stitches

Carine was the only one who stayed calm. As a doctor, she'd spent centuries in emergency rooms around human blood, and she was completely in control.

"Eleanor, Royal, get Jessamine outside," she said quietly.

Eleanor nodded, looking a little shaken. "Come on, Jess," she muttered. "Let's go."

Jessamine didn't stop struggling against Eleanor's powerful grip, her eyes still fastened on me.

Edythe was white as a sheet, and I noticed she wasn't breathing in as she crouched protectively in front of me, lips curled back from her teeth in a territorial snarl, eyes fixed on Jessamine. Royal joined in, taking up one of Jessamine's arms to help Eleanor as they both dragged her back, toward the exit. Maybe I was imagining it, but I thought I saw a strange touch of triumph in his face.

Earnest had moved ahead to hold open the door for them. He was holding a hand over his mouth and nose, and he glanced briefly in my direction, then looked down. "Sorry, Beau," he said in a low, pained voice, before he turned and followed the others into the yard.

Carine approached. "Let me see him, Edythe," she said quietly.

Edythe stood rigid in place for a long moment, back still bent. Then at last she straightened and nodded once mutely.

Carine knelt down beside me, leaning in to get a look at my mutilated arm.

Archie approached, a towel in hand. "Here," he said soberly, offering it to Carine.

Carine shook her head. "I'm afraid there's too much glass in the wound. It will have to be picked out." Tearing a strip of cloth from the tablecloth nearby, she began wrapping it around my arm to serve as a tourniquet.

I never could stand the smell of blood, and I felt suddenly lightheaded. My stomach tightened and twisted uncomfortably, and I was afraid of losing the pizza I'd had back at Charlie's.

"Beau," said Carine, very gently. "Would you like me to drive you to the hospital, or do you want me to take care of you here?"

"Here's okay," I said vaguely. Even dazed as I was, I was lucid enough to realize that if she took me to the hospital, there was no way Charlie wouldn't find out about it. Just another advantage of a small town.

Carine was every bit the clinical professional, and she knew exactly what needed to be done. "Archie," she said. "Would you please fetch my bag?"

"No problem." Archie turned and was gone in a heartbeat.

Carine turned to Edythe next. "Let's get him to the kitchen table."

Wordlessly, Edythe slipped an arm under my legs and the other supporting my head, and she picked me up easily while Carine kept the pressure on my arm. If I wasn't so out of it, the princess-lift treatment probably would have had the color rising up my neck.

"How are you feeling, Beau?" Carine asked, again her voice gentle.

"Okay, I think," I said, and I was relieved my voice sounded okay, too.

Edythe's face could have been carved in marble.

Archie was back, and Carine's black doctor's bag was already sitting on the table, a bright desk lamp sitting nearby plugged into the wall. Edythe set me carefully into a chair at the table, and Carine pulled up another. She immediately went to work.

Edythe stood at my side, one hand gripping the back of my chair. She wasn't breathing.

I sighed. "You go, it's okay." I knew how bad it was for her, worse than for any of the others. "Get some fresh air. I'm fine now, Carine will get me taken care of."

I winced as Carine stuck me with a tranquilizer needle.

Edythe's eyes narrowed slightly. "I'll stay," she insisted through gritted teeth. "I can handle it."

Carine stepped in. "I think you may as well go find Jessamine before she gets too far," she said. "I'm sure she's upset with herself, and she likely won't listen to anyone but you."

"Yeah," I said quickly. "I'll be okay, really."

Archie added helpfully, "You might as well be doing something useful."

Edythe stood where she was for a minute, rigid and defiant. But then at last she nodded once. Reaching out to gently squeeze my shoulder, she turned and left through the kitchen's back door.

I refused to look at my arm, afraid I would get queasy and pass out, but I began to feel a numb, dead feeling spreading through it, and the pain of the cuts began to fade a little. To distract myself, I turned my eyes to Carine, watching her face as she worked.

I saw movement by the back door, and noticed Archie slip out, giving me an apologetic smile on the way.

My eyes went back to Carine. She was perfectly calm, completely focused on what she was doing. In light of how everyone else had reacted, her tranquility seemed all the more amazing.

I listened to the quiet plink, plink of glass fragments being dropped onto the table for a minute, then couldn't stop myself blurting, "How do you do it?"

She didn't look up from her work, but she smiled a little. "Do what?" she asked softly. "Smell human blood without going into a frenzy?"

"Well...yeah." I shook my head. I knew she'd been a doctor for years, but even so, even Archie and Earnest couldn't have done this, of that much I was certain. It was like she was on a completely different level.

Another clink of a glass shard on the tabletop. "Established habit," she answered finally. "That's really all there is to it. I simply have centuries of experience the others don't have. In fact, I can honestly say that I barely notice the scent anymore. It's not a temptation the way it used to be."

Plink, plink, plink. More glass came from my arm onto the table. There sure seemed to be a lot of it, but I didn't dare look at the bloody pile if I wanted to stay conscious.

Trying to keep myself distracted, I said, "Wasn't it hard, though? I mean..." I searched for the right words. "It's obvious how tough it is for the others. Edythe—she believes in this life as strongly as any of you, yet when she saw me for the first time, it took every ounce of willpower she had not to kill me. And just now, they were all so tensed up, couldn't even be around me...Maybe you're okay now, but you had to start out like they did sometime. How did you do it? How did you go all those years fighting your natural instincts?"

Carine's face was thoughtful as I heard the sound of another piece of glass falling to the tabletop.

"Hmm. It was difficult, I suppose. However, I was always able to keep my eyes on the future, beyond the immediate carnal need to sate my hunger. I continuously reminded myself of the people, whose hopes and dreams would end should I ever falter or make a mistake. I also kept my eyes on the thought of what my enhanced abilities would be able to accomplish, if only I could have the discipline, the restraint. I believe it was the twin power of those two thoughts that allowed me to pull through it all, to make the necessary sacrifices. Now, it is gratifying to know that the lives of some are better because I exist, because of what I am. That the abilities I possess have, at times, put it in my power to save lives that otherwise could not have been saved."

Carine poked around my wound a little, making certain she had gotten all the remaining bits of glass. Then she pulled out the tools she would need for the stitches.

The thought of the needle made me feel a bit queasy, so I tried to keep her talking. "Where did it start, though?" I wanted to know. "I'm guessing there aren't a whole lot of new vampires who would even think to think like that. Vampires have an established way of living...a natural food source...what made you decide right from the start to go against the grain? Take the tougher road?"

I heard the snip of scissors as she cut the thread, and a strong, odd odor filled my nostrils as she brushed a dark liquid over the operation site. For a moment I felt light-headed and woozy.

"Our instincts are very strong," she admitted. "There is no doubt about that. But that doesn't mean we don't still have a choice. I simply made mine." She paused, smiling a little. "But yes, my history prior to my change is a little unusual, and it may have helped predispose me toward a different way, or at least granted me the opportunity. Edythe told you the story, didn't she?"

I nodded as Carine taped another piece of gauze tightly to my arm, finishing up the process. "Yeah...I remember. When I think about it, though, it still seems kind of unbelievable."

Now that she was done with my arm, Carine was carefully wiping everything down with alcohol-soaked gauze, and the smell burned my nose. She spoke again as she worked.

"You might remember that my father was a clergyman."

I nodded slowly.

Carine's eyes were distant. "He...had a rather harsh view of the world, my father. He hurt many innocent people in his passion to destroy what he saw as evil. The monsters of Satan, he called them."

She had gathered all the bits of gauze into one of the crystal bowls, along with the bloody glass, and lit a match. I jumped as the contents of the bowl flared up in a blinding patch of orange.

Carine sighed deeply, and she watched the flickering flames with a far away look in her eyes. "I didn't agree with my father's way, even back then, and I often pleaded with him to show mercy. Many families were torn apart by my father's zeal to destroy evil. Many people feared and hated him, and by extension, also grew to hate and fear the God my father often spoke of, the God who, through him, rained down fired and judgment. But I—I saw differently. As much as I loved my father, I did not see God in him—not until the final moments of his life. When, one of the monsters he had spent his entire life hunting was before him, tormenting him, and his eyes were filled, not with hatred for them, but with love—Love, even for that which would soon become what he most hated."

My eyes dropped to the dressing on my arm, a little taken aback at the direction this conversation had turned.

Carine was smiling slightly, as though reading my mind. "I'm sure this sort of talk must sound strange, coming from a vampire. What I mean to say is, I suppose, in my nearly four hundred years since I was born, I've never seen anything to make me doubt that God exists, in some form or other. So I've still held out hope that there is a point to this life after all, even for us. Perhaps we are damned, as my father believed, as many believe, but I still hope there may be something different for us."

I sat where I was, turning that over in my mind. "And what about the others?" I asked. "What do they think?"

Carine smiled a little. "You mean what does Edythe think," she guessed perceptively. She nodded. "We have spent some time discussing this topic at length. The two of us agree up to a point. She certainly believes in God and heaven...and conversely, in hell. But she won't believe there's an afterlife for our kind." Carine's gaze was distant as she stared out the large window above the sink, into the darkness. "You see," she said softly, "she thinks we've lost our souls."

Edythe's words from earlier that day drifted back to me. It's not easy for a vampire to die—or whatever it is we do.

"That's been the real problem all along, hasn't it?" I said slowly. "The real reason she's so set against my changing."

"I can't help but believe that there is a place for us," she said softly. "My daughter is so very kind a person, compassionate, and she has willingly made such sacrifices—I can't help but believe that there must be a place we will go when we pass away from this world. A place where our choices in life count for something."

She paused, and her gaze turned to mine, staring into my eyes. "But you should consider this, Beau...If you believed as she does, could you do that? Could you burn away her soul, forever damn her?"

I was silent. I'd already made my decision for what I was going to do with my life. I was going to be with Edythe. But somehow, phrased that way, the answer didn't seem quite so easy.

"If it's my soul, then it should be my choice," I said at last.

Carine shook her head. "I think you know the kind of person my daughter is better than that, Beau. Any action she takes, she takes on the full weight of its responsibility, without excuse. To do that to you, it must be her choice as well."

I pressed my mouth into a thin line, thinking. "Maybe she doesn't have to take on that responsibility," I said slowly. "Maybe someone else could do it." I gave Carine a pointed look.

She laughed, and the tension in the room seemed to lift. "No, no, none of that. Edythe is family, and I won't go behind her back—and neither will the others, including Archie. It is her decision, and we will stay out of it."

Carine suddenly sighed and shook her head. "In the end, that's the one choice that am I still not entirely certain of. I believe I can be mostly satisfied that I have done the best I could with what fate handed to me—But was I justified to condemn the others to this life? On that point, even now, I am still very much undecided."

I didn't answer. I was glad for what Carine had done, that I had been able to meet Edythe, and nothing would change that.

Carine's gaze was far away again, and she murmured, "That first time, when I was still living my solitary life. It was Edythe's father who made up my mind."

I blink, surprised. Edythe had never said much about her parents. She only had ever said that they had died long ago, and she couldn't remember much about them. But obviously Carine's memories would be perfectly clear.

"His name was Edward. Edward Masen. Her mother, when she was brought in, never regained consciousness, and died in the first wave of the influenza. But Edward held on, by some supernatural force of will, and was alert up until his last moments. Edythe resembled him—she inherited his odd bronze-colored hair and his emerald green eyes."

"Green," I muttered, trying to imagine it.

Carine's eyes were on the dark window again, as she relived the memories of nearly a century ago. "Edward was...unusually attached to his daughter, especially for that time. He adored her. When she fell ill, he used what he had studied of medicine to try to nurse her back to health himself, even though he himself was already wracked by fever, and risked his own chances for survival.

"I expected that Edythe would go first, she was hardly lucid, already on death's door. But when the end came for Edward, it happened very quickly—after sunset, when I had just arrived at the hospital to continue my work. I went to see Edward and Edythe first, as I often did—Even though I knew it to be unwise, something about their story had touched me, and I had grown particularly attached to them. I saw at once that he had gotten worse, and did not have much longer to live.

"Even though at that time I was merely a nurse, Edward's perceptive eyes had seen the way I occasionally compensated for doctor's mistakes, the way my diagnoses often turned out to be the more accurate, and it was I he looked to primarily for his and his precious daughter's care. He had often told me how bright his daughter was, how she would study and go to college, no matter the opposition.

"In his final moments, he somehow found the strength to glare up at me, seizing my hand and gripping it tightly. 'Save her,' he told me hoarsely. 'You must. Do everything in your power—do what others cannot do.'

"I was stunned, and for just an instant, I was sure he saw through me, knew what I really was. Then the fever overtook him, and he passed on within the hour.

"However, his words made up my mind. For decades I had contemplated the idea of creating for myself a companion—one other person who would know what I was. But I had held back, unable to bring myself to do what had been done to me. But now a clear choice lay before me, to stand by and let her simply die as the others died, for I knew she couldn't have more than hours left—or do what no one else could do. On a whim, in the heat of that moment, I made my plans, and acted. Even now, I don't know if I acted rightly, but I have never regretted it. I've never regretted saving Edythe."

We both remained quiet for a moment then, Carine reliving memories of so many years past, me, picturing the scene in my mind. At last, Carine smiled and shook her head.

"Well," she said. "I suppose I ought to take you home now."

"I can do that."

I turned to see Edythe, coming through the shadowy dining room. She moved with unnatural slowness, her face blank, impossible to read. But her eyes held a trace of some emotion that made me uneasy.

"It's okay, Carine can take me," I said. I didn't doubt the smell of my blood would still be bothering her. I glanced down at my shirt, and saw splotches of equal parts blood and chocolate frosting. "Uh, I guess I'll need to change too, so Charlie doesn't have a heart attack."

"I'll have Archie get you something," Edythe said, and her voice was flat and unemotional. She turned, going out of the kitchen the way she had come.

Edythe was obviously upset, and for once, I wasn't eager about the alone time on the ride back. I had no idea what to say.

"Sorry about all this," I mumbled, not entirely sure if I was talking to Carine, or practicing my apology for the way home.

Carine put a hand on my shoulder. "Don't worry about Edythe, Beau. It's just that a night like tonight is exactly what she's been fearing all along—you being put in danger, because of what we are."

"It's not her fault," I muttered, looking down at my finger. I could still see the thin slice of skin, white at the edges.

We headed back to the main room. Earnest was there, mop in hand, busy cleaning up the mess.

"Hey, let me help," I said, stepping forward.

"It's already done," he said, turning to me with a smile. "How are you feeling?"

"Like a moron," I admitted. "But the arm's not bad. I've never seen a doctor who sews that fast."

Carine and Earnest both chuckled, and Archie and Edythe came in the back doors. Archie had a white T-shirt slung over one arm, and he tossed it to me. "That's about the same style as the one you're wearing. Charlie won't notice anything, right?"

"You could give me a muscle shirt with the sleeves ripped off and he probably wouldn't notice," I said.

I was relieved when Archie cracked a grin, but Edythe's face could have been carved in stone.

I headed toward a bathroom off the hall, and Archie came with me, maybe to make sure I'd be able to get into the shirt with my bad arm. After all the help he'd done following the attack last spring, it was kind of an unspoken agreement between us.

"So," I said in a low voice, when I thought we were out of earshot, glancing back in the direction I'd last seen Edythe. "Just how bad do you think it is?"

Archie frowned. "You mean how Edy's taking this? Honestly man, I think it's too soon to tell." However, from the tension in his brow, I guessed he thought it was pretty bad.

"How's Jessamine doing?"

Archie sighed. "Pretty ticked at herself. It's so hard for her, you know, and she absolutely hates feeling like she's lost to her instincts."

"I know," I said. "I get it. Will you tell her, far as I'm concerned, we're all cool?"

He smiled back a little at me. "Will do."

When we got back, Edythe was still standing by the door, looking as though she hadn't moved a muscle while we'd been gone. She said nothing as she went to hold open the door.

"Don't forget these," Archie said, shoving the remaining presents from my pile into my hand, the one from him and Edythe, and a second one I could only assume was from Carine and Earnest.

Outside, I sucked in a deep breath of the cool night air. Edythe went to the driver's side, and I went to the passenger's without complaint.

A large red ribbon had been stuck on the dashboard over the new stereo. I pulled it off quickly and tossed it in the back, out of sight.

Edythe was silent as a statue, neither looking at me or the new stereo as she turned the key in the ignition. Somehow the deafening roar of my truck's engine only seemed to intensify the silence, and I was suddenly tempted to turn the stereo on, just to break it. My truck sped off, going a little too fast down the winding lane than was probably healthy for it.

I felt like something was stuck in my throat, and I swallowed hard, then spoke at last. "Hey...I'm sorry."

"Sorry," Edythe hissed, and her voice was laced with such disgust I flinched. "Sorry for what exactly?"

I stared down at the empty space of the seat between us. "I should have been more careful."

"More careful," she sneered, and a hard laugh escaped her mouth. "More careful, he says. For what? For getting a papercut—honestly, how can your sense of reality be this warped? If you had been at any other house and cut your finger, what's the worst that might have happened? They couldn't find you any Neosporin?"

"Hey—" I began, trying to cut in, but Edythe talked over me.

"Say you tripped and knocked over a pile of glass plates. What's the worst case scenario? You got blood on the seats while they drove you to the emergency room? If you'd been at McKayla Newton's house—"

"Hey," I said again, this time raising my voice above hers, and she broke off. I could feel my intimidation at her bad mood giving way to irritation. "If I'd wanted to be at McKayla's house, I would have been there, wouldn't I?"

"Well," said Edythe harshly. "Maybe after tonight, you might start reconsidering your options. What kind of girl would actually be a healthy match for you."

I didn't answer, only fixed her with my best glare, while she glared out the windshield, not looking at me.

Edythe pulled the truck up to the house, switching off the engine. However, her pale hands were still clenched around the steering wheel as though she'd like to twist it in two.

I had been trying to figure out a way to fix the ruined evening the entire drive, but I hadn't come up with anything.

"Will you come up for a while tonight?" I asked at last.

"I should go home," she muttered.

I looked at her, worried she would go and do nothing but brood the rest of the night.

"It is my birthday," I reminded her.

Edythe snorted softly, and her expression looked just a touch lighter than before. "Do you want people to ignore your birthday or don't you?"

"I changed my mind. It is my birthday."

She smiled slightly. "I won't come in tonight. I think I need some time to think, and cool down. But I'll be close."

"You aren't going to go back home and mope?" I said dubiously.

"I'll try not to," she said, smiling a little.

I turned around and pulled the packages Archie had given me onto my lap.

"You don't need to look at those," she said, frowning. "Plus Earnest and Carine spent money."

"That's okay," I said. "It's my birthday, I want my stuff."

I tore into the first one, a long, flat rectangle marked from Earnest and Carine. I was extra careful with the paper this time.

Inside, I found a small white box, and as I lifted the lid I found a thick slip of paper covered in fine print.

"Hey," I said, scanning the writing. "It's a voucher for a plane ticket. Two plane tickets. Jacksonville." I looked back at her, mystified. "So I get to visit my mom. But who else am I taking?"

Edythe smiled. "Whoever you like, Beau."

I thought about it, then a slow grin spread across my face. "You? Wow, my mom is going to freak out. She asks about you all the time." I hesitated. "You'll have to stay indoors all day, though. All that sun."

"I don't mind," Edythe said, then a frown creased her brow. "Such an appropriate reaction to a gift, Beau. I knew I should have simply ignored your ridiculous injunction."

"Well, they shouldn't have," I admitted. "But this is cool. It'll make my mom happy."

I set down the tickets in the middle seat of the truck, and picked up the one from Edythe and Archie. Moving with care again, I drew back the paper, and tore it off to find a clear CD case, with a blank silver CD inside. I turned it over to see if there was any writing on the back to clue me it, but there was nothing.

"What is it?" I asked.

Edythe's eyes glittered. "You'll see when you get upstairs."

I looked down at her, and suddenly ached at the thought of separating. "So you won't come up?" I said again. I thought about adding it would be nice to have something cold to put against my arm, but that would have involved admitting it was starting to hurt again.

"Not tonight," she said, smiling slightly, though her eyes were distant. "But I will be close by. I'll leave your gifts upstairs so you won't have to carry them."

Her eyes drifted toward the truck windshield, staring out into the darkness.

For some reason, an anxiety flickered in my stomach. "What are you thinking?" I asked before I could stop myself.

She glanced back my way, considering. At last, she said, "Nothing, really. Just about right and wrong."

For some reason, I felt myself wanting to distract her. From whatever dangerous paths her mind was taking. "You know," I said suddenly, "this is my birthday."

"So you've suddenly been reminding me for the last quarter hour."

"So..." I said, trailing off. I leaned a little over the middle seat of the truck, hoping she would get the hint.

"You're really very greedy today, Beau," she murmured, though her mouth curled into a smile.

"Birthday," I said again.

Edythe laughed, then sighed. She looked up at me, and there was something in her golden eyes I didn't understand. A desperation, a flicker of silent agony.

Then she reached up, cupping my face in my hands, and gently drew my face to hers. Our lips touched lightly, and it was like it always was between us. My heart, completely overreacting, her like stone, restrained, careful. She started to pull away, and I prepared to get my heartrate back under control.

However, as I started to reluctantly pull back, I suddenly felt her cold arms around my neck, pulling me against her, lips crushed against mine. I could feel her unnatural strength as she held me to her, her icy fingers in my hair.

Then she abruptly pulled away, pushing my shoulders back.

I fell back, gasping, realizing I'd forgotten to breathe.

"Sorry," she said, and even though vampires didn't need to breathe, she sounded just a little breathless too. "I guess I went a little far."

"No...no problem," I said, rubbing the back of my neck. Then I stopped, as I wanted the lingering coolness of her touch to linger. However, I felt something tug at the back of my mind. A memory just on the edge of my consciousness.

I shook my head, then said hopefully, "One more?"

Edythe smiled. "I think you've pushed your luck far enough already tonight, Beau. You better go get some sleep. I'll leave your presents for you on your desk."

"Okay," I said reluctantly. Casting one last look in her direction, I got out of the truck and headed toward the door.

Inside, I could still hear the murmur of the television, meaning Charlie was still watching the game. Charlie asked about how it had gone, and I answered as best I could. Unfortunately he noticed my arm, which was really starting to bother me again, but I just waved my good arm and made some excuse about tripping, then went on upstairs.

I half hoped Edythe to be there after all, but my shoulders sank as I saw the presents sitting on my desktop, the window open a crack.

Sighing, I changed into my pajamas, went to the bathroom to brush my teeth, which I had to do pretty much one-handed, then returned to my room, downing a couple of Tylenol on the way.

Curiously, I put the CD from Archie and Edythe into the player on my desk. I felt a tear sting my eyes as I heard the familiar lilt of Edythe's classical compositions. I could imagine her fingers flying across the piano, skipping from one key to the next like a dance. This song was my favorite, the one she said she'd written as a kind of lullaby with me in mind.

On the way over to my bed, I snagged my dog-eared copy of Twenty Leagues Under the Sea from my nightstand, hoping for something to help me relax a little. I flipped through the familiar pages of sea monsters and vengeance, as I listened to the quiet music play in the background.

I'd just about fallen asleep with the book beside me when it occurred to me why that last kiss in the truck had felt almost familiar. Last spring, when the two of us had had to separate while Edythe and the others went after the tracker, she had kissed me goodbye, not knowing when—or if—we would ever see each other again. For some reason I couldn't imagine, this had felt almost the same. The same tinge of pain.

It's nothing, I told myself. You're just imagining things again.

But even so, when I at last drifted off, I felt a deep unease settle at the back of my mind.