"What's wrong with him?"
"He's crazy. Also cold-blooded, ruthless-"
"You sound like Phil describing you."
"No, Ash is the real thing. The ultimate vampire. He doesn't care about anybody but himself, and he loves to make trouble."
Poppy was prepared to love all James's cousins for his sake, but shad to agree that Ash sounded dangerous.
"I wouldn't trust anyone to know about you just now," James said, "and Ash is out of the question.
I'm going to tell my parents he can't come here, that's all."
And then what do we do? Poppy thought. She couldn't stay hidden forever. She belonged to the Night World-but the Nigh t World wouldn't accept her.
There had to be some solution-and she could only hope that she and James would find it.
"Don't be gone too long," she said, and he kissed her on the forehead, which was nice. As if it was g etting to be a habit.
When he was gone, she took a shower and put on dean clothes.
Good old Phil-he'd slipped in her favorite jeans. Then she made herself putter around the apartment, because she didn't want to sit and think. Nobody should have to think on the day after t hei r own funeral.
The phone sat beside the square couch and mocked her. She found herself resisting the impulse to pick it up so often that her arm ached.
But who could she call? Nobody. Not even Phil, because what if someb ody ove rheard him? What if her mother answered?
No, no, don't think about Mom, you idiot.
But it was too late. She was overwhelmed suddenly, by a desperate need to hear her mother's voice. Just to hear a
"hello." She knew she couldn't say anything herself. She just needed to establish that her mom still existed.
She punched the phone number in without giving herself time to think. She counted rings. One, two, three ...
"Hello?"
It was her mother's voice. And it was already over, and it wasn't enough. Poppy sat trying to breathe, with tears running down her face. She hung there, wringing the phone cord, listening to the faint buzz on the other end. Like a prisoner in court waiting to hear her sentence.
"Hello? Hello." Her mother's voice was flat and tired. Not acerbic. Prank phone calls were no big deal when you'd just lost your daughter.
Then a click signaled disconnection.
Poppy clutched the earpiece to her chest and cried, rocking slightly. At last she put it back on the cradle.
Well, she wouldn't do that again. It was worse than not being able to hear her mother at all. And it didn't help her with reality, either. It gave her a dizzy Twilight Zone feeling to think that her mom was at home, and everybody was at home, and Poppy wasn't there. Life was going on in that house, but she wasn't part of it anymore. She couldn't just walk in, any more than she could walk into some strange family's house.
You're really a glutton for punishment, aren't you? Why don't you stop thinking about this and do some thing distracting?
She was snooping through James's file cabinet when the apartment door opened.
Because she heard the metallic jingle of a key, she assumed it was James. But then, even before she turned, she knew it wasn't James. It wasn't James's mind.
She turned and saw a boy with ash blond hair.
He was very good looking, built about like James, but a little taller, and maybe a year older. His hair was longish. His face had a nice shape, clean-cut features, and wicked slightly tilted eyes.
But that wasn't why she was staring at him.
He gave her a flashing smile.
"I'm Ash," he said. "Hi."
Poppy was still staring. "You were in my dream," she said..
"You said, 'Bad magic happens."' "So you're a psychic?"
"What?"
"Your dreams come true?"
"Not usually." Poppy suddenly got hold of herself. "Listen, um, I don't know how you got in-"
He jingled a key ring at her. "Aunt Maddy gave me these.
James told you to keep me out, I bet."
Poppy decided that the best defense was a good offense.
"Now, why would he tell me that?" she said, and folded her arms over her chest.
He gave her a wicked, laughing glance. His eyes looked hazel in this light, almost golden. "I'm bad," he said simply.
P oppy tried to plaster a look of righteous disapproval-like Phil's-on her face. It didn't work very well. "Does James know you're here? Where is he?"
"I have no idea. Aunt Maddy gave me the keys at lunch, and then she went out on some interior decorating job. What did you dream about?"
poppy just shook her head. She was trying to think.
presumably, James was wandering around in search of his mother right now. Once he found her he'd find out that Ash was over here, and then he'd come back fast. Which meant ...
well, Poppy supposed it meant she should keep Ash occupied until James arrived.
But how? She'd never really practiced being winsome and adorable with guys. And she was worried about talking too much. She might give herself away as a new vampire.
Oh, well. When in doubt, shut your eyes and jump right in.
"Know any good werewolf jokes?" she said.
He laughed. He had a nice laugh, and his eyes weren't hazel after all. They were gray, like James's.
"You haven't told me your name ye t, lit tle dreamer," he said.
"Poppy," Poppy said and immediately wished she hadn't. What if Mrs. Rasmussen had mentioned that one of James's little friends called Poppy had just died? To conceal her nervousness, she got up to dose the door.
"Good lamia name," he said. "I don't like this yuppy thing of taking on human names, do you?
I've got three sisters, and they all have regular old fashioned names. Rowan, Kestrel, Jade. My dad would burst a blood vessel if one o f them suddenly wanted to call herself 'Susan.' "