I had never felt thirst before, not like that, but something about his blood triggered this very animal hunger inside of me. Since he’d bitten me, his blood had become everything to me. He knew as soon as he opened his veins, I wouldn’t deny him.
Pressing his wrist to my mouth, his blood tasted nothing like I had remembered blood tasting. It was sweeter than honey, and flowed like wine down my throat, burning with thrilling warmth. Before it even hit my stomach, an intense pleasure exploded inside me, making my vision blur into white and everything about me felt alive for the first time.
I felt his love flow through me, pure and unadulterated. Even when he had been biting me, I hadn’t felt it like this. Drinking his blood was drinking him, and while so much about him was loving me, everything about him was love.
He only tasted of kindness and innocence and boundless happiness. The worst things he had ever done he had done because I had driven him to it. I was the worst thing that had ever happened to him, and yet he loved me more perfectly and more eternally than anything he had ever loved before.
When he pulled his arm from me, I stumbled backwards. I would’ve fallen if he hadn’t caught me, and fresh tears burned hot down my face. The room spun, and I felt disoriented and dizzy.
The after effects of drinking his blood made me feel like I was incredibly intoxicated, complete with nausea and confusion, and I knew it was only a matter of time before I passed out.
His arms felt strong and safe around me as he laid me down on the couch. There was something different in his expression, in his face, and I realized belatedly I had weakened him. Going into the biggest fight of his life, Jack had the horrible disadvantage of being weaker than ever before.
“Oh, no, Jack! You’re so weak! I’ve killed you!”
“No, Alice, I’m fine.” He brushed the hair back from my face, and I rested my hand on his. He was lying to me. If he walked out of the door and fought with Peter, he would die, and we both knew it.
“Jack… I love you!” I told him fiercely. He was going to leave no matter what I said, so I decided to use my time the best I could. “You were always the one I loved. It was always you.”
“I know,” Jack forced a smile, and even though I was fighting it, my eyes shut. His lips press warmly against my eyelids, and I felt a tear splash on my cheek.
I wanted to say more, and I really tried, but nothing came out. Epic blackness settled over me, but just before everything went completely blank, I heard the sound of hell breaking loose just outside the door.
- 28 -
The days I spent turning were unquantifiable. In his book, Peter had once described the change as feeling “as if my gut had been cut open and filled with eels,” and that description is the most accurate I have ever heard.
Of course, that says nothing for the incredible agony my body went through as organs moved about and died. Everything inside me shifted and reconstructed itself to fit an entirely different way of being.
The turning was nothing short of a delirious blur. I was never asleep, but I was never truly awake. Everything felt vaguely like a nightmare, and it was nearly impossible to tell reality apart from everything else.
The pain and the hunger turned my mind to mush, and I had dreams of beetles and snakes eating my flesh. Nothing I saw when I closed my eyes was very pleasant.
The first truly coherent thing I can remember is waking from a dream where I had been on fire. Somehow, in my sleep, that had translated to me singing “Ring of Fire” by Johnny Cash.
When I started to wake, I realized that my voice wasn’t the only sound in my ears. There was another one sounding amazingly perfect compared with the dry, crackled sound of my voice.
I opened my eyes, which screamed painfully at the dim light in the room, and I could barely see anything. Eventually, my vision would be better than that of an eagle, but then, I was nearly blind.
Faintly, I made out a silhouette. The details were still invisible, but the cockeyed hair was unmistakable. Even in my confused pain, delight went through me.
“Jack,” I whispered in a voice that sounded like dry firewood. “You’re really here?”
“Shhh.” Jack brushed the hair back from my forehead, and it hurt like hell, but I relished the touch because it was his. “Get some rest.”
“But…” I tried to sputter some kind of an argument, but my throat was burning from singing and speaking.
“I’m right here, and I’ll be right here until you really wake up. So you just rest until then, and we can talk about everything.”
Nothing had ever sounded as wonderful as the sound of his voice, and I wanted to keep him talking. Unfortunately, I was drowning in pain and exhaustion, and I succumbed to them both. But every time I awoke with any momentary clarity, he was by my side.