Prom Nights from Hell

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… just the kind of place to which you'd expect to be led by the golden-haired descendant of a Transylvanian count.

"I'm so glad we finally have the chance to meet," Sebastian is saying to me in a voice that seems to caress me like a feather-soft touch. Everyone and everything we've left behind us-the other couples; Adam; a stunned Lila, staring after us jealously; Ted, staring jealously at her; even the streamers and rosettes-seems to melt away as if all that exists in the world is me, the garden that I find myself in, and Sebastian Drake.

Who is reaching up to smooth some loose tendrils away from my face.

In a dim, inner recess of my mind, I remember that I'm supposed to be afraid of him… to hate him, even. Only I can't think why. How could I possibly hate someone as handsome and sweet and gentle as he is? He wants to make me feel better. He wants to help me.

"You see?" Sebastian Drake is saying, as he lifts one of my hands and presses it, softly, against his lips. "I'm not so terrifying, am I? I'm just like you, actually. Just the child of-let's face it-a very formidable person, who's trying to figure out his own place in the world. We have our burdens, do we not, you and I, Mary? Your mother says hello, by the way."

"M-my mother?" My brain seems to be as filled with fog as this garden we're standing in. Because while I can picture my mother's face, I can't remember how Sebastian Drake could possibly know her.

"Yes," Sebastian says, his lips now moving from my hand and up toward the crook of my elbow. His mouth feels like liquid fire against my skin. "She misses you, you know. She doesn't understand why you won't join her. She's so happy now… she doesn't know the pain of illness… or the indignity of aging… or the heartbreak of loneliness." His lips are on my bare shoulder now. I'm having trouble breathing. But in a good way. "She is surrounded by beauty and love… just like you could be, Mary." His lips are by my throat. His breath, so warm, has seemed to cause my spine to go limp. But it's all right, because one of his strong arms has gone around my waist, and he's holding me up, even as my body, as if of its own volition, is arching backward, allowing him an unobstructed view of my bare throat.

"Mary," he whispers against my neck.

And I feel so peaceful, so serene-something I haven't felt in years, not since Mom left-that my eyelids drift closed…

And the next thing I know, something cold and wet hits me in the neck.

"Ow," I say, opening my eyes and slapping a hand there… then pulling it away to find my fingers slick with some kind of clear moisture.

"Sorry," Adam calls from where he's standing a few feet away, his arms stretched out in front of him, the mouth of his Beretta 9mm water pistol aimed right at me. "I missed."

A second later, I am gasping for air as a thick cloud of acrid, burning smoke hits me in the face. Coughing, I stagger away from the man who, just seconds before, had been holding me so tenderly, but is now clutching at his smoldering chest.

"Wha-" Sebastian Drake gasps, pounding at the flames leaping from his chest. "What is this?"