James shrugged. He wasn't looking at either Poppy or Phil. "In some ways. But in other ways it's like a universal cure. It makes wounds heal fast, makes flesh regenerate. Vampires can live on very little oxygen because their cells are so resilient.
Vampire blood does everything-except carry oxygen."
A light went on in Poppy's brain. Dawning revelation-the mystery of Count Dracula explained. "Wait a minute," she said.
"Is that why you need human blood?"
"That's one of the reasons," James said. "There are some ...
some more mystical things human blood does for us, but keeping us alive is the most basic one. We take a little and that carries oxygen through our system until our own blood destroys it. Then we take a little more."
Poppy settled back. "So that's it. And it is natural...."
"Nothing about this is natural," Phil said, his disgust surfacing again.
"Yes, it is; it's like whatdoyouca!lit, from biology lass.
Symbiosis-"
"It doesn't matter what it's like," James said. "We can't sit here and talk about it. We've got to make plans."
There was an abrupt silence as Poppy realized what kind of plans he was talking about. She could tell Phil was realizing it, too.
"You're not out of danger yet," James said softly, his eyes holding Poppy's. "It's going to take one more exchange of blood, and you should have it as soon as possible. Otherwise, you might relapse again. But we're going to have to plan the next exchange carefully-"
"Why?" Phil said, at his most deliberately obstructive.
"Because it's going to kill me," Poppy said flatly before James could answer. And when Phil flinched she went on ruthlessly,
"That's what this is all about, Phil. It's not some little game James and I are playing. We have to deal with the reality, and the reality is that one way or another I'm going to die soon.
And I'd rather die and wake up a vampire- than die and not wake up at all."
There was another silence, during which James put his hand on hers. It was only then that Poppy realized she was shaking.
Phil looked up. Poppy could see that his face was drawn, his eyes dark. "We're twins. So how'd you get so much older than me?" he said in a muted voice.
A little hush, and then James said, "I think tomorrow night would be a good time to do it. It's Friday-do you think you can get your mom and Cliff out of the house for the night?"
Phil blinked. "I guess-if Poppy seems better, they might go out for a little while. If I said I'd stay with her."
"Convince them they need a break. I don't want them around."
"Can't you just make them not notice anything? Like you did with that nurse at the hospital?" Poppy asked.
"Not if I'm going to be concentrating on you," James said.
"And there are certain people who can't be influenced by mind control at all-your brother, here, is one of them. Your mom could be another."
"All right; I'll get them to go out," Phillip said. He gulped, obviously uncomfortable and trying to hide it. "And once they're gone ... then what?"
James looked at him inscrutably. "Then Poppy and I do what we have to do. And then you and I watch TV."
"Watch TV," Phil repeated, sounding numb.
"I've got to be here when the doctor comes-and the people from the funeral home."
Phil looked utterly horrified at the mention of the funeral home. For that matter, Poppy didn't feel too cheerful about it herself. If it weren't for the rich, strange blood coursing inside her, calming her ...
"Why?" Phillip was demanding of James.
James shook his head, very slightly. His face was
expressionless. "I just do," he said. "You'll understand later.
For now, just trust me."
Poppy derided not to pursue it.
"So you guys are going to have to make up tomorrow," she said. "In front of Mom and Cliff. Otherwise it'll be too weird for you to hang out together."
"It'll be too weird no matter what," Phil said under his breath.
"All right. Come over tomorrow afternoon and we'll make up.
And I'll get them to leave us with Poppy."
James nodded. "I'd better go now." He stood. Phil stepped back to let him out the door, but James hesitated by Poppy.
"You gonna be all right?" he asked in a low voice.
Poppy nodded staunchly.
"Tomorrow, then." He touched her cheek with his fingertips.
The briefest contact, but it made Poppy's heart leap and it turned her words into the truth. She would be all right.
They looked at each other a moment, then James turned away.
Tomorrow, Poppy thought, watching the door close behind him. Tomorrow is the day I die.
One thing about it, Poppy thought-not many people were privileged to know exactly when they were going to die. So not many people had the chance to say goodbye the way she planned to.
It didn't matter that she wasn't really dying. When a caterpillar changes into a butterfly it loses its caterpillar life. No more shinnying up twigs, no more eating leaves.
No more El Camino High School, Poppy thought. No more sleeping in this bed.
She was going to have to leave it all behind. Her family, her hometown. Her entire human life. She was starting out into a strange new future with no idea of what was ahead. All she could do was trust James-and trust her own ability to adapt.
It was like looking at a pale and curving road stretching in front of her, and not being able to see where it went as it disappeared into the darkness.
No more Rollerblading down the boardwalk at Venice Beach, Poppy thought. No more slap of wet feet on concrete at the Tamashaw public pool. No more shopping at the Village.