"Move."
"Yes, of course." He stepped quickly to the side and watched her pass. The pants were far too large and hung like a sack from her hips. She had tucked the shirt inside, then tied the waist of the pants into a knot, but as she walked back to the closet, the material unknotted and dropped from around her waist.
Etienne's eyebrows flew up as the pants fell down. Rachel stopped walking, and he was sure she scowled as she peered down at the garment now pooled around her ankles. He was scowling himself--not at the pants falling, but because the shirttail had dropped just as quickly, obstructing his view. It was rather disappointing. He still got a nice view of her legs, however. Lovely legs.
Muttering under her breath, Rachel stepped out of the pants and continued forward. "I'll need shoes."
"No, you don't."
"Yes, I do."
"Why?"
"I can hardly leave barefoot. Could you call me a cab?" She bent to survey the shoes in his closet.
"No."
Rachel glared at him rebelliously. "Then I'll call one myself."
"I mean, no, you can't leave," he explained.
She turned to face him fully, her eyes narrowing to slits. There was no doubting her irritation. "Look, I was thinking while I changed."
"It must have been a fast think," he commented.
She ignored his sarcasm. "And you know, while you had me going at first, I've realized that none of this is true. The jig is up. It's over. You might as well let me go."
"None of what is true?" he asked with surprise.
"The vampire bit. I can't be a vampire. There is no such thing."
"Yes, there is. I'm one."
"No. You're crazy. You just think you're a vampire, like those people who think they're werewolves but are really suffering from lycanthropy. You're obviously suffering from a vampire version of that. Vampanthropy or something."
Etienne rolled his eyes. "I see. So... what about your teeth?"
Her mouth tightened, and she looked uncertain for a moment.
To press the point, Etienne moved to the small refrigerator and grabbed the bag of blood he had offered earlier. He used the long nail on his baby finger to slit it open and moved closer.
When the smell reached her, what Etienne had expected happened: her teeth slid out, lapping over her lower lip--a usual reaction in the newly turned, from what he had heard. It would take her a while to gain control of her body's new instincts. Gasping, Rachel covered her mouth and ran for the bathroom.
Etienne followed. He stood behind her as she examined herself in the mirror, and he knew there was trouble when she suddenly relaxed.
"What?" he asked warily.
"Vampires don't have reflections," she repeated. "But I do." She met his gaze in the mirror and smiled. The expression looked rather evil with her new canines.
"A myth," he reiterated.
"No. It's proof that I'm not a vampire." She sounded incredibly firm on the point.
"And the teeth?" Etienne asked.
That point seemed to stymie her for a moment, then she relaxed again. "I'm dreaming," she answered. "This isn't happening at all." She turned to face him, her smile brilliant. "I'm dreaming of you, because I found you attractive when they brought in your corpse. I made you a vampire in this dream because it's the only way a dead man can live. Well, sort of live."
She frowned over that paradox, then added, "And in the dream, I've become a vampire too, so that I can be with you."