Evernight (23 page)

* * *

"You're daydreaming again."
Raquel's words brought me back to reality. We were out in the fringe of woods
closest to the grounds, beneath new, pale-green leaves so soft they curled at
the edges. I'd been standing still, my hand on one branch for no telling how
many minutes. She was a good enough friend to allow me space when I needed it
and smart enough to know when it was time to bring me down to earth once more.
"Sorry." We started walking again, lazy steps that didn't really take
us in any particular direction. "I wasn't thinking."
"You were thinking about Lucas." Obviously Raquel wasn't easily
fooled. "It's been almost six weeks, Bianca. You have to forget him. You
know that."
Raquel knew only what the other students like her knew: that Lucas had broken a
slew of rules and run away, assaulting my father on his way out. That probably
fit perfectly into her sad view of the world, in which every secret was only a
cloak for violence. She'd warned me about Lucas a dozen times. Why shouldn't she
believe he'd snapped? Never did she say anything remotely resembling "I
told you so"—Raquel was too good for that.
Vic took it hard. Lucas had really been his best friend at Evernight, and there
was a gap in Vic's life now that was beyond my power to fill. I'd assured him,
as best I could without revealing secrets that would only endanger him, that
Lucas was a good guy and that he'd had his reasons for running. I thought Vic
believed me, but he didn't smile as often anymore. I could've used some of his
smiles.
The other vampires, both students and teachers, knew more of the truth. They
knew that Lucas was a member of Black Cross—one who now had some of the
strength and power of a vampire, thanks to me. Before, Courtney and her friends
had merely held me in contempt; now they hated me, pure and simple.
To my surprise, however, Courtney's group was in the minority. My parents
forgave me, of course, and Balthazar blamed Lucas for everything, treating me
more gently to make up for Lucas's supposed cruelty. But comfort and support
came from others, as well—Professor Iwerebon, who had offered several off-topic
lectures about the treachery of Black Cross while gesturing with bandaged
hands, or Patrice, who insisted that no girl could be held responsible for her
first love. For them, I suspected, a battle with Black Cross meant that I was
more surely on their side. More purely a vampire than I had been before.
I was the only one who knew the whole truth about Lucas—who he really was, and
what we felt for each other. That truth was all I had left of him, and I would
have to carry it alone.
"We should go inside." Raquel nudged me with her elbow, which was as
close as she ever came to showing affection. The tawny leather bracelet dangled
upon her wrist once more; I'd told her it turned up in the lost and found.
"Mail call soon."
"Expecting a care package?" Raquel's parents had let her down a lot,
but at least they knew how to bake. "If there are going to be more oatmeal
cookies—"
Raquel shrugged. "Gotta be there when I open the box, or else I'll end up
inhaling them all before you know it."
"Exercise some self-control, would you?" I felt a rare smile creep
across my face as we started back across the grounds. For the first time, I was
able to walk past the gazebo without hoping that I'd see Lucas there waiting
for me.
"Self-knowledge is better than self-control any day," Raquel said
firmly. "And I know myself well enough to know how I act around
cookies."
We got back to the great hall just as the first brown-wrapped packages and
FedEx envelopes began making their way among the crowd. As she'd hinted, Raquel
got a big box, and the two of us started up the stairs to her room to wolf the
cookies down. But just as my foot hit the first step, a hand tugged at my
elbow.
"Bianca?" Vic brushed his sandy bangs back from his face and smiled
uncertainly. "Hey, can we talk for a sec?"
"Sure, what's up?"
He shifted from foot to foot. "Um, like, alone?"
I hoped Vic wasn't about to ask me out in some cracked attempt to get me on the
rebound. "Well, okay." With a shrug, I turned back to Raquel and
said, "There had better be cookies left when I get there."
"I'm not making any promises." She jogged up the stairs without me,
and I resolved to make this quick.
Vic guided me to the far end of the great hall, near the one window that wasn't
stained glass—the one broken by Lucas and also, so long ago, by a member of
Black Cross. Instead of his ordinary casual slouch, Vic was tense and a little
bit strange. I mean, stranger than usual. I asked him, "Hey, are you all
right?"
"Me, I'm fine." He looked around, decided we were definitely alone,
and then grinned. "And you're about to be a whole lot better, thanks to
something I found in my care package."
"What do you mean by…" My voice trailed off as Vic slipped something
into the pocket of my blazer.
Mail call. Lucas would've known that they'd double-check any letters for me,
but not letters to Vic. If Lucas wanted to reach me, this is how he'd do it.
I put one hand over that pocket, which now bulged with a thick, padded
envelope. Vic nodded quickly. "So, right, that's good, then. Glad we got
that settled. See ya!"
As he loped away, I took a deep breath. My heart pounded inside my chest, but I
walked calmly up the stairs until I reached my parents' apartment. They weren't
home—probably Mom and Dad were downstairs grading papers and getting ready for
finals. I went into my bedroom, shut the door, and, after a moment's
hesitation, pulled the shade down so that even the gargoyle wasn't looking
inside. Then, with trembling fingers, I unsealed the envelope.
Inside was a small white box. When I opened that, a cool dark shape tumbled
into my waiting palm—my brooch. The black flowers gleamed in my hand again, as
perfect and as beautiful as they had ever been.
He promised
.
Lucas promised he would get it back for me, and he did.
He kept his word.
For a moment I couldn't think about anything but the brooch. I wanted to pin it
to my shirt that second, just where I'd always worn it before, but I couldn't
do that any longer. Too many people knew that I'd worn it as a gift from him,
and if anybody realized that Lucas and I were still in contact, Mrs. Bethany
and those loyal to her would use that to go after him. No, for Lucas's own
good, I had to hide it, keep it safe.
Maybe I would never have anything else of his, but I had this to remind me of
the truth nobody else would ever understand. Lucas and I truly loved each
other, and we always would.
Carefully I folded one of my winter scarves around the brooch and nestled it in
the back of a dresser drawer. Then I very nearly tossed the envelope away to
hide the evidence, but I realized that there was something else inside—a card.
One of the expensive kinds that they sell in museums, on thick, shining white paper,
with a work of art emblazoned on the front: Klimt's
Kiss.
I glanced up
to see the identical print hanging beside my bed—the same print he'd seen when
we were in here, laughing and talking and making out, during those few brief
months we had together.
Reverently I opened the card and read what was written.

I had to smile. Lucas really did understand me.

"I believe it, Lucas," I whispered. We'd find each other once more,
and all I had to do was endure until that day came. Someday Lucas and I would
find a way to be together again.
I folded the card against my chest. I'd burn it in a few minutes—but not yet,
not just yet.

Thanks
are first due to my editor, Clare Hutton, who took a big chance on a new
author, which this new author truly appreciates. I also want to acknowledge the
wise advice offered by those who read the manuscript first, including Calista
Brill, Michele De France, and Naomi Novik. Edy Moulton and Ruth Hanna not only
participated in those early reads but also have tirelessly worked with me on my
writing for a long time now, cultivating my better instincts as an author while
ruthlessly pointing out the worst. The cultivation was helpful, the
ruthlessness invaluable. Other friends such as Lara Bradley, Mandy Collums,
Francesca Coppa, Rodney Crouther, Amy Fritsch, Jen Heddle, Jesse Holland, Eli
Nelson, Stephanie Nelson, Tara O'Shea, Jessica Ross, Whitney Raju, and Michele
Tepper have provided unfailing encouragement. Ashelee Gahagan traveled to
Massachusetts with me for research and tried to view the countryside through a
vampire's eyes—no mean feat. Robin Rue has proved to be a generous guide to the
world of publishing, and I've benefited greatly from her insight. I also have
been lucky enough to receive incredible support from my family: Mom, Dad,
Matthew, Melissa, and Elijah. Above all, I want to thank my agent, Diana Fox,
who first suggested that I might think about writing something with vampires.
She believed in my writing before I did, and for that I will be forever
grateful.
Finally, I've had the good fortune to be read, critiqued, questioned, and
debated by many smart and opinionated readers over the years, a learning
experience that has helped me immensely. So to anyone who's ever taken the time
to comment upon something I've written, I offer my heartfelt thanks.

Claudia
Gray
is the pseudonym of New York–based writer Amy Vincent. She has worked
as a lawyer, a journalist, a disc jockey, and an extremely poor waitress. Her
lifelong interests in old houses, classic movies, vintage style, and history
all play a part in creating the world of Evernight.
Visit her online at www.claudiagray.com.
Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite
HarperCollins author.

Cover
art © 2008 by Karen Pearson, MergeLeft Reps, Inc.
Hand Lettering by Sarah Jane Coleman
Cover design by Christopher Stengel

EVERNIGHT
. Copyright © 2008 by Amy Vincent. All rights reserved under
International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the
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e-books.
Palm Reader January 2009 ISBN 978-0-06-176710-4
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