me by the elbow, steering me toward the grand staircase, his other hand resting on Heather Simkus’s shoulder. “Let’s go. We’ve got anxious parents waiting.”
On the second-floor landing, Heather pulled away from him to cast one last, longing glance toward the top of the staircase, where Bethany and Geoffrey were standing to watch her departure. He had his arm wrapped around her waist, and there were what appeared to be genuine looks of remorse and regret on their faces. I couldn’t tell if the vibe was sexual or parental or cultish, or a combination of the three.
One thing was for sure—it was creepy.
Outside, Heather slumped morosely in the backseat of the police cruiser while Cody radioed in to report that she’d been found.
“Look,” I said softly to her, “I know high school sucks. But it gets better.”
“Easy for you to say,” she murmured. “You were probably a cheerleader.”
Beside me, Cody overhead the comment and snorted into the radio handset. “Um, yeah, not so much,” I said to Heather. “I just mean . . . I know you thought that’s what you wanted, but it’s a very, very dangerous choice. Vampires in real life aren’t like the ones in the movies. They weren’t going to be playing baseball in a thunderstorm.”
She gave me an anguished look. “You don’t understand anything. I know what it was like! I was there! With people who care about art and music, real art and real music, and history and poetry, and . . . and languages, languages like Greek and Latin, and everything everyone I know thinks is stupid . . .”
There was more, but it dissolved in a fresh onslaught of tears.
Huh. I’d never thought of Twilight Manor as a cultural mecca for disenfranchised young intellectuals.
“Heather.” Cody’s voice was deep and soothing. “There’s a steep price for belonging to that community.”
She sniffled. “I know! Jesus, duh! It’s worth it!”
He shook his head. “You’re too young to make that decision. The law says so, and I agree. But if it’s really where you want to be, you’ve got to start thinking about time differently. How long until you turn eighteen? Two years?” He snapped his fingers. “That’s nothing to an immortal.”
Although I was dubious about the merits of Cody’s advice, at least it calmed her down. We headed back toward downtown Pemkowet and by the time we pulled into the driveway of the Simkus residence, Heather seemed resigned to her fate.
I half expected to find something dark and abusive in the Simkus household, or at least a level of neglect that would explain Heather’s profound sense of alienation, but her parents appeared to be perfectly normal, lovely people worried out of their minds by their daughter’s disappearance. They greeted her with hugs and profound relief and offered profuse thanks to Cody and me. Watching their faces turn pale as Cody explained where we’d found their daughter, I felt bad for them.
After we dropped the girl off, Cody drove me back to Pineview Gas & Convenience to pick up my car. We were both silent for most of the drive, thinking about the night’s events.
“Two years is a long time in a kid’s life,” Cody offered, turning into the parking lot. “A lot can happen.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not sure it helped to tell her to think about time differently,” I said.
He shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. Maybe it will get her to think differently about immortality.” He parked the cruiser beside my Honda. “Forever’s a long time, too. A long time to fill with chamber music concerts and tableau whatsits.”
“Vivants,” I said automatically. “Did you get the sense there was anything hinky going on with the family?”
Cody shook his head. “You?”
“No.” I unbuckled my seat belt but didn’t make a move for the door handle. “I think she’s just . . . a teenager, you know? A smart, lonely teenager.”
“Yeah.” He sighed, rubbing the scratches Lady Eris’s nails had left on his cheek. I’d been afraid they might fester, but they were already beginning to knit. “Beth Cassopolis was only eighteen when she moved out there, wasn’t she? I remember, because she didn’t graduate with the rest of my class.”
“Yeah, but—” I was going to say that Bethany wasn’t a smart, lonely teenager. She’d had a slutty reputation long before she’d become a blood-slut. But the truth was, I hadn’t known her then. I didn’t really know her now except as Jen’s troubled older sister. Maybe she had been smart and lonely. Maybe she’d been a wannabe