Oh well. Dad was ecstatic, for once acting like a normal parent, snapping photos—”For your mother to see, when she’s better,” he kept saying—and trying to slip twenty-dollar bills into Adam’s hand, telling him to “treat Mary to an ice cream after the dance.”
Which frankly made me decide I like Dad better when he never comes out of the lab.
Still. I knew I was making a mistake by not sending Adam packing right away. This is no job for amateurs. This is … this is …
… beautiful. I mean, that’s how the ballroom looks. I almost gasped when I entered it on Adam’s arm. (He insisted. So we’d look like a “normal couple” if Drake was there already and watching.) The Saint Eligius Prep prom committee really outdid themselves this year.
Securing the four-story grand ballroom at the Waldorf-Astoria was a feat all on its own, but transforming it into such a sparkling romantic wonderland? Miraculous.
I just hope all those rosettes and streamers are fireproof. I’d hate to see them go up in the flames that are bound to appear when Drake’s corpse begins to self-conflagrate after I stab him in the chest.
“So,” Adam says, as we stand on the edge of the dance floor, sipping our punch in a silence that’s—to be frank—quickly gotten a little uncomfortable. “How’s this going to go down, anyway? I don’t see your crossbow anywhere.”
“I’m just going with a stake,” I say, showing him my leg through the slit up the side of my gown. I’d strapped a hand-carved piece of ash there, using Mom’s old thigh holster. “Keeping it sweet and simple.”
“Oh,” Adam says, after choking on his punch a little. “Okay.”
I realize he hasn’t looked away from my inner thigh. I hastily lower my skirt.
And it occurs to me—for the first time—that Adam might be in this for reasons other than wanting to liberate his best friend’s girlfriend from the spell of a blood-sucking fiend.
Except … can such a thing even be possible? I mean, he’s Adam Blum. And I’m just the new girl. He likes me, sure, but he doesn’t like me. He can’t. I’ve probably only got about ten minutes left to live. Unless something radically alters what I’m pretty sure is about to go down.
Blushing, I keep my gaze on the gyrating couples in front of us. Mrs. Gregory from U.S. History is one of the chaperones. She’s going around, trying to keep girls from grinding on their dates. She might as well try to keep the moon from rising.
“It’d probably be best if you kept Lila busy,” I say, hoping he doesn’t notice that my cheeks are now as scarlet as my gown, “while I’m doing the staking. We don’t want her throwing herself in my path just to try to save him.”
“That’s what I dragged Ted here for,” Adam says, nodding toward Teddy Hancock, who’s sitting slumped at a nearby table, looking out at the dance floor in a bored manner. Like the rest of us, he’s just waiting for Lila—and her date—to arrive.
“Still,” I say. “I don’t want you anywhere near me when … you know.”
“I heard you the first nine million times you told me,” Adam mutters. “I know you can take care of yourself, Mary. You’ve made that abundantly clear.”
I can’t help wincing a little. He’s not having a good time. I can tell.
Well, so what? I didn’t ask him to come! He invited himself! This isn’t a date, anyway! It’s a slaying! He knew that from the outset. He’s the one changing the rules, not me. I mean, who am I kidding? I can’t date. I have a legacy to fulfill. I’m the exterminator’s daughter. I have to—
“Want to dance?” Adam startles me by asking.
“Oh,” I say, with some surprise. “I’d love to. But I really should—”
“Great,” he says and takes me into his arms, steering me onto the dance floor.
I’m too stunned to do anything to stop him, really. Well, okay, as the initial shock of it is wearing off, I find I don’t want to stop him. I’m stunned to realize that … well, I like how it feels, being in Adam’s arms. It feels good. It feels safe. It feels warm. It feels … well, almost as if I were a normal girl, for a change.
Not the new girl. Not the exterminator’s daughter. Just … me. Mary.
It’s a feeling I could get used to.
“Mary,” Adam says. He’s so much taller than me that his breath tickles the tendrils that have fallen from the updo that I’ve twisted my hair into. I don’t mind, though, because his breath smells good.
I look up at him dreamily. I can’t believe I never noticed—really noticed—how handsome he is before now. Well, last night, actually. Or maybe I noticed, but it never really registered, because what would a guy like him ever see in a girl like me? In a million years, I never thought I’d end up at the prom with Adam Blum….
And okay, sure, he only asked me because he obviously feels sorry for me, on account of my mother being a vampire and all. But still.
“Hmmm?” I say, smiling up at him.
“Uh.” Adam seems uncomfortable, for some reason. “I was wondering if—you know, when this is all over, and you’ve dusted Drake, and Lila and Ted are back together—you’d want to, um …”
Oh God. What’s happening? Is he … is he about to ask me out? Like on a real date? One that doesn’t include sharp, pointy objects?
No. This isn’t happening. This is a dream or something. In a minute, I’m going to wake up, and it’s all going to go away. Because how could such a thing even be possible? I can’t breathe, I’m so sure I’ll break whatever spell we’re both under if I do….
“Yes, Adam?” I ask.
“Well.” He can’t seem to make eye contact anymore. “Just if you’d want to, you know, maybe hang out—”
“Excuse me.” The deep voice that interrupts Adam then is all too familiar. “But may I have this dance?”
I close my eyes in frustration. I cannot believe this. I am never going to get a guy I actually like to ask me out at this rate. Never. Never. Never. I am going to stay a freak—the product of similar freaks—for the rest of my life. Why would a guy like Adam Blum ever want to go out with me in the first place? The child of a vampire and a mad scientist? Let’s face it. Not going to happen.
And I’ve had it. I’ve had it up to here.
“Listen, you,” I say, whirling around to face Sebastian Drake, whose blue eyes widen a little at the fire in mine. “How dare you come oozing around …”
But then my voice trails off. Because suddenly all I can see are those eyes …
… those hypnotically blue eyes, which suddenly make me feel like I could dive into them, letting their warmth wash over me in sweet, soft waves….
It’s true he’s no Adam Blum. But he’s looking at me in a way that makes it clear he knows that, and that he’s sorry for it, and that he’s going to do everything he can to make it up to me … more than make it up to me, even …
And the next thing I know, Sebastian Drake is taking me into his arms—gently, so gently—and leading me from the dance floor toward a set of French doors through which I can see a night-darkened garden, bathed in twinkling fairy lights and moonlight