After Will dropped me off and after I had washed the smell of crime and primal fear out of my hair, I slid into my fuzzy bathrobe and crawled onto the couch. ChaCha obediently jumped onto my lap and snuggled up against my thigh, her warm chest rising and falling as she snoozed comfortably. I stared down longingly at her, wondering if I would ever again feel comfortable enough to close my eyes, to drop off into unconsciousness without waking up in a pool of my neighbor’s blood.
Then there was the Vessel.
My stomach roiled each time I considered that Alex might already know about me. Did we actually have a relationship or was it a ploy? Then there was Grandma... .
I stood up and ChaCha flopped over on the couch, growling at my bathrobe. I stared at myself in the hall mirror, trying to figure out which part of me was Vessel-esque and trying to formulate what to say to Grandma when I heard the lock tumble on the front door. The door opened a few inches and Nina pushed her fist—clutching her enormous orange leather Marc Jacobs bag—through the opening.
“Uh, Neens,” I started, kneading my hands, “I’m really sorry about the way I—” I pulled open the door and stopped dead in my tracks.
“Oh my God, Nina. What happened?”
Nina brushed past me delicately, holding her arms out tenderly, fingers splayed. Her black sundress billowed all around her, barely touching her thin frame. She continued her uncomfortable, straight-legged walk into the house and blinked out at me from behind enormous black-framed sunglasses. She peeled them off and I tried not to gasp.
“Oh, Nina, what have you done to yourself ?”
She gulped. “Is it really that noticeable?”
“What would—why would you—” I picked around for the right words while Nina flopped onto the couch, her full lower lip pressed out and quivering.
“I wanted Dixon to notice me. I just wanted to stand out.”
“But Nina—” I looked her up and down. “A spray tan?”
The usual marble sheen of Nina’s delicate skin was gone, covered over by a cocoa-butter tan that made the ruddy pink of her bloodstained lips stand out awkwardly, made the glossy black of her hair look inky and unnatural.
“But you’re a vampire!”
Nina looked at her arms. “Do I really look that different?”
“You look like a Chicken McNugget!”
She knitted her brows. “And that’s bad.”
I nodded slowly while Nina pulled up her dress and poked out one long leg, once a brilliant, porcelain pale—now an odd, Shake ’n Bake brown.
“I just wanted to stand out,” she said again, her voice soft.
“Nina.” I took her hand and sat down next to her. “You do stand out.” I turned her hand over in mine, then poked at her arm. “Even without the hard candy shell.”
She flopped headfirst onto the pillows. “I knew it! It’s horrible!”
“No!” I pulled her up by the arm, trying to reconcile the warm cocoa brown of her skin with the frigid chill of it.
“I’m actually starting to get used to it. It was just a surprise is all.” I forced a grin.
Nina cocked her head, a small, thankful smile on her lips. “Oh, Sophie—you are such a good friend. And a bad liar.” She wagged her head, staring at her palms. “I’m so sorry about today.”
I shrugged. “Nina, the tan will come off in a few days.”
“Not about that. About Dixon. The firing.”
I felt a pang of sadness, but tried to brush it away. “It’s okay. It’s not the worst thing that happened to me this week.”
“I’m lucky to have you.”
“Well, who else would? After all, I’m a felon. Do you want something from the fridge?”
“I’ll take a—wait, a felon?” Nina took my hand, examining the leftover black fingerprinting ink that even a good scrub hadn’t been able to fade.
“Long story.” I stood up, went to the kitchen. “Do you want something to drink? I could pour some O neg into a coconut shell. You know, to keep the Hawaiian Tropic thing going.”
Nina ran for the kitchen and was under my nose in a millisecond. “What do you mean, felon?” She shook my ink-stained finger. “Were you in jail?”
I blew out a reluctant sigh—I wasn’t happy about reliving the events of the night—but gave Nina the details anyway while she sipped a blood bag and I nursed a Diet Coke. When I finished, Nina’s brow was knitted in concern and I was beginning to consider Botox for what I assumed was my new perma-frown.
Nina looked me over, her dark eyes appraising. “So you’re the Vessel.”
I nodded. “I guess so.”
“What did your grandmother say? I mean, she had to know she was raising—”
“Supernatural Tupperware? I don’t know; I haven’t asked her yet.”
Nina’s eyes bulged. “Go ask her!”
I went back to the hallway mirror and tapped. My finger tapped back. “Grandma?” I asked into the mirror.