Free The Silver Kiss by Annette Curtis Klause Page B

at the pharmacy found it,” he announced to no one in particular.
    The smart blond woman who ran the bookstore sat down heavily in her seat behind the sales counter. “What?”
    â€œBriggs was leaving work,” the man continued. “He had his bicycle in the alley. He almost fell over the woman. Her throat is slashed.”
    People looked at each other, dumbfounded. “Another one,” someone whispered. Zoë remembered seeing the bald man stocking shelves at the grocery store.
    More people gathered outside—late shoppers, people going home, others going out for the night. Drawn like flies to blood, Zoë thought, and shuddered. She had to get home.
    She squeezed past the bald man and went out the door. The bell above the door rang with cheery dissonance. A couple moved to let her out. She found herself next to a hastily erected police barrier, just in time to see something under a sheet being loaded into an ambulance.
    â€œMust have happened recently,” she heard a woman say in hushed tones.
    She felt hot and ill. “Excuse me. Excuse me.” She hadto get home. She navigated the crush of the still-forming crowd on the narrow sidewalk. “Excuse me. Excuse me.” Where did they come from? Flies. She was sweating. She felt trapped. People jostled to keep their vantage point as she tried to get by.
    Then she was past them into the night, leaning against the window of the grocery store, eyes closed, gasping deep, ragged breaths.
    And a cold, soothing hand was stroking her forehead, cooling, comforting.
    â€œIt’s death,” came a whisper.
    Her eyes shot open.

6

Simon
    H e saw the dark-haired girl push herself from the crowd as if drowning, and lean against the shop window, gasping for air. He went to her helplessly, drawn by her fear. He couldn’t help but touch her to taste it.
    â€œIt’s death,” he told her, wanting to explain.
    Her eyes burst open, pinning him with a stricken look.
    â€œIt’s death that frightens you so.”
    He felt slightly afraid himself now. This was the second time her eyes had held him. Combined with the enticing smell of fear, it was almost more than he could bear.
    â€œYes,” she said, blinking, relaxing, breaking the spell.
    His hand left her and fell to twist nervously at a shiny stud on his leather jacket. “I’m sorry. I’m always startling you.” He didn’t want to break the connection, not yet. It unnerved him when her eyes caught him like that, but it brought something else he couldn’t explain, something thatdidn’t seem normal for him. He wanted it again. He wanted to discover what it was.
    â€œHow did you know? About death, I mean.” She had accepted his apology.
    â€œI’ve seen its effect on people before now.”
    Her eyes grew troubled on his behalf, as she guessed wildly at his tragedy. It was so easy, Simon thought. He could tell the truth and let her lie for him. She would be too polite to ask outright. She would make it what she wanted it to be. The time was right. She needed to jump to another person, away from her fear. But why did he care so much? She had warm, rich blood, but it wasn’t only that. Was it?
    â€œI’m sorry,” she said. “I haven’t been too pleasant either.” She smiled faintly. At herself, he guessed.
    â€œYou look shaken. Can I walk you home?” He started to offer his arm, then remembered it was an outdated custom and stopped.
    She debated with herself. He saw the brief inward look. “Please,” she said. He had passed the test.
    They left the stores and walked slowly, quiet at first. He enjoyed her next to him. “You are late for dinner,” he said finally.
    â€œNo. No one’s home.”
    He saw that she immediately regretted having said that. Her lips tightened for a moment. She’s calling herself a fool, he thought. It’s not a thing to admit to a stranger. Reassure.