The Night House by Rachel Tafoya Page B

fashion.”
    “I think he was just born that way.”
    “Or he’s been punched in the head too many times.”
    Vampires are a bloody species. I’ve heard about their fights, and how much they charge to watch two monsters tear each other apart. If humans knew about them, they’d probably pay a fortune. Fighting’s not the same when you heal from broken bones and torn flesh in a matter of days.
    Alex flicks through the clothes in her closet. “Last time I tried to go modern Fifties, but he said it made him feel old.”
    “You should straighten your hair,” I tell her. “Try to dull down your color scheme. I know you love your brights, but if you want to be more contemporary—”
    She huffs. “Yeah, yeah. Get me your straightener.”
    Five minutes later, Alex is sitting on the floor and I am running the iron through her hair. She tells me about an article she read in GQ about androgynous women’s wear.
    “I wish I could pull off a suit,” she whines.
    “Hold still or I’ll burn you.” I yank the flat iron away from her scalp. “You won’t look good in anything with third-degree burns.”
    “I’ll start a new trend, and then they’ll write about me in Vogue .”
    That’s her vice: magazines. She can’t get subscriptions sent to the Night House, but she goes out once in a while to pick them up from a newsstand or a market. We talk about how all the models in the pages are thinner than us.
    “They look like they’re going to break in half,” Alex says. “I mean, at least here, Finn makes sure that we’re fed.”
    Her comment makes me remember how hungry I am. As if on command, my stomach rumbles loudly. Alex smirks at me.
    “Do you have a demon in there?”
    I touch my stomach. “Maybe.”
    “Go get some food.” She slaps my leg. “I’ll finish up.”
    Talking with Alex is easy. It’s normal. But as soon as I’m alone again, the itch sets in. Normally I, too, would be getting ready for my appointment. Tonight was supposed to be an easy officer visit. A little bit of nauth for no hassle. But Jeremiah canceled my appointment. To distract myself, I get my bag and set out for the South Street Diner.

James
     
    It’s eight o’clock when Ally and Shiloh wake me. My body and mind are disconnected. When I sit up, it takes a moment for my brain to comprehend, like the world is going slower than me. I stare at my hands, waiting for the feeling to return to them. Everything I missed from the girl when I slept comes back to me in a rush. It feels like someone dumped ice water on me. “Good God .”
    “You okay?” Shiloh asks.
    Chills rack my body, and I wrap my arms around myself. “I really need her out of my head.”
    “Plus you want to help her, right?” Ally asks.
    My gaze darts between her and Shiloh. “Yeah, that too.”
    Ally smiles. “I want to know everything about her.”
    “I just want to know what put her in this place,” Shiloh says. “You said she was about our age, right?”
    I nod. “Couldn’t have been older than me.”
    Shiloh just keeps shaking his head. “She must be so alone.”
    Silence creeps up on us as we all imagine what may or may not happen. I’m picturing this skeleton of a girl, walking zombie-like down an alleyway, looking for something sharp.
    My skin feels tight, like my whole body is sunburned. My legs are restless, eager for something that I’ve never felt before. I don’t know how it’s possible for someone to be experiencing so many things at once. For the first time, I realize how different we are. I barely know what I’m doing half the time, let alone how I’m feeling. With so many other people around me, it’s hard to know my own emotions from theirs. But this girl feels so much, all the time, and it’s all hers. That would destroy me.
    Shiloh glances at me. “Are you ready?”
    The answer is no, but I say to him, “Now or never.”

Bianca
     
    The mashed potatoes and steak on my plate are like a five-star meal. It’s like I’ve never been