The Eternal Kiss: Vampire Tales of Blood and Desire

All Wounds by Dina James

WITH A POWDERY crunch, the tip of the pencil lead snapped and slid uselessly out of the wood beneath her fingertips. It rolled across Becky’s paper, leaving a gray smudge across the question she’d been attempting to answer.

She threw down her pencil in disgust.

“Now what?” her friend Robin asked in a hushed whisper, looking out from under her carefully styled-to-look-messy thick, blonde hair. Robin glanced around quickly, looking for Mr. Nairhoft.

“My pencil is being stupid again! Besides that, I really don’t think writing an essay about the Spanish conquistadors is going to help Nana remember where her bedroom is, or not to turn on the stove,” Becky sighed, glaring at the offending question on her assignment. “I need to get home!”

“Well at least make it look like you’re working,” Robin replied with another fast glance around for the detention room monitor. “Getting another detention isn’t going to help your Nana either. It’s a good thing she can’t remember when you’re supposed to be home anymore, or you’d really be in trouble!”

“Shh!”

“Is there a problem here, ladies?” Mr. Nairhoft said in a smooth, arrogant voice. “Rebecca?”

“Sorry, Mr. Nairhoft,” Becky apologized with a sweet smile. She really, really hated it when people called her “Rebecca.”

“This is the third time today my pencil’s broken,” she went on. “And I got frustrated with it. I’m sorry to have caused a disruption. May I go sharpen it again? That might help it, at least through the end of detention, anyway.”

Becky gazed up at the tall, rail-thin Mr. Nairhoft, hoping her repentant smile would earn her his permission.

“Does anyone have an extra pencil Miss MacDonnell can borrow?” Mr. Nairhoft asked loudly, turning around to view the detention hall, which was really just the cafeteria with the tables moved around a little. He’d glanced around so fast that he couldn’t have even bothered to see if anyone had an answer to his question. “No?”

Mr. Nairhoft turned back to Becky with that stupid fake smile he always had plastered on his face.

“Well—”

“Here, Mr. Nairhoft,” said a voice from the far table in the corner.

Becky turned around to see who had spoken, as did Robin, and Mr. Nairhoft. Actually, everyone in detention swiveled their heads to see who was denying Mr. Nairhoft the occasion to be his usual unpleasant self.

A boy about her age, sitting at a table by himself, wearing a black leather jacket, faded jeans that were more gray than black, and a T-shirt in the same condition, waved a yellow pencil in the air.

“She can use this one.”

He said it almost defiantly … like he was daring Mr. Nairhoft to come over and take it himself.

“Mr. Dugan, surely you haven’t completed all of your long overdue assignments,” Mr. Nairhoft said, folding his arms.

“I’ve completed all I’m going to,” the boy replied, matching Mr. Nairhoft’s tone exactly. The boy looked at Becky. “Want this?”

Becky nodded and stood up slowly, her frustration with her own pencil, assignment, Mr. Nairhoft and detention forgotten as all the attention shifted from her onto the boy.

“Becky, no,” Robin hissed in a whisper.

The boy’s eyes went back to Mr. Nairhoft’s as he held the pencil out for Becky to take.

Ryan Dugan wasn’t just a bad boy, he was the bad boy; everyone knew it. Always in trouble, always getting sent to the principal’s office, always in detention. There was even a rumor that last summer he wasn’t in summer school like he usually was, but in Mariposa Juvenile Detention Center three towns over.

And Ryan never, ever gave you anything without expecting something in return.

It felt good though, doing something Mr. Nairhoft couldn’t really complain about, even though she was technically breaking the “don’t leave your seat without permission” rule. Still, Mr. Nairhoft had asked if anyone had a pencil she could use, and Ryan did, so she was going to take it no matter what everyone else thought. Really she just wanted to see the look on Mr. Nairhoft’s face as she took the pencil from Ryan with a quiet “thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Ryan said with a big grin. He winked—actually winked—at Mr. Nairhoft as he held onto the pencil before letting Becky take it. “Wouldn’t want you to get in any more trouble now, would we?”

Becky shook her head, stunned, and hurried back to her seat where she sat down quickly and bent her head over her assignment. She wondered if he knew what had landed her in detention. He sounded like he knew. Like he knew, and approved.

Becky’s mouse-brown hair hid her blue eyes enough that it kept Mr. Nairhoft from seeing that she was secretly glancing at Ryan while she pretended to work. Her eyes went to the clock on the wall. Twenty minutes of detention left, then she could get home to Nana.

Ryan sat back, clasping his hands behind his head as he leaned against the wall. Mr. Nairhoft berated the boy until he was blue in the face, said something about “another week’s worth of detention!” and stalked away to harass another student he didn’t think looked busy enough.

Ryan just grinned and caught Becky looking at him. He winked at her.

Becky blushed and bent her head back over her paper, trying not to think about how much time she had left to sit there.

Or that Nana might be setting the house on fire.

Everyone else had someone to pick them up when detention was finally over—even Robin, whose dad looked unhappy as Robin got in the car, even though he smiled wanly at Becky.

Although Becky would have been perfectly happy taking the bus, Nana used to drive her to and from school, when Nana could still be trusted to drive. Nana hadn’t driven in about three years. They’d taken away her license when Becky was eleven. Not that Nana was that old; there were plenty of drivers on the road older than Nana, but they could remember which house was theirs and which gear made the car reverse, and where they were going.

Nana couldn’t.

The doctors called it “early onset senile dementia,” but everyone knew that was just a polite way of saying that Nana was really too young to have Alzheimer’s, even though it was obvious that she did.

The school buses only ran before detention, not after, so that meant someone had to pick you up, or you had to walk home. Becky offered Robin and Mr. Turnbull a little wave of apology—after all, Robin wouldn’t have gotten into trouble if it hadn’t been for her—and then shouldered her backpack and turned quickly away to begin the long walk home before Mr. Turnbull could offer her a ride. There was just no way she wanted to be in the car with that much tension, and she really needed to clear her head before getting to her house. Who knew what disaster would be awaiting her today.

The last thing Becky wanted was for Nana to catch on that she’d been in detention, and if she saw Mr. Turnbull dropping her off, Nana would probably notice how late Becky was getting home. That is, if Nana even noticed. If there was anything good about Nana losing it, it was that Becky could get away with a lot more than most of the kids in her grade.

Becky didn’t see any smoke coming from the general vicinity of her—well, Nana’s—house, or hear fire engines, so it seemed pretty safe to take a little time to breathe on the way home. She lost herself in thought as she walked, remembering all the little “funny” things she and her Nana used to laugh about, like Nana putting her keys in the fridge, or putting toilet paper on the paper towel rack. Then things had started to get scarier, like Nana leaving the gas stove on, or forgetting to turn off the water she was running in the stoppered sink for the dishes and flooding the kitchen.

I don’t suppose I should complain too much to Robin about Nana, Becky thought as she pulled her jacket around her. Because she could have given me up for adoption or something, after Mom and Dad died in the crash, and she didn’t. Becky sighed deeply. She looked after me all these years, so it’s only fair that I look after her now.

Becky picked up her pace. October was cold, and it wasn’t even Halloween yet. It was getting dark earlier and earlier these days, and when it got dark, it got colder, and she wanted to get home. It was getting close to dinnertime and Nana needed to eat, and if Nana got hungry when Becky wasn’t there, she’d try to cook for herself. Becky really didn’t want to spend another night in the emergency room explaining to the doctors how Nana burned herself again.

“First time, huh?”

Becky stopped in her tracks. She knew that voice. It was the same one she’d heard earlier, in detention.

Ryan Dugan stepped out from behind a tree that bordered the sidewalk she was on. He leaned against the trunk, brought a little box out of the pocket of his leather jacket, and flipped open a small, silver—

“Is that a lighter?” Becky asked, scowling.

“Yeah,” Ryan said, bringing a cigarette to his lips. “You got a problem with smokers?”

“Way to add to the bad-boy stereotype there,” Becky said, raising an eyebrow at his tone. “How did you get ahead of me anyway?”

“Back alley,” Ryan said, lighting his cigarette. “You know … the stereotypical bad-boy escape route.”

He pointed back over her shoulder.

“If you cut through the gym and across the playground you can hop the fence and skip most of the block,” he said, exhaling a cloud of smoke.

Becky fanned the cloud with her hand and wrinkled her nose.

“Where do you get the money for those anyway?” she asked.

“What is this, the Spanish Inquisition?” Ryan countered. He put a hand to his chest at her look of surprise that he’d mentioned precisely what had been on her assignment. “Wow, how about that? I actually do learn in school. Mr. Hair-off has a particular interest in the history of Spain, and he gives all the first-timers that assignment. So unless you want to learn more about the conquistadors and the Inquisition, I’d keep out of trouble if I were you.”

Becky wanted to laugh at Ryan’s use of the name everyone called the toupee-wearing Mr. Nairhoft behind his back, but thought it would only encourage him.

“What are you doing here, anyway?” Becky demanded, shifting her backpack nervously.

“You have my lucky pencil,” Ryan reminded her, holding out his hand.

“Right.” Becky rolled her eyes as she slung her pack off her shoulder. She pulled out the pencil in question and held it out to him. “Good to know you cut through the gym, across the playground, and jumped the fence just to rescue your pencil.”

“Hey, this is my lucky pencil!” Ryan defended, though Becky knew he wasn’t being serious. He reached for it and smiled a little as she held onto it for just a moment too long as he’d done to her when he’d first loaned it in detention. “For this I would even have rifled Hair-off’s office … which is where I got the cigs.”

Becky looked horrified. “You didn’t!”

Ryan grinned. “These things will kill you, you know. I did him a favor!”

He took a long drag off the cigarette, stabbed it out against the trunk of the tree, and put the remaining half back in the box. He tucked the box away in his pocket along with his silver lighter.

“Well, you looked like you were in a hurry, so …” Ryan gestured down the block as if to excuse her. “Stay out of trouble, huh? You don’t belong in detention with Hair-off and the rest of us delinquents.”

“How do you know I’m not just starting out on delinquency?” Becky asked smartly. “I hear all the cool kids are doing it.”

Ryan laughed.

“Yeah, and you’re just being cool, aren’t you? I’ve seen you around school, in class. You’re about as cool as a jalapeño. See you around, Hot Stuff,” he said, turning to go.

Becky blushed. Yeah … one of the “cool kids,” she wasn’t. She was surprised Ryan even knew who she was.

“I’m really sorry that whole pencil thing cost you another week with Mr. Nair … I mean Hair-off,” she blurted, shouldering her bag again.

Ryan waved a hand.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, walking away. “He won’t make it stick. Besides, some things are worth putting up with a little punishment.”

Funny, Becky thought, that sounds like what I was just thinking about Nana.

Becky hesitated for a moment, watching him go, and then turned back toward home, hurrying even more now. She thought about Ryan, and what he’d said—he’d seen her around? Sure, they had a couple of classes together, but she wasn’t the kind of girl anyone noticed. Just the opposite, really. The only reason anyone noticed her was because of Robin. Robin was the pretty one—the popular one.

Of course! That was probably how Ryan knew why she was in detention, Robin getting busted was the talk of the school, even though it had been Becky’s fault. Robin had only been trying to help.

That might explain how Ryan had known about her, but how had he known which way she was headed home afterward? She could have gone in any direction … unless he knew where she lived.

Becky shook her head, laughing at herself. He’d just guessed lucky or something. He didn’t know where she lived.

Did he?

Becky forgot about Ryan, and Mr. Hair-off, and detention and Robin the moment she walked through the front door of her house. It looked like Nana was having one of her “good days.” Becky was utterly relieved that everything was okay. Nana was sitting in her favorite chair, with Mishka on her lap. Mishka was a grouchy old cat—a big, white fluffy thing that needed lots of brushing. If Nana remembered nothing else, she remembered to brush Mishka.

Not that Mishka minded if she was brushed three or four times a day. That cat loved attention, and would happily sit all day in Nana’s lap being brushed. But only Nana’s lap. Mishka hated Becky, and the feeling was mutual. Mishka was Nana’s cat.

Becky stowed her backpack in the foyer and made sure the doors were locked and the stove off and everything else was safe before greeting her grandmother.

“Hi, Nana!” Becky said as she entered the living room.

“Oh, Becky, you’re home,” Nana said, smiling even though Becky knew she was confused. “Did you have a good day at school?”

Becky nodded as she always did. Even though today had been a horrible day at school, she still told her Nana that everything was fine.

“Do you have a lot of homework?” Nana asked, earning a glare from Mishka as she stood up.

“No, I got most of it done at school,” Becky answered honestly. You could get a lot done in three hours of detention after school. “And I’m really hungry. How about some dinner? It’s my turn to cook tonight.”

Nana’s brow furrowed.

“I thought you cooked last night.” She didn’t sound at all sure.

Becky really didn’t want to lie to her Nana, but Nana in the kitchen was dangerous. Becky cooked every night now, but let Nana think that she only cooked sometimes.

“I was really craving some spaghetti at school,” Becky hedged, steering the conversation away from who was going to do the cooking. “I thought that would be good for dinner. It’s easy to make—I know how.”

Nana nodded absently and went back to brushing Mishka. The cat glowered at Becky as if to say “Well? Go on, then. You’re not needed here.” Becky stuck her tongue out at the evil cat and went into the kitchen to start supper.

Half the dishes on the draining board had been wiped and put away when she heard an insistent pounding at the front door, like someone kicking it. Hard.

Becky scowled as she looked at the clock. It was nearly nine o’clock, and they never had visitors. Well, not anymore. Nana’s friends used to come by, when she could still remember who they were and what they’d been talking about. Becky never had friends over. Not that she had any besides Robin, but even if she did, she wouldn’t have them over anyway. Other people just upset Nana now.

The noise came again, and Becky looked over her shoulder toward the bathroom door. Nana was in there getting ready for bed. Becky hoped she couldn’t hear the racket.

Becky frowned and looked out the peep hole at the dark figure on the porch. She snapped on the porch light, and a blond head cringed away from the brightness with a grimace, but remained still. He kicked at the door again, and Becky could see why. The bloody, unconscious body of the dark-haired boy who had just that afternoon come to get his “lucky pencil” from her filled his arms.

“Turn off that light! Do you want the entire neighborhood to see us?” the boy out on the porch growled sharply. “I don’t know about you, but that’s something I’d like to avoid!”

Becky had to agree with him and couldn’t help but obey. She flicked the porch light off immediately before opening the door.

“That’s better,” the tall, skinny blond boy said. He waited a moment, just standing there, looking at Becky and the interior of the house past her. When she just stared at him, he spoke again. “Well? Come on, Healer … I can’t stand around here all night! I would have used the usual entrance, but it’s sealed, so I had no choice but to come to the front door.”

“What—” Becky shook her head, confused.

“If friend ye are and healing ye seek, enter this place and my blessing keep!”

Becky whirled around at the sound of her Nana’s voice, stronger and clearer than it had been in years.

Nana was clad in her pink bathrobe and matching slippers. Her wet hair clung to her neck and shoulders. Becky suddenly thought that it was strange for Nana to have taken a shower at night. Maybe she’d gotten confused again as to why she was in the bathroom and had thought it was morning. Nana never took a shower at night.

The blond boy expelled a deep sigh of obvious gratitude and shouldered his way past Becky. He strode into the living room with Ryan, muttering under his breath.

“My apologies, Lady Healer,” the blond boy said contritely as he reached Nana. “The entrance was sealed or I would have used it—”

Nana’s hand cut him off, and she reached for a long-disused candle lantern sitting on the mantelpiece above the hearth.

Why would she grab that thing? It’s just decor, isn’t it? Something of Grandfather’s? Becky thought.

“Take him up,” Nana ordered quietly, and followed the boy up the staircase, not faltering on the stairs as she usually did, leaving Becky standing dumbstruck in the open doorway.

Remembering herself, Becky quickly locked the front door. She ran up the stairs after her Nana.

She just caught a glimpse of the hem of Nana’s pink robe disappearing through the door at the end of the upstairs hall. That was a linen closet. What …?

Reaching the door, Becky found that the shelves of the linen closet weren’t shelves at all. They were like those spooky fake bookcases in haunted houses and were now pushed aside to reveal a hidden passage.

Wow. She’d known this house was old and creepy—it had been in the family for generations—but a secret passageway? Really? That was just like something out of Nancy Drew! She hesitated only a moment before going through after her Nana.

“My apologies, Martha,” Becky heard the blond boy say, almost reverently. “I thought … her mark … she looked so surprised. Isn’t she trained?”

Martha. The boy had called Nana “Martha.” No one did that … except Nana’s old friends, and that boy didn’t look like he was even old enough to be out of school. He didn’t go to her school though. That was for certain. She’d remember a guy as good-looking as that.

“She’s not of age,” she heard Nana reply. “Set him down so I can have a look. Do something about the bed, would you? It’s been a long time since I’ve been up here.”

Was that her Nana talking like that? Like she’d suddenly … gotten better? Nana hadn’t sounded that sure of herself in a long time, and certainly hadn’t used that many words in that normal way for more than three years.

“She’s here, listening to us,” the blond boy said softly. He lifted his voice. “Come out, little Healer. We know you’re here, and you may as well see firsthand.”

Becky stepped out from the secret passage and into the light of the candle lamp that had somehow become lit. Her Nana barely looked at her as she bent to examine Ryan, peering into his eyes and glancing at his clothed body.

“His clothes,” Nana said firmly.

Ryan’s clothes vanished instantly, except his underwear.

Nana glanced at the blond boy, arching an eyebrow.

“Afford the boy some modesty, Martha,” he said smoothly. “None of his injuries are around his middle.”

“And you bit him as well!” Nana exclaimed with a gasp as she turned Ryan’s head toward her and saw two small punctures on the boy’s neck. “Sydney! Why would you … it was you … I can tell! Oh!”

Nana’s eyes then lingered on the second bite on Ryan’s bleeding thigh below the band of his underwear. Her fingers deftly touched the wound, and the unconscious Ryan cried out in protest.

“Becky, go into my room,” Nana ordered, looking up at her sternly. “In the closet, on the top shelf, you’ll see a leather suitcase. The one I always told you was full of old pictures? Bring that here, and fast. Go!”

Too stunned to do anything but follow orders, Becky nodded and ran back to the passageway and down the stairs, returning quickly with the case Nana wanted. The whole time questions ran through Becky’s mind. What had the blond boy—Sydney—meant when he said he would have used the entrance but it was sealed? How was Nana acting like her old self, and as though this kind of thing happened every day? Entering the hidden room again, Becky passed the case to her Nana.

“Thank you,” Nana said in that same, calm voice. She reached for the case and opened it, pulling out various things as she spoke again to Becky.

“Go downstairs and bring me the two big pots, filled with water. The temperature doesn’t matter. Sydney will help. Won’t you, Syd? And Sydney? See to the boundary? That’s a good boy.”

Sydney looked like he’d been about to protest but nodded with a wry smile.

“As long as this doesn’t take too long,” Sydney said, standing up importantly. “After all, I left things in disarray. They’ll need me back soon.”

Nana waved her hand dismissively at Syd’s words.

“This is more important than hand-holding your scared little clan. Now, tell me, what’s this? Who broke the truce?”

“There really isn’t time, Martha,” Syd said gravely. He looked to Becky. “Shouldn’t you be getting that water?”

“Look, I don’t know who you are, but—” Becky was tired of being ordered around like a lapdog.

“Becky,” Nana interrupted coolly. “Quickly now or this boy is going to die.”

A glimpse of yellow caught Becky’s eye. Ryan’s lucky pencil was sticking out of the back pocket of the jeans that lay in a discarded heap at the foot of the bed. Becky felt dazed being in this strange hidden room with this strange, unfamiliar woman who was somehow working to save Ryan’s life.

Why couldn’t they have just gone to the hospital? Becky ran downstairs again, her brow furrowing. Why did they come here? Why is Nana acting like her old self? Why is she acting like this is normal?

The questions came faster than Becky could fathom as she filled a large stockpot with water. She was filling the other when suddenly Sydney was standing beside her.

“Holy crap!” Becky shouted, flinching away from the boy. She stared at him, wide-eyed. “How the heck did you do that?”

Sydney lifted the full pot into Becky’s arms. She took it automatically, wrapping her arms around the bottom. Wow, it was heavy.

“The same as always,” he said, confused by her question. “I just thought about where I wanted to be, and there I was. How hard is that? It’s even easier with you worrying and fretting down here. I just had to focus on you, and I came to your side. You need help getting this stuff back upstairs, and your way takes forever.”

He didn’t wait for Becky to ask him anything else. Instead he put a hand on her shoulder and another on the second pot she’d just filled, and suddenly they were back in the dark room with Ryan and Nana.

Becky’s stomach lurched and she set the pot of water next to Nana, just in time to be sick in the corner.

Sydney’s eyebrows rose.

“First timer, huh? Don’t worry, that happens to a lot of humans when they shift for the first time,” he said.

“A lot of humans? What? I mean … Nana? What’s going on?” Becky asked, her stomach tightening more at the disturbing suggestion in Syd’s words.

“I don’t have time to explain now, little dove,” Nana said distractedly, soaking strips of cloth into water, which was suddenly steaming hot though it had been only lukewarm moments ago. “Give me a few minutes to see to this boy. What’s his name, Syd? Names help, as you know.”

“Ryan,” Syd replied quietly. “Ryan Dugan.”

“‘Ryan,” Nana repeated gently before turning back to Becky. “Give me a few minutes to see to Ryan, little dove. He’s been bitten by a hellhound. And a vampire.”

Nana muttered those last words under her breath in disapproval.

“Really, Syd. Did you have to bite him?” Nana asked.

“It was either turn him or watch him die. He’s been good to us,” Syd replied. “You know I didn’t have a choice, Martha.”

Nana nodded. “I know. It’s just … well … he won’t die of the hellhound bite, that’s for sure. If he survives the turning … well … we’ll deal with that part when it comes. If it comes.”

Sydney nodded and sat quietly on a chair beside the bed as Becky watched Nana work.

Hellhound? Vampire bite? What?

It finally seemed quiet enough for Becky to ask a question, but she didn’t want to bother her Nana. Instead, she looked to Syd.

“Because this is the place wounded Ethereals are supposed to come,” Sydney said before she could ask the question in her mind. He glared at her pointedly, and Becky noticed his eyes flashed in the light like Mishka’s sometimes did. Funny—they’d been a shade of dark blue in the kitchen. “This is neutral ground, a haven, where the wounded can come for healing.”

“Sydney, stop it,” Nana said quietly. “She doesn’t know any of it. I … I never trained her. I didn’t want her involved.”

Sydney looked at Martha, incredulous.

“You mean to say that she doesn’t know you’re a Healer?” He sounded surprised and a little angry. “The Healer, if it were told true? Lady Healer. Or that she’s one of your line?”

“After losing my daughter, do you think for one moment I would want Rebecca exposed to this?” Nana flared angrily, pointing to Ryan’s limp body. “We’re mortal, and maybe you don’t know just how short a time that is, but to we humans, it’s too short! I’ll not lose my granddaughter as I did my daughter!”

“Momma died in a car accident,” Becky said suddenly. “You said … she and Daddy … a drunk driver killed them.”

Nana looked pained and guilty. She kept her eyes on Ryan’s deep wound as she cleansed it with a concoction she’d made from the contents of a jar she’d taken from the suitcase.

Sydney stood up and reached for Becky’s shoulders. She flinched slightly, but he held her firmly and guided her to a long mirror mounted on the wall of the room.

With a gesture of his hand, the unlit candles in the wall lanterns all blazed instantly, bringing much more light into the room, illuminating the mirror.

“Thank you,” she heard Nana say absently.

Becky gasped as she looked into the mirror and saw only herself reflected back. She knew Syd was right there, behind her. She could feel him touching her. She looked to her shoulder and saw Syd’s longish blond hair mingling with her own, but there was no trace of it in the mirror. He smiled down at her slightly and nodded at the mirror again. Becky looked back, and though she couldn’t see him do it, she saw her hair being moved aside and let him tilt her chin slightly so that she could see the small mark on her neck she hated so much. It was dark brown, like a freckle even though it was big like a birthmark, and was shaped like a funny asterisk. Robin always teased her for keeping it hidden with her hair. Robin thought it was cool—almost like a tattoo of an eight-pointed star. Becky realized, as Syd drew attention to the mark, that she could see the pulse that beat below the skin there.

“You see?” Syd whispered quietly in her ear. “You’re a Healer …”

“If you’re a vampire, shouldn’t I be staking you through the heart or something?” Becky asked with a bravado she didn’t feel. “I mean, you know … like in Buffy?”

Syd laughed gently and released her. She looked up at him with a scowl.

“Do you really think you could?” He smiled so that his fangs could be seen. Becky gasped and took a step back at the sight of them. “Tell me, little Healer—ever kill a spider?”

Becky nodded, wide-eyed. How did he know about—?

“It hurts, doesn’t it, just a little bit?” Syd continued.

Becky nodded again, biting her bottom lip. She always tried to catch them instead, and take them outside. Because it did hurt. Physically. Not just like she felt sorry for them (which she did, as well, but that just made her feel dumb).

“Or when you want to hurt someone, like today in detention when you wanted to slap—”

“Did Ryan tell you about detention?” Becky looked sidelong at her Nana, hoping she hadn’t heard. Fortunately, Nana seemed to be busy with Ryan and hadn’t heard a thing; a great relief to Becky.

“Dude, shut up!” she hissed quietly at the boy. Well, he wasn’t really a “boy,” was he, if he was a … a …

Syd smiled again and laughed softly.

“‘Vampire,” he said dryly. “You can say it. I’m not as sensitive about the term as some.”

“Sydney,” Nana called suddenly. “I can’t stop it. It’s too late. He’s turning.”

Sydney instantly crossed to the bed where Ryan lay and knelt. He took Ryan’s hand as the bed shook. Ryan seemed to be having some kind of seizure, and looked all but dead to Becky.

“It’s all right, buddy,” Syd said quietly. “I’ve got you the best Healer here, and we’re going to take care of you. Don’t fight it. I know it’s earlier than we planned, but take it in stride. Come on …”

Becky stood and watched as Sydney stroked a damp cloth over Ryan’s forehead, which came away stained with pink and red. Becky realized that Ryan seemed to be literally sweating blood.

Nana stood and sighed, shaking her head. She noticed Becky and held her hand out. Becky came close and, like a child of five instead of a girl of nearly fifteen, took her grandmother’s hand and clung to her side as she watched the wounded boy on the bed thrash.

“Come on, let’s get some tea,” Nana said quietly. “Syd will stay with him. There’s nothing really to be done now but wait until it runs its course.”

“This wouldn’t have happened if the entrance hadn’t been sealed!” Syd snapped, glaring at Nana. “Why was that done? You wasted my time, making me come ask for entry like a common human!”

Nana wasn’t at all offended by Sydney’s outburst or his accusations.

“Who broke the truce?” she countered with a question of her own. “That entry has been sealed for nearly fifteen years, which you well know, Sydney Alexander. After how the last battle ended, you know what precautions were taken.”

“Precautions that included keeping your own granddaughter, the last of your line, ignorant of her own power!” Sydney growled darkly. “She doesn’t even know … how could you not warn her, Martha Althea? If the flames of war have again been fanned, what makes you think her ignorance keeps her safe? She is a valuable asset to any side, and keeping her unaware can only lead her unknowingly astray!”

“Hey, I’m smart! I can handle things. I handle Nana well enough. That takes a lot more effort than you think it does!”

The words were out of Becky’s mouth before she could stop them, but Nana hadn’t seemed to hear them.

Neither, it seemed, had Syd. Nana and Syd continued to scowl at one another before Becky felt a tug at her hand.

“Come,” Nana said quietly. “This isn’t something you need to see.”

Becky pulled her hand free.

“No, wait, Nana,” she said, looking toward the now-still form of Ryan on the bed. “He … I know him. He goes to my school. He might … if he … He won’t know where he is and he’ll be scared when he wakes up.”

“Sydney will stay with him, Becky,” Nana said gently. “Let’s wait down in the kitchen. It’s not a good idea to be so close, even with the protections we have. A fledgling vampire is not easily controlled. It’s fortunate we have a Master here with us to watch over him as Ryan turns.”

“Turns?” Becky echoed, looking back to her Nana. “You mean …”

“Into a vampire, yes,” Nana said softly. “And though turning a human is never easy or done lightly, Sydney had to do it to save Ryan’s life. Ryan is fortunate that he was brought to me in time to wrest the dark magic from the bite of the hellhound. I’m sorry, Sydney. I wish I could do more.”

“There is no cure for a vampire bite,” Syd said quietly. He kept his eyes from Martha’s as he wrung out the blood-soaked cloth with fresh water. “I know that.”

Sydney brought the damp cloth back to Ryan’s face and continued wiping it slowly.

“I couldn’t let him die, Martha.”

“I know, Syd.” Nana smiled. “I know.”

They left the two boys in the hidden room, and Nana led the way down to the kitchen. Becky put the kettle on and made a pot of tea. She felt very, very strange and needed to do something that made her feel somewhat normal again. Nana sat quietly in a kitchen chair, but without the usual, vacant look on her face that Becky was accustomed to seeing.

As Becky sat a mug of tea in front of her Nana—Martha—spoke.

“I never wanted you to know, but I see now I shall have to tell you, before Sydney leaves with Ryan,” Nana said in pained resignation. “Once he leaves, he’ll take his power with him, and I’ll forget myself again. I’m sorry, Becky. I’m sorry for what’s become of me, what you have to endure day after day.”

“Nana—” Becky began to protest.

Nana held up a hand.

“Please. Let me talk and don’t interrupt.” She took a sip of tea and swallowed hard.

“Okay.” Becky sat down, cradling her hands around her own mug in a futile effort to warm them. “I love you, Nana. Just so you know.”

Nana smiled.

“I know, little dove. I still know everything. I just can’t quite remember it all. It happens when Healers reach the age of sixty. I should have told you all these things long ago, but after Helene and Patrick died—” Nana closed her eyes for a moment.

She shook her head then smiled at Becky.

“While Syd’s here I’m able to use his power to clear my mind, but he won’t be here long enough for me to tell you all I need to,” Nana said urgently. “I’m sorry for not telling you these things before. Syd’s right. I’ve likely done more harm than good trying to protect you from your birthright with ignorance. I should have expected the war to start again. But the peace went on so long. I forget that mortal time means so little to Ethereals. Fifteen years is ages to us, but a heartbeat to them. Anyway, yes—you’re a Healer. You were born with the gift to channel power to your own use, to share your life’s force with those who are in need, and to heal those who are thought to be immortal. ‘Immortal’ does not mean ‘invulnerable,’ little dove. Your friend was bitten, very nearly lethally, by a hellhound who no doubt attacked Syd’s clan. Vampires are a delicacy to hellhounds because they have no soul. It was only Syd’s bite, the bite of a vampire, that saved Ryan. I don’t agree with it, but it saved your friend’s life.”

Becky tried to process everything her Nana was saying. It was like talking to someone else, someone completely different to the grandmother she had grown up with. Nana was a vampire Healer?

“So,” Becky said slowly. “We’re a family of … vampire Healers?”

Nana laughed quietly and took a sip of her tea.

“More or less,” Nana said after a moment. “Sometimes more, sometimes less. It’s not just vampires. We help the hellhounds, too. Specters, shades, demons, werewolves—”

“Werewolves? Demons?” Becky interrupted, incredulous. “Nana, come on! All those things aren’t real!”

“No?” Nana raised her eyebrows just like her old self. “Go upstairs. You’ll find a couple of vampires up there.”

Becky couldn’t argue with that.

“We observe neutrality,” Nana went on. “We don’t take sides. We have the gift of healing those who cannot heal themselves—those who need power and the force of life that comes from a living soul like ours. Unfortunately, by using our life force in this way, it’s depleted quickly. It gets used up by the time we reach sixty. If we reach sixty. A lot of us don’t.”

“You keep saying ‘us,’” Becky pointed out. “Are there more of ‘us’ then? Or just you and me?”

“There are very, very few,” Nana replied. “A great number were killed in the last war by the very beings we try to heal. Here, in a place of Healing, the ground is neutral—wars and battles stop here. Had the hellhound who bit Ryan tonight been in need himself, he would have been treated and sheltered just the same, right at the side of the one he harmed with no further hostility between them. Once they leave here, however … that’s another matter. You are safe here, and your Healer’s mark grants you certain clemencies both inside and outside the boundary, but you, like the Immortals, are not invulnerable.”

“So … now what?” Becky shrugged. “You’re not better, and you’re not going to get better. The only reason you’re okay right now is because that vampire guy is here. And there’s someone from my school upstairs who’s turning into a vampire himself. Are more of these guys going to show up? What did Syd mean when he said the ‘entry was closed’?”

“The mirror up there serves … served… as an entryway,” Nana said. “It was sealed after the last truce was declared. To put it in terms you can understand—I went out of business, so to speak. It seems now, however, I need to reopen. But I’m too old. Too slow. I can’t remember much. Sydney is a powerful Master vampire, the leader of a vampire clan, and he’s the only reason I’m able to manage at the moment. When he leaves … you’ll be … burdened with me again. An old woman who has lost her mind. I’m so sorry, Becky. You shouldn’t be wasting your youth like this. Maybe you should look into a home for me.”

“This is your home!” Becky protested. She went around the table to hug her Nana tightly. “You’re not going anywhere! You’re not a burden! You wouldn’t let them put me into a foster home, and I’m not going to let them do it to you either! If anything, I’ll chain Syd to the wall and he can just sit up there forever so you can be okay again!”

Nana gave Becky a squeeze.

“You know that can’t happen. Syd has responsibilities just like we do, and if you really want to look after me, Becky …”

“Yes, go on,” Becky prompted when Nana fell silent.

“I never wanted you to know,” Nana said again. “But I wouldn’t let them take you away, so I guess that means you’re going to be involved whether I want it or not. If you really want to look after me, Becky, you’re going to have to look after those I once did. If the war has started up again, and it looks like it has, Sydney and Ryan are just the first of those who will need our … your help.”

Becky’s eyes widened.

“My help?” she swallowed. “But … I’m not trained, you said. And you said once Syd leaves …”

“We’ll ask him to stay a bit, both he and Ryan, but not too long,” Nana said gently. “I drain too much energy now and can’t focus on my work. I’m not going to be much help. I can teach you—train you—if Syd is willing to help, but you’re going to have to learn mostly by yourself. It’s easy once you get the hang of it. I have books with my notes and things. All my herbs and special equipment. It will be a lot of work, and you’ll have to learn fast. But this is in your blood, and it is what you were born to do. I’m sorry I kept you from it for so long. I should have been teaching you since you were old enough to understand.”

“Is this why I always wanted to be a doctor?” Becky grinned.

Nana smirked.

“Very probably so,” she answered. “Now, let’s go check on Ryan. He should be over the worst by now.”

Becky nodded and rose to follow Nana upstairs.

The boy on the bed laid still and quiet. Syd still knelt by his side.

“He’s shed his mortal coil,” said Sydney.

Becky’s heart broke at the grief and anguish in his voice.

“I’m sorry,” she heard her Nana say softly. “Even if the entry had been unsealed—”

“I know,” Syd interrupted. “And I offer my apologies. But he’s like my brother, Martha. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

“But it is. Now we must both accept and endure, not lament what should have been,” Martha replied in that same wise tone Becky had never heard her use before that night. “I need you to remove the seal. I don’t know if you’ve realized, but I’m not fit for much anymore.”

Sydney didn’t acknowledge her comment, but gestured a hand at the mirror. It glinted seven times in the candlelight then returned to normal.

“He’s going to need …” Sydney began, then trailed off, shaking his head. He looked helplessly up at Martha.

“I can’t,” Nana said quietly. “I’m not enough. I don’t have enough to sustain us both.”

Sydney nodded and looked back at the still form on the bed.

“But she does.”

Both Becky and Syd looked up at Nana’s words.

“I … do what?” Becky asked. She didn’t like the way they were looking at her.

“Oh please, Martha. For this kind of healing, it has to be her choice. She’s not even trained.” Sydney curled his lip. “You know that.”

“We can help her. If she’s willing. Becky … remember what we talked about downstairs? Well, now’s the time. If you want to help your friend and help me do what needs to be done, that is.”

“What needs to be done?” asked Becky, warily.

“You’ll have to feed Ryan”

“Oh, is that all?” Becky was relieved. “Okay. We have some leftover spaghetti …”

“Not feed him, you stupid girl,” Sydney snapped. “You will have to feed him. As in ‘be his food.’ He needs life restored to him and the only life strong enough for that in his condition is yours. Get it?”

Becky blanched.

“Hey, I hardly even know him,” she said, taking a step back and holding up her hands. “And Nana just said a bunch of Healer people were killed by what they tried to save, so thanks but—”

Sydney swore under his breath. Nana chastised him.

“Listen, young Healer,” Sydney began calmly and with exaggerated patience. “He can’t kill you here. He can’t take too much from you either. That’s why you’re a rare and valuable commodity among Ethereals. You have mortal years of use, of life in you. You more than others. He can’t drain you. Of blood … possibly, but that’s rare when a Healer is in her own enclave. That’s right—Healers are always and only female. Healing comes from the life force created by a living soul, and it is the female who creates and bears life. Now, Ryan needs life restored to him. Will you, young, untutored Healer, restore my young fledgling?”

“Promise me I will not regret it.” Becky didn’t know where the words came from but she spoke them as though she’d known exactly what to say when asked such a question.

Sydney smiled and looked to Nana.

“Untrained she might be, but a Healer nonetheless,” he said in approval. “She’ll learn quickly, if such knowledge is that easy to tap.”

He looked to Becky.

“Upon my honor, my lady,” he went on formally, and offered her a slight bow. “I promise that you will not regret your actions.”

Becky nodded unsurely but knew something had been done correctly. Then, without thinking about what she was doing, she rolled up her right sleeve and went to the bed.

Ryan’s eyes opened and fluttered. He mumbled incoherently.

“Hey, Stereotype,” Becky called with a smile. “I hear you didn’t eat lunch. Did you get banned from the cafeteria, so that now I have to feed your sorry butt?”

Ryan didn’t reply, but his eyes seemed to recognize something.

Becky closed her own eyes and pressed her wrist against Ryan’s mouth. She looked away, over her shoulder and waited.

I can’t believe I’m doing this.

Believe it, she heard Syd’s voice in her mind.

Becky opened her eyes to stare at him. Syd couldn’t help but grin back at her.

“You have much to learn, little Healer,” said the blond vampire.

“Ouch!” Becky gasped as Ryan’s fangs pierced her wrist.

Then the pain faded, and she felt nothing. She really expected to feel something … but there wasn’t anything at all. She didn’t feel weak or dizzy, or like something was being taken away from her. On the contrary, she felt really, really good. Helpful and … and …

“Nurturing?” Sydney said out loud.

Becky blushed and nodded. “I guess that’s as good a word for it as any.”

Nana came to rest her hands on Becky’s shoulders.

“You’re strong,” Nana said softly. “Stronger even than I was, I think. He won’t take much, this first time, but he’ll need more over the next couple of days.”

“Days?” Becky echoed. “Doesn’t this take—I don’t know—just a few minutes?”

“This isn’t Hollywood, little Healer,” Sydney said with a roll of his dark blue eyes. “You don’t get bitten by a vampire then change in moments to bite your friends.”

“Well … no offense, but isn’t that kind of what just happened?” Becky countered. She pointed to the wrist Ryan had pressed to his mouth.

“Point taken,” Sydney replied. “However, he won’t remember himself for a couple of days.”

Sydney glanced up at Nana.

“Though something tells me you’re accustomed to people not remembering themselves.”

Becky felt Nana’s hands on her shoulders tighten slightly before Ryan dropped her wrist and began to tremble.

“That’s enough,” she heard Nana say. “Move away now.”

Becky did as she was told, and Sydney reached for the damp cloth again as Ryan’s trembling escalated into convulsions.

“Is it going to be like this … until he’s … um … converted, or whatever?” Becky asked.

Nana nodded. “Mmmhmm. But don’t worry. He’s with us now, and safe. Comfortable. But it’s also very late, and you have school tomorrow.”

Becky looked horrified.

“Nana,” she reasoned. “You can’t possibly—”

Nana held up a hand, a familiar gesture that said she was through talking about a subject.

“I can,” Nana said firmly. “Syd will stay and help me, won’t you, Syd? That’s a good boy. Becky, you can help in the evenings, after your chores and schoolwork are done, not before. It will be a lot of hard work, but you’ll likely be trained enough in a year or so of hard study that we can let Syd go about his business as usual. That’s not too long, is it, Syd?”

“A year?” Becky squeaked.

Syd voiced the same protest.

Nana looked stern.

“Sydney Alexander, you came seeking a Healer, and you’ve found one untrained. Rebecca Charlotte, you have a great deal to learn and a vast amount of power to harness. You’ll be lucky if a year is all it takes. And that’s just the bare minimum! Remember, you should have been studying intently these last ten years. Most Healers begin at age five. I’m sorry this is late, but if it’s what you both want, it’s all or nothing.”

Syd looked mutinous.

Becky was just as unhappy, but asked, “Will you be more like your old self with him around?”

She jerked her head in Syd’s direction.

Nana nodded. Syd rolled his eyes.

“Then that’s worth a year of Blondie and hard work to me.” Becky smiled a little.

The vampire groaned. “And I suppose, since I owe you my own existence more than once over, a year isn’t so long a time, especially if it is given to train the granddaughter of Martha Althea in the art of Healing. Provided, that is, she works hard and doesn’t waste my valuable time.”

“Provided Blondie here doesn’t go around provoking hellhounds into biting any more of my classmates!” Becky stuck out her tongue at Syd.

If vampires could blush, Sydney would have been crimson. Martha glared at him.

“Provoking hellhounds?” Nana said crisply.

“You didn’t tell me she was a Seer as well,” Sydney mumbled, embarrassed.

Martha looked at Becky, a bit surprised at her granddaughter’s new talent. It was an uncommon gift among Healers, but not unheard of. It had been three generations since there had been a Seer in her own line. Becky’s great-great grandmother, Agnes, had been one.

“You show up here, with a wounded boy—” Nana began sharply. It always made Becky cringe when Nana took that tone.

Sydney held up a hand.

“Can we please not talk about it?” he asked contritely. “I know this is my fault. The truce hasn’t been broken. Some of us still … you know … get up to mischief … for old times’ sake. Usually no one gets hurt. But still—what if the truce had been broken? What then? We’d have no Healer in this part of the world, and shifting through the planes is dangerous with those who are wounded …”

Sydney caught Nana’s look of disgust and trailed off, looking completely ashamed.

“Two years. For your serious lack of judgment,” Nana said imperiously.

“Yes, Ma’am.” Syd hung his head. “Two years indebted to your service. To train your replacement.”

“Good,” Nana said with a frustrated sigh. “At least one of us will have their wits about them for a while. Rebecca? Bedtime. It’s well past midnight, and a school night.”

Becky didn’t have to be told twice as she hurried out of the hidden Healing “enclave,” as Sydney had called it, and down to her own bedroom.

Two years. Two years of Nana being herself again. Wow. And Blondie was kind of cute. Okay … more than kind of. He was totally cute.

And she couldn’t wait to tell Robin all about him.