She felt ... free.
I'm getting light-headed, she realized. She could feel herself going limp in James's arms. Swooning lik e a wilting flower.
I' ve taken enough, James said in her mind. The warm animal mouth on her throat pulled back. "Now it's your turn."
This time, though, he didn't make the cut at his wri st. He t ook off his T-shirt and, with a quick, impulsive gesture, ran a fingernail along the base of his throat.
Oh, Poppy thought. Slowly, almost reverently, she leaned forward. James's hand supported the back of her head. Poppy put her arms around him, feeling his bare skin under the flannel of her nightgown.
It was better this way. But if James was right, it was another last time. She and James could never exchange blood again.
I can't accept that, Poppy thought, but she couldn't concentrate on anything for very long. This time, instead of clearing her brain, the wild, intoxicating vampire blood was making her more confused. More heavy and sleepy.
James?
It's all right. It's the beginning of the change.
Heavy ... sleepy ... warm. Lapped in salty ocean waves. She could almost picture the vampire blood trickling through her veins, conquering everything in its path. It was ancient blood, primeval. It was changing her into something old, something that had been around since the dawn of time. Something primitive and basic.
Every molecule in her body, changing ...
Poppy, can you hear me? James was shaking her slightly.
Poppy had been so engrossed in the sensations that she hadn't even realized she wasn't drinking any longer. James was cradling her.
“Poppy.”
It was an effort to open her eyes. "I'm all right. Just ... sleepy."
His arms tightened around her, then he laid her gently on the mounded pillows. "You can rest now. I'll get Phil."
But before he went, he kissed her on the forehead.
My first kiss, Poppy thought, her eyes drifting shut again. And I'm comatose. Great.
She felt the bed give under weight and looked up to see Phil.
Phil looked very nervous, sitting gingerly, staring at Poppy.
"So what's happening now?" he asked.
"The vampire blood's taking over," James said.
Poppy said, "I'm really sleepy."
There was no pain. Just a feeling of wanting to glide away. Her body now felt warm and numb, as if she were insulated by a soft, thick aura.
"Phil? I forgot to say-thank you. For helping out. And everything. You're a good brother, Phil."
"You don't have to say that now," Phil said tersely. "You can say it later. I'm still going to be here later, you know."
But I might not be, Poppy thought. This is all a gamble. And I'd never take it, except that the only alternative was to give up without even trying to fight.
I fought, didn't I? At least I fought.
"Yes, you did," Phil said, his voice trembling. Poppy hadn't been aware she was speaking aloud. "You've always been a fighter," Phil said. "I've learned so much from you."
Which was funny, because she'd learned so much from him, even if most of it was in the last twentyfour hours. She wanted to tell him that, but there was so much to say, and she was so tired. Her tongue felt thick; her whole body weak and languorous.
"Just ... hold my hand," she said, and she could hear that her voice was no louder than a breath. Phillip took one of her hands and James the other.
That was good. This was the way to do it, with Eeyore and her lion on the pillows beside her and Phil and James holding her hands, keeping her safe and anchored.
One of the candles was scented with vanilla, a warm and homey smell. A smell that reminded her of being a kid. Nilla wafers and naptime. That was what this was like. Just a nap in Miss Spurgeon's kindergarten, with the sun slanting across the floor and James on a mat beside her.
So safe, so serene ...
"Oh, Poppy," Phil whispered.
James said, "You're doing great, kiddo. Everything's just right."
That was what Poppy needed to hear. She let herself fall backward into the music, and it was like falling in a dream, without fear. It was like being a raindrop falling into the ocean that had started you.
At the last moment she thought, I'm not ready. But she already knew the answer to that. Nobody was ever ready.
But she'd been stupid-she'd forgotten the most important thing.
She'd never told James she loved him. Not even when he'd said he loved her.
She tried to get enough air, enough strength to say it. But it was too late. The outside world was gone and she couldn't feel her body any longer. She was floating in the darkness and the music, and all she could do now was sleep.
"Sleep," James said, leaning dose to Poppy. "Don't wake up until I call you. Just sleep."
Every muscle in Phil's body was rigid. Poppy looked so peaceful-pale, with her hair spread out in coppery curls on the pillow, and her eyelashes black on her cheeks and her lips parted as she breathed gently. She looked like a porcelain baby doll. But the more peaceful she got, the more terrified Phil felt.
I can deal with this, he told himself. I have to.
Poppy gave a soft exhalation, and then suddenly she was moving. Her chest heaved once, twice. Her hand tightened on Phil's and her eyes flew openbut she didn't seem to be seeing anything. She simply looked astonished.
"Poppyl" Phil grabbed at her, getting a handful of flannel nightgown. She was so small and fragile inside it. "Poppyl"
The heaving gasps stopped. For one moment Poppy was suspended in air, then her eyes closed and she fell back on the pillows. Her hand was limp in Phil's.
Phil lost all rationality.
"Poppy," he said, hearing the dangerous, unbalanced tone in his own voice. "Poppy, come on. Poppy, wake up!"-on a rising note. His hands were shaking violently, scrabbling at Poppy's shoulders.