“It’s not that simple.”
“It is. And I refuse to let you die again.” I open the door and climb out, slamming it behind me. I love so many people, and they’re all so stupid. I’m sick of it. I’m sick of them hurting me and hurting themselves and hurting each other. I stomp into the cemetery, my cute purple Docs squelching through mud. I’m wearing Artemis’s nicest leather trench coat and an emerald-green sweater underneath, but I can still feel the bite of the evening. There’s a mausoleum with an overhang, and I make straight for it, standing out of the drizzle and surveying the night. A few stubborn lamps burn overhead, giving dim illumination to the landscape of sleeping dead.
I still need to ask Leo about my power. About the ways it’s changed. The Artemis situation felt more pressing, and then Leo being an idiot took over the conversation. He’s not allowed to die. We have a lot more fights we need to get through.
I pull out my phone and turn it on, not opening all the unread texts from the castle. Nothing new from Artemis. I text her. Here.
A dark figure swoops toward me, ducking into the shelter before turning and staring at me in shock. It’s not Artemis. She’s wearing an elegant dress, long and flowing and black, with a high neck. Her hair is pinned up in elaborate swirls, and her lips are painted very red. There’s something classic about her face and the way she stares at me, like a portrait of her could be hanging in the national gallery.
“Vampire?” I ask. Less because of how she looks and more because of the instant KILL KILL KILL buzzing through me, so I really hope she’s a vampire and not human, otherwise I’m in trouble.
She nods slightly, and I’m more than a little relieved. “Slayer?” she asks. I nod in imitation of her. Neither of us moves. “Patrolling?”
“I don’t really do that. Hunting?”
“Not tonight.” She pulls out a cigarette and then one of those long black cigarette holders like I’ve only seen in movies. “Do you mind?”
“Nah.” I used to. Smoke was very triggering for me. But I’ve stopped having nightmares about almost burning to death in my old house in Phoenix. I still visit that room, but it’s different ever since I found out my mother left me behind because she knew I would survive when Artemis wouldn’t.
The vampire smiles as she ligh
ts her cigarette. “Smoking forces me to breathe. I find it deeply nostalgic.”
“And bonus, none of that pesky lung cancer to kill you.”
“Perks of the undead.” She blows out a long, slow stream of smoke.
“Don’t suppose you’ve seen me wandering around this cemetery tonight?”
She looks puzzled but intrigued. “No?”
“Twin sister. Meeting her here.”
“Ah.”
I should probably stake her, but I don’t want to be midfight when Artemis gets here. Or maybe I do. Is it creepy if I hold off fighting this vampire until Artemis can see? Her witheringly dismissive look at the convention tugs on my pride. I’d look really cool in her leather coat fighting and dusting a vampire before turning to her and calmly asking for the book and some answers.
“I love that coat. Interested in selling it?”
“It’s my sister’s.” I brought the coat as a peace offering, but Artemis is late. She’s making me stand here in the rain. It would serve her right if she showed up and a vampire was wearing her favorite coat.
“Think she’ll sell it to me?” She reaches into the lace-lined bag where she keeps her cigarettes.
“No! I gave it to her. As a gift.”
A smile seeps across the vampire’s face. “And yet she left it with you, apparently. I bet she’d sell it to me.” She takes another drag of her cigarette.
I shouldn’t be talking to her. I’ll stake her. Talking to her now is going to make it weird. Vampires are so good at being human … until they’re not. And performing a slaying for Artemis is gross of me. What is this vampire doing here, anyway? “Did you rise tonight or something?”
“I’m here to visit a very old friend.” She puts her hand on the plaque on the side of the mausoleum. It has several names, but her fingers trail along the one that reads SARAH MCCABE 1801–1823.
“Is she a vampire too?”
“No. I was the lucky one. She’s in there, and I’m out here, and somehow it’s been nearly two hundred years, but I can still hear her laughter. Neither of us changed after that day. Well. I suppose there is the decay to take into account. And this.” Her face briefly shifts into the monstrous, fanged vampire visage before shifting back. She smiles wryly. “Sarah would have found that hilarious. I was always so worried about getting wrinkles. Vain Jane, she called me.” She holds out the cigarette.
“Not a fan of smoke.” Even with my progress about the fire, the scent has me on edge.
She shrugs, then removes the cigarette from the holder and puts it out on the wet stone. It hisses softly.