What are you doing?" he repeated ferociously.His grip was hurting her.
"I'm throwing the water bag down there," Maggiesaid. But she was thinking, He's so strong. Stronger than anybody I've ever met. He could break mywrist without even trying.
"I know that! Why?"
"Because it's easier than carrying it down in myteeth," Maggie said. But that wasn't the real reason,of course. The truth was that she needed to get temptation out of the way. She was so thirsty thatit was a kind of madness, and she was afraid ofwhat she would do if she held onto this cool, sloshing water bag much longer.
He was staring at her with those startling eyes,as if he were trying to pryhis way into her brain.And Maggie had the odd feeling that he'd succeeded, at least far enough that he knew the real reason she was doing this.
"You are an idiot," he said slowly, with cold wonder. "You should listen to your body; it's telling youwhat it needs. You can't ignore thirst. You can'tdeny it."
"Yes, you can," Maggie said flatly. Her wrist wasgoing numb. If this went on, she was going to dropthe bag involuntarily, and in the wrong place.
"You can't," he said, somehow making the wordsinto an angry hiss. "I should know."
Then he showed her his teeth.
Maggie should have been prepared.
Jeanne had told her. Vampires and witches and shapeshifters, she'd said. And Sylvia was a witch,and Bern had been a shapeshifter.
This boy was a vampire.
The strange thing was that, unlike Bern, he didn'tget uglier when he changed. His face seemed palerand finer, like something chiseled in ice. His goldeneyes burned brighter, framed by lashes that lookedeven blacker in contrast. His pupils opened and seemed to hold a darkness that could swallow aperson up.
But it was the mouth that had changed the most.It looked even more willful, disdainful, and sullen-and it was drawn up into a sneer to displaythe fangs.
Impressive fangs. Long, translucent white, tapering into delicate points. Shaped like a cat's canines,with a sheen on them like jewels. Not yellowing tusks like Bern's, but delicate instruments of death.
What amazed Maggie was that although helooked completely different from anything she'd seen before, completely abnormal, he also lookedcompletely natural. This was another kind of creature, just like a human or a bear, with as muchright to live as either of them.
Which didn't mean she wasn't scared. But shewas frightened in a new way, a way ready for action.
She was ready to fight, if fighting became necessary. She'd already changed that much since entering this valley: fear now made her not panicked buthyper alert.
If I have to defend myself I need both hands.And it's better not to let him see I'm scared.
"Maybe you can't ignore your kind of thirst," shesaid, and was pleased that her voice didn't wobble."But I'm fine. Except that you're hurting my wrist. Can you please let go?"
For just an instant, the brilliant yellow eyesflared even brighter, and she wondered if he wasgoing to attack her. But then his eyelids lowered,black lashes veiling the brightness. He let go ofher wrist.
Maggie's arm sagged,and the leather bagdropped from her suddenly nerveless fingers. It landed safely at her feet. She rubbed her hand.
And didn't look up a moment later, when he saidwith a kind of quiet hostility, "Aren't you afraidof me?"
"Yes." It was true. And it wasn't just because hewas a vampire or because he had a power thatcould send blue death twenty feet away. It was because of him, of the way he was. He was scary enough in and of himself.
"But what good is it, being afraid?" Maggie said,still rubbing her hand. "If you're going to try tohurt me,IT
fight back. And so far, you haven't triedto hurt me. You've only helped me."
"I told you, I didn't do it for you.And you'll neversurvive if you keep on being insane like this."
"Insane like what?" Now she did look up, to seethat his eyes were burning dark gold and his fangswere gone. His mouth simply looked scornful and aristocratic.
"Trusting people," he said, as if it should havebeen obvious. "Taking care of people. Don't youknow that only the strong ones make it? Weak people are deadweightand if you try to help them, they'll drag you down with them."
Maggie had an answer for that. "Cady isn'tweak," she said flatly. "She's sickShe'll get betterif she gets the chance. And if we don't take care ofeach other, what's going to happen to all of us?"
He looked exasperated, and for a few minutesthey stared at each other in mutual frustration.
Then Maggie bent and picked up the bag again."I'd better give it to her now. I'll bring your can teen back."
"Wait." His voice was abrupt and cold, unfriendly. But this time he didn't grab her."What?"
"Follow me." He gave the order briefly andturned without pausing to see if she obeyed. It wasclear that he expectedpeople to obey him, withoutquestions. "Bring the bag," he said, without lookingover his shoulder.
Maggie hesitated an instant, glancing down atCady. But the hollow was protected by the overhanging boulders; Cady would be all right there for a few minutes.
She followed the boy. The narrow path that wound around the mountain was rough and primitive, interrupted by bands of broken, razor-sharpslate. She had to pick her way carefully aroundthem.
In front of her, the boy turned toward the rocksuddenly and disappeared. When Maggie caught up, she saw the cave.
The entrance was small, hardly more than acrack, and even Maggie had to stoop and go in sideways. But inside it opened into a snug littleenclosure that smelled of dampness and cool rock.
Almost no light filtered in from the outsideworld. Maggie blinked, trying to adjust to the neardarkness, when there was a sound like a match strike and a smell of sulphur. A tiny flame was born, and Maggie saw the boy lighting some kindof crude stone lamp that had been carved out ofthe cave wall itself. He glanced back at her and his eyes flashed gold.
But Maggie was gasping, looking around her.The light of the little flame threw a mass of shifting, confusing shadows everywhere, but it alsopicked out threads of sparkling quartz in the rock.The small cave had become a place of enchantment.
Andatthe boy's feet was something that glitteredsilver. In the hush of the still air, Maggie couldhear the liquid, bell-like sound of water dripping.
"It'sa pool," the boy said. "Spring fed. The watees cold, but it's good. Water .Something like pure lust overcame Maggie. She took three steps forward, ignoring the boy completely, and then her legs collapsed.Shecupped a hand in the pool, felt the coolness encompass it to the wrist, and brought it out asif shewere holding liquid diamond in her palm.
She'd never tasted anything asgood as that water. No Coke she'd drunk on the hottest day of summer could compare with it. It ran through herdry mouth and down her parched throatand then it seemed to spread all through her, sparklingthrough her body, soothing and reviving her. A sort of crystal clearness entered her brain. She drankand drank in a state of pure bliss.
And then, when she was in the even more blissfulstate of being not thirsty anymore, she plunged the leather bag under the surface to fill it.
"What's that for?" But there was a certain resignation in the boy's voice.
"Cady. I have to get back to her." Maggie sat backon her heels and looked at him. The light dancedand flickered around him, glinting bronze off hisdark hair, casting half his face in shadow.
"Thank you," she said, quietly, but in a voice thatshook slightly. "I think you probably saved mylife again."
"You were really thirsty."
"Yeah." She stood up.
"But when you thought there wasn't enoughwater, you were going to give it to her." He couldn'tseem to get over the concept.