Lena closed her hand around it and looked away. "Not everything."
I knew what she was thinking about -- my mother's ring. She had taken off the ring, too, but I hadn't found it.
Not until this morning, when I discovered it lying on my desk, as if it had always been there. I reached into the drawer again and opened Lena's hand, pressing the ring into it. When she felt the cool metal, she looked up at me.
You found it?
No. My mom must have. It was sitting on my desk when I woke up.
She doesn't hate me?
It was a question only a Caster girl would ask. Had the ghost of my dead mother forgiven her? I knew the answer. I found the ring lying inside a book Lena loaned me, Pablo Neruda's Book of Questions, the chain serving as a bookmark under the lines "Is it true that amber contains / the tears of the sirens?"
My mother had been more of an Emily Dickinson fan, but Lena loved Neruda. It was like the sprig of rosemary I found in my mom's favorite cookbook last Christmas -- something of my mother's and something of Lena's, together, as if that was always how it was intended to be.
I answered Lena by fastening the chain around her neck, where it belonged. She touched it and stared into my brown eyes with her green and gold ones. I knew she was still the girl I loved, no matter what color her eyes were. There was no one color that could paint Lena Duchannes. She was a red sweater and a blue sky, a gray wind and a silver sparrow, a black curl escaping from behind her ear.
Now that we were together, it felt like home again.
Lena leaned into me, grazing my lips gently at first. Then she kissed me with an intensity that sent heat buzzing up my spine. I felt her find her way back to me, to our curves and our corners, the places our bodies fit together so naturally.
"Okay, this is definitely my dream." I smiled, running my fingers through her incredible mess of black hair.
I wouldn't be so sure about that.
She ran her hands across my chest as I breathed her in. My mouth wandered down her shoulder, and I pulled her closer until I could feel her hipbones digging gently into my skin. It had been so long, and I had missed her so much -- the taste of her, the smell of her. I held her face in my hands, kissing her even more deeply, and my heart began to race. I had to stop and catch my breath.
She looked into my eyes, leaning back on my pillow, careful not to touch me.
Is it any better? Are you -- am I hurting you?
No. It's better.
I looked at the wall and counted silently, steadying my heart.
You're lying.
I slid my arms around her, but she wouldn't look at me.
We'll never really be able to be together, Ethan.
We're together now.
I ran my fingers lightly down her arms, watching goose bumps spring up under my touch.
You're sixteen, and I'll be seventeen in two weeks. We have time.
Actually, in Caster years, I'm already seventeen. Count the moons. I'm older than you now.
She smiled a little, and I crushed her in my arms.
Seventeen. Whatever. Maybe by eighteen we'll figure it out, L.
L.
I sat up in bed, staring at her.
You know, don't you?
What?
Your real name. Now that you're Claimed, you know it, right?
She tilted her head to the side, with a half-smile. I grabbed her up into my arms, my face hovering just above hers.
What is it? Don't you think I should know?
Haven't you figured it out yet, Ethan? My name is Lena. It's the name I had when we met. It's the only name I'll ever have.
She knew it, but she wasn't going to tell me. I understood why. Lena was Claiming herself again. Deciding who she was going to be. Binding us back together with the things we had shared. I was relieved, because she would always be Lena to me.
The girl I met in my dreams.
I pulled the cover up over our heads. Though none of my dreams went remotely like this, in a matter of minutes, we were both sound asleep.
New Blood
For once I wasn't dreaming. It was Lucille's hissing that woke me up. I rolled over, Lena curled up next to me. It was still hard to believe she was here and she was safe. It was the thing I had wanted most in the world, and now I had it. How often did that happen? The waning moon outside my bedroom window was so bright, I could see her eyelashes touching her cheek as she slept.
Lucille leaped off the bottom of my bed, and something moved in the shadows.
A silhouette.
Someone was standing in front of my window. It could only be one person, who wasn't actually a person at all. I bolted upright in bed. Macon was standing in my room, and Lena was under the covers in my bed. Weakened or not, he was going to kill me.
"Ethan?" I recognized his voice the second I heard it, even though he was trying to be quiet. It wasn't Macon. It was Link.
"What the hell are you doing in my room in the middle of the night?" I hissed, trying not to wake Lena.
"I'm in trouble, man. You gotta help me." Then he noticed Lena curled into a ball next to me. "Oh, jeez. I didn't know you were -- you know."
"Sleeping?"
"At least someone can." He was pacing, full of nervous energy, even for Link. His arm was in a cast, and it was swinging erratically. Even with only the dim light from the window, I could see his face was sweaty and pale. He looked sick, worse than sick.
"What's up with you, man? How did you get in here?"
Link sat down in the old chair by my desk, then stood up again. His T-shirt had a hot dog on it and said BITE ME. He'd had it since we were in eighth grade. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
The window was open behind him, the curtains blowing inside as if the breeze was being drawn into my room. My stomach was beginning to twist into a familiar knot. "Try me."
"Remember when Vampire Boy grabbed me on Hell Night?" He was talking about the night of the Seventeenth Moon, which would always be Hell Night to him. It was also the title of the horror movie that scared the crap out of him when he was ten.
"Yeah?"
Link was pacing again. "You know he could've killed me, right?"
I wasn't sure I wanted to hear where this was going. "But he didn't, and he's probably dead, like Larkin." John disappeared that night, but no one actually knew what happened to him.
"Yeah, well, if he is, he left a partin' gift. Two actually." Link leaned over my bed. Instinctively I jumped back, bumping into Lena.
"What's going on?" She was half asleep, her voice deep and gravelly.
"Relax, man." Link reached past me and switched on the light next to my bed. "What does it look like to you?"
My eyes adjusted to the dim light, and I saw two small puncture wounds on Link's pasty neck, the distinct mark made by two evenly set canines.
"He bit you?" I jerked away from him, pulling Lena off the bed and pushing her against the wall behind me.
"So I'm right? Holy crap." Link sat down on my bed, dropping his head in his hands. He looked miserable. "Am I gonna turn into one a those bloodsuckers?" He was staring at Lena, waiting for her to confirm what he already knew.
"Technically, yes. You're probably already Turning, but it doesn't mean you're going to be a Blood Incubus. You can fight it, like Uncle Macon, and feed on dreams and memories instead of blood." She pushed her way out from behind me. "Relax, Ethan. He's not going to attack us, like a vampire in one of your lame Mortal horror movies where all witches wear black hats."