Jane hurried away, and Balthazar simply stood and watched her. The dreamlike quality of it all made him wonder if this could be really happening, but he found he didn’t care. If it were a dream, let him get lost in it and go on dreaming, as long as he was able to keep looking after Jane, to keep her in his sights. That was worth anything.

“A pity, to see two young lovers parted,” Redgrave said.

Balthazar startled; he hadn’t heard Redgrave’s approach. His cheeks burned as he thought of the private moment this peculiar man might have seen. “Sir, you should have made your presence known.”

“As indeed I just have.” Redgrave leaned against a nearby tree. He seemed a part of the golden grove around them—primeval, in some unfathomable sense—and yet unnatural, too. “Will you let her go so easily?”

“I’ll see her again soon.” Though, Balthazar thought with a pang, not for long: Within the month, they would return to Rhode Island, where Catholics, Anabaptists, and all sorts of freethinkers were tolerated.

“Yet the two of you think a parting is inevitable. That you could never marry, and of course you think marriage is the only way to truly be together.”

The man presumed too much. Balthazar had tried to be friendly to these strangers for his sister’s sake—she liked their eccentricities, and for their part they seemed to accept her—but something about the Redgraves had always unnerved him. Their money, which they blithely said came from “trading,” seemed to outstrip even that of Governor Winthrop; Redgrave’s ability to stare down the church elders and flout all kinds of rules was less inspiring, more unnerving. If Balthazar were to speak of such private matters with anybody, John Redgrave was the last candidate Balthazar would ever have chosen. “I can’t see how it concerns you. It’s improper to discuss it.”

“Proper! You want to speak of propriety after such a passionate scene.” Redgrave laughed. Balthazar, who had never glimpsed even the knees or shoulders of a woman not his mother or sister, felt grossly violated by having been seen at such an intensely intimate moment—and Redgrave was vulgar enough to laugh about it. Just as Balthazar was ready to walk off without another word, Redgrave continued: “What if I told you there was a way to escape all the ties that bind you?”

To escape being a son? A brother? A citizen of Massachusetts Bay Colony? “Impossible.”

“Very possible.” Redgrave leaned closer, so close that Balthazar felt uneasier than before. “What would you be willing to do if it meant you could be with the woman you love?”

Balthazar considered the answer carefully before answering, “Anything but your bidding.”

Redgrave didn’t like that. The angry flash in his eyes threatened to shake his composure for the first time, and Balthazar felt a small thrill of triumph. How good it felt to deny this man his arrogance.

But Redgrave said only, “We’ll see what you’ll do. And I tell you now, Balthazar—you may be surprised.”

Ropes around his wrists, blood trickling down his arms, Balthazar gasping helplessly as he looked at the knots holding him to the beam overhead as Redgrave whispered in his ear, “Are you ready to do my bidding yet?”

No, Balthazar thought, but already the world was slipping away.

Chapter Twelve

“HEY.” SKYE SHOOK BALTHAZAR BY THE SHOULDERS as her mood shifted from merely concerned to deeply freaked out. His eyes were all but shut, his face still, and he swayed on his feet like a man in a trance. “Hey, come back. Come back. Balthazar!”

She slapped her hand across his face, hard, and instantly his fingers clamped around her wrist. His eyes opened wide, but it still took him a moment to speak. “Skye.”

“Yes. It’s me. Where did you go?”

Balthazar slumped back, so unsteady that she wondered if he was dizzy or ill. Was her blood some kind of poison? Skye braced his shoulders in her hands, and that seemed to rouse him. Haltingly, he said, “It was as if—it was like I was reliving my own past.”

“Just memories?” Skye frowned; she didn’t know what she had been expecting, but not that.

“Not just memories. It’s as if I’m really there. Every sensation, every sound—they’re all perfect.” As he spoke, he smiled, but uncertainly, as if he were saying words he didn’t dare believe. “And not just any memories, either. Skye, your blood takes vampires back to when they were alive.”

She wasn’t seeing any difference here. Why would vampires be mad to kill her merely to do the equivalent of looking through old photos? “So—just memories.”

“You don’t understand.” Balthazar shook his head, impatient but not unkind. He took her arms from his shoulders and held her hands in his—only a gesture, she thought, but the touch still made this cold, sterile room feel as if it glowed with warmth. “Life has power, Skye. It has a … grace, and beauty, and vitality that nothing after death can match. Despite all our abilities and immortality, every single vampire longs, down deep, to feel the experience of life again. Some of us deny it, but each of us knows it. Life is irreplaceable.”

“Except they can replace it through me.” The impact finally sank in, and Skye felt a little dizzy. “Or are there other ways?”

“Your blood is the only thing I’ve ever heard of that would allow a vampire to truly feel alive again without surrendering our powers.”

“Which means they want my blood really, really badly.”

“Yeah.” Balthazar breathed out, half elation, half frustration. “Skye, your blood is like a drug for us. The ultimate high.”

“That’s not good.” Skye wrested her hands free from Balthazar’s and began pacing the nurse’s station; though she still felt shaken from the tumult earlier in the evening, she couldn’t let the tension boil inside her. She needed to walk it out. “Is there anyplace in the world vampires don’t go? Anyplace I can go?”

Grimly, Balthazar shook his head. “There aren’t that many of us, but we’re spread out. Besides, if Redgrave knows what you really are—and he does—he’ll chase you as far as he has to. Even to the ends of the earth.” He spoke as though from experience.

She put her hands against the wall, as if she could push her way through to escape. Only hours ago, Redgrave had stood by her side, polite and patient, while she composed a poem. “He said—he said he wouldn’t kill me. Because they need my blood. So they won’t murder me, won’t even try—”

“That’s not good news.” He stepped closer to her, more fully present than he’d been since drinking that sip of her blood, every word urgent. “You have to trust me on this—there are fates worse than death. I’ve suffered some of them.” Balthazar’s broad hand closed around her shoulder. “You don’t want to know what Redgrave would do to you, body and soul, to keep you captive.”

Skye wanted to scream. She wanted to hit someone, but what was the point? That fury and fear had no place to go.

“Home,” she whispered. “I want to go home.” It was the only place Redgrave wouldn’t come for her, she knew, but that wasn’t as important as climbing into her own bed, pulling the covers tight, and hiding from the whole world.

From the way Balthazar squeezed her arm, she thought he understood. “Come on. Let’s get you home.”

As it turned out, escorting a sick student home was just the kind of thing teachers were on basketball duty for, and Coach Haladki waved Balthazar off without even needing much of an explanation. Within ten minutes, they were sitting together on the crosstown bus, in the very back; the only other passenger was a man dozing in the front near the driver. Though there were lights within the bus, they weren’t bright, and the road outside wasn’t well lit or heavily traveled at this hour. Skye felt as if they were in a tiny shell of illumination and warmth, surrounded on all sides by endless cold and night.

Balthazar kept his arm around her shoulders, bracing her. Though his body didn’t warm her the way another human’s would have, the contact kept her own warmth close; it was like being wrapped in a blanket.

“I’ll have to get a car,” he said. “We can’t rely on this.”

“You don’t have one?”

“I haven’t owned one in a while. The past few years, I didn’t bother; I was living at Evernight, so I couldn’t have kept a car with me anyway. Time to remedy that.”

“I should’ve bought one last summer. I’d saved up the money.” All that lifeguarding at the pool. She’d earned enough for a clunker. “But I couldn’t take it to Evernight, and Mom and Dad said they’d chip in so I could get something nicer if I waited until I was headed to college. I’ll start looking for one right away.”

“Not sure there’s much point. Driving alone isn’t that much safer for you than walking. But we’ll think of something. Maybe you can work out a way to get a ride from Madison or some other friend.”

Skye’s phone chimed; she was so on edge that even that familiar sound made her jump. She lifted it to see a message from Clem: Plz tell me ur quiet b/c ur making out with Balty.

Hastily she sent back: Will you SHUT IT b/c he’s RIGHT HERE and he can read?! Skye glanced over at Balthazar, who was paying no attention to her texts. Instead, he stared out the window into the darkness. She would’ve thought he was keeping watch if not for the deep sadness in his eyes.

Clem texted back: Sorry!

It’s OK. Listen, lots of stuff is going on here. Crazy stuff. Will email 2nite or 2morrow and catch you up. Already Skye knew she needed a friend who could really talk to her about all of this; Madison might be fun to hang out with, but she didn’t understand anything about vampires or ghosts, this entire vast supernatural world that hid within the cracks of everything else they’d ever known. Clementine, on the other hand, not only went to Evernight Academy but also grew up with a haunted car. She’d get it.

As she slid her phone back into her pack, she stole another glance at Balthazar. If anything, he was even more absorbed in thought than before. The motion of the bus rocked them back and forth in one rhythm. She said, “Are you okay?”

“I should really be asking you that question.”

Her throat still hurt, but it was a dull ache now, like the sensation of trying not to cry. “I’m scared. That’s all.”

“That’s enough.”

“Definitely. But—something else is going on with you.” It was prying, and she knew it, but Balthazar obviously wasn’t the type to talk easily about his feelings. If she wanted to know more, prying was clearly in order.

Balthazar didn’t seem to mind, but he thought his answer over for a long time. “Those memories—of being alive—they’re the best memories I have. And the worst memories I have. Living through that again brings a lot back.”

“What did you remember?”

A small smile crossed his face. “My first kiss.”

“Really?” That didn’t sound so sad, Skye thought, until she realized how long ago it might’ve been. “When was that?”

“1640.”

Skye tried very hard not to let her shock show; she’d guessed he was old, but somehow hearing him say it jolted her regardless. She said only, “Where?”

“Massachusetts Bay Colony. Just outside Boston.”

It was such a simple answer, and yet she knew from the way he said it that Balthazar told very few people about his past. She wanted to hear more, but didn’t want to push—to abuse the trust he was showing her. So she said only, “What happened?”

Balthazar shook his head. “One thing you can always be sure of—any vampire’s life story has an unhappy ending.”