Trust Me Page 9

  I don’t know how long we stood, watching each other. Moments or minutes. He looked so forlorn, so lonely. Slowly, I walked towards him, trying not even to acknowledge the presence of the mirror in my room. My body trembled, my heart pumped like a piston. I shook my head.

  ‘I’m not turning away.’ I tried to smile but my face twisted in parody. I stopped walking when we were only centimetres apart. Strange unexpected excitement mingled with the real and intense fear within me. ‘Tell me what happened,’ I said, for want of something better to say. Where were the important things, the earth-shattering things that I should’ve been saying? My head was filled with small details. ‘What happened when I . . . I passed out?’

  ‘It’s kind of sketchy. I remember lying down next to you in the bedroom for a while until my head wasn’t spinning so much. The party had finished by then. I staggered to my feet and went to ask Julius if he could drive us back to the hostel or at least phone for a taxi for us . . .’ Andrew frowned deeply. ‘I don’t remember much after that. The rest you know better than I do.’

  ‘But I thought I was out for ages.’

  Andrew shook his head. ‘You must’ve got up only a minute or so after me. And if you hadn’t woken up, I’d be dead.’

  Was that really true? I shook my head. ‘I didn’t say much. I didn’t do anything.’

  ‘According to Julius, you said enough.’

  ‘You spoke to him?’

  ‘When he’d revived me with his own blood, yes. He’d planned to kill me, not to change me . . .’

  ‘I see.’ I didn’t see it all.

  ‘He explained what I was . . . what to expect.’

  I swallowed hard. ‘You still haven’t told me why you left me alone.’ It was important to keep talking. Talking stopped my thoughts from overwhelming me.

  ‘I had to sort out in my own mind what was happening. I had to be alone for a while. And like I said, I could only travel at night.’

  I turned to look in the mirror. Andrew’s lack of reflection hadn’t changed. Could Andrew really be a . . .? I turned to my boyfriend, needing to see his eyes, needing to see the true him. His eyes . . . his eyes may have changed, but I could still recognize the light within them. He wasn’t lying. Andrew was—I mentally shook my head. There were no such things. And yet here he was . . .

  ‘Are you . . . do you . . . drink . . . like Julius?’ I asked. Surely the truth couldn’t be as horrific as the pictures my mind was painting?

  ‘I have to. Otherwise I’ll die.’

  My mouth opened, only to snap shut again without uttering a word. It was impossible to frame my next question.

  ‘Jayna, I don’t prey on people. I feed on animals,’ Andrew said quietly.

  Was my expression really so easy to read? ‘Animals?’ I repeated stupidly.

  Andrew shrugged. ‘Cats, dogs . . .’

  ‘Live animals?’

  Andrew nodded. ‘It has to be fresh, warm blood . . .’ His sentence trailed off at my very visible shudder of revulsion. ‘I have no choice, Jayna. Do you want me to die?’

  ‘Of course not. How could you even ask me that?’ I protested. ‘But to eat live animals . . .’

  ‘I don’t eat them. I drink their blood. Besides, you eat meat – chicken, lamb, beef, pork . . .’

  ‘That’s different.’

  ‘How is it different? Because it’s cooked?’ he mocked.

  ‘Because it’s . . . it’s dead by the time it gets to me,’ I replied.

  ‘So that’s acceptable as long as you don’t have to do your own killing?’

  ‘Yes . . . I . . . no, I never said that.’ Wearily I moved away from Andrew to sit on my bed. He walked over to me, his eyes never leaving my face. Each of his steps was measured, as if he was giving me every chance to move away or tell him to back off. He sat down on the bed, and if he wasn’t next to me, then he wasn’t exactly at the other end of the bed either.

  ‘I disgust you,’ he said.

  Reaching out, I took hold of his hand. It felt icy cold, even colder than before. ‘You could never disgust me,’ I told him. Taking a deep breath, I fought to hang onto the one thing, the only thing that mattered. ‘Andrew, I . . . I love you. Nothing will ever change that. You’ll just have to give me some time to get used to the idea, that’s all. I’m having trouble absorbing it. Accepting it. When you left me alone in Fipoli, I thought . . . I thought that maybe you’d changed your mind and decided the two of us together was a mistake. I thought that leaving me alone was your way of telling me without creating a scene.’

  ‘Jayna, I’m not your dad,’ said Andrew softly.

  No, he wasn’t. I had to stop thinking that Andrew would abandon me like my dad had. He’d left me alone in Fipoli, but for a good reason. I needed to let go of the past or it would never let go of me. It was time to stop treating Andrew like he was about to let me down from a great height. Neither of us spoke for a while.

  ‘How . . . how does it feel? How do you feel?’ I asked. ‘I can’t imagine . . .’

  In the silence that followed, I thought Andrew wasn’t going to answer my question.

  ‘I’m scared, Jayna,’ he said suddenly, his eyes fixed on the wall directly in front of us.

  ‘Scared?’ I whispered.

  ‘Terrified.’ He tried to laugh, failing miserably. ‘I feel so—Even you shunned me.’

  ‘I didn’t. At least . . . I didn’t mean to. It was just such a shock.’ I shuffled along the bed to sit next to him, putting my arms around his waist. Coldness – like a blast from a freezer – radiated from his body. I hugged him tighter. He placed a hesitant arm round my shoulders. ‘I’m here, Andrew.’ I didn’t know what else to say.

  ‘Jayna, I want to ask you something.’

  ‘I’m listening,’ I prompted.

  Something grave was about to happen. I could feel it. My breath caught in my throat and refused to move any higher. I looked up at Andrew. He looked at me.

  ‘What is it, Andrew?’ I asked.

  Slowly Andrew stroked my skin, from my earlobe down to where my neck joined my shoulder. His icy fingers sent an electric shiver racing through me. At last he spoke, but I had to strain to catch his words, even though I was right next to him.

  ‘Jayna,’ he said, ‘let me drink from you. Join me . . .’

  18

  I DIDN’T EVEN try to pretend that I’d misheard. The only sound in the room was my heart thundering.

  ‘Jayna, don’t be scared,’ Andrew said softly. He looked down at my breast as if he could see my heart through my jumper, through my flesh. ‘Let me drink.’ His words were mesmerizing and I felt myself weaken, draw to him. ‘Then you can be like me. Then we can be together, always. Don’t you want us to be together? Please . . .’

  ‘Andrew, I—’

  The peal of the doorbell at that moment was like water thrown over me. The spell was broken.

  ‘Don’t answer it.’ Andrew frowned.

  ‘I have to, Andrew.’ I pulled out of his grasp. ‘It might be important.’

  I bolted out of the room, shutting the door behind me, and ran downstairs. Time to think. That’s what I needed. What would have happened, what would I have said to Andrew if the doorbell hadn’t rung? I flung open the door.

  ‘Oh, it’s you, Jayna. Thank goodness for that.’

  ‘Hi, Mrs Tout,’ I said, unable to keep the sigh out of my voice.

  ‘I thought you were away on holiday.’ My neighbour frowned at me.

  ‘I was. We . . . we came back early.’

  ‘Oh, I see. I knew your mum and sister were still in the Lake District and I thought you were away, so when I saw the lights on I naturally wondered . . .’ She trailed off. I didn’t help her out. ‘Well, it could have been burglars!’

  I could well believe that Mrs Tout had seen my light. Mum and I often joked about our neighbour sitting by her window each evening peering into her neighbours’ houses. Mum said it had to be cheaper and more interesting than watching the soaps on telly.
Mrs Tout was the typical suburban widow, either in her day uniform of form-fitting tracksuit or her night uniform of tight-fitting trousers and a tighter-fitting top. For the first time I was more grateful for the interruption than irritated by her nosiness.

  ‘Mrs Tout, what would you have done if it had been burglars who opened the door instead of me?’ I asked drily.

  Mrs Tout started at my words. She frowned at me, then slowly smiled. ‘I don’t know,’ she admitted. ‘I hadn’t worked that part out. I saw the light on and marched straight over here.’

  ‘Well, it’s only me.’ I smiled.

  Neither of us spoke for a few moments.

  ‘So why did you come back from your holiday early?’ she asked.

  Here we go, I thought, resigning myself to a ten-hour session on the doorstep.

  ‘Jayna, who is it?’

  Mrs Tout almost jumped out of her shoes at the sound of Andrew’s voice from upstairs. ‘Who’s that?’ she asked suspiciously, after regaining her composure.

  ‘Er . . . it’s Andrew.’

  ‘Oh, I see.’

  She saw far too much! My face grew warm and I wanted to explain that Andrew’s presence in the house was perfectly innocent. Then I got annoyed and even more embarrassed at wanting to explain something that was none of Mrs Tout’s business. And as for Andrew’s presence being innocent . . . he was . . . a . . .

  I couldn’t even say it. I couldn’t hardly think it. It was unreal. Surreal. Here he was, pale and cold and with eyes that gave me ice burns. Yet he was still my Andrew. And I was still crazy about him. So why was my stomach flipping at the thought of being alone with him? Behind me, he came slowly down the stairs, stopping when he got halfway down them and not coming any further. Mrs Tout’s head craned forward like a tortoise stretching its head out of its shell.

  ‘How’s your mother, Andrew?’ Mrs Tout said with a frown. If I hadn’t been standing directly in her way, I’m sure she would have pushed past me.

  ‘She’s fine, thank you,’ Andrew said, his tone polite but icy.

  ‘Are you feeling all right, Andrew? You look a little strange.’ Mrs Tout’s frown deepened.

  ‘I’m fine, Mrs Tout. Never better,’ he replied.

  I glanced behind. Andrew hadn’t moved. The hall light wasn’t on, so what little light there was came from the street lamp outside. His face was partly in shadow, partly illuminated by the dim light outside. He did indeed look strange.

  An uneasy silence reigned.

  ‘Well, I’ll leave you two to it.’ Mrs Tout’s blush at her own words was very noticeable, even in this dim light. I was tempted to ask just what it was she thought she was leaving us to.

  ‘OK, Mrs Tout. Thanks for looking out for our house.’

  ‘You’re welcome,’ she replied, missing the irony in my voice.

  I waved her off, closing the door firmly behind her. Seconds later, I switched on the hall light. At that moment, the dark wasn’t my friend.

  ‘I knew it was her all the time. I could hear her from up in your bedroom. Nosy old bag!’ Andrew said with disgust.

  ‘You’re a right one to talk about nosy. I shut my bedroom door, but you still opened it to have a listen,’ I pointed out.

  ‘No, I didn’t.’

  ‘All right, then. You came out onto the landing.’

  ‘Nope. I could hear both of you perfectly well from your bedroom.’ He shrugged. ‘I reckoned you needed rescuing, that’s all.’

  ‘You heard me? With the door shut?’ I was sceptical, until the look on Andrew’s face told me he wasn’t joking.

  ‘Jayna, I can do all sorts of things I’d never even dreamed of before,’ he said, walking towards me. He took my hands into his. His hands were even colder now. They felt horrible. Almost clammy. Like holding the hands of a ghost. ‘I can hear things I could never hear before – conversations from across the street, a dog panting at the top of the road . . . Jayna, you’d love it. Let me . . .’

  I pulled my hands away from his. ‘No . . . not now, Andrew, please. Don’t . . . I can’t take this in. Not all at once. Please . . .’

  ‘Jayna, I don’t have much—’ Andrew raised a paper-white hand to his temples and swayed slightly.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ I moved towards him.

  ‘I have to go. I’ll be back soon.’ He was lurching around like a drunk now. He placed one hand on the wall to steady himself but it didn’t do much good. I ran to hold him up.

  ‘Where are you going? What’s wrong?’

  I don’t think he heard me. Andrew pushed past me, towards the front door. He pulled it open and staggered down the path, leaving the door wide open.

  I started after him. ‘Andrew—’

  ‘No! Don’t follow me,’ he hissed.

  Uncertain, I watched him, wondering what I should do.

  ‘I’ll be back.’ His whisper was harsh and drawn. He ignored me and started off down the street like a bat out of hell. I shut the front door and leaned against it. Now what? At least I had some breathing space. I walked into the kitchen and splashed my face under the cold tap. I was freezing cold and yet burning up, all at once. You’ll wake up tomorrow, I told myself. You’ll wake up and this will all have been a dream.

  It had to be.

  I was drying my face on some kitchen towel when the doorbell rang. Mrs Tout again? Or Andrew.

  I went to open the door. Immediately, Andrew stepped into the house. He grinned at me, looking more like his normal self. His skin wasn’t quite so pale, his irises not quite so glassy. His whole body was more relaxed.

  ‘That’s better.’ He smiled. ‘Come here.’

  I stayed where I was. I wasn’t keen on being ordered around.

  ‘Please,’ he cajoled. He held out his hands. Slowly, almost reluctantly, I took them in mine. They weren’t cold any more.

  ‘Why are your hands so warm all of a sudden?’ I asked.

  A terrible thought crept into my head and refused to go away. Andrew looked at me without saying a word, his cheeks flushed, his lips red. I clamped my teeth together.

  ‘What do you want me to say?’ said Andrew. ‘I hadn’t fed since yesterday. I was hungry, feeling faint.’

  ‘And your food?’ I whispered.

  ‘There was a fox . . . in a garden a few doors down . . .’

  I turned my head, a hair’s breadth away from throwing up.

  ‘Don’t look like that.’ Andrew’s voice was bitter. ‘A car needs petrol to run. You need food. It just happens that I need blood. I have to drink, Jayna, otherwise I’ll die.’

  I didn’t trust myself to speak until my stomach quietened. I kept swallowing hard.

  ‘Besides, I buried its body when I’d finished.’

  ‘That’s hardly the point,’ I said furiously. ‘This isn’t about whether or not you tidy up when you’re done. It’s about what you do. It’s about what you are. You’re a . . . a . . .’

  ‘Say it.’ Andrew grasped my upper arms. His hands were like twin vices. ‘Say it.’

  ‘Andrew, you’re hurting me,’ I gasped, pushing at his chest.

  He released me at once. ‘I’m sorry, Jayna,’ he said. ‘I forget I’m a lot stronger when I’ve just—I’m sorry.’

  I rubbed my upper arms. They were sore as hell. I’d have painful bruises there by morning.

  ‘Jayna, I need to know how you feel about me . . . about us?’ He watched me, not blinking once, looking as if he could read all the thoughts in my head almost before I became aware of them.

  ‘I love you. You know that,’ I whispered.

  ‘But?’

  ‘No buts.’

  Silence.

  ‘Jayna, what are we going to do?’ he asked.

  ‘About what?’

  ‘About us? About the way I am now?’

  ‘I don’t see that there’s very much we can do about it,’ I said unhappily. ‘I’m having trouble thinking straight.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘No, you don’t.’ I shook m
y head. ‘I’m frightened, Andrew. Are you really . . .?’ I couldn’t finish.

  ‘Yes.’ Andrew’s answer was immediate.

  ‘Can’t you do something . . .? Are you sure there’s no way to change you back?’

  ‘I don’t want to be changed back.’ His voice was unexpectedly hard. ‘I’m strong, powerful. I can do things now that I never even dreamed of before.’ There was something in his voice, some new note that I’d never heard before.

  ‘But earlier you said . . . you said that you were scared,’ I reminded him.

  ‘Only of one thing.’

  ‘What’s that?’ I whispered.

  There was a long pause before Andrew answered, ‘That you won’t join me.’

  ‘But Andrew, you’re . . . you’re . . .’

  ‘You still can’t say it, can you?’ he challenged.

  I didn’t reply. How could I say it? It was such a ridiculous word. It conjured up images of Gothic castles and wild horsemen and red contact lenses and yet, here before me, was Andrew. Not like the film images at all. Almost normal.

  ‘I’m still the same person, Jayna. You can see that, can’t you?’

  ‘I guess . . . How does it make you feel, inside?’

  ‘I told you. Powerful. In control.’

  ‘No, I’m not talking about physically. I’m talking about . . . emotionally.’

  ‘That depends.’

  ‘On what?’

  ‘On whether or not you join me.’ Andrew’s intense look burned right through me.

  ‘So we’re back to that?’

  ‘Let me make you the same as me. Let me drink from you.’

  I swallowed hard. This was it. Yes or no. A new, strange existence with Andrew, or a life without him.

  The choice was mine.

  19

  I BURIED MY head in my hands, desperately trying to pull my scattered thoughts together.

  ‘Andrew, I need time to think.’

  ‘About what? If you really love me as you say you do—’

  ‘Stop it!’ I cried out. ‘Stop rushing me. Stop using how I feel about you against me.’

  ‘I’m not.’

  ‘Yes, you are. I still can’t believe that you’re . . . I didn’t even think they really existed. Now you’re standing there saying that not only are you a . . . a . . . but also that you want to make me one too. The thought of it turns my stomach. It’s disgusting—’ I broke off abruptly when I realized what I’d said. Andrew looked like I’d slapped him. ‘Andrew, I didn’t mean . . .’