And in a moment or so she would seal that bond by taking his blood. Try and resist that, she thought, and was startled when James laughed softly. "Reading my mind again?"
"Not exactly. You're projecting-and you're very good at it.
You're going to be a strong telepath." Interesting . . . but right now Poppy didn't feel strong. She suddenly felt kitten-weak.
Limp as a wilting flower. She needed ...
"I know," James whispered. Still supporting her, he started to lift one wrist to his mouth.
Poppy stopped him with a restraining hand.
"James? How many times do we have to do this before I-change?"
"Once more, I think," James said quietly. "I took a lot this time, and I want you to do the same. And the next time we do it ..."
I'll die, Poppy thought. Well, at least I know how long I have left as a human.
James's lips slid back to reveal long, delicate fangs, and he struck at his own wrist. There was something snakelike in the motion. Blood welled up, the color of syrup in a can of cherry preserves.
Just as Poppy was leaning forward, lips parted, there was a knock at the door.
Poppy and James froze guiltily.
The knock came again. In her muddled and weakened state, Poppy couldn't seem to make herself move. The only thought that resounded in her brain was Oh, please. Please don't let it be ...
The door opened.
Phil.
Phillip was already speaking as he poked his head in. "Poppy, are you awake? Mom says-"
He broke off abruptly, then lunged for the lightswitch on the wall. Suddenly the room was illuminated.
Oh, terrific, Poppy thought in frustration. Phil was peering through the filmy draperies around the bed. Poppy peered back at him.
"What is going-on?" he said in a voice that would have gotten him the lead role in The Ten Commandments. And then, before Poppy could gather enough wits to answer, he leaned in and grabbed James by the arm.
"Phil, don't," Poppy said. "Phil, you idiot ..."
"We had a deal," Phil snarled at James. "And you broke it."
James was gripping Phil's arms now, as ungently as Phil was grasping him. Poppy had the dismayed feeling that they were going to start head-butting each other.
Oh, Lord, if she could only think straight. She felt so brainless.
"You've got the wrong idea," James said to Phil through clenched teeth.
"The wrong idea? I come in here and find the two of you in bed, with all the curtains drawn, and you're telling me I've got the wrong idea?"
"On the bed, Poppy interjected. Phil ignored her.
James shook Phil. He did it quite easily and with an economy of movement, but Phil's head snapped back and forth. Poppy realized that James was not at his most rational right now. She remembered the metal chair leg and decided it was time to intervene.
Let go," she said, reaching in between the two boys to grab for hands. Anybody's hands. "Come on, you guys!" And then, desperately, "Phil, I know you don't understand, but James is trying to help me-"
"Help you? I don't think so." And then to James: "Look at her.
Can't you see that this stupid pretending is making her sicker?
Every time I find her with you, she's white as a sheet. You're just making things worse."
"You don't know anything about it," James snarled in Phil's face. But Poppy was still processing something several sentences back.
"Stupid? Pretending?" she said. Her voice wasn't very loud but everything stopped.
Both boys looked at her.
Everyone made mistakes then. Later, Poppy would realize that if any of them had kept their heads, what happened next could have been avoided. But none of them did.
"I'm sorry," Phil said to Poppy. "I didn't want to tell you-"
"Shut up," James said savagely.
"But I have to. This-jerk-is just playing with you. He admitted it to me. He said he felt sorry for you, and he thinks that pretending he likes you makes you feel better. He's got an ego that would fill Dodger Stadium."
"Pretending?" Poppy said again, sitting back. There was a buzzing in her head and an eruption gathering in her chest.
"Poppy, he's crazy," James said. "Listen-"
But Poppy wasn't listening. The problem was that she could feel how sorry Phil was. It was much more convincing than anger. And Phillip, honest, straightforward, trustworthy Phillip, almost never lied.
He wasn't lying now. Which meant ... that James must be.
Eruption time.
"You . . ." she whispered to James.,"You . . ." She couldn't think of a swear word bad enough. Somehow she felt more hurt, more betrayed than she had ever felt before. She had thought she knew James; she had trusted him absolutely. Which made the betrayal all the worse. "So it was all pretending? Is that it?"
Some inner voice was telling her to hold on and think. That she was in no state to make crucial decisions. But she was also in no state to listen to inner voices. Her own anger kept her from deciding if she had any good reason to be angry.
"You just felt sorry for me?" she whispered, and suddenly all the fury and grief that she'd been suppressing for the last day and a half flooded out. She was blind with pain, and nothing mattered except making James hurt as much as she hurt.
James was breathing hard, speaking rapidly. "Poppy-this is why I didn't want Phil to know-"
"And no wonder," Poppy raged. "And no wonder you wouldn't say you loved me," she went on, not even caring that Phillip was listening. "And no wonder you would do all that other stuff, but you never even kissed me. Well, I don't want your pity-"