“Whitney,” Lucy said, “listen to me. What’s happening to you is happening to me, too.”
“You have no idea what is happening to me.” Whitney stumbled out of her chair, her long legs clumsy under her. “He told me he was so sorry he rushed me. He told me transformation should be beautiful. It wasn’t beautiful. But he needed someone to watch you. He knew that girl on the radio would come for you, and he needed me to be here when that happened. You must know how much he wants you. But it’s nothing compared to how much he wants her.”
“Listen to me,” Lucy said again. If only because it felt like Whitney couldn’t exactly hear her right now. “There are people who are trying to find him. They said—they said that if we can stop him, I might go back to normal. Maybe you’ll—”
“Do I look normal to you?”Whitney said. “Go on, listen. He told me you wouldn’t notice. But if you really listen, you can hear it, right? Do I sound like how normal people sound?”
A slow, horrible understanding settled over Lucy. She’d noticed it when she walked in, hadn’t she? This stillness. She thought it was odd, though she couldn’t put her finger on why.
All day long, she’d been hearing signs of life from the people around her. Their breathing. The beating of their hearts.
Whitney’s body didn’t make any sound except for the thin vibrations of her vocal cords. When she was quiet, she didn’t breathe. Her blood didn’t hum. Her heart didn’t beat.
She sounded dead.
And she was.
“It’s your fault, you know,” Whitney said. “You called out to him. You think you don’t know what you want? You want everything. So much, so badly, he heard you over all that noise. He’s gonna make our lives beautiful, Lucy. But first you need to lead him to that girl. You need to leadmeto that girl.”
There were tears rolling down Lucy’s cheeks. She hadn’t felt them until one hit her shoulder. “Whitney—”
“You can make this easier for both of us,” Whitney said. “You just need to stop fighting him. I fought him. And now…now I need to earn his trust back.”
Whitney took two staggering steps. It unbalanced her. She shifted her weight onto her left foot, leaving her right side unsteady. And behind Whitney’s right side was the door.
“There’s going to be a feast,” Whitney whispered. “When I give him what he wants. I’m supposed to save my appetite. But maybe just a little…”
Lucy could hear her own blood shift. Fuel for the engines of her potential energy. There was no doubt, from the way her eyes darkened, that Whitney heard it, too. There would be no element of surprise. But maybe Lucy could be fast enough.
She ran.
And Whitney lunged.
Maybe it was the infection. Or maybe it was just adrenaline that made the next moment seem impossibly slow. The options presented themselves to Lucy with surreal clarity. She could backpedal toward the window, a three-story drop she doubted she’d walk away from. She could fight, which she already knew was impossible—there was only one true vampire in that room. Lucy could feel her own legs, weak with lack of sleep and loss of blood, trembling under her.
Whitney’s stance still slightly favored her left side. So Lucy dove once more for the right,hard. Adrenaline surged up in her, conferred a little borrowed strength, but next to Whitney’s strength it was less than nothing. Whitney pivoted, slamming Lucy into the wall.
Her hands went for Lucy’s neck. Lucy wedged her own fingers into Whitney’s grip—she couldn’t free herself, she didn’t have the leverage, but the extra inch of air let her keep breathing. They locked eyes then. Whitney laughed the same splintered laugh. “Didn’t think you’d smell good,” she said. “You came home from that party smelling like sweat and dirt.”
Lucy felt a brief and entirely selfish flicker of regret that she’d never get to tell Whitney what a fucking asshole she was. Her mind stuttered on that thought, choked on it. Whitney was still here, still standing right in front of her,still being an asshole.She couldn’t be dead.
“Whitney, please,” Lucy gasped. “I want to help you.”
“I don’t want your help.” Whitney’s teeth glistened with saliva. “I want to rip your fucking throat out. Maybe then you’ll stop talking.”
Lucy looked around wildly. She couldn’t hold Whitney off forever. She wasn’t holding Whitney offnow. There was nothing in reach, nothing to use as a weapon, except for Whitney’s MacBook on the desk to her right. Too light and sleek and modern to be much of a blunt object. But she realized, with a jolt, that it didn’t need to be.
She made a blind grab for the laptop. Her hand slipped off it the first time. But on the second grab, it snapped closed under her fingers.
Lucy pulled it to her chest like a shield. The effect was instant: Whitney’s grip dropped from her neck and she reared back as if she’d been burned. “Give that to me,” she said.
Lucy laughed, though it was the least funny anything had ever been. “Oh,” she said. “Is this still important to you?”
Whitney growled again, deeper this time. “Put that down. Give it back.”
“Sorry,” Lucy said. “Not going to do either. I need you to focus, Whitney. This is what matters to you, isn’t it? It matters more than whatever he asked you to do to that girl on the radio.”
“Put it down!” Whitney said. “It’s not finished!”
