Page 66 of The Last Vampire
“I think it’s my mom’s disease.”
Every single one of my brain cells seems to stop working at the same time.
As I stare into Salma’s eyes, I try to find any trace of humor. I know she’s a fan of dark comedy, but this would be fucked up even for her.
“You’re hurting me,” she says, and I realize I’m wringing her hand, so I let go.
“What are you talking about?” I ask, my calm voice contrasting with my raging pulse.
“A few weeks ago, I noticed my clothes were looking baggy on me. I was also losing more hair than usual in the shower. So I looked up my mom’s condition, like I did a million times before, only this time I checked if it was genetic.”
Now she’s the one who takes my hand, and I keep my hold loose so I don’t hurt her again.
“Apparently, it can be passed down from mother to daughter. Symptoms usually start at our age, and it’s rare for someone who has it to live past thirty-five. My mom wasreallylucky that hers showed up later, and she made it to forty-three—”
“Salma, stop.” I let go of her hand. “You’re jumping to a worst-case scenario. You realize all the things you listed are also symptoms ofgrief? You were barely eating this summer, and the missed period and hair loss are probably stress-related. You’re not your mom, okay? You’re going to make yourself sick if you keep—”
“How can you know that?” she asks, crossing her arms, and I know how obstinate she gets when she believes something to her core. “You just don’t want to see it. I knew I shouldn’t have told you.”
“Sal… I think maybe you’re feeling guilty about moving on without your mom.”
I say it as gently as I can, like one removing a Band-Aid as slowly as possible so it won’t sting—but she still stares at me like I ripped it right off. “We both got checkups before coming here,” I remind her, “and the doctors said we were fine. They know your medical history, so they probably tested you for her condition.”
“Or maybe my symptoms flared up after my checkup—”
“Sal, you’re catastrophizing,” I say, hearing Ma’s words coming out of my mouth.
She glares at me, and I know I won’t get through to her when she’s determined to be stubborn. That’s the whole reason we’re in Huntington in the first place.
“I don’t feel like myself, Lore,” she says at last, her shoulders dropping as she leans into me. I wrap my arms around her, holding her to my side, my heart rising to its rightful place as I relax into her.
“You’re grieving,” I say into her hair. “Give yourself grace.”
I still sound just like Ma, borrowing her words, saying the things shewould expect me to say. And it makes me wonder if I’ve ever had an original thought in my life.
Maybe Tiffany is right about me.
Maybe everything I do and have ever done is nothing more than a reflection of Ma.
CHAPTER 21william
Weeks pass, and colder air blows in, heralding winter’s imminent approach.
William has spent September and October reading his way through the manor, alternating between fiction and nonfiction. He feels like he knows so much more about the world already.
He has discovered what happened in (human) history, including advances in science, medicine, technology, transportation, and entertainment. He learned who Einstein was and his theory of relativity. He also learned about Darwin’s theory of evolution and Freud’s theory of the unconscious mind and Nash’s theory of equilibrium. He read about airplanes, space shuttles, UFOs. Taxes, mortgages, car insurance. Television shows, podcasts, audiobooks.
Tomorrow marks eight weeks since he last tasted blood. He has no idea how he has managed it.
At one point, he started exploring nearby towns at night, and there were a few occasions when he came close to attacking a stranger. Yet the crime books he has read paint a picture of a different kind of law enforcement than the one he knew. What if he should be captured on one of those hidden surveillance cameras? What if the Legion still has eyes everywhere?
Somehow, his discipline has proved stronger than his desire. His reward will come tomorrow, when he breaks his fast with Lorena’s blood.
His fangs tingle in his gums as he enters the dining hall, and he has to cut off his breathing. The scent of this much blood is overwhelming. Even if tomorrow did not mark the end of the eighth week, he would not be able to restrain himself any longer.
“It’s almost Halloween!” says Salma. “I wonder what Minaro’s big surprise is.”
The excitement in the halls about All Hallows’ Eve has been tangible, and William is mildly amazed that this day continues to be celebrated. Director Minaro promised to reveal the school’s special plans at dinner tonight, so once most students have finished eating, she rises to make her announcement.
