Midnight Girl Part 7

Cat nodded. "Could be."

Tarika pursed her lips, then said softly, "No. I'd remember if your teeth were that long."

Cat touched her tongue to her canines. They were sharp, perfect for biting through-- She thought, Not Tee! She made herself say calmly, "What'll we do?"

"I don't know." "Really thirsty." "Ignore it." "Can't."

"Cat. I love you. Remember--"

"I know! I love you, Tee." Cat gasped, then said, "But it hurts, and it's hard to think, and it's not that I don't love you, really, but--"

"Cat!" She had stepped closer to Tarika without realizing it. She jumped back. "What?" Tarika looked over her shoulder at her cuffs. "Make me more comfortable?" "Huh?"

"Being folded up like this. It's really uncomfortable." "I don't know." "He didn't say you couldn't make me comfortable!" Tarika's eyes were moist and red. Cat had never seen her terrified.

Baldomero's right. I shouldn't torment her. But I can't just kill her!

Cat said, "Sure. I can do something. To make this easier for you." She reached for the cuffs and thought, I only want to make Tee more comfortable.

But her hands weren't fooled. Tee's wrists are so warm. Her skin is such a beautiful brown. How much of its color comes from her blood?

As Cat bent over her, Tarika said, "Cat? You don't have to do this. Cat! You're freaking me, please--"

It would be so easy to end Tee's suffering and her own. Leaning into Tarika's throat, Cat whispered, "Don't be afraid. I love you, Tee."

She heard Tarika's sigh. She felt her relax, as all Tarika's fear was drawn from her. This was glamour, Cat realized. It was useful. It was merciful. She had learned something.

Now she only needed to learn what it was like to drink until she could drink no more. Then they would both be free.

Her lips brushed Tarika's neck. Must drink. It's best for everyone. Drink. Blood is life. Choose life. Drink. Now!

As her teeth grazed Tarika's skin, a thought surfaced in Cat's mind: You will not drink from any other human.

She threw herself back from Tarika. She didn't know if she tasted blood or sweat. She didn't dare look at Tarika to see. She spat on the floor and ran into the hall.

She felt as if she was fighting her way through quicksand. Every step said, Turn back! Drink!

But if she went back, she would drink without stopping. If she slowed at all, the call from the bedroom would force her to answer. She ran harder than she had ever run, forcing her way to the head of the stairs and plunging down them, stumbling on the steps, catching the railing to keep from falling, then flinging herself over the rail and onto the lower floor.

Through the living room. Down the main hall. Into the kitchen, a gleaming place of green marble and burnished bra.s.s. To the bright steel refrigerator, large enough to serve a restaurant.

She yanked the doors open. A pitcher of water. Drink!

She gulped water from its spout, spilling twice as much as she drank, pouring it down her throat until it was empty.

But she wasn't full. A gallon of milk. Drink! She tore off the cap, put the jug to her mouth, tipped it back, and chugged. Milk tasted like a slurry of grease with globs of fat. She forced herself to drink until she knew one more swallow would make her vomit.

She threw the jug aside, grabbed a cola bottle, and swigged. It was like drinking sugar melted in ammonia. She puked everything she had drunk onto the floor, then stood there, leaning against the refrigerator, trembling and weak, soaked in cold sweat.

But the thirst still burned.

Only the thought of saving Tee made her grab the next bottle and drink. Orange juice. Better, but its sweetness threatened to rise in her throat. She threw it, too.

A carton of tomato juice. She drank deeply. It almost tasted good, but she needed something it could not give. She threw the empty carton aside and reached for what was next.

Root beer. As bad as cola. She threw it after a sip. Ginger ale. Just as bad. Thrown. A bottle of wine. Could she drink that? If she got drunk, would she stop trying to stay away from the far bedroom? She pulled out the stopper and sipped. It burned her throat and made her cough. Thrown.

She s.n.a.t.c.hed the carton next to the wine, ripped off its cap, and drank. It was not what she wanted, but something in it steadied her. Something in it fed her. Desperately, gratefully, she tipped the carton back, draining it, then finally licking its top.

She dropped the carton, reached for a bottle of mineral water, then stopped.

The thirst was weaker. Was she lying to herself? If she went upstairs, would she feed? She s.n.a.t.c.hed up the carton and read the label. Nine grams of protein per serving. It had been nearly full when she started drinking. She must have drunk at least three and a half servings. Low fat. Did that mean she would've liked milk better if it had been skim instead of whole? Organic. Did that mean she couldn't drink things grown with chemicals?

She turned the front of the carton toward her. Soy milk. Unsweetened. She looked in the fridge. Wasn't tofu made from soy beans? It didn't matter. There was no tofu in the fridge.

She needed protein. A block of cheddar cheese. She tore open the plastic, shoved the cheese in her mouth, and almost gagged at the taste and smell of rotten milk. She started to throw it, saw the mess she had made, and set it on the counter.

She opened a zip-top of pork chops. The stench of long-dead flesh was worse than the stink of cheese.

Blood is life, she thought. Can anything subst.i.tute for blood from a living person?

She looked again at the crumpled carton. Protein. What else had protein?

She wrenched open a jar of peanut b.u.t.ter. It was salted. She hesitated before moving her nose close, then smiled. Blood is salty. Salt, good.She scooped out a blob with her fingers and licked it. Peanut b.u.t.ter tasted creamy. If she couldn't eat things made from milk, peanut b.u.t.ter might be her new dessert.

She ate half the jar. It made her feel too full, too groggy. She needed something to clear the taste. She burrowed through the vegetable crisper and found a stalk of broccoli. As she ate, she thought, Dracula and the Wolfman never ate their veggies.

That almost made her laugh. Then she remembered talking with the Sanchezes about pets. Dogs and cats get sick if they only eat meat. Why should nighters be different?

Looking around the kitchen, she felt sorry for the Changs, but she had more important things to do than tidy up. Was she free of Baldomero's glamour?

She thought about leaving the house and knew she couldn't. She had won time, not freedom.

She thought about Tarika and knew she had not won much time. Her thirst was weaker, but it was waiting. As she thought about it, she felt it growing again.

Three possibilities remained. They all terrified her.

Telling herself to act, not think, she grabbed a steak knife in both hands and plunged it toward her heart. But she remembered, You will do nothing to harm yourself. As the tip of the knife p.r.i.c.ked the skin beneath her sternum, her arms locked up.

She thought, I hate you, Baldomero. I hate you, Mama. You're cruel and evil, and you should die.

But she could not carry the knife toward the bas.e.m.e.nt. She could only remember his words: Or any of our kind.

And she knew that even if she killed the monsters she loved, she would still be trapped in this house with her thirst and her best friend.

It was hard to think as her mind filled with, Only this girl is permitted to you.

Chapter Eight.

What Lies Below.

Tarika was lying quietly on the bed, her arms and legs still folded behind her, her eyes closed, her breathing easy. Her neck was scratched, but the skin was not broken. The pulse in her throat beat steadily and strongly. Cat wanted to drink without waking her. For a stranger, that might be a kindness. But her best friend deserved to choose how she died.

Cat ordered, "Tee? Wake up!"

Tarika's eyes flickered. "Cat?" Then her mouth snapped shut, her eyes opened wide, and she jerked back on the bed.

Cat said, "It's okay! I'm safe for now. I can make you feel calm if you want. But I don't want to make you do anything."

"You're sure?" "I pigged out in the kitchen. It took the edge off." "Totally?" Cat swallowed, then said, "A little. I still need to drink." Tarika gasped. "I can't kill myself. I can't kill Baldomero or Mama." Something warm and wet was sliding down Cat's cheeks, telling her she was crying. "I don't want to hurt you! But I can't disobey him, and I can't get rid of the thirst, and sooner or later, I'll have to-- Tee. If you can think of a way to kill me--"

"Don't say that!" "To save yourself!" Tarika began crying, too. "I can't kill my best friend!" "One of us has to!" "I don't care! If you have to and I don't, then I won't! No way never!" "Not just for you, Tee. To save others." "They said you'll be able to control yourself!" "But after how many? Four? Five? One is too many, Tee." Tarika closed her eyes. Her breathing calmed, telling Cat that she had thought of something. "Cat? I can't--" Tarika gulped air, then said, "I can't do anything in these handcuffs."

Cat shook her head. "I can't help you escape." "Can you carry me to the front door?"

Cat stepped forward, then felt herself freeze, and shook her head. "That'd be helping. I want to, but--"

"Okay. What time is it?"

Cat pulled her cell from the pocket of her hoodie. "Five fifty-one. Why?"

"We should know what time it is. When the sun comes up, we might have to adjust the curtains. Put the cell by the bed where you can see it." Cat shook her head again. "Nice try, Tee." The cell went back into the pocket of her hoodie. "You can't even leave it out?" "If you call Evil Dad, he'll come with the rest of them. Which might be best, but Baldomero said I can't do anything to harm any of us." "What about the police?" "They couldn't stop Baldomero. Or Mama. Or, if I'm all mad-hungry by then, me." "What about my folks?" "What would you say? Either they'd send the police because you're kidnapped, or they'd come because you're crazy. And Mama knows I love your folks. She might make them my next-- You know."

Tarika bit her lower lip, then glanced back at the cuffs. "Where do you think the keys are?"

"On Baldomero, I bet." "Could you get them?" Cat shook her head. "Helping." "Oh. Carry me downstairs for some water?" "Why not bring a gla.s.s up here?" "Did he say you can't carry me downstairs?" It would be easier for Tarika to escape if she was downstairs. But she was right. Baldomero didn't say Cat couldn't make it easier for Tarika-- he only said she couldn't help her. Was there a difference between helping her escape and letting her escape? The question stung like killer bees attacking her brain, but she focused on, Not helping, just carrying.

She picked Tarika up easily, then said casually, "Getting water now." She felt hopeful for an instant, then told herself, Water for Tee. It's fine. Water doesn't break any of Baldomero's orders.

She carried Tarika through the hall and down the stairs. Each step was a little harder, but she kept pus.h.i.+ng, trying not to think, trusting her forward motion to keep her going. Not helping Tee escape. Just getting water.

At the front door, Tarika said, "Set me down." Cat couldn't even slow as she kept walking. "Sorry, Tee."

Tarika said softly, "It's okay, Cat."

Failing her friend was bad enough. Knowing that Tarika forgave her made it worse. But knowing Tarika was being brave for her meant she had to be brave for Tarika, no matter how little hope she saw.

But in the kitchen, seeing the mess she had made, she saw hope. Tarika, with her arms and legs bound behind her, couldn't sit on a stool. If Cat put her on the floor, Tarika would be uncomfortable and wet. So Cat said as if it was no big deal, "I'll set you in the hall, and then I'll get you some water."

"Not really thirsty."

The bees began stinging Cat's brain again. "You wanted water! Right?"

"Oh, right! Yes. Please. Water would be great."

Cat carried Tarika into the hall and set her in a kneeling position on a Persian rug. "How's that?"

Tarika waddled forward on her knees. "Good."

Cat went into the kitchen and poured a gla.s.s of water. When she returned, she saw Tarika had walked on her knees to the front door and was staring helplessly at the handle. She said, "Cat? Got a reason to look outside?"

"To see if the sun is up so I can die screaming, 'Aargh, the sun!'?" Tarika gave her a small smile. "A better reason." Cat stared at her, then grinned. "He said I couldn't go out! He didn't say I couldn't look!" "No dying screaming?" "Not if I stay behind the door." "Ex." Cat opened the door a crack. The sky was lighter, but the sun was still below the mountains. Which way did the B&B face? Downtown was east, and it was on her left. Which meant the house faced north, so sunlight couldn't come in the front door. Cat opened it wide, saying, "If you try to go out, I'll have to shut it to stop you."

"Just give it a little push to close it."

Cat pushed the door gently. Tarika blocked it with her shoulder. Cat winced as the bees came back, angrier than before. Tarika said, "No helping here, Cat. I caught the door myself."

"Hurts my head." "Sorry. But you're not helping." "Not helping, good. But if I see you leaving, I'll have to--" "More water would be nice." The bees swarmed so furiously that Cat could barely see. She thought, I can get her water! Water is just water! As the swarm grew quiet, Cat said, "How about tea? If you're not in a hurry, I could look for a pot, and then wait until it boils, and then I could hunt for some tea--"

Tarika nodded. "I love tea."

"Good. I'll get you some tea." Cat nodded to Tarika and started for the kitchen, thinking, Don't cry. This is not goodbye forever. This is just getting tea.

"Cat?" she heard. "You're the best friend ever."

Cat looked back. "No way. I couldn't, you know, get tea for you if, you know, you weren't the best friend ever."

Tarika opened her mouth as if to answer, then closed her eyes. Cat saw a tear as Tarika looked away.

And the thirst began rising in her.

Cat turned away, saying, "Got to make tea now. See you, um, soon." She walked quickly into the kitchen, thinking, First, I will make a very thorough search for a tea pot. Rule out the least likely places right away. Don't think about being thirsty. Don't think about how quickly anyone could walk on her knees or how hard it'll be to go down the front steps. I can't go outside. Baldomero didn't say I should do anything if Tee escapes. I don't care how bad my thirst gets. I don't care about anything except making tea, then going into the hall with a cup for Tee. And if I don't find her, I'll see if Baldomero's command will let me go to sleep without telling anyone what happened.

Cat opened the cupboard nearest the door. It was full of spices, a terrible place to put a tea pot. She should move everything out of it just to be sure there wasn't a pot at the back, so she began rummaging.

Tarika called softly, "Cat?" She ran back to the hall. Tarika held the door ajar with her shoulder. "What's wrong?" Cat asked, then saw the answer. An orange van was parking down the street. On its side was painted "Arkan Exterminators."

Was this a weird coincidence? How many people were in the van? Was her father with them? What did they want? Cat doubted they would do anything immediately. If they were hunting nighters, wouldn't they wait for full daylight?

She said, "Doesn't matter. I'll get you some tea now." "Cat--" "It doesn't matter!" "They'll kill you!"

Cat clapped her hands to her head as the bees struck. "La-la-la, so what? Problem solved! Getting tea now!"

"I won't leave you to die!"

"Tee, what part of 'There's no choice' don't you get?" "All of it! Look at you! You were going to kill me, and now--" "I still will, if I don't get you some tea!" "You don't know that! There has to be a solution!" Cat made herself be calm. "Sure. The Arkans know what it is. That's why they're here." "They tried to kill you! Won't they try again?" Cat shrugged. Tarika glared at her. "You are the worst liar ever." "Tee. Nothing's changed." "I'm not leaving you to die." "If you stay, I'll drink--" Tarika jerked her head sideways, exposing her neck. "Then drink." Cat stared at the pulse of her best friend's life. The strange tingling grew high in the front of her mouth. She flicked her tongue forward. Her canines were longer and sharper. She hid her teeth with her hand and shook her head. "I won't kill you!"

"Then don't." "Tee--" "You want me to live. I want you to live. You can't leave until you drink, right? Then we can both escape, right?" "If I don't--" Tarika nodded. "You can't kick me out." Cat stared at her, then whispered, "No. No way." Tarika nodded. "It's on me. Whatever happens." Cat looked into Tarika's dark eyes and saw herself pleading there.

"Tee--" "Tell me afterward." "But--" "The longer you wait, the thirstier you get, right?" Cat knelt and hugged her. "I love--" "After!" Tarika ordered. Please, G.o.d, don't let me drink a drop more than I need! she thought, putting her head next to Tarika's, then her mouth to Tarika's smooth, warm throat. She parted her lips, tasting dried sweat on Tarika's skin, feeling her teeth slide into Tarika's flesh. Warmth and salt washed her tongue. With the odd tingle, her teeth drew back like claws retracting. Tarika's blood flowed freely, and Cat drank.