Crave. Melissa Darnell

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СКАЧАТЬ the call. “Mom, he says we should try removing all our influence from her.”

      “All of it? Even the protective … “

      “Yes. He says it sounds like a conflict between the two sides within her.”

      “But—”

      “We have to try it. It was the only solution he could think of. And … he’s coming to have the talk with her.”

      “No. No, you said she never needed to know. He said she could have a normal life!”

      “She’s changing, Mom. And we can’t stop it anymore. She needs to know. But that’s only if … if this works.”

      “You mean … there won’t be any need if …”

      Silence.

      If what?

      And then my body answered me, the pain sharpening until there was nothing but the pain. Death. It felt like I was dying the worst possible death imaginable, like being burned alive then drowned in arctic water seconds later.

      Hands of fire touched my throat, a horrible contrast to the block of ice my body had become. Something slipped from my neck, and the heated fingers went away. Then I threw up, my stomach emptying itself over and over into a metal bowl Mom held for me, until nothing was left, and still the heaving didn’t end.

      And then I slept. Hours, days, I had no idea how long. While I slept, I dreamed of Tristan.

      When I woke up, three faces peered down at me. Mom, Nanna … and Dad.

      Please don’t let me have talked in my sleep. If I’d said Tristan’s name out loud …

      But then I relaxed. Crazy, to feel guilty over a dream I couldn’t control. Even if I had said his name aloud in my sleep, just because I’d promised to stay away from Tristan and the other Clann kids ever since the fourth grade didn’t mean I would get into trouble for dreaming about him now.

      Still, I must have messed up somehow to have earned a visit from Dad. The only times he ever came to see me were for my birthday in October and once during the summer. And even then we only met for dinner at our favorite local restaurant, where we both pretended to eat in spite of the awkwardness between us, and he pretended to care about my life. He hadn’t come to Nanna’s house since the Christmas when I was seven, and he and Mom got into an argument that ended with her throwing plates and ice-cube trays at him.

      Nanna leaned forward to touch my forehead and cheeks for signs of a lingering fever. “Hey, hon, how are you feeling?”

      I tried to swallow. My throat was raw, as if someone had rubbed sandpaper down it. “Thirsty,” I managed to whisper.

      Mom handed me a glass of water. I moved to sit up, but my aching lower abdomen made me freeze and moan. It felt like someone had taken a baseball bat to my stomach. “Did someone beat me up?”

      Mom laughed, but it sounded weak. “Not quite.”

      I settled for lifting only my head so I could sip some water to ease my throat. When I had finished, I said, “What happened to me?”

      All three of them shared glances with one another. Talk about übercreepy. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d even seen them all in the same room together, much less doing that annoying wordless-communication thing with their eyes that all adults seemed to love to do.

      “Michael, you should tell her now,” Mom said, moving to sit at the end of the bed by my feet.

      With a curt nod, Dad clasped his hands in front of him as if he were a preacher about to speak at a funeral. He couldn’t have been here long. Dressed in his usual dark blue suit, he looked like he always did … immaculate, not a wrinkle in sight, not a single strand of wavy black hair out of place. He stared down at me with the same eyes as mine. Unfortunately, his had always been better at hiding his emotions, staying an icy gray no matter what. Mine had an annoying habit of turning colors depending on my mood, making it impossible for me to hide anything.

      “Savannah, there are certain things you need to know about yourself,” he began.

      “Because I was sick for a day or two?”

      “Try five,” Nanna said.

      I was sick for five days? “That was some flu.”

      “You did not have the flu,” he said. “You are changing.”

      “Changing. Meaning …?”

      “I am a vampire. And your mother is a witch, along with your grandmother. This makes you a rarity in both our worlds, because my species of vampires are not supposed to be able to procreate—”

      “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Did you just say you’re a … a vampire? Do you mean like the role-playing kind, where you get dressed up with plastic fangs and go to weird parties?” Was this some kind of twisted, late April Fools’ joke?

      Nanna moved to sit on the bed at my hip. She wrapped her warm, papery hands around mine. “Savannah, honey, I know it’s hard to believe, but it’s true. Your father is a vampire. A special kind, called an incubus.”

      “A demon?” I gasped, finding I could still breathe, after all. I’d heard about the incubi, read something about them on the internet or in church. But my mind was way too foggy to remember the details. All my thoughts kept circling around the same thing … Dad was claiming that he was a demon vampire. A real demon vampire. Which didn’t even exist. And my mother and grandmother were supposed to be witches. But that was impossible. They both went to church. Nanna even played the church piano every Sunday morning. Shouldn’t they burst into flames as soon as they set foot on holy ground or something?

      “Not quite a demon,” Mom said. “At least not full-blooded. He’s from a line of vampires that mixed with demons a long time ago.”

      Oh, that made it all better.

      Nanna added, “This gives them the ability to get energy two ways … through the traditional methods—”

      “Blood. You’re saying you … you drink blood?” I gulped, looking at Dad.

      He nodded. “We can also take energy through a kiss.”

      “Energy from a kiss.” My voice came out flat.

      They were all nuts.

      I slid my hand free of Nanna’s and flipped the comforter off my legs. “Okay. Um, I … I would really like a shower now.”

      Mom frowned. “Sweetie, don’t you have any questions?”

      “What’s to ask? Dad’s some funky kind of vampire that’s part demon and drinks blood, and you two do magic. And now you think I will, too, right? Because I’m … what did you say? Changing?”

      The carpet was cold beneath my feet as I stood up on wobbly legs. My weak body demanded I get back in bed. But no way was I staying here in the loony room. I had no idea what kind of joke they were trying to play, or if I was just hallucinating from lack of food. If this was a dream, the СКАЧАТЬ