Chapter Six #2
Be nice, Lucy reminded herself. If she survived the next several days, she had big dreams of making it through the rest of the year without her or Whitney killing each other.
“Got it,” she said. “I just wanted to let you know that I’m staying with my friend for a couple days, so I’m going to pack a few things really quickly.
You don’t have to turn the light on or anything. ”
Whitney didn’t seem to have any objections to that—which was good, because Lucy wasn’t planning on honoring any.
She sidled in between the bed and the makeshift closet, tossed her duffel bag on the bed, and started piling up any clothes within reach that looked comfortable.
A few days’ worth of clothes was probably enough.
She could always come back for more if she lived longer than that.
She took stock of her packed bag. This was probably all she needed to do, for now. The fewer details she gave Whitney, the better—Mila would probably get in trouble if the school found out there was a first-year staying in her room. Even a first-year who was at least a year older than her.
Lucy snorted quietly. If Whitney thought she was a party girl now, Lucy wondered how she’d react to the idea of Lucy shacking up with an RA on the first day of classes.
“Shut the fuck up,” Whitney said under her breath.
Lucy’s whole spine stiffened. Be nice, she reminded herself again.
Not to preserve her relationship with Whitney this time.
But because her senses weren’t the only thing that had sharpened since the bite.
Every feeling that used to be effortlessly swallowable now brimmed at the top of her throat.
And of those newly crystallized feelings, the strongest was her anger.
“Whitney,” Lucy said. She thought it was remarkably calm, considering. “Don’t tell me to shut up.”
Whitney turned, just a fraction, in her chair. Her pupils were massive in the dark. “I don’t understand why you’re here,” she said tonelessly. “I told Res Life that I strongly preferred a single.”
Lucy blinked. “Yeah,” she said, “I think there’s a lottery, or—”
“Shut up!” Whitney said. “God! If you’re not talking, you’re moving. If you’re not moving, you’re breathing.”
Lucy stuck her toothbrush into her bag. More accurately, she slammed it. “Yeah, Whitney,” she said. “People need to breathe to live. You can put that in your thesis.”
Whitney’s fist came down onto her desk with a bang. A sharp groan and a caving sound, like a car wreck. And Lucy, who could now see in the dark more clearly than she’d ever seen in daylight, saw that the cheap metal and laminate had crumpled like paper around Whitney’s hand.
In the stillness that followed, Lucy could hear her own body with perfect clarity. The dutiful passages of her blood. Her breath, growing shallower and faster. It was what fear sounded like. Her vitals setting a stage for those first gasps of fight or flight.
Across the room, Whitney’s own body was silent. Lucy could have read it as absolute calm. But then she heard the noise in the pit of Whitney’s chest. The low, guttural roll of a growl. And when it made its way to the top of her throat, Whitney’s lips peeled back, showing all her teeth.
At the front of her mouth, two pointed canines glinted in the light of her laptop.
Lucy shook her head. She was barely conscious of doing it. “This isn’t funny.”
As if Whitney were the type to play jokes. As if there was any way Whitney could have known what had happened to Lucy last Friday.
“Maybe it is funny.” The air whistled in Whitney’s throat, like water filling a broken jar. “I’ve never been good at knowing what was funny.”
A noise escaped Lucy, too small and smothered to even be called a whimper.
Her mind whirred, piecing together the edges of the past weekend.
That first text from Whitney. The one or two unanswered texts during her absence.
The knock that had woken her last night, around three thirty a.m. The gray of Whitney’s face when Lucy eased open the door.
Forgot my keys, she’d said.
And Lucy remembered how, half-asleep and already preoccupied with her own relief, she had stepped aside. Okay, she’d said. Well. Come in.
Whitney hadn’t been with family. She had never even left campus.
The strap of the duffel bag dropped from Lucy’s fingers. When her foot slid back, it bumped one of the legs of her bed.
“It happened quick,” Whitney said tonelessly.
“He emailed me the day after your stupid party. Said he’d heard about my thesis from his advisor, thought we could collaborate on this paper he was working on.
I didn’t know why a philosophy grad student would have heard of my paper, let alone his advisor, but I thought—best-case scenario, a publication credit while I’m still an undergrad.
And if he’s full of shit, I’ll walk away. ”
“Whitney,” Lucy said, “listen to me. What’s happening to you is happening to me, too.”
“You have no idea what is happening to me.” Whitney stumbled out of her chair, her long legs clumsy under her.
“He told me he was so sorry he rushed me. He told me transformation should be beautiful. It wasn’t beautiful.
But he needed someone to watch you. He knew that girl on the radio would come for you, and he needed me to be here when that happened.
You must know how much he wants you. But it’s nothing compared to how much he wants her. ”
“Listen to me,” Lucy said again. If only because it felt like Whitney couldn’t exactly hear her right now. “There are people who are trying to find him. They said—they said that if we can stop him, I might go back to normal. Maybe you’ll—”
“Do I look normal to you?” Whitney said. “Go on, listen. He told me you wouldn’t notice. But if you really listen, you can hear it, right? Do I sound like how normal people sound?”
A slow, horrible understanding settled over Lucy. She’d noticed it when she walked in, hadn’t she? This stillness. She thought it was odd, though she couldn’t put her finger on why.
All day long, she’d been hearing signs of life from the people around her. Their breathing. The beating of their hearts.
Whitney’s body didn’t make any sound except for the thin vibrations of her vocal cords. When she was quiet, she didn’t breathe. Her blood didn’t hum. Her heart didn’t beat.
She sounded dead.
And she was.
“It’s your fault, you know,” Whitney said.
“You called out to him. You think you don’t know what you want?
You want everything. So much, so badly, he heard you over all that noise.
He’s gonna make our lives beautiful, Lucy.
But first you need to lead him to that girl. You need to lead me to that girl.”
There were tears rolling down Lucy’s cheeks. She hadn’t felt them until one hit her shoulder. “Whitney—”
“You can make this easier for both of us,” Whitney said. “You just need to stop fighting him. I fought him. And now…now I need to earn his trust back.”
Whitney took two staggering steps. It unbalanced her. She shifted her weight onto her left foot, leaving her right side unsteady. And behind Whitney’s right side was the door.
“There’s going to be a feast,” Whitney whispered. “When I give him what he wants. I’m supposed to save my appetite. But maybe just a little…”
Lucy could hear her own blood shift. Fuel for the engines of her potential energy. There was no doubt, from the way her eyes darkened, that Whitney heard it, too. There would be no element of surprise. But maybe Lucy could be fast enough.
She ran.
And Whitney lunged.