But before I can even unlock my phone, Ned swears, and then he moves. Faster than I’ve ever seen anyone move. One second he’s standing next to me, the next his mouth is on the man’s neck.
I blink again. My mind is breaking, trying to piece together what I’m seeing. The blood isn’t spraying anymore. It’s pouring into Ned’s mouth, disappearing, and the man looks… calm. Blissed out, like he’s in some sort of euphoric trance.
I cannot believe what I am seeing. My mind makes me check again. Looking for tricks of the light orhallucinations. But no, everything is exactly as I first thought. Ned’s mouth really is over the man’s wound. Blood is no longer spurting out into the alley, therefore it has to be pouring into Ned’s mouth. Even though none of that makes any sense at all.
The man’s eyes are closed. His shoulders relaxed. He looks almost serene. All his agitated energy has gone. He seems at peace.
Ned is licking the guy’s neck now. My mind is shattering and splintering. This new development is not making things any clearer. I still cannot piece together what is happening. Nothing is making any sense.
Ned steps back and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. I can’t breathe. I can’t think. In the dim light of a street lamp, the crazy person’s pale neck looks fine. I cannot see a cut at all.
My phone is still in my numb hand. Guess I don’t need it now.
The man sways drunkenly. His eyes are half-lidded. He looks up at Ned with an expression of sheer devotion.
“I’m not helping you with the aftermath, you are on your own there, you stupid motherfucker!” snaps Ned.
The man climbs to his feet, nods in eager agreement and starts to stagger out of the alley.
“Try that again and I’ll let you die!” Ned snarls after him.
The stranger turns out of sight, out back onto the main road, giving no sign that he has heard Ned.
And now it’s just us. Me and Ned.
Slowly, I turn back to Ned. He is staring at me intently. His eyes are dark and glistening. His face is pale. Something about the way he is holding himself is makingthe hairs on the back of my neck rise. It is like I am looking at something pretending to be Ned.
Except I’m not. I’m looking at Ned. For the first time. Because normally when I do, he is pretending to be human. This is the real Ned.
Ned, short for Edmund, an old-fashioned name. Ned who can’t go out in the sun. Who loves old films and whisky. Who sometimes uses old phrases when he talks. Who thinks being in your forties isn’t old.
Ned, who often feels freezing cold.
Who I just witnessed drinking blood and healing a mortal injury.
I force a swallow down my tight throat. It seems so utterly implausible, so very ridiculous, yet I’m not one to deny evidence. Not when it is all stacked up so neatly. There really is only one possible conclusion.
“So…you are a vampire?”
Chapter sixteen
Ned
Morgan’s kitchen feels different. Everything feels different. Because everything has changed. And nothing will ever be the same again.
Morgan knows I am a vampire.
I stare at him intently, but all he is doing is sitting there with his gaze fixed on the table and his large, gentle hands cupping the sweet, milky tea I made him. He has already had a stiff drink, so tea is going to have to do the rest.
The clock in the hallway ticks. It’s super late, but I don’t think anyone is going to be sleeping tonight. Well, apart from the kids who are all tucked up, safe and sound. The babysitter was trustworthy, after all.
She looked a little startled when we arrived home early and all but shoved her out of the door. I’m sure I’ll feel bad about it later, but right now, there are other, far more pressing things on my mind.
“Are aliens real too?” asks Morgan.
The sound of his rumbling voice makes me jump. It is the first thing he has said for a while.
“Umm…as in little green men in flying saucers? Not as far as I know.”
