Page 45 of So Thirsty

What did I agree to?

What choice did I make?

“Don’t worry,” Ilie says. “Just relax. This part will be over soon. In some years, you won’t remember.”

Is this a sex thing? A torture fetish in action? That would be my assumption had I not just witnessed Henry decapitating that skeleton man with his bare hands. There’s no logic here.

“I would tell you that it doesn’t hurt,” Henry says, pulling me upright, “but I swore I’d never lie to you.”

He holds the silver whistle. Only it’s not a whistle. It’s a spile. Like what Canadians use to harvest sap from a tree.

“Be still,” he says, leaning close to me. “You may not trust me yet, but someday you might. I have no illusions. I know I’m not saving you, but I’m giving you all the time in the world to save yourself.”

With that, he gently sweeps the hair from my neck and shoves the spile in under my ear.

The sound is merciless, but my shock must protect me from feeling the insertion. There’s no pain. Only an uncomfortable warmth.

Henry gestures for Elisa, and she brings the cups. They fill one of them with my blood.

I think I’ve done this before. Not exactly in this way, but there’s some recognition as I sit here. This is what it is to surrender. To be bled dry. You hold still and you let it happen, because the harder you fight, the harder you lose.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Elisa press the other wooden cup to Naomi’s neck. Elisa doesn’t need a spile, because Naomi’s already open, already bleeding, but Ilie holds Nay upside down so it happens faster.

I want to ask her if she’ll wait for me in the dream mall. If we can finally meet there.

If that’s where she goes, that’s where I’ll go. I’ll follow her. I’ll follow her anywhere.

Just wait for me. Wherever you are, wait for me. I’ll be there. I’m coming.

She says, Only Jersey girls would think heaven is a mall.

But she doesn’t really say it, because I’m pretty sure she’s dead.

I’m woozy. The scene dissolves; everything fades away.

When it comes back the cup is gone, and I feel Henry pull the spile out. And then he kisses me. He kisses my neck.

Not kissing.

Biting. Licking. Sucking.

Because that’s what he does, because that’s what he is. What they all are.

Vampires.

Fucking wild, Naomi says, but only in my head.

Ilie and Elisa and Tatiana take turns at her wound. I look down, and Miri and Costel have my leg, my blood smeared all over their faces.

There’s a faint sensation at my wrist. It’s Henry. He’s chewing through it. Down to the bone. Down to the…

There’s darkness, and then there’s Henry holding metal between his teeth. The plate from my wrist surgery.

He spits it into the crimson snow.

“This one’s sweet but the other one’s sweeter,” Tatiana says, having switched places with Costel. She glances up at me. “Don’t give me that look, ma chérie. It’s too soon for me to regret you.”

“We’re close,” Henry says. “Sloane, I promise this is a favor.”