Forcing myself to eat a light meal after the drug-laced blood I'd ingested may be one of the hardest things I've ever done in my life. Merrill and Brock also ate a little. I was instructed to speak with the waiter and to make sense while I did it. I wanted to smack Merrill and Brock—when I asked them to excuse me so I could go to the ladies' room and eliminate what I'd eaten by coughing it up, Merrill wouldn't allow it. Brock drove us home afterward, the motion of the automobile making me feel worse with each passing moment. The drugs were having a bad effect and the food was about to make me ill, if that was possible. I couldn't help myself; the moment Brock parked inside Merrill's garage, I was out of the car and rushing through the still-open garage door. Dropping to my knees, I coughed up my toenails on the nicely manicured lawn outside. Merrill tried to help me up afterward but I slapped his hand away, got off my knees and wobbled into the house, wiping tears as I went. I may have slammed the door to my bedroom, too, while I was at it.
* * *
"I can't say I liked that lesson much either," Brock muttered when he and Merrill heard Lissa's bedroom door slam shut. Merrill sighed.
"She won't speak to me for two days," he said, walking toward his study.
"Sounds about right," Brock agreed and went to find a book to read.
* * *
Still furious when I woke the following evening, I ate, got my shower and dressed. Merrill would be holding class again at the usual time. I didn't speak to him or ask any questions the whole time he talked and he didn't force the issue. My arms were crossed tightly against my body throughout the lesson and when Merrill dismissed me, I was out of his study so fast I was a blur. The rooftop was my place to sulk or think and I was there, sulking for the remainder of the night. Rain fell two hours before dawn; therefore, I was soaked when I came inside. I wasn't worried about Merrill's expensive rugs, antique or otherwise, when I made sure not to track water and wet grass on the floors and carpets. I didn't want Franklin and Lena to be forced clean up after me. My shoes and socks were removed before I entered the house and I ran through the entryway so I wouldn't drip on anything.
The second night was just the same. Merrill talked; I listened and sulked. Once again, the roof was my place to hide. After the third and fourth nights of silence (on my part, at least), Merrill studied me from behind his desk. "I have to hand it to you," he said finally. "All the others were angry for two nights and then began talking again. You hold the record."
"I'm sure the world record people will come calling any minute now," I muttered sarcastically. I would have drawn my knees up to my chin but that would be rude and I might damage the furniture with my shoes.
"Lissa, you must behave as a human will, no matter the circumstances," Merrill scolded. "You may find yourself in the position of having taken bad or tainted blood and then having to behave normally. That was a test. If you hadn't passed it, we would have repeated it."
"Oh, God," I mumbled. I was feeling ill, just by thinking about it. I have no idea how that young man remained on his feet. I was completely under the influence by taking only a little of his blood.
"You look green," Merrill remarked as he rose and walked around his desk.
"I feel worse," I said. "I think I'm going to be sick again." I was out of his study and down the hall in a blink, then on my knees and dry heaving into a powder room toilet in less time than that. "I don't know what's wrong," Merrill was suddenly beside me. Someone else was with him. Someone not vampire. I was too busy trying to heave up something that wasn't there when the second man knelt down next to me. A warm, strong hand was placed on my forehead and he leaned me back, even as the urge to keep on vomiting faded away. It was a blessed relief, actually.
"What's wrong with our little girl?" the man crooned. I gazed helplessly at a tall, brown-haired man. He didn't appear old at all, but an endless depth of knowledge and experience flickered and shifted behind hazel eyes. So deep, in fact, was that abyss that it might take centuries for me to reach the bottom of it. And there was no scent—as if he were shielded somehow. Only the smell of sunlight clinging to his clothing let me know he wasn't vampire. In my sickly state at that moment, I was too confused to attempt any explanation for it. Blinking back tears that had come with the dry heaves, I stared at him and tried to say something—ask him who he was—but he placed two fingers against my forehead and I was asleep.
* * *
"Who can say what that youth had inside his body," Griffin told Merrill. "And she still had a bit of the werewolf poison in her system. It didn’t mix well." He dried his hands after washing them in Lissa's bathroom. "I eliminated all of it," he went on.
"If I'd known that, I would have sent her after a drunk," Merrill grumbled.
"How were you to know?" Griffin said, tossing the towel onto the marble vanity. "Stop blaming yourself, she'll be fine."
* * *
"Merrill is away," Franklin advised me when I made my way downstairs the following evening. It was Wednesday night and with Merrill's absence, I was left with nothing to do.
"I feel better, at least," I said. "I haven't felt good for days."
"I know. Merrill told me," Franklin said. "Come over here and give me a hug." He was sitting at the kitchen island, his empty plate beside him. He'd already eaten and Lena had gone home for the evening. Moving to his side, I put an arm around him, burying my head against his shoulder.
"Here, now, what's all this about?" Franklin turned and placed both arms around me.
"I don't know if I can do five years of this," I sniffled a little against Franklin's shoulder.
"I know," Franklin rubbed my back a bit. "Merrill's a fine teacher. We'll get you through this." I didn't say it, but if there were more lessons like the bite lesson, it was going to be a really long five years.
The roof was the first place I went, and then the hot tub and the library. I even watched television a little and that's something I don't do often. One of the articles I caught mentioned a display of tiaras that had been worn by Princess Diana—both the Cambridge Lover's Knot tiara and the Spencer family tiara. They'd been lent to the London Library and displayed in a special case. Guards were posted around them for a week, but someone managed to steal them anyway. The royal family and the Spencer family were quite upset over the whole thing.
Thursday night when I woke, I did my usual in addition to changing the sheets on my bed. Lena offered every time but I was able-bodied and bored. I did it myself, usually on Thursday because that was Lena's day off. Clattering downstairs later so I wouldn't frighten Franklin by sneaking up on him, I found him in the kitchen as usual. Instead of his usual cheery hello, I received a pain-filled glance. Franklin sat on a barstool, his skin gray and clammy. Merrill was still out of town (where, I had no idea—he never told me and I never asked).