To Kill an Angel (Blood Like Poison 3)

It seemed like only seconds had elapsed when the smel of the animal began to saturate the air again. I tuned out the sounds of my own feet passing over the leaf-strewn terrain and focused on the sounds of the creature, waiting for it to move.

And then it did. I heard that blowing sound again right before it took off, crashing through the thick underbrush. In my mind’s eye, I imagined that it was a deer, running through the trees with a head ful of antlers that tangled in every bush and short tree that it passed.

I scanned the woods in front of me, making a semicircular pass from left to right and back again. Final y, I caught sight of a flash of white bobbing between the trees. It was the raised tail of a deer as it darted frantical y through the forest, away from me.

Keeping my eyes on it, I matched its speed and moved when it moved. I zigged when it zigged and I zagged when it zagged. It seemed as though my body could almost anticipate the actions of the deer, as if the instant the deer decided to go in one direction or the other, the information was relayed directly to my muscles.

With the heavy scent in my nostrils, the sounds of its flight in my ears and the beautiful white tail in my sights, I let go and began to enjoy the delicate dance the deer and I had engaged in.

But then Bo darted out from the right and the deer disappeared from my sight. My heart leapt up into my throat and I ran to the deer as hard and as fast as I could.

When I reached it, the deer was on the ground and Bo was half-lying across its upper body with his mouth at its neck. The deer wasn’t struggling, but I could see its one visible eye rol ing around in terror. And I could smel its blood, nothing like the sweet scent of human blood. My stomach clenched in revulsion.

I stood motionless—thoroughly horrified and repulsed—as Bo kil ed that poor deer. I tried to concentrate on the logic of the whole thing, on how we needed it to survive, no different than kil ing a chicken or a cow for meat. But somehow, that didn’t console me. My chin trembled, belying the indifference that I was trying to portray as I stood watching.

When Bo final y raised himself up off the deer and looked at me, I kept my eyes trained tightly on his. I refused to let them stray to the red stains around his mouth.

The nearly-black brown of Bo’s eyes had given way to the washed out, pale green of thirst. But beyond his need was a sadness, like he’d witnessed the death of something other than the deer. And I knew what that death was.

In a way, that moment marked the death of my innocence.

I could no longer look on vampirism through the rose-tinted glasses that I’d apparently been wearing. At times, our curse was a nasty business and there would come a day when I would have no choice but to act as Bo had.

But tonight was not that night.

“Ridley, we have to do this to survive. You know why we can’t randomly feed on humans.”

I couldn’t speak past the lump in my throat so I nodded. I understood it perfectly. I just didn’t like it.

Bo held out his hand and I shook my head.

“Ridley, you need to feed.”

I knew that, but I couldn’t bring myself to take that final step and drink from the deer. Although it was already dead and would know no difference, I just couldn’t do it.

“Ridley,” Bo said again, motioning me toward him with his fingers.

Again, I shook my head. Bo stood as if to come toward me and, before I could even give it a second thought, I bolted.

My chest burned as I ran, but not with hunger. It burned with a hopeless sadness that felt like acid, eating away at my heart. This was going to be my life for al eternity. And the only good thing about that eternity was no longer a certainty.

It was a very real possibility that I would end up spending the rest of my long, long life alone, without Bo.

The wind blew across my cheeks, drying the wet tracks of bitter tears. Why was it that we just couldn’t seem to get a break, Bo and I? One day it seemed that fate was on our side, the next it seemed she was playing hardbal against us.

I had no idea where I was going, but apparently my nose and my legs had taken control of the situation and guided me back to the car. Fishing out the keys Bo had handed back to me upon our arrival, I slid quickly behind the wheel and started the engine. I spared only a moment’s hesitation before I shifted into drive and steered the car onto the road, leaving Bo in the woods behind me.

CHAPTER THREE

As I drove, I pondered the best course of action. Of al the bad ideas that were my choices, I felt like going home and locking myself in my room was probably the only viable one.

I told myself that if I started to feel extreme thirst coming on, I would just leave. Get the heck out of dodge. But at least with that option, I could make an appearance at home, so as not to arouse any undue suspicion.

Besides, I might not even run into Mom. She might stil be drinking, but even if she wasn’t, she’d likely be passed out in bed. Al in al , I felt pretty good about my chances.

When I pul ed into the driveway, I sat in the car for a few minutes, reassessing the situation. I didn’t want to make a mistake. Blunders at that point could be very costly, if not outright deadly.

No other car in the drive meant that Mom wasn’t home, which was good in a way. I could get into my room and lock myself away before she got there. Then maybe when she came in, she’d bypass me completely as she so often did. I could only hope.

After letting myself into the house, I closed the door behind me and stopped in the foyer. It was as if I was observing my home for the first time.

The unique smel that had always made the structure feel like a sanctuary was there. It was strong and soothing in a way I’d never noticed. But beyond that was a plethora of other scents that I’d never been able to pick up on before.

I could plainly smel alcohol. Very plainly. I could also smel a sour odor, reminding me that the trash probably needed to be taken out. I smel ed hints of Dad’s cologne and Mom’s perfume, but there was another fragrance. This one I could detect much more strongly now that I was a vampire. It was the smel of my dead sister’s perfume.

Over the more than three years since her death, Izzy’s scent had al but faded from her room and her belongings.

But now I could smel it as if she’d been gone only days rather than years.

With a smile, I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply.

Maybe there real y were a few upsides to this whole vampire thing.

As I made my way back to my room, I began to feel a strange weariness come over me. I assumed that since I would no longer feel fatigue in the same way that this was how I’d experience being tired or emotional y drained. More than sleep, however, I felt like I needed a shower.