Prom Nights from Hell Chapter Six

â€Å"Sheba,† she said, her dark eyes widening. â€Å"Sheba†¦ Smith.† â€Å"Well, would you like to dance then, Sheba Smith? If you feel well enough.† â€Å"Yes,† she breathed, half to herself. â€Å"Yes, why not?† Her eyes never left his. Not moving from where they were, Gabe and Sheba began swaying to the rhythm of yet another wretched song. This time, the horrid music didn't offend Gabe as much. Gabe put it together then. New girl. Amazing dress. Sheba. This was Logan's date, the one who'd asked him to the prom and then wanted nothing more to do with him. For a half second, Gabe worried if it was wrong for him to infringe on his friend's date. But the worry passed quickly. For one thing, Logan was happy with Libby. There was no sense in interrupting something that was clearly meant to be. For another, Sheba and Logan were clearly not meant to be. Gabe had always had a good instinct for that-for the personalities that belonged together, for compatible natures that would pull together harmoniously. He'd been the butt of many jokes about matchmaking, but he didn't mind. Gabe liked people to be happy. And this intense girl with the deep pools in her eyes-Sheba-did not belong with Logan. That desperate sense of need had calmed when he'd touched her. Gabe felt much better with her in his arms-holding her seemed to soothe the strange call. She was safe here, no longer drowning, no longer lost. Gabe was afraid to let her go, worried that the burning need would return. It was an odd first for Gabe, this feeling of being in exactly the right place, of being the only one that belonged here. It wasn't that he'd never had a girlfriend before-girls liked Gabe, and he'd had many casual relationships. But they never lasted. There was always someone else they belonged with. None of them really needed Gabe, except as a friend. And they'd always stayed good friends. It had never been like this. Was this where Gabe belonged? Shielding this slender girl, holding her safe in his arms? It was silly to think so fatalistically. Gabe tried hard to act normal. â€Å"You're new at Reed River, aren't you?† he asked her. â€Å"I've only been here a few weeks,† she confirmed. â€Å"I don't think we have any classes together.† â€Å"No, I would have remembered if I'd been close to you before.† It was an odd way of phrasing it. She stared into his eyes, her hands clinging gently to his shoulders. Instinctively, he pulled her a little closer. â€Å"Are you having a good time tonight?† he asked. She sighed, a deep sigh from the center of her being. â€Å"I am now,† she said, oddly rueful. â€Å"A very good time.† Trapped! Like an idiot, like a new-spawned whelp, a novice, a rookie! Sheba leaned into Gabe, unable to resist. Unable to want to resist. She stared into his heavenly eyes and had the most ridiculous urge to sigh. How had she not seen the signs? The way goodness itself surrounded him like a shield. The way her suggestions bounced right off him harmlessly. The way the only ones safe from her evil tonight-those little bubbles of happiness outside of her control-were the people he'd touched and interacted with, his friends. The eyes alone should have been warning enough! Celeste was smarter than Sheba. At least her instincts had kept her away from this dangerous boy. Once she was free of his piercing gaze, she'd kept a safe distance between them. Why hadn't Sheba understood the reason behind this? And the reason Gabe had chosen Celeste in the first place. Of course he'd been drawn to Celeste! It all made sense now. Sheba swayed to the beat that rumbled through the air, feeling the security of his body around her, protecting her. Tiny, unfamiliar tendrils of happiness twisted their way through her empty core. No-not that! Not happiness! If she was already feeling happy, then better things couldn't be too far behind. Was there no way to avoid the horrible wonder of love? That wasn't very likely when you were in an angel's arms. Not a true angel. Gabe didn't have wings, he'd never had them-he wasn't one of those sappy birdbrains who'd traded feathers and eternity for human love. But one of his parents had done just that. Gabe was fully half-angel-though he didn't have a clue about his nature. If he'd had any idea, Sheba would have heard that in his mind and escaped this divine horror. Now it was only too obvious to Sheba-this close, she could smell the scent of asphodel clinging to his skin. And, clearly, he'd inherited his angel-parent's eyes. The heaven-blue eyes that should have been a dead giveaway, if Sheba hadn't been so wrapped up in her evil plotting. There was a reason even experienced demons like Jezebel were wary of angels. If it was hazardous for a human to stare into a demon's eyes, it was doubly so for a demon to get locked into an angel's. If ever a demon met an angel's gaze for too long, pfffffft! – out went the fires of hell and the demon was trapped until the angel gave up on saving him. Because that's what angels did. They saved. Sheba was an eternal being, and she was trapped for however long Gabe decided to keep her. A full angel would have known what Sheba was at once, and driven her out if he were strong enough, or given her a wide berth if he wasn't. But Sheba could imagine what her presence would feel like to someone with Gabe's instinct to save. Innocent of the knowledge he needed to understand, Sheba's damned state must have been like a siren's call. She stared helplessly into Gabe's beautiful face, her body filling with happiness, and wondered how long the torture would last. Already too long to save her perfect prom. Without her hellfire, Sheba had no influence over the mortals here. But she was still fully aware, watching helpless and disgustingly blissful, as it all fell apart. Cooper Silverdale gasped in horror as he looked at the gun glistening in his shaking hand. What was he thinking? He shoved the weapon back into its hiding place and half ran to the bathroom, where he violently vomited the punch into the sink. Cooper's stomach problems interrupted Matt and Derek's fistfight, which was just warming up in the men's room. The two friends squinted through their swollen eyes at each other. Why were they fighting? Over a girl that neither of them even liked? How stupid! Suddenly, they were interrupting each other in their urgent need to apologize. With smiles on split lips and arms around shoulders, they headed back to the ballroom. David Alvarado had given up his plans to jump Heath after the dance, because Evie had forgiven him for disappearing with Celeste. Her cheek was soft and warm against his now as they swayed to the slow music, and there was no way he would hurt her by disappearing again, not for any reason. David was not the only one who felt that way. As if the new song was magical rather than insipid, the dancers in the big ballroom each moved instinctively toward the person they should have come with in the first place, the one that would transform the night's misery into happiness. Coach Lauder, lonely and depressed, looked up from the unappetizing cookies straight into Vice Principal Finkle's sad eyes. She looked lonely, too. The coach walked toward her, smiling hesitantly. Shaking her head and blinking her eyes like someone trying to escape a nightmare, Melissa Harris pulled away from Tyson and ran for the exit. She would find the concierge and get a cab†¦ Like a rubber band that had been stretched too far, the atmosphere at Reed River's prom now snapped back with a vengeance. If Sheba had been herself, she would have pulled that rubber band until it exploded into pieces. But now all the misery and wrath and hate vanished. The human minds had been stuck in their grip too long. With relief, everyone at the prom relaxed into happiness, grasped at love with two hands. Even Celeste was tired of the mayhem. She stayed in Rob's arms, shuddering slightly at the memory of those perfect blue eyes, as one slow song melted into the next. Neither Sheba nor Gabe even noticed the song change. All her delicious pain and misery destroyed! Even if she did get free, Sheba was destined for middle school now. Where was the injustice?! And Jezebel! Had she planned this? Tried to distract Sheba from the fact that a dangerous half-angel was here tonight? Or would she be disappointed? Was she really there in encouragement? Sheba had no way to find out. She wouldn't even be able to see Jezebel now-whether the horned demoness was laughing or chagrined-with her fires extinguished. Disgusted with herself, Sheba sighed in happiness. Gabe was just so good. And, in his arms, she felt good, too. She felt wonderful. Sheba simply had to get free before happiness and love ruined her! Would she be trapped with some feather-back's heavenly offspring forever? Gabe smiled at her, and she sighed again. Sheba knew what Gabe would be feeling now. Angels were never happier than when they were making someone else happy, and the bigger the lift in that other person's spirit, the more ecstatic the angel. As perfectly miserable and damned as Sheba had been, Gabe must be flying now-it would be almost as good as having wings. He would never want to let her go. There was just one chance left for Sheba, just one way back to her wretched, miserable, burning, stinking home. Gabe had to order her there. Thinking of this chance, Sheba felt much worse, felt a welcome wave of her former misery. Gabe tightened his hold on her as he sensed her slipping down, and the misery was drowned in contentment, but Sheba remained hopeful. She stared up into his love-filled angel-eyes and smiled dreamily. You're evil incarnate, Sheba told herself. You have a true talent for misery. You know suffering inside and out. You can get yourself out of this trap and everything will be like it used to be. After all, with as much pain and havoc as Sheba was capable of causing, how hard could it possibly be to get this angelic boy to tell her to go to hell? Prom Nights from Hell Chapter Six â€Å"Put them up,† Glasses Geek said. â€Å"I mean your arms. Miranda did what he said because his hands were shaking so much she was afraid he'd shoot her by accident. â€Å"Who are you? What are you doing here?† he demanded in a voice that shook almost as much as his hands. â€Å"I just wanted to get a glimpse of Her,† she said, hoping she made it sound right. He narrowed his eyes. â€Å"How did you know She was here?† â€Å"The Gardener told me, but I didn't know where She was being kept so I climbed up that tree to look.† â€Å"Which affiliate are you with?† I knew this would end in tears. What now, smarty pants? Miranda raised an eyebrow and said, â€Å"Which affiliate are you with?† Adding for good measure, â€Å"I mean, I would remember a guy like you if I'd seen you before.† It worked! She saw him swallow hard, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. She would never doubt How to Get-And Kiss-Your Guy again! He said, â€Å"I'd remember you, too.† She hit him with a dose of Winsome Smile and saw the Adam's apple do some more moving. She said, â€Å"If I give you my hand to shake, will you shoot me?† He chortled and put down the gun. â€Å"No,† still chortling. Holding out his hand now. â€Å"I'm Craig.† â€Å"Hi, Craig, I'm Miranda,† she said, taking it. Then flipped him onto his back and knocked him out cold in a single silent move. She looked at her hand for a second in shock. She'd definitely never done that before. That had been very cool. If you're going to be an idiot and risk everything, you might as well do what you came for. You know, instead of just staring at the guy you knocked out? She bent to whisper, â€Å"Sorry. Take three aspirin for your head when you wake up and you'll feel better,† in his ear, and moved around the edge of the safe house. There must have been an open window because she could hear voices here, the man who had been outside before now saying to someone, â€Å"Are you comfortable?† And Sibby answering, â€Å"No. I don't like this couch. I can't believe this is the nicest room in the house. It looks like a place for a grandma.† Heh! Miranda followed the sound of Sibby's voice and found herself standing in front of one of the street-facing plate-glass windows, looking through a gap in dark blue drapes into a living room. There was a spindly-looking couch, chair, and coffee table. Sibby was in the chair, her profile to Miranda, with a plate of Oreos in front of her. She looked fine. The man was perched on the couch, smiling at Sibby, saying, â€Å"So, where are we supposed to drop you?† Sibby took the top cookie off the Oreo and ate it. â€Å"I'll tell you later.† The man kept smiling. â€Å"I'd like to know so I can plan the route. We can't be too careful.† â€Å"Oh my gods, there's like hours before we go. I want to watch some TV.† Miranda heard the man's heart speed up and saw his hand flex but he kept his tone light when he said, â€Å"Of course.† Then added, â€Å"As soon as you tell me where we're taking you.† Sibby frowned at him. â€Å"Are you deaf or something? I said I'd tell you later.† â€Å"It's in your best interest to talk to me. Otherwise I'm afraid I'll have to bring in someone else. Someone a bit more†¦ forceful.† â€Å"Fine. But while I'm waiting, can I please watch TV? Tell me you get cable. Oh gods, if you don't have MTV, I'm going to be really pissed.† The man stood up with an expression on his face like he wanted to break something, then abruptly turned to face the door. Miranda heard footsteps coming toward the room from the hallway, and with them a familiar cha-cha heartbeat. Two seconds later Deputy Sergeant Caleb Reynolds burst through the door. See? Sibby's in no danger. The police are here. Scram. Deputy Reynolds said to the man, â€Å"What's taking so long?† â€Å"She won't talk.† â€Å"I'm sure she'll change her mind.† His heartbeat picked up. Sibby glanced at him. â€Å"Who are you?† Caleb said, â€Å"I'm the Gardener.† This was extremely not good, Miranda decided. â€Å"I wasn't very impressed with the front lawn,† Sibby told him. â€Å"I'm not that kind of Gardener. It's a nickname. They call me that because-â€Å" â€Å"Actually, I'm not even vaguely interested. I don't know what you're planning, Plant Boy-â€Å" â€Å"Gardener,† he corrected, going a touch red. † – but if you need to know where I'm supposed to be picked up by the Overseer, then you have to keep me alive, right? So you can't exactly threaten me with death.† â€Å"Not death, no. But pain.† He addressed the man. â€Å"Go get me my tools, Byron.† As the man left the room, Sibby said, â€Å"I'm not going to tell you anything.† Deputy Reynolds circled around so he was leaning over her chair, his back to the window. â€Å"Listen to me-† he said, his heartbeat slowing down suddenly. Miranda did a round-off, smashing through the window feet first, then knocked him unconscious with a side kick to the neck before he could turn around. She bent to whisper, â€Å"Sorry,† in his ear, decided as punishment not to tell him about the aspirins, grabbed Sibby, sprinted to the car, and stepped on the gas. Prom Nights from Hell Chapter Six Yun Sun's voice grew sharp. â€Å"Frankie, no!† â€Å"I'm such an idiot-why didn't I think of it before?† â€Å"Wait. Don't do it, don't make the-† She broke off. I heard a â€Å"whoops,† followed by drunken apologies and someone saying, â€Å"Oh, I love your dress!† It sounded like everyone was having fun. I'd soon be having fun with them. I made it to the den and approached the bookshelf where I'd left the corsage. I patted the tops of the books and then the space behind them. My fingers found softness, like petals of skin. â€Å"I'm back,† Yun Sun said. The background sounds had diminished, suggesting she'd stepped outside. â€Å"And, Frankie, I know you're hurting. I know that. But what happened to Will was just a coincidence. A terrible, terrible coincidence.† â€Å"Call it what you want,† I said. â€Å"I'm making my second wish.† I plucked the corsage from behind the books. Yun Sun's anxiety intensified. â€Å"Frankie, no, you can't!† â€Å"Why not?† â€Å"He fell from three hundred feet! His body was†¦ they said he was mangled beyond†¦ that's why they had a closed casket, remember?† â€Å"So?† â€Å"He's been rotting in a coffin for thirteen days!† she cried. â€Å"Yun Sun, that is a tasteless thing to say. Honestly, if it were Jeremy being brought back to life, would we even be having this conversation?† I drew the flowers to my face, lightly touching the petals with my lips. â€Å"Listen, I've got to go. But save some punch for me! And Will! Ooo, make that lots of punch for Will-I bet he'll be absolutely crazed with thirst!† I flipped my phone shut. I held the corsage aloft. â€Å"I wish for Will to be alive again!† I cried exultantly. The stench of decay thickened the air. The corsage curled, as if the petals were shrinking in on themselves. I flung it away on autopilot, just as I'd shake off an earwig that chanced to light on my hand. But whatever. The corsage wasn't important. What was important was Will. Where was he? I glanced around, ridiculously expecting him to be sitting on the sofa, looking at me like You're scared of a bunch of dried flowers? Pitiful! The sofa was empty, a gloomy, looming shape by the wall. I darted to the window and peered out. Nothing. Just the wind, fluttering the leaves on the trees. â€Å"Will?† I said. Again nothing. A tremendous well of disappointment opened inside me, and I sank into my father's leather armchair. Stupid Frankie. Stupid, foolish, pathetic me. Time passed. Cicadas chirped. Stupid cicadas. And then, so faint, a thud. And then another. I straightened my spine. Gravel popped on the road†¦ or maybe the driveway? The thuds came closer. They were labored and with the odd offbeat of a limp, or of something being dragged. I strained to hear. There-a thump, ten feet away on the porch. A thump that was distinctly inhuman. My throat closed as Yun Sun's words wormed back to me. Mangled, she'd said. Rotting. I wasn't paying attention before. Now it was too late. What had I done? I jumped out of the chair and fled to the entry hall, safe from the eyes of anyone-or anything-who might choose to peer through the den's wide windows. What, exactly, had I brought back to life? A knock echoed through the house. I whimpered, then clapped my hand over my mouth. â€Å"Frankie?† a voice called. â€Å"I'm, uh†¦ yikes. I'm kind of a mess.† He laughed his self-deprecating laugh. â€Å"But I'm here. That's the important thing. I'm here to take you to prom!† â€Å"We don't have to go to prom,† I said. Was that me sounding so shrill? â€Å"Who needs prom? I mean, seriously!† â€Å"Yeah, sure, this from the girl who would kill for the perfect romantic evening.† The knob rattled. â€Å"Aren't you going to let me in?† I hyperventilated. There was a series of plops, like overripe strawberries being dropped into the trash, and then, â€Å"Aw, dude. Not good.† â€Å"Will?† I whispered. â€Å"This is so uncool†¦ but do you have any stain remover?† Holy crap. Holy, holy, holy crap. â€Å"You're not mad, are you?† Will asked. He sounded worried. â€Å"I came as fast as I could. But it was so frickin' weird, Frankie. Because, like†¦Ã¢â‚¬  My mind flew to airless caskets, deep in the ground. Please, no, I thought. â€Å"Forget it. It was weird-let's leave it at that.† He tried to lighten things up. â€Å"Now are you going to let me in, or what? I'm falling to pieces out here!† I pressed my body against the hall wall. My knees buckled, I wasn't doing too well with muscle control, but I reminded myself that I was safe behind the solid front door. Whatever else he was, Will was still flesh and bones. Well, partially. But not yet a ghost who could move through walls. â€Å"Will, you've got to go,† I said. â€Å"I made a mistake, okay?† â€Å"A mistake? What do you mean?† His confusion broke my heart. â€Å"It's just†¦ oh God.† I started crying. â€Å"We're not right for each other anymore. You understand, don't you?† â€Å"No, I don't. You wanted me to ask you to prom, so I asked you to prom. And now for no good reason†¦ ohhh! I get it!† â€Å"You do?† â€Å"You don't want me to see you! That's it, isn't it? You're nervous about how you look!† â€Å"Um†¦Ã¢â‚¬  Should I run with this? Should I say yes just so he would leave? â€Å"Frankie. Dude. You have nothing to worry about.† He laughed. â€Å"One, you're beautiful; and two, compared to me, there's no way you won't look like†¦ I don't know, an angel from heaven.† He sounded relieved, as if he'd had a niggling sense of something being off, but couldn't quite place his finger on it. But now he knew: It was Frankie having self-esteem issues, that's all! Silly Frankie! I heard a shuffling, and then the bump of a small wooden lid. My body tensed, because I knew that bump. The milk box-crap. He'd remembered the key in the milk box. â€Å"I'm letting myself in,† he called, slump-thumping back to the front door.† ‘Kay, Franks? ‘Cause all of a sudden I'm, like, dying to see you!† He laughed, jubilant. â€Å"I mean, wait, that came out wrong†¦ but, heck, guess that's the theme of the night. Everything's coming out wrong-and I do mean everything!† I fled to the den, where I got on my hands and knees and frantically patted the floor. If only it weren't so dark! The deadbolt stuck, and Will jangled the key. His breathing was clotted. â€Å"I'm coming, Frankie!† he called. Jangle, jangle. â€Å"I'm coming as fast as I can!† My fear ratcheted so high that I was thrown into an altered state of reality. I was gasping and crying out, I could hear myself, and my hands were blind feelers, pawing and slapping as I crawled. With a thunk, the bolt slid home. â€Å"Yes,† Will crowed. The door swished over the frayed carpet at the exact instant my fingers closed on the crumbling corsage. â€Å"Frankie? Why is it so dark? And why aren't you-â€Å" I squeezed my eyes shut and spoke my final wish. All sounds ceased, save for the rustle of wind in the leaves. The door, continuing its slow trajectory, bumped against the doorjamb. I stayed where I was on the floor. I sobbed, because my heart was breaking. No, my heart was broken. After several moments, the cicadas once again took up their yearning chorus. I rose to my feet, stumbled across the room, and stood, shivering, in the open doorway. Outside, a pale shaft of moonlight shone on the deserted road. Prom Nights from Hell Chapter Six I'm too stunned to do anything to stop him, really. Well, okay, as the initial shock of it is wearing off, I find I don't want to stop him. I'm stunned to realize that†¦ well, I like how it feels, being in Adam's arms. It feels good. It feels safe. It feels warm. It feels†¦ well, almost as if I were a normal girl, for a change. Not the new girl. Not the exterminator's daughter. Just†¦ me. Mary. It's a feeling I could get used to. â€Å"Mary,† Adam says. He's so much taller than me that his breath tickles the tendrils that have fallen from the updo that I've twisted my hair into. I don't mind, though, because his breath smells good. I look up at him dreamily. I can't believe I never noticed-really noticed-how handsome he is before now. Well, last night, actually. Or maybe I noticed, but it never really registered, because what would a guy like him ever see in a girl like me? In a million years, I never thought I'd end up at the prom with Adam Blum†¦ And okay, sure, he only asked me because he obviously feels sorry for me, on account of my mother being a vampire and all. But still. â€Å"Hmmm?† I say, smiling up at him. â€Å"Uh.† Adam seems uncomfortable, for some reason. â€Å"I was wondering if-you know, when this is all over, and you've dusted Drake, and Lila and Ted are back together-you'd want to, um†¦Ã¢â‚¬  Oh God. What's happening? Is he†¦ is he about to ask me out?. Like on a real date? One that doesn't include sharp, pointy objects? No. This isn't happening. This is a dream or something. In a minute, I'm going to wake up, and it's all going to go away. Because how could such a thing even be possible? I can't breathe, I'm so sure I'll break whatever spell we're both under if I do†¦ â€Å"Yes, Adam?† I ask. â€Å"Well.† He can't seem to make eye contact anymore. â€Å"Just if you'd want to, you know, maybe hang out-â€Å" â€Å"Excuse me.† The deep voice that interrupts Adam then is all too familiar. â€Å"But may I have this dance?† I close my eyes in frustration. I cannot believe this. I am never going to get a guy I actually like to ask me out at this rate. Never. Never. Never. I am going to stay a freak-the product of similar freaks-for the rest of my life. Why would a guy like Adam Blum ever want to go out with me in the first place? The child of a vampire and a mad scientist? Let's face it. Not going to happen. And I've had it. I've had it up to here. â€Å"Listen, you,† I say, whirling around to face Sebastian Drake, whose blue eyes widen a little at the fire in mine. â€Å"How dare you come oozing around†¦Ã¢â‚¬  But then my voice trails off. Because suddenly all I can see are those eyes†¦ †¦ those hypnotically blue eyes, which suddenly make me feel like I could dive into them, letting their warmth wash over me in sweet, soft waves†¦ It's true he's no Adam Blum. But he's looking at me in a way that makes it clear he knows that, and that he's sorry for it, and that he's going to do everything he can to make it up to me†¦ more than make it up to me, even†¦ And the next thing I know, Sebastian Drake is taking me into his arms-gently, so gently-and leading me from the dance floor toward a set of French doors through which I can see a night-darkened garden, bathed in twinkling fairy lights and moonlight†¦ just the kind of place to which you'd expect to be led by the golden-haired descendant of a Transylvanian count. â€Å"I'm so glad we finally have the chance to meet,† Sebastian is saying to me in a voice that seems to caress me like a feather-soft touch. Everyone and everything we've left behind us-the other couples; Adam; a stunned Lila, staring after us jealously; Ted, staring jealously at her; even the streamers and rosettes-seems to melt away as if all that exists in the world is me, the garden that I find myself in, and Sebastian Drake. Who is reaching up to smooth some loose tendrils away from my face. In a dim, inner recess of my mind, I remember that I'm supposed to be afraid of him†¦ to hate him, even. Only I can't think why. How could I possibly hate someone as handsome and sweet and gentle as he is? He wants to make me feel better. He wants to help me. â€Å"You see?† Sebastian Drake is saying, as he lifts one of my hands and presses it, softly, against his lips. â€Å"I'm not so terrifying, am I? I'm just like you, actually. Just the child of-let's face it-a very formidable person, who's trying to figure out his own place in the world. We have our burdens, do we not, you and I, Mary? Your mother says hello, by the way.† â€Å"M-my mother?† My brain seems to be as filled with fog as this garden we're standing in. Because while I can picture my mother's face, I can't remember how Sebastian Drake could possibly know her. â€Å"Yes,† Sebastian says, his lips now moving from my hand and up toward the crook of my elbow. His mouth feels like liquid fire against my skin. â€Å"She misses you, you know. She doesn't understand why you won't join her. She's so happy now†¦ she doesn't know the pain of illness†¦ or the indignity of aging†¦ or the heartbreak of loneliness.† His lips are on my bare shoulder now. I'm having trouble breathing. But in a good way. â€Å"She is surrounded by beauty and love†¦ just like you could be, Mary.† His lips are by my throat. His breath, so warm, has seemed to cause my spine to go limp. But it's all right, because one of his strong arms has gone around my waist, and he's holding me up, even as my body, as if of its own volition, is arching backward, allowing him an unobstructed view of my bare throat. â€Å"Mary,† he whispers against my neck. And I feel so peaceful, so serene-something I haven't felt in years, not since Mom left-that my eyelids drift closed†¦ And the next thing I know, something cold and wet hits me in the neck. â€Å"Ow,† I say, opening my eyes and slapping a hand there†¦ then pulling it away to find my fingers slick with some kind of clear moisture. â€Å"Sorry,† Adam calls from where he's standing a few feet away, his arms stretched out in front of him, the mouth of his Beretta 9mm water pistol aimed right at me. â€Å"I missed.† A second later, I am gasping for air as a thick cloud of acrid, burning smoke hits me in the face. Coughing, I stagger away from the man who, just seconds before, had been holding me so tenderly, but is now clutching at his smoldering chest. â€Å"Wha-† Sebastian Drake gasps, pounding at the flames leaping from his chest. â€Å"What is this?† â€Å"Just a little holy water, dude,† Adam says, as he continues pumping away at Drake's chest. â€Å"Shouldn't bother you. Unless, of course, you're a member of the undead. Which, unfortunately for you, it appears you are.† And a second later, I've come back to my senses and am reaching beneath my skirt for my stake. â€Å"Sebastian Drake,† I hiss, as he sinks to his knees before me, howling in pain. And rage. â€Å"This is for my mother.† And I plunge the hand-carved piece of ash deep into the place where his heart would have been. If he'd had one. â€Å"Ted,† Lila says, in a syrupy voice, as her boyfriend lies across the contoured plastic bench with his head in her lap. â€Å"Yes?† Ted asks, looking up at her adoringly. â€Å"No,† Lila says. â€Å"That's what I'm getting for my tattoo next time I'm in Cancn. Across the small of my back. The word Ted. So from now on, everyone will know I belong to you.† â€Å"Oh, honey,† Ted says. And pulls her head down so he can stick his tongue in her mouth. â€Å"Oh my God,† I say, looking away. â€Å"I know.† Adam's returned from throwing a glow-in-the-dark twelve-pound bowling ball down the disco-lit lane. â€Å"I almost liked her better when she was under Drake's spell. But I guess it works out better this way. Ted'll hurt a lot less than Sebastian. That was a strike, by the way. In case you missed it.† He slides onto the bench beside me and looks down at the scoring sheet in the glow of the lamp just above my head. â€Å"Well, what do you know? I'm winning.† â€Å"Don't get cocky,† I say. Although I have to admit, he has a lot to brag about. Not just winning at Night Strike bowling, either. â€Å"Just tell me,† I say as he reaches up and finally pulls off his bow tie. Even in the weird disco lights of Bowlmor Lanes-the bowling alley where we'd retreated for our post-prom activities, a mere nine-dollar cab ride from the Waldorf-Adam still looks obscenely handsome. â€Å"Where'd you get the holy water?† â€Å"You gave a bunch of it to Ted,† Adam says, looking down at me in some surprise. â€Å"Remember?† â€Å"But how'd you get the idea to put it in the water gun?† I demand. I'm still reeling from the evening's earlier activities. Midnight bowling is fun and all. But nothing can really compare with slaying a two-hundred-year-old vampire at the prom. Too bad he'd fizzled into ash out in the garden, where no one but Adam and I could see it. We'd have been voted prom king and queen for sure, instead of Lila and Ted, who are both still wearing their crowns†¦ although they've tilted a little rakishly, due to all the kissing. â€Å"I don't know, Mare,† Adam says, filling in his own score. â€Å"It just seemed like a good idea at the time.† Mare. No one has ever called me Mare before. â€Å"But how did you know?† I ask. â€Å"I mean, that Drake had-well, whatever? I mean, how could you tell that I wasn't faking it? To lull him into a false sense of security?† â€Å"You mean besides the fact that he was about to bite you on the neck?† Adam raises a single dark brow. â€Å"And that you weren't doing a damned thing to stop him? Yeah, I had a pretty good idea of what was going on.† â€Å"I'd have snapped out of it,† I assure him, with a confidence I most definitely do not feel, â€Å"as soon as I felt his teeth.† â€Å"No,† Adam says. Now he's grinning down at me, his face illuminated by the light from the scoring desk's single lamp. The rest of the bowling alley is in darkness, except for the balls and pins, which glow with an eerie fluorescence. â€Å"You wouldn't have. Admit it, Mary. You needed me back there.† His face is so close to mine-closer than Sebastian Drake's ever got. Only instead of feeling as if I could dive into his gaze, I feel as if I'm about to melt under it. My heartbeat staggers. â€Å"Yeah,† I say, unable to keep my gaze from drifting toward his lips. â€Å"I guess I kinda did.† â€Å"We make a good team,† Adam says. His own gaze, I can't help noticing, isn't straying far from my mouth, either. â€Å"Wouldn't you say? I mean, especially in light of the coming apocalyptic event? When Drake's dad finds out what we did tonight?† I can't help gasping a little at that. â€Å"That's right,† I cry. â€Å"Oh, Adam! He's not just going to come after me. He's going to come after you, too!† â€Å"You know,† Adam says. And now his gaze has drifted from my mouth, and downward. â€Å"I really do like that dress. It goes great with bowling shoes.† â€Å"Adam,† I say. â€Å"This is serious! Dracula could be getting ready to descend upon Manhattan at any moment, and we're wasting time bowling! We've got to start getting ready! We need to prepare a counterattack. We need to-â€Å" â€Å"Mary,† Adam says. â€Å"Dracula can wait.† â€Å"But-â€Å" â€Å"Mary,† Adam says. â€Å"Shut up.† And I do. Because I'm too busy kissing him back to do anything else. Besides, he's right. Dracula can wait.