Why did you want them to hurt me? Why?"
"Gillian, stop the car. Stop. The. Car."
His voice was so commanding, so urgent and imperative, that she actually obeyed. She was sobbing anyway. She couldn't drive or see. She felt, literally and honestly, that she was losing her mind at that
exact moment.
"Now look at me. Wipe your face off and look at me."
After a moment she managed. He was shining. Light seemed to radiate from every inch, of him, from the gold filaments of his hair, to his classic features, to the lines of his perfect body. And he'd calmed down. His expression was rapt and uplifted, the serenity only marred by what looked like concern for her.
"Now," he said. "I'm sorry if all this scared you. New things are like that sometimes-they seem repulsive just because they're different. But we won't talk about that now," he added, as Gillian caught a shuddering breath. "The important thing is that I wasn't trying to hurt you." His eyes seemed to grow even more intense, pure violet flame.
Gillian hiccupped. "But-you-"
"I could never hurt you, Gillian. Because, you see, we're soulmates."
He said it with the weight of a monumental revelation. And although Gillian had no idea what it meant, she felt an odd quiver inside, almost of recognition.
"What's that?"
"It's something that happens with people who belong to the Night World. It means that there's only one love for everyone who exists. And when you meet that love, you know them. You know you were meant to be together, and nothing can keep you apart."
It was true. Every word seemed to resonate inside Gillian, touching off ancient, hidden memories. This was something her ancestors had known.
Her cheeks had dried. Her hysteria was gone. But she felt very tired and very bewildered.
"But ... if that's true..." She couldn't put the thought together.
"Don't worry about it right now." Angel's voice was soothing. "We'll talk about it later. I'll explain what it all means. I just wanted you to know that I would never hurt you. I love you, Gillian. Don't you realize that?"
"Yes," Gillian whispered. Everything was very foggy. She didn't want to think, didn't want to consider the implications of what Angel was saying.
She just wanted to get home.
"Relax and I'll help you drive," Angel said. "Don't worry about anything. It's all going to be all right."
Chapter 13
I he next day, Gillian tried to concentrate on normal things.
She hurried to school, feeling unrested-had she had nightmares?-and desperately in need of distraction.
All day at school, she threw herself into activities, chattering and laughing and keeping people around her, talking about Christmas and parties and finals.
It worked. Angel was very gentle, keeping quietly in the background. All the other students were hyperactive with the thought of only two more days of school. And by the afternoon Gillian had become caught up in her own frantic good spirits.
"We don't even have a tree," she said to David. "And it's five days to Christmas Eve. I have to drag my mom out and buy one."
"Don't buy one," David said, smiling at her with his dark eyes. "I'll take you out tonight to a place I know. It's beautiful, and the trees are free." He winked.
"I'll bring the station wagon," Gillian said. "Lots of room. I like big trees."
At home, she stayed busy, prodding her mother to wrap packages and dust off the plastic Christmas flower arrangements. There was no talk with Angel about how to tell her mother about witches.
She was still happy when she picked David up after dinner. He seemed a little subdued, but she wasn't in the mood to ask questions. Instead, she talked about the party Steffi Lockhart was giving on Friday night.
It was a long drive, and she was running out of speculations about Steffi's party when David finally said, "Somewhere along here, I think."
"Okay. I'll take one of those." Gillian pointed at the sixty-look-alike fern trees that lined the road.
David smiled. "There are some smaller ones farther in."
There were so many that Gillian had a hard time choosing. At last, she settled on a balsam fir with a perfect silhouette, like a plump lady holding out her skirts. It was wonderfully aromatic as she and David chopped it down and half dragged, half carried it to the car.
"I just love that smell," she said. "And I don't even care that my gloves are ruined."
David didn't answer. He was quiet as he tied the back of the station wagon closed around the tree. He was quiet as they got in the car and Gillian began to drive.
And Gillian couldn't stand it anymore. Little waves of acid were lapping in her stomach. "What's wrong?
You haven't been talking all night."
"I'm sorry." He let out his breath, looking out the window. "I guess ... I was just thinking about Tanya."
Gillian blinked. "Tanya? Should I be jealous?" He glanced at her. "No, I mean-her arm." A strange sort of prickling cascaded over Gillian, and in that moment everything changed forever. She seemed to ask
the next question in a huge, quivering stillness. "What about her arm?"
"You didn't hear? I thought somebody would've called you. They took her to the hospital this afternoon."
"Oh, my God."
"Yeah, but it's worse. That thing they thought was a rash was necrotizing something-or-other ... you
know, that flesh-eating bacteria."
Gillian opened her mouth, but no sound came out. The road in front of her seemed very dim.
"Cory said she can't have any visitors-her arm swelled up to three times its normal size. They had to cut it open all the way from her shoulder to her finger to drain it. They think she might lose her finger-"