m dying.

  Could that be what these visions are? My brain’s way of dealing with death? Maybe my neurons are firing like crazy, giving me something interesting to think about, to distract me so I don’t freak out.

  Or else it’s metaphysical—they’re memories of another life, a past life. Maybe I was Gabriel once. When you’re dying, it makes sense that you might start to remember your past lives, doesn’t it?

  Or maybe the visions are just a way to make me happy before the end. Because in them, I’m strong. Gabriel is so vibrant and alive. His life—and I get to experience it—is more robust than anything I’ve ever known. His heartbeat, his stamina, the power of his muscles—the health of that body is like a dream come true for me. Each of my senses is cranked up to an insane level. When I’m Gabriel, I don’t have to think about my body at all. I just use it; I just live in it. I don’t worry about how much strength my body has in reserve, and it never lets me down.

  The point is, I don’t care what the vision-dreams are, and I don’t want Martin trying to make them go away like they’re some annoying side effect. Because I love them. Because of the visions, I’m having the best time of my life.

  (And real life isn’t bad either. When I’m on the transfusion high, I can do anything. Yesterday I cut class and went to the Dairy Queen with Chris Briglia. Another dream come true! And Lai-wan is like my new BFF, which is hilarious because she’s a total flake. It’s fun, not caring what the consequences are. Why should I care? If I’m not going to be here for much longer, there aren’t any consequences. I’m sure Olivia is going to be there at the dock tonight. I’m sure she’ll still be giving me the silent treatment. But I don’t care. Life’s too short to care. My life is too short.)

  Shay stopped writing. It was getting kind of heavy, and she hadn’t meant to go there. She’d wanted to write about Ernst, about how much Gabriel loved him, then she’d gotten sidetracked.

  Gabriel’s relationship with Ernst had been making her really think about her own family lately. Ernst was essentially Gabriel’s stepfather. He’d raised Gabriel after taking him from the orphanage. He’ d taught Gabriel how to drink blood. And Gabriel adored him, the way Shay adored her mother.

  Martin is my stepfather, she thought uneasily. But I don’t love him like that.

  Shay sighed. She was grateful to Martin. That’s what she always felt. Gratitude. Life was easier since they’d found him, because she and Mom weren’t traveling all over looking for new doctors anymore. Because Mom didn’t have to work three jobs just to keep up with the minimums on Shay’s medical bills. Martin took care of them, both of them.

  And she was grateful. But love? Not really.

  “Maybe the visions are my inner shrink,” she murmured. Maybe she’d made Gabriel up as a way to unravel all her own issues—her missing father, her stepfather, even her own weakness and the way the strength of this new blood was like an addiction to her. She glanced down at her journal. Past lives, psychobabble, brain chemistry gone crazy … did it even matter w
hat the visions were?

  Shay tossed her journal aside and stood up. Enough living in her dreams. Tonight she was going to live for real.

  CHAPTER

  SIX

  “ARE YOU GUYS OVER FOR GOOD?” Lai-wan asked, leaning back on her elbows. She blew a stream of smoke into the night air.

  Shay glanced over at Olivia, snuggled in Kaz’s arms at the far end of the dock. She could hear the rushing water, but it was invisible in the darkness. “Who knows?” she replied. “Kaz won’t even look me in the eye.”

  “He’s just scared,” Brian Kiley said from the other side of Lai-wan. “If I got caught kissing some other girl, I’d be scared too.”

  “I heard that!” Jacey yelled from the reeds along the river’s edge, where she was peeing or puking or God knew what. “You better not be kissing anyone else.”

  “See?” Brian said.

  Lai-wan giggled. “I was talking about Olivia,” she said. “I thought you guys were practically sisters.”

  “Nope,” Shay said. “She’s more like my lifetime chaperone, and I don’t want one anymore.”

  Next to her, Chris Briglia lit up the pipe they were all passing around, taking a big hit. “That’s pretty obvious, Shay,” he wheezed.

  “Seriously. You are adrenaline girl lately.” Lai-wan reached for the pipe. “But still no pot, huh?”

  “I don’t need drugs,” Shay said. “I’m high on life!”

  The other three burst into the kind of druggy laughter that was only half-real, and Shay grinned. She’d been kidding, but it was actually true. Being stoned couldn’t be better than feeling the health and power of the blood pumping through her right now. Anyway, fog in her mind wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted to be aware, to feel every bit of every experience, and to remember every single second. Maybe these guys could afford to waste their time floating around in a drug haze, but she couldn’t.

  Lai-wan lay back, stretching out on the wooden dock. It extended all the way from the nearest street, across the scrub grass of the shoreline, and out at least thirty feet into the rushing Black River. There was nothing else. No houses nearby, no stores or restaurants. Not even any boats tied up to the end of the dock.