Maggie blinked. The bag did feel disappointinglyslack in her grip. She tugged at it a little and hearda faint slosh.
"Cady needs some, too. She's sick."
"She's more than sick. She's almost gone. There'sno point in wasting any on her."
I can't believe I'm hearing this again, Maggiethought. He's just like Jeanne.
She tugged at the bag harder. "If I want to share with her, that's my business, right? Why should it matter to you?"
"Because it's stupid. There's only enough forone."
"Look - !'
"You're not afraid of me, are'you?" he saidabruptly. The brilliant yellow eyes were fixed onher as if he could read her thoughts.
It was strange, but she wasn'tafraid, not exactly.Or, she was afraid, but something inside her wasmaking her go on in spite of her fear.
"Anyway, it's my water," he said. "And I saythere's only enough for one. You were stupid to tryand protect her before, when you could have gotten away. Now you have to forget about her."
Maggie had the oddest feeling that she was beingtested. But there was no time to figure out for what,or why.
"Fine. It's your water," she said, making her voicejust as clipped as his. "And there's only enough for one." She pulled at the bag harder, and this timehe let go of it.
Maggie turned from him, looked down at theboulders where Cady was lying. She judged the distance carefully, noting the way one boulder formeda cradle.
Easy shot. It'll rebound and wedge in that crack,she thought. She extended her arm to drop the bag.
"Wait!" The voice was harsh and explosive-andeven more harsh was the iron grip that clampedon her wrist.
"What do you think you're doing?" the boy saidangrily, and Maggie found herself looking intofierce yellow eyes.
Chapter 8
What are you doing?" he repeated ferociously.His grip was hurting her.
"I'm throwing the water bag down there," Maggiesaid. But she was thinking, He's so strong. Stronger than anybody I've ever met. He could break mywrist without even trying.
"I know that! Why?"
"Because it's easier than carrying it down in myteeth," Maggie said. But that wasn't the real reason,of course. The truth was that she needed to get temptation out of the way. She was so thirsty thatit was a kind of madness, and she was afraid ofwhat she would do if she held onto this cool, sloshing water bag much longer.
He was staring at her with those startling eyes,as if he were trying to pryhis way into her brain.And Maggie had the odd feeling that he'd succeeded, at least far enough that he knew the real reason she was doing this.
"You are an idiot," he said slowly, with cold wonder. "You should listen to your body; it's telling youwhat it needs. You can't ignore thirst. You can'tdeny it."
"Yes, you can," Maggie said flatly. Her wrist wasgoing numb. If this went on, she was going to dropthe bag involuntarily, and in the wrong place.
"You can't," he said, somehow making the wordsinto an angry hiss. "I should know."
Then he showed her his teeth.
Maggie should have been prepared.
Jeanne had told her. Vampires and witches and shapeshifters, she'd said. And Sylvia was a witch,and Bern had been a shapeshifter.
This boy was a vampire.
The strange thing was that, unlike Bern, he didn'tget uglier when he changed. His face seemed palerand finer, like something chiseled in ice. His goldeneyes burned brighter, framed by lashes that lookedeven blacker in contrast. His pupils opened and seemed to hold a darkness that could swallow aperson up.
But it was the mouth that had changed the most.It looked even more willful, disdainful, and sullen-and it was drawn up into a sneer to displaythe fangs.
Impressive fangs. Long, translucent white, tapering into delicate points. Shaped like a cat's canines,with a sheen on them like jewels. Not yellowing tusks like Bern's, but delicate instruments of death.
What amazed Maggie was that although helooked completely different from anything she'd seen before, completely abnormal, he also lookedcompletely natural. This was another kind of creature, just like a human or a bear, with as muchright to live as either of them.
Which didn't mean she wasn't scared. But shewas frightened in a new way, a way ready for action.
She was ready to fight, if fighting became necessary. She'd already changed that much since entering this valley: fear now made her not panicked buthyper alert.
If I have to defend myself I need both hands.And it's better not to let him see I'm scared.
"Maybe you can't ignore your kind of thirst," shesaid, and was pleased that her voice didn't wobble."But I'm fine. Except that you're hurting my wrist. Can you please let go?"
For just an instant, the brilliant yellow eyesflared even brighter, and she wondered if he wasgoing to attack her. But then his eyelids lowered,black lashes veiling the brightness. He let go ofher wrist.
Maggie's arm sagged,and the leather bagdropped from her suddenly nerveless fingers. It landed safely at her feet. She rubbed her hand.
And didn't look up a moment later, when he saidwith a kind of quiet hostility, "Aren't you afraidof me?"
"Yes." It was true. And it wasn't just because hewas a vampire or because he had a power thatcould send blue death twenty feet away. It was because of him, of the way he was. He was scary enough in and of himself.
"But what good is it, being afraid?" Maggie said,still rubbing her hand. "If you're going to try tohurt me,IT
fight back. And so far, you haven't triedto hurt me. You've only helped me."
"I told you, I didn't do it for you.And you'll neversurvive if you keep on being insane like this."