Bite Me Page 5

  “I used to make lots of house calls back in the day,” the physician mumbled, taking various medical instruments out of his bag, “but none of them were exactly the same, somehow.”

  I grew increasingly crabby at being poked at by a person not in my best graces, and nipped his fingers a few times to let him know it. Poor Nat! He frequently cursed under his breath, but remained gentle throughout.

  He only wants to help, Mom repeated, scolding me every time I bit. He is trying to help.

  From all three I sensed fear and one unspoken question. Could I be helped?

  After Nat finished looking me over, he shrugged sadly. “All this is extremely interesting, but this isn’t my domain. I’m just a humble vampire doctor. I’m very sorry. I liked Dianne very much.”

  The other wolf looked at Dad as if she wanted to say something, then shook her head and left the room. My father looked more dead than he had in a long time. “It all started with me,” he said. “Selene’s crying, I know.” Seeing that I was no longer needed, I climbed down and lay next to Dad’s feet. He stroked me absentmindedly.

  “I’ll test her this week. Who know? Maybe vampires can’t transmit it after all. You can’t blame yourself, bro. Everyone tries as hard as he or she can.” Nat finished packing up his stuff and pulled up another chair.

  “Tries hard to do what?”

  “You know. To do the right thing. To follow your dreams and all that other Hallmark fluff. You resist your urges. You tame the desires and addictions, and you give everything you’ve got for what you care about. But sometimes everything you’ve got just doesn’t cut it in this world. Hey, can I turn off the light?”

  “Hmm? Oh, by all means.” He pulled off his sunglasses, folded them, and placed them on the table. Nat did the same after flicking the switch. They talked in the same tone of hurt, philosophy, and comfort for a while longer, but the incomprehensible conversation bored me. I watched a mosquito buzz around the room, scratched myself a bit, and then I fell asleep.

  There was no way of knowing how long I had been dreaming before a loud noise woke me. The voice of the doorbell cried out to me. Ding! Ding! Ding dong! I jumped up and growled.

  “Sssh, Di,” Dad said, putting his shades back on and heading over to answer it. “(Sigh) It better not be another fanatic telling us to cast abominations out of our life. Could you keep her out of sight?”

  I wanted to follow, but Nat nonchalantly stood up and blocked the way despite my snarls. “Sorry sweetheart. If I could, I would, you know.”

  Two male voices drifted in. First it was Dad demonstrating how good he was at instant serenity. “Hello. What brings you here?”

  “Hi. Yeah, I’m looking for Dianne. This is her house, right? Are you her brother?” My ears perked up. I knew that voice!

  “I’m her father.”

  “Oh, okay, Mr. Anghel. I’m Matthew from next door. Is she here? Can I talk to her?” My heartbeat became irregular. Strange flashes went through my mind. Another beat. I needed to see him.

  “Dianne told me about you, Matthew.”

  “Really? W-was it good?” Legs arms head hands feet eyes ears mouth. . .

  “The overall impression was positive. I’m afraid Dianne’s unavailable right now, though.”

  “Why?” Hormones, thoughts, words. Wait, Matt, wait!

  I pushed Nat aside and ran to the door. “No, I can talk to you!” I exclaimed. “I’m. . . I’m finished now. Do you want to come in, Matt?”

  My crush looked puzzled but pleased. His dark eyes sparkled. “I was thinking of chatting at that little playground a block away. All the kids leave after dark, and I really like swings, so. . .”

  “That sounds all right. Can I go, Dad?”

  Dad had to bring his jaw back up before he could answer in a strange, artificial way. “If that’s what you want. Just come back to finish your homework, and don’t stay out too long.”

  Then I realized that I was now human and laughed. The whole transition had been unintentional. I laughed again, relieving the tension I’d felt all evening. Matt looked more confused than ever. “What’s so funny?” he asked. “And I thought you said you didn’t have a dog, but I heard some growling and you have hair all over your clothes.”

  I looked down at my fuzzy shirt and pants and tried to think of a cover-up. “Huh. Well, I was playing with the Calvin’s dog earlier, and she’s pretty loud. I can explain everything there.”

  “Including why your dad is so shocked?”

  It’s nice when a guy’s perceptive, but sometimes it can make things tricky. “A lot of stuff has been going on,” I said, grabbing a jacket from the hook next to the door and slipping it on.

  “Looks like it.”

  I stepped out and closed the door. Thank you more than you’ll ever know, Matt, I thought gratefully, and then resolved never to eavesdrop again.

  Chapter Seven

  Talk to Me

  There were enough feelings swirling around inside me to make a mood ring explode. On the surface I was excited to be with Matt, despite the deeper weirdness of having spent a couple of hours as a wolf, and I tried to push away the undercurrent of fear and worry that had started the crazy business in the first place. All things considered, it was best to let him supply the greater part of the dialogue for now.

  “I guess you’re wondering why I wanted to talk,” he said, crunching dead leaves under his feet.

  “A little, yeah.” I looked up at the crystalline moon and thought about how much that faraway sphere had affected my life.

  “Is it left or right here?”

  “Left.”

  We turned. Matt appeared to have planned for a long speech, taking deep breaths and making plenty of gestures. “I know it’s only been two days now that I’ve known you, Dianne. But I can usually figure out a friend by then—I mean whether they are or not. You are. It was nice of you to help me out, and you were really friendly, and, well, you’re just interesting to talk to. That’s why it mixed me up so much when some guys at school took me aside and said that you were trouble.”

  Oh no. I opened my mouth to say something, but the boy held up his hand.

  “It’s okay, no freaking. I’m not saying that I believed them. People have said some weird things about me too. This is why I’m asking now. How true are the rumors, and why are they being spread?”

  By then we had reached the playground. “I call this swing,” I said. Funny how this sixteen-year-old made me more nervous than being alone in the dark with two vampires (okay, one was my dad, but still). He sat on the adjacent swing, looking straight at me. I cleared my throat a couple times. “I couldn’t really say how much is true, since I’m not really in on what you’ve heard.”

  “They’re the bizarrest things.” Matthew pushed off with his legs and began to swing. “Your mom gets the best press. She’s just supposed to be really harsh on misbehavior, so them-who-have-misbehaved think she’s compensating for something. Is that right?”

  Yeah, since she involuntarily becomes extremely violent twelve times a year and feels guilty about it the rest of the time. Did I mention that Dad was nearly mauled by a mob in college? Probably a bad thing to say. I began swinging too, but more slowly. I chose my words carefully to tell as much of the truth as possible. “She had some rough times when she was in school, and she wants it to be safe, or as safe as possible. It’s not like she’ll be an ogre or anything. I gave her a good impression of you. My mom can be really sweet.”

  “I believe you. On to your dad. Here it gets creepier. There are two opinions—first, that you don’t really have a dad, he’s dead but you’re hiding the fact. That was pretty much destroyed when I met him at the door. However, the more popular theory is that he’s unemployed, drinks heavily, and is, well, evil. Not beats-up-people evil, but fools-foolsthey’ll-all-pay-mwahahaha-evil.”

  I felt a knot wind up inside my chest and briefly indulged in a fantasy of becoming a wolf and massacring a large part of the student body. My parents bot
h had accidents, they were sick, they were alone, and all people could do was insult them. I realized that getting riled up was a bad idea, since I might change again. So I switched to some pleasantly gooey adolescent fantasies, mostly about a certain person. Mmm.

  It’s unclear what Matt thought of the silence, but he presently sighed. The chains attaching his seat to the wooden beam were rusty, making little creaks every time he moved back and forth. “You’re probably tired of hearing things like that. I suppose he isn’t evil and there’s some rational explanation for it all.”

  “Yeah. Rational. Very rational. . . sorry, I’ve been under some stress lately. He’s a writer mostly, and kind of eccentric. He just doesn’t get out much.”

  “Uh huh. You’re nearly sixteen, right?”

  “Right. What does that have to do with it?”

  “So why does your father look like he couldn’t possibly even have reached thirty?”

  “My parents got married pretty young.” I could tell already that this explanation was inadequate. I wished Matt were a little dimmer for once.

  “You don’t trust me, do you,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

  “Matt, I trust you as much as I trust anyone that I’ve known for a day.” Actually I trusted him more, but I had never, ever told anyone about my parents and didn’t plan to any time soon. I wished I could let him know that I was telling him as much truth as I could.

  He didn’t speak again for a long time. I grew anxious but was unable to think of anything to discuss that wouldn’t raise awkward issues. My thoughts turned to Mom and her possible infection. What would we do if she was sick? Between Dad’s vampiric brooding and my teen angst, she automatically was the cheeriest member of the family, so who would cheer her up when she was down? Would she have to quit her job? For every student who disliked her there was one who loved her. We knew for a fact that she had managed to stop at least one cutter, and had a long relationship with a couple girls teetering on the edge of anorexia. Would Laconia High School manage with the loss of their best counselor? Would–

  “Hey, you okay?”

  “To be completely honest, no, but there’s nothing you can do.”

  “Oh.” A deflated monosyllable. “I’m sorry. I was getting up the courage to ask you about one last rumor, but I don’t want to make you crumble.”

  That surprised me. “Do I really look that crumbly?”

  “Like a chocolate chip cookie.” He stopped swinging and paused for a second. “That wasn’t the most flattering of comparisons, was it?”

  “It got the message across. It’s all right; I do trust you enough for that. The last bit is about me, I’m sure.”

  “Yeah. I want you to know that I seriously doubt this and if you want me to sic my tarantula on those people, I will. There must be some reason people are brushing you off, though. I’m not saying that I think you deserve it, the point is. . .”

  “Matt, relax. I’m not going to bite you.” Great, the last thing I needed was to start Freudian slipping. I got off the swing and began pacing.

  “Bite? Wait. . . never mind. Crazy random thoughts. Some kids talk about you as some sort of time-bomb maniac. They said you attacked a girl named Tamara when she asked you about your parents and ended up sending her to the hospital. Which I guess is physically possible, but how the heck could you have morphed into a monster for five seconds?”

  “One of the silliest things I’ve ever heard.” I forced a laugh. “All I did was slap her in an ordinary fight, and now it’s blown up into this tall tale. She wasn’t just asking about Mom and Dad, she was suggesting completely untrue things about them. Besides, I don’t see why it’s such a big deal when I do a minor, well, aggressive gesture when so many other students have actually broken noses.”

  “It’s likely just because she’s popular and you aren’t. No offense meant.”

  I suddenly felt that, chance to be with crush notwithstanding, I needed to be at home. I hadn’t said sorry to Mom yet for putting her through all that worry, and I especially needed to apologize to Nat for my attempted manslaughter. My problems at home and school were about equal at this point, but being with Matthew was in a way the most dangerous setting of all. Without thinking, I might let something slip or I might alienate the only teenager (apart from Taylor) on my side. At least at home, things didn’t depend on me.

  “Meh. I’m not offended. Thanks for believing me. I’m afraid I have to go back, what with homework and all. Don’t think I don’t appreciate you talking to me.” I thought for a moment, and then added wryly, “You’ve helped me more than you know. If the pressure of hanging out with me is too much, I’m sure you can find some other friends. I don’t want you to be ostracized just because of me.”

  An enigmatic smile crossed his face as he stood up and followed me back towards our houses. “Dianne, you’re worth more than that. Don’t worry about your family’s reputation too much—it’ll be okay. Everyone’s got a relative that sometimes should be hidden in the attic.”

  “Are you sure about that? Who’s yours?”

  Matt snickered. “Easy. My uncle fits the category. He got kicked out of his apartment, so he’s going to stay with us for a while until he’s back on his feet. He’s not a bad person, but sort of hostile, you know? Trouble with relationships. He’s moving in tomorrow, actually, even though we’ve just barely moved ourselves in.”

  “Are you happy or sad about that?”

  “Hmm.” He waved his hands vaguely. “It’s sometimes nice to have a relative visiting, just ‘cause they spice life up. My uncle can be fun sometimes. My family thinks I look like him more than I look like my parents. He used to take me and my brothers camping and told the best campfire stories. But he has a bad temper as well, and then he’s pretty scary; screaming and yelling. I don’t mind so much if Mom’s there to tell him to leave everyone alone until he’s calmed down.”

  “I understand. Thank you again, and see you tomorrow.”

  “You too. I’m sorry if I was too nosy. I’ve felt like everyone was against me before.” He punched me on the shoulder. “Just relax and keep breathing.”

  I grinned in spite of my worries and went back up my front step with a wave. My arm tingled where Matt had touched it. Not for the last time, I wished that wondering what his first impression of me had really been was the greatest challenge I had.

  Or perhaps I’d like the tableau that I walked into to seem as surreal to me as it would to any normal person. Thanks to my world, it felt depressingly ordinary. A grave Mom, sitting on a cushion, was looping bandages around the injured parts of Nat Silver’s left hand. Nat was seated in our one battered armchair, licking a dark red popsicle held in his other hand, which was heavily bandaged. Considering the scratches on his face he looked pretty relaxed. Dad was precariously placed on the arm of the sofa rather than on the sofa proper, writing in his checkbook. “A little extra for damages. . . how much extra? I doubt our insurance covers shape-shifting accidents. Oh, hi Dianne.”

  Mom looked up, dropped what she was doing, and hurried over to check if I was okay. I felt sheepish, saying, “I’m sorry, Mom. I should have just gone to my room like Dad told me to. Thank you for helping me.”

  She looked at me for one long minute, her gray eyes locking into mine. “Thank heavens you’re back. Never, ever do that again. I don’t want any more pain in this family than there has to be.”

  “Believe me, I don’t want it either.” I gave her a smile, then addressed Dr. Silver ruefully. “Nat, I am incredibly sorry about hurting you. I wasn’t in my right mind.”

  “That was pretty clear from the onset,” he said. “No hard feelings. Life is nothing without some mortal peril. Did you make these pops? Stroke of genius.” The redheaded vampire gave me a thumbs-up, though I had chewed part of the thumb away. I felt a mixture of relief and increased guilt.

  Dad handed Nat the check. “Thank you again for coming. This entire affair could have been much worse, though it’s still a mystery to me whe
re it all began.”

  “The infection? Easy. I was the first doctor to look at you after you were vamped out, and before then there hadn’t been the remotest sign of severe illness. So it had to be something that happened afterwards. The most common method of transmission is out, since you’d better have had only one girlfriend since then or the Mrs. is going to kill you. No tattoos, no piercings, no drugs—at least I hope not. The only option left is blood transfusions, and from what you have told me you have had exactly two in your lifetime. It was either the vampire who bit you, which is extremely unlikely, since saliva is a poor medium, or the thug you bit. Stomach acid would have killed the virus, but you could have had sores in your mouth. That is quite probable, since a recently turned vampire tends not to be used to his own fangs and is also less sensitive to pain than before, so he accidentally shreds portions of his inner cheeks. Like when a dental patient is on Novocaine. Et voila, paranormal venereal disease. Which, by the way, both young ladies here better be tested for this week. I don’t want to be the voice of doom, but if Selene did have HIV–” All three of us breathed in sharply, so the doctor shifted gears, “I mean, if she was sick way back at the beginning of the marriage, it is possible that even Dianne could have it.”

  There was a barely audible popping noise as Dad turned into a bat. He always retreated into that shape when he was upset, so that he could avoid choking up. Usually he was the most collected of us all, but in this case, he was certain he was to blame. Nothing could have cut him more deeply.

  Nat looked at his cohort. “Whoops. Maybe I should’ve been less blunt about it. I’m turning you all into nocturnal mammals right and left.”

  The bat fluttered over to Mom and hung on her outstretched index finger. “We had to know sometime,” she said gently, unconscious of how unusual a picture she and her husband made. “Thursday should be fine. Tell me, is eccentric irreverence a usual part of your bedside manner?”

  The question didn’t throw him one moment. He stood, and in all seriousness replied, “It’s a usual part of everything I do, m’lady. Do you mind?”