Seven Minutes to Midnight

24

I must skip forward several hours, as I barely recall that time. I know that physically he had carried me out to his car, and driven me to my house, where Frank and Veronica were waiting. We had gone up to my bedroom, and I had lain on my bed, staring at the ceiling in some kind of stupor until we all climbed into Lane's car and drove to the secret cemetery. I felt the entire time like I floated on a cotton candy cloud, or some ridiculous simile to that effect.

The fog lifted and I discovered I was sitting on the base of an obelisk. My legs were splayed in front of me and my head was rested back against the cold marble. Veronica and Frank sat or leaned against tombstones at equal distances from me; all together we formed three points of a triangle whose center was Lane.

With some dramatics Lane produced a bottle from inside of his jacket. "Frank, you first," he instructed.

"Is that wine, or blood?" Veronica asked. She staggered over to Frank once Frank had taken a swig. She tipped the bottle vertically in the air and took several long swallows.

After being spaced out for so long, the return to my senses had only sharpened my suspicions of Lane. "I think this scene already happened in Lost Boys," I said sarcastically.

The look Lane shot me could have made flowers wither.

"It's blood, Amy." Veronica bared her teeth at me, sticking out her red tongue as well. "Want a drink?"

My wry comments were not stopped by Lane's look, although it chilled me. "It looks like Kool-Aid."

"Doesn't taste like Kool-Aid," Veronica said. She swished the liquid in the bottle back and forth. "Not much left. Maybe I'll drink the rest myself, if you don't want it."

"No," Lane commanded.

Veronica stopped in her tracks.

"Amy will drink," he said.

I barely had a moment to try to come up with a clever refusal before he had already broken through. Faster than I could blink he was at my side, the bottle to my lips.

"Drink," he enticed, and those velvet tones wrapped themselves around me and bound me until I could no longer think to disobey. I could no longer think, that was the problem.

All I could feel was something like love, or what I imagined could be love. How could I ever have thought something negative about Lane? Clearly he wanted me to be part of the coven—perhaps—no, I knew for a fact that he had saved the best for last.

I took hold of the bottle by the neck and drank a warm mouthful.

Perhaps it was wine, but at that moment I believed I was drinking blood. Not just any blood, but Lane's blood. He was inside of me now, his warmth emanating from within me. And after I finished that first swallow, I could remember no more of that night.