But it seemed Allegra wanted the total opposite. Leave me alone. Not here. Go away. Those were the only words she ever said to him now. He couldn’t stand it. It was as if she hated him. Why? What had he done? Nothing but love her. He did not want to admit to Cordelia that he did not know where she was spending the weekend, that he did not know where she was, and he was damned if he was going to sink to the level of using the glom to try to find out. Allegra was his heart. She should come to him. She should want to be with him. And yet she did not. She made that all too clear.

“It’s a mere infatuation. Just the bloodlust. Nothing to worry about,” Cordelia assured. “You should let her be. She’s had a hard time of it.”

Charles knew what his mother meant—that Gabrielle needed time to heal. Even though Florence was but a distant memory, the pain from it—the ghastly action he had taken—of course, Lawrence was to blame, too—still lingered. It had been almost five hundred years already. Would she never be the same? She didn’t even know the whole truth of it.

“The more you squeeze, the more she will squirm. It is best to let her make her own choice. She will choose you.”

“There’s something different about it this time,” he said doubtfully, stirring his tea. “I fear that…she might actually love this one.”

“Nonsense. He’s human. It’s nothing. You know that,” Cordelia argued. “It’s just a bit of fun. She’ll come back to you. She always does. Trust me on this one, Charles. You must let it run its course. Do not interfere; it will only lead to more estrangement between the two of you. Allegra needs her freedom right now.”

“I hope you’re right, Mother,” Charles said darkly. “I shall stand aside for now. But if you’re wrong about this, I shall never forgive you.”

SIX

The Familiar’s Kiss

Girls were not allowed in the boys’ dorms after hours, and Allegra had to sneak in through the fire exit. It was easy enough to jump from the ladder to the ledge and knock on the windowsill.

“How’d you get up here?” Bendix asked, helping her inside. “That’s not an easy climb.”

She smiled. It was easy enough for a vampire, but of course he could not know that. She looked around his room, which was a tornado as usual. Boys. “Where’s your roommate?”

“I sent him out. I had a feeling you were coming to visit.” He smiled, walking over to the stereo to put on some music. None of that Grateful Dead stuff or Van Morrison, thank goodness. It was Miles Davis. Bitches Brew.

Allegra sat on his bed, feeling shy suddenly. Even though they had kissed enough times over the course of a month that her mouth regularly felt bruised as a fruit, she still felt nervous about what she was about to do. So instead of looking at him, she investigated his bookshelves. There was a print on his wall. Not a poster. A lithograph. “You like Basquiat?”

“He’s bit overhyped right now, but yeah.”

“Didn’t take you for a collector.”

“I guess you just don’t know me that well,” he said, sitting on the office chair at his desk. He was wearing a white lacrosse T-shirt and boxer shorts, and his hair was wet from a shower.

“What are you doing way over there?” she asked, patting the empty space next to her.

He moved to sit next to her, and they snuggled together; and she pulled him close so she could smell the wonderful, boyish smell of him, of laundry detergent and Ivory soap and just a hint of aftershave.

“Hey,” Ben said, hovering over her. He removed his T-shirt, tossing it to the side of the room. His chest was broad, hard to the touch, sculpted and defined. Allegra thrilled to run her hands over his skin.

She was about to remove her top when he stopped her. He took her hands and gently pushed them away, and then with his teeth he unbuttoned each of her pajama buttons. She laughed when he looked surprised to see a camisole underneath.

“Tricky.”

“I thought it shouldn’t be too easy, right?”

“Hmmm.”

He pushed off the straps of the camisole and then his head was on her chest, and she tugged him forward so that her hand was on the waistband of his shorts. She kissed his neck and his chest and felt the entire length of his body press against hers, and she wrapped her legs around his waist.

Neither of them spoke, and then Allegra whispered, “There’s something you don’t know about me.”

“What’s that?” he asked huskily.

This was it. It was time. This was what she had come to his room to do. She lifted up his chin so that he could see her clearly. Then she bared her fangs.

He looked at them in wonder but without fear. “You’re a…”

“Vampire. Yes. You’re not afraid?”

“No.” He shook his head. “Maybe I should be, but I feel like…I’m looking at the real you. Like I’m seeing who you really are, for the first time. And you’re beautiful. More beautiful, if that’s even possible.”

“When a vampire takes first blood, she marks her human as her familiar. You would be…mine,” she explained. God, she wanted him so much. She could smell his blood underneath his skin, could already tell that it was going to be delicious and full of life—full of his unique and vital life force. She wanted him to be part of her, she wanted to be inside him and of him. She wanted him now.

“Legs, are you asking me to go steady?” he joked.

“It’s more than that,” she said gently. “You would be mine your entire life. You would never love another.” Why was she telling him all the secrets of the Sacred Kiss? Just bite him and get it over with. And yet she wanted to—she wanted to give him a chance. A chance to choose his own destiny. “It’s not going to hurt,” she said.

“Oh, but I kind of want it to,” he said, gazing up at her. “Hurt me, please.”

“This isn’t a joke, Ben. Do you really want me to…?”

He nodded. He had chosen. “I’m up for it. Whatever it is. As long as it means I’ll always be with you.”

She kissed the base of his neck. She paused for a moment and let her fangs tease him, pricking his skin. She felt his excitement build, and at the right moment, she bit him as hard as she could. He clenched underneath and pulled her closer, his hands on her waist and their bodies joined together.

She drank his blood.

It was wonderful, more wonderful than she had imagined. It was glorious and she saw his every memory, learned his every secret—not that he had too many—he was an open book—filled with light and love—

Then something terrible happened.

Everything was wrong. The blood—what was in his blood? Dear God—what was this? Poison? Had he already been marked by another vampire? It could not be—she hadn’t seen any of the signs, nothing to indicate that…

No. It wasn’t poison.

It was a vision from the glom.

She saw…

She was holding a baby girl in her hands. It was her daughter…. She caught a glimpse of her name…Schuyler? Where had she heard that name before? She was filled with joy and light and happiness…she had never felt happier in her life, or more alive, and next to her, she looked up and Ben was holding her hand and smiling, but then…

There was a second image…a few years later….

She was lying in a hospital bed. She was comatose, the doctor was saying. There was no chance of recovery. Next to her, Charlie was sobbing. His hair was black, with silver streaks. No chance of recovery? But why? What had happened? What was happening? And where was Ben?

Why was she lying on the hospital bed? What was wrong with her? Was she dead? But vampires did not die. So what then—what had happened? And that terrible anguish on her brother’s face. She had never seen him look so wretched.

And where was her baby? Where was her beautiful black-haired baby? The baby with Charles’s dark hair and Ben’s blue eyes. Where was her beautiful daughter? Where was her husband?

What was this?

What was she seeing?

Her future?

She wrenched away. Back to the boys’ dormitory, where she was straddling her first familiar.

“Don’t stop….” Bendix looked at her through a dreamy haze. He was already feeling the soporific effects of the Caerimonia Osculor. “Why did you stop…?” he whispered. Then he was asleep.

Allegra put her clothes back on and gathered her things. What had she seen? What had just happened? All she knew was she had to get out of there as quickly as possible.

SEVEN

Love Sick

For two weeks, Allegra would not leave her bed, nor would she accept any visitors. She refused to eat, she refused to go to class, and rebuffed every entreaty—from her teachers, her resident adviser, her roommate, her teammates. The field hockey championships came and went without Allegra’s involvement (Endicott lost, 4–2). She did not want to see anybody. Especially Ben, who had sent dozens and dozens of roses and left countless messages on the answering machine. Instead, she spent the hours lying huddled underneath her flowered comforter, alone and in despair. She had no idea what had come over her, only that she could not face her life. She could not face Ben. She did not want to think about anything. She just wanted to sleep. Or lie awake in the dark.