Read Online Sam I Am by Heather Killough-Walden - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Heather Killough-Walden
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the palm of his hand. “Did I say something to offend you?”
She shook her head quickly. Too quickly. Yes, she thought. “No,” she said as she closed her eyes and enjoyed the feel of him. “It’s okay.”
“Oh, good,” he continued. He was glad her eyes were closed, because he could feel his own gaze both heating up and growing colder. Becoming mean. “I wouldn’t want you to be jealous of her. I mean, I do plan on asking her out. She’s too good to pass up, isn’t she?”
Katelyn’s eyes flew open and Sam forced himself not to grin in triumph. She gazed up at him in bewildered, muddled emotion. He pressed on, drawing her closer so that he could whisper his next words across the small space between them. “You’ll always come second, Katelyn. With me, with them – with any man.” He let it sink in. Just for a moment. And then, “Unless….”
“U-unless?” she asked, so, so quietly.
He did smile, then, and he knew his fangs were showing. But she was already in his thrall and it no longer mattered. “I can fix things for you, Katelyn. I can make you beautiful. I can make men notice you.”
Her breathing quickened, her eyes glassing over.
“I just want one small thing from you in return.” He glanced at the pulse in her neck and added, “Maybe two.”
Logan nodded at Meagan’s parents and then gently closed the door behind her. They’d encouraged her to go in, despite Logan’s hesitation. She was unsure. She didn’t know whether she truly wanted to see her friend like this…. So unresponsive . It was too close to death for Logan’s tastes.
But Deirdre Stone had told her that people in comas could still hear what was going on around them – and that Meagan would love to hear her friend’s voice.
So Logan turned and made her way toward the bed at the other end of the room. Machines beeped and the smell of antiseptic and linen bleach wafted over her.
Meagan Stone lay unmoving on the thin mattress, a single sheet tucked neatly under her arms. Her eyes were closed and her skin was pale. Her black hair, normally shimmering with raven-hued light, was dull and lifeless where it rested across the sheets in lackluster waves.
“Meagan, your mom told me I should come and –” Logan stopped by the bed, but found herself unable to continue her sentence. Something had caught in her throat. She tried to swallow past the sudden lump, but it wouldn’t budge.
“I –” Again her voice cracked and then, without warning, Logan was wiping wetness from her cheeks with the backs of her sleeves. She finally managed to get past the lump, but only with a quiet sob.
“I’m so sorry, Meagan. What happened?” What on earth happened to you? she wondered desperately. Seeing Meagan now, in the flesh and in this condition, brought it all home for Logan. Who did this? She wanted to know!
Logan found herself searching her friend’s face and bare arms for any sign of struggle – bruises, scrapes, anything . But her skin was smooth and unblemished. It was just – so pale.
Logan sniffed and searched her pockets for a tissue; she normally kept a few handy in case of an allergy attack. But what she found instead was the small brown paper bag that Dietrich Lehrer had given her.
“Oh,” Logan whispered, sniffling once more and wiping a few last tears from her cheeks. “Mr. Lehrer wanted me to give this to you.” She unfolded the small bag and dumped its contents into her upturned hand.
It was a silver pendant on a black leather cord. “A Celtic spiral of life,” she whispered, holding it up to the overhead light. She recognized the symbol from a few of the books she’d studied in Lehrer’s class. It was very ancient; from as far back as the Bronze age. It was created using one un-ending line.
Bizarre, she thought, vaguely. And then she shook her head, closed her eyes, and sighed. “Life never makes sense,” she told no one – and Meagan. Then she leaned over and draped the medallion over her
She shook her head quickly. Too quickly. Yes, she thought. “No,” she said as she closed her eyes and enjoyed the feel of him. “It’s okay.”
“Oh, good,” he continued. He was glad her eyes were closed, because he could feel his own gaze both heating up and growing colder. Becoming mean. “I wouldn’t want you to be jealous of her. I mean, I do plan on asking her out. She’s too good to pass up, isn’t she?”
Katelyn’s eyes flew open and Sam forced himself not to grin in triumph. She gazed up at him in bewildered, muddled emotion. He pressed on, drawing her closer so that he could whisper his next words across the small space between them. “You’ll always come second, Katelyn. With me, with them – with any man.” He let it sink in. Just for a moment. And then, “Unless….”
“U-unless?” she asked, so, so quietly.
He did smile, then, and he knew his fangs were showing. But she was already in his thrall and it no longer mattered. “I can fix things for you, Katelyn. I can make you beautiful. I can make men notice you.”
Her breathing quickened, her eyes glassing over.
“I just want one small thing from you in return.” He glanced at the pulse in her neck and added, “Maybe two.”
Logan nodded at Meagan’s parents and then gently closed the door behind her. They’d encouraged her to go in, despite Logan’s hesitation. She was unsure. She didn’t know whether she truly wanted to see her friend like this…. So unresponsive . It was too close to death for Logan’s tastes.
But Deirdre Stone had told her that people in comas could still hear what was going on around them – and that Meagan would love to hear her friend’s voice.
So Logan turned and made her way toward the bed at the other end of the room. Machines beeped and the smell of antiseptic and linen bleach wafted over her.
Meagan Stone lay unmoving on the thin mattress, a single sheet tucked neatly under her arms. Her eyes were closed and her skin was pale. Her black hair, normally shimmering with raven-hued light, was dull and lifeless where it rested across the sheets in lackluster waves.
“Meagan, your mom told me I should come and –” Logan stopped by the bed, but found herself unable to continue her sentence. Something had caught in her throat. She tried to swallow past the sudden lump, but it wouldn’t budge.
“I –” Again her voice cracked and then, without warning, Logan was wiping wetness from her cheeks with the backs of her sleeves. She finally managed to get past the lump, but only with a quiet sob.
“I’m so sorry, Meagan. What happened?” What on earth happened to you? she wondered desperately. Seeing Meagan now, in the flesh and in this condition, brought it all home for Logan. Who did this? She wanted to know!
Logan found herself searching her friend’s face and bare arms for any sign of struggle – bruises, scrapes, anything . But her skin was smooth and unblemished. It was just – so pale.
Logan sniffed and searched her pockets for a tissue; she normally kept a few handy in case of an allergy attack. But what she found instead was the small brown paper bag that Dietrich Lehrer had given her.
“Oh,” Logan whispered, sniffling once more and wiping a few last tears from her cheeks. “Mr. Lehrer wanted me to give this to you.” She unfolded the small bag and dumped its contents into her upturned hand.
It was a silver pendant on a black leather cord. “A Celtic spiral of life,” she whispered, holding it up to the overhead light. She recognized the symbol from a few of the books she’d studied in Lehrer’s class. It was very ancient; from as far back as the Bronze age. It was created using one un-ending line.
Bizarre, she thought, vaguely. And then she shook her head, closed her eyes, and sighed. “Life never makes sense,” she told no one – and Meagan. Then she leaned over and draped the medallion over her
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