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JUST AS I PLACED the blade against my wrist, though, I
stopped.
Cutting myself was going to hurt, and if the knife went too
deep, I could find myself bleeding too much. People
committed suicide by slitting their wrists.
I knew that I wouldn’t really die that night—couldn’t be
destroyed that way—but I still found my fingers shaking a
little as I rested the blade against a spot where a blue vein was
visible just under the surface of my skin.
It was one thing to have Lucius gently pierce my flesh in
a moment of passion—and quite another to sit there alone,
like an untrained surgeon, and draw my own blood . . .
enough to fill a cup that suddenly seemed much larger than it
had just moments before.
Behind me, Mindy shifted, and I knew that I needed to
hurry. It was getting late, and I didn’t want to keep our
guests—and especially Lucius—waiting.
Lucius.
Somewhere in the recesses of the Vladescu estate, wherever
he was getting ready, he would be performing the same ritual
as me. I knew that his hand wouldn’t be shaky, though. I
could imagine him calmly lifting the knife, placing the blade
against his flesh and drawing an almost invisible line down
his arm. A line that would in seconds turn red as the blood
began to flow out. Then he would turn his wrist over the cup
and allow it to collect the drops . . .
Fingers more sure, I pressed my own knife harder against
my skin, but still flinched as the blade, as sharp as a real
scalpel, broke through. I applied just a little more pressure
and heard Mindy gasp as dark thick liquid suddenly rushed
out of the wound.
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The narrow gash hadn’t hurt at first, but it started to sting
then, and I sucked in a breath.
Just keep going, Jess. The worst part is over.
Steeling myself, I drew the blade about a half inch farther
down my arm, then quickly turned my wrist so the blood
dripped into the waiting cup.
I knew that Mindy was probably horrified—maybe even
a little queasy—to watch me. In her shoes, I would’ve felt the
same way. But of course, I’d changed, and I couldn’t stop
thinking that, in spite of the pain, the tradition had a certain
beauty. It would give me and Lucius a way to share blood at
the ceremony without biting each other’s throats—which
was, as Lucius had told me months ago, a very private act.
“Jess . . .” Mindy’s uncertain voice broke into my thoughts,
and I glanced up to find that she’d come close and was bending
down beside me, a worried look in her eyes. “I think that’s
enough,” she said, looking at my arm. “I think you should
stop.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, noting that the cup already held a few
ounces. “That’s enough.”
I shifted and moved my arm so it lay flat on the tray, then
used my other hand to lift the spoon full of herbs—willow
and ginger—that would keep the blood from clotting too
quickly. I stirred those into the cup, then started to reach for
one of the pieces of cut cloth.
“Here.” Mindy surprised me by taking my wrist in her
hand and grabbing the cloth before I could get it. “Let me
help, so you don’t get blood on your dress.”
“Okay,” I agreed, letting her press the material against the
wound.
After about a minute, Mindy carefully lifted a corner and
peeked under. “I think it’s stopped,” she said. She met my
eyes. “But I’ll leave that piece on your arm, so we don’t
accidentally open the cut again, okay?”
I nodded. “Thanks.” It wasn’t exactly the right answer to
Mindy’s question, but I wanted her to know that I appreciated
the calm, capable way she was dealing with a situation that
most bridesmaids weren’t asked to handle.
Then I watched as she bandaged my arm with the same
care she’d used when arranging my hair, and I knew without
a doubt that I’d chosen the right person to be my maid of
honor, that I’d chosen the right girl to be my best friend, years
before.
“Thanks,” I repeated as she tucked the tail of the cloth so
it looked as neat as possible.
When Mindy stood up, I raised my arm, thinking that
the bandage, which I’d worried would mess up my appearance,
was actually strangely right. Lucius would have a nearly
identical one, tied on by Raniero.
“Should I take this out?” Mindy offered, reaching for the
tray.
“No, wait.” I stopped her with a hand on her arm. “I’m
not done yet.”
“No?” Mindy’s raised eyebrows—and the way she kind of
yelped—told me that, while she was doing a great job coping
with a vampire wedding, she’d seen me shed enough blood
for one night.
But I had no choice, and I took the knife again, not scared
this time, because I knew I could handle the sting. Using my
left hand, I marked the palm of my right with a deep X. Once
again, the blood seeped out, and I picked up the last clean
cloth, grasping it tightly in my fist to stanch the flow.
“Lucius will mark his left hand,” I told Mindy, who
seemed understandably confused. “So when we hold hands at
the ceremony to speak our vows, our blood will be blended,
palm to palm.”
“Oh, wow . . .” I could tell that Mindy, always a romantic,
was torn, thinking this was either the most beautiful or the
most disturbing gesture ever.
“Some vampires bear the scar for the rest of their lives,” I
added. “Like a wedding ring that you can’t ever remove.”
That was why I’d tried to cut my palm deeply. I wanted
that permanent reminder of the night I married Lucius. I
knew that Lucius would definitely make his cut deep, too.
Mindy didn’t seem to know what to say to this, so I
nodded to signal that it was time for her to take away the
tray—and to stop worrying about whether I would use the
knife again. “I’m done now, if you’re sure you don’t mind . .
.”
“Oh, sure.” She put the lid on the cup and carried away
the tray, balancing it with one hand as she opened the door.
The silent, waiting servant accepted the burden, and
Mindy closed the door. As she came back across the room,
she asked, “Now what?”
“We wait,” I said, “for whoever will lead us to the
wedding.”
Once again, despite Mom’s advice, the butterflies in my
stomach started fluttering like crazy. Somewhere in the estate,
our guests—vampire and human—would be assembled, and
Lucius would be making his way to the ceremony, and...
Who was coming for me?
Another servant? One of Lucius’s two guards?
I didn’t have long to wonder, because before Mindy could
decide whether to risk wrinkling her dress by sitting down,
there was another knock on the door, and I again rushed to
answer it, too nervous and impatient to let my maid of honor
do it.
And this time, when I opened the door, I saw that someone
had been very, very busy while I’d been getting ready. I also
greeted, with great happiness, my escort.
Continue to Chapter 17...
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