Page 136 of The Last Vampire
“Show me,” he says, staring into her eyes as if he could compel her.
“First,tellme,” she insists without breaking contact.
Was she always this irritating?He is suddenly not sure why he was so determined to see her.
“I do not think you understand just how much danger your life is in,” he says, trying to refrain from snapping at her.
“Nate showed up at my school, put his fangs to my neck, and threatened to kill me—I know I’m in danger.” Her voice quivers, as if she is going to cry.Except her expression only grows graver. “My life has been at risk from the moment you came out of that coffin, so how is keeping me in the dark going to save me now?”
Since it seems he is not going to win this argument, he pivots. “How did they find you here? I never told them about this school.”
Lorena’s gaze drops to the floor.
“How?”he presses, sensing that she is hiding something.
“I went back,” she says softly. “To Hanover.”
He does not understand. “Why?”
“Because… I thought this book might be important. To you.”
She still will not meet his eyes, and he cannot comprehend why she would endanger her life to help him when he was not around to force her hand. “Why would you care?” he asks.
“For the same reason you came back and saved my life.”
Her gaze rises to meet his again, and this time he feels as ifshewere compelling him. He could not look away if he tried.
“We’re friends, William. Even if you don’t like it.”
Her words melt an ice shelf in his chest, freeing a chunk of his heart that he thought had died with his mortality.
Yet all along, it had only been frozen.
CHAPTER 40lorena
William seems so moved by the wordfriendthat it actually makes me feel sorry for him.
So I sit on the floor and open the green book to a random page. Then I pat the spot next to me, intimating that he should join me. When he does, I ask, “Show me your fangs?”
He frowns, but I just nod for him to go on, and after a moment, he parts his lips. Then his daggerlike canines descend, growing into sharp weapons.
I raise a finger and touch the pointy edge so it punctures my skin. Blood dribbles out, and when I pull my hand away, William stares at my finger as if he would like to suck the wound.
My stomach flips as I brush my fingertip across the blank page, drawing aW. An instant later, the red ink rearranges itself into anX.
William stares at the paper. Then he looks at me, and this time he brings his own finger to his mouth. It seems he has to bite down extra hard to tear his skin, then he presses his finger onto the white page, drawing anL.
The blood gets absorbed, and nothing happens.
It didn’t work.
“Damn—”
But I fall silent as the white canvas begins to fill with neat lettering writtenin red ink. William and I lean forward, our heads touching, and he reads out loud:
“Vampires are masters of time.”
We trade awed stares, then we look down again, and he keeps going:
