I carry on massaging his hair, knowing what it’s doing to him, knowing how sensitive his hair is to stimulation and loving the fact I can have this effect on someone as beautiful as him.

He trembles. “Natalie . . . stop . . .”

“No.”

“Stop . . .”

I don’t.

Ash plunges his fangs into my throat.

I scream, but the sound soon evaporates as the venom seeps into my blood, hot and tingly, making my skin numb where his fangs pierced my skin. The room starts to shimmer, and I blink once, twice, trying to focus, but there are so many colors, bright, beautiful rainbow colors swirling through the air. I swipe a hand through the rainbows and giggle when the colors burst and turn into butterflies! They dance and flutter around my hand. They’re so pretty, I almost cry.

Bliss spills over me. I’ve never felt so happy. My hands grip Ash’s hair, pull at his clothes, desperate to touch any part of his skin. I need to touch him—I crave him more than water, more than air.

Why was I so afraid to be bitten? It’s not so bad. It’s not like, when Father got attacked, his blood went whooooosh all over the floor—

A picture of his dead body bursts into my mind. It’s as if he’s here in the room with me, and it’s happening all over again. Bliss turns to terror. My neck hurts. Ow . . . ow . . .

“OW! Get off me!” I say.

Ash leaps back, his cheeks flushed. His breathing is ragged, his whole body shaking. I manage to sit up, although my movements are sluggish, my body disconnected. I’m light-headed and dizzy, and desire still rages through me, but I use every last ounce of strength to push it aside. They’re not real emotions. They’re fake ones brought on by the Haze.

“You . . . drugged . . . me,” I manage to say.

Ash puts his head in his hands.

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbles through his fingers. “I warned you I was losing control, but you carried on. I thought you wanted this.”

“I wanted you to kiss me, I wanted us to take things a step further, and I admit I got carried away, but I didn’t want that. You know how my father died—you must know how much being bitten scares me,” I say.

“I scare you?” he asks quietly.

I don’t answer. We’re only sitting a few feet apart, but I feel so distant from him. For the first time since we met, it’s really sinking in what it means to be dating a twin-blood Darkling.

The bedroom door bangs open, and Gregory barges into the room, his lank hair plastered down the side of his gaunt face, his hazel eyes wild and crazed. He looks completely mad. He takes one look at Ash, and the blood dripping down my neck, and lunges for Ash.

“You rotten half-breed!” he yells.

Ash darts out of the way with lightning speed.

“You’ve got it wrong!” I say.

Ash shakes his head at me, fear in his eyes. I realize my mistake—what we’ve just been doing is infinitely worse than a Darkling taking a bite out of me. I grip Gregory’s arm as he makes another attempt to punch Ash.

“He was giving me some Haze!” I say.

Gregory freezes and looks at me with utter contempt. Footsteps run up the stairs, no doubt drawn by our shouting.

“You’re disgusting,” Gregory sneers at me. “Letting a half-breed feed on you. I should tell your mother—”

“It’s none of your business,” I say.

“How can you let him do that? What are you? A race traitor?”

“Like Chris, you mean?” I zing back.

Gregory’s eyes burn with fury, and he lashes out, hitting me across the face and knocking me to the floor. A loud growl fills the room. Ash bares his fangs at Gregory. There’s nothing human about him now. He looks like a wild animal, full of anger and power.

Gregory edges back, his leg hitting the side of the bed.

“I’m okay,” I say. Don’t do anything, Ash, please . . .

Beetle and Day run into the bedroom, followed by Sebastian.

“Just you try it, mongrel. There’s a bunch of witnesses. You won’t get away with hurting me,” Gregory says to Ash.

“What did Ash do to you?” Day says, spotting the blood oozing down my neck.

Ash takes another step toward Gregory, his fangs still bared.

“Ash, let it go. I’m fine,” I plead.

“Arrest him!” Gregory orders Sebastian.

“Seb, if you arrest Ash, I’ll get in trouble too,” I say. “You owe me.”

A meaningful look passes between us. He knows I’m referring to his dark secret, the one I’ve been keeping for him all these months.

“I think you need to leave,” Sebastian eventually says to Gregory. “And if one word about this gets back to the Emissary, I’ll kick you out of the Trackers.”

Gregory leaves the room, slamming the door behind him.

Ash reaches out for me. “Are you all right?”

I flinch, still angry at him for drugging me, even though I know I was partly to blame for giving him mixed signals.

Sebastian jabs a finger at Ash’s chest. “If you ever touch her again, it’ll be the last thing you do, nipper.”

He takes my hand and hauls me out of the room.

* * *

Sebastian doesn’t say a word to me until we’re back in my bedroom.

He sits on the edge of my bed. “So you’re into drugs now?”

“No.”

“Then what were you doing with that half-breed?”

I flush at the memory of what we were doing on the bed before he bit me. Sebastian puts two and two together.

“He’s a twin-blood!”

“You’re one to talk! You cheated on me with a Darkling,” I snap back.

Sebastian painfully grabs my arms. “I only screwed her because you weren’t giving it up! If you’d slept with me, I wouldn’t have needed to find it elsewhere.”

“You’re hurting me,” I say.

Sebastian immediately releases me, running a hand over his shaved head.

“How can you choose him over me? I love you,” Sebastian says.

“You don’t love me. You never have—you just want to own me,” I reply.

Anger flashes in his green eyes. “I’ll have him arrested.”

“If you arrest him, they’ll execute me. Is that what you want?”

“No,” he says quietly.

“Get out of my room,” I say.

“Don’t think I’m going to forget about this,” he says before leaving.

I sit down on the bed, my whole body shaking. The phone on my nightstand rings. It’s Day.

“I know we’re not friends anymore, but I wanted to check to see if you were okay,” she says.

I should be mad at her, but right now I need a friend. I start crying, tired and emotional after all the drama.

“Nat, don’t cry. He’s such a jerk, I can’t believe he bit you—”

“I’m not crying about Ash,” I say through my tears. “And he didn’t attack me. We were kissing, and we got carried away.” I figure there’s no reason to lie about this; she already knows we’re an item.

“Oh, I thought . . . Never mind,” she says.

“What did you think? That Ash and I had split up?”

“Yes,” she admits.

“So let me guess: you thought we could be friends again now that Ash was out of the picture. Was that it?” I snap, angry at her, angry at Sebastian, just angry at everyone.

“No, I thought you’d be upset and might need someone to talk to who’d understand. I split up with the boy I loved, so I knew how heartbroken you’d be,” she replies.

“Oh . . . ,” I say.

“I’m trying to say I’m sorry, Natalie. I want us to be friends again.”

I sigh. I do miss having a friend. “If we’re going to be friends, you have to be nicer to Ash. He’s got a kind heart, you know that deep down. He brings your family food, and he’s been helping Beetle.”

“He’s still a dealer.”

“He has no choice, Day. He needs the money.”

There’s a long pause on the other end of the line.

“Deal,” she finally says.

We chat for a short while, the conversation light and easy. It’s like we never fought. I hang up the phone, feeling a little better.

I lie back and lightly touch the two puncture wounds on my neck. I care so much for Ash, but today he scared me. If it weren’t for our Blood Mate connection, would we even be together? For the first time since we first kissed, I don’t know how to answer that question.

25

ASH

I RUMMAGE AROUND my pocket for my door keys. My hands are shaking from adrenaline, I’m still so wound up from everything that happened tonight. The keys slip out of my fingers and fall into a nearby bush.

“Fragg!” I yell, slamming my fist against the door.

Shame weighs on my shoulders as I think about Natalie and how she recoiled from me when I tried to touch her.

I scare her.

She’s my Blood Mate, and I scare her! Why did I bite her? Of course she didn’t want me to do that, what freak would? She was after something else. I could kick myself; I’m such a fragging idiot.

I find my keys and quietly enter the church, sneaking past Dad, who is asleep in the kitchen, keeping guard over the crypt. I head to my room in the bell tower. It’s hexagonal in shape, with a tarnished brass bell hanging in the center of the room and tall glassless arches where windows should be. Most of the arches have been boarded up, but two have been left open. During the day I pin black plastic sheets over them to protect myself from the worst of the sunlight or bad weather, but at night I take them down to get a better view of the city. I don’t have many possessions, just a few books and some sketches on the walls. Most of the drawings are of Black City, but there are a few of Natalie up there now too.

I stop dead. Studying one of the drawings is Evangeline, dressed in a blue robe that complements her inky-black hair. She traces her finger down the picture of Natalie.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

She tears her eyes away from the picture. “I brought you something.”

We sit down on my creaky bed. A waft of Calder lilies fills my nostrils as Evangeline pulls her hair to one side, smiling shyly up at me. Yearning unfurls in my stomach. I bet Evangeline wouldn’t be scared if I bit her. In fact, I know she’d enjoy it; all Darklings do. I angrily shake the thought out of my head. I shouldn’t be having these thoughts. Besides, if I did bite Evangeline, I could contract the Wrath. Sometimes I forget she’s infected; she looks so healthy.

Evangeline hands me an ornamental wooden box.

“I found this in Annora’s room. I thought you might like it,” she says.

I open the box and slowly sift through the contents, studying each item carefully. I choke back the emotion as I realize what this box contains: all my mom’s most treasured possessions.

There are three faded photos: one of me as a cub, one of my extended family, another of Mom and Dad on their wedding day. There are other mementos, like an old Legion Liberation Front pamphlet with Sigur’s photo on it; a gold amulet shaped like a quarter-circle, with strange script written around the rim; and a lock of white hair tied with ribbon.

Evangeline lightly touches my leg as I look through Mom’s belongings. It feels so natural, I don’t think to move her hand.

The last things in the box are eight envelopes bound together with string. They’re all addressed to me. I eagerly open them. In each envelope is a handmade birthday card, one for every year we were apart.

“She never forgot you, Ash,” Evangeline says.

A solitary tear snakes down my face. I look away, embarrassed.

“It’s okay,” she whispers, wiping the tear from my cheek.

Her hand lingers on my face, and my skin tingles where she’s touching me. Moonlight streams through the open window, making her pale skin look dewy and iridescent. My pulse races.

“Annora told me so many stories about you,” Evangeline says. “I have to admit, I was a little jealous of you.”

“Me? Why?” I ask.

“You have people who love you. Your mother, your father,” she says. “I lost my parents during the war. I miss them so much. It gets—”

“Lonely,” I fill in for her.

She nods, lacing her fingers through mine. “But I’m not lonely anymore, now that you’re in my life.”

Life would be so much simpler if Evangeline were my girlfriend. But she’s not, Natalie is. I let go of her hand. Evangeline looks away, hurt.

“Can I see Annora?” she asks.

I nod.

We sneak down to the crypt, careful not to wake Dad. Mom is huddled in the corner of the room, shaking with pain. Her breath rattles, like there’s fluid in her lungs. She’s entered the final stages of the disease. Grief eats at me. I always dreamed that if she ever came back, this empty space she left inside me would disappear, but it’s just gotten bigger.

Evangeline covers her mouth with her hand, stifling a sob.

I hang back, careful not to get too close, and study Mom, trying to find traces of the woman I remember from my childhood. I see glimpses: her reading to me when I was a cub; the fire in her eyes as she spoke about the Darkling civil rights movement; her and Dad dancing to a song on their anniversary, her cheek resting on his arm, her long dark hair in waves down her back.

Her hair is now lank ribbons falling out in clumps; her eyes are yellowed; her flesh, rotting. She’s not my mother—she’s a monster. I wish she hadn’t come back. I don’t want to remember her this way.