Consume

CHAPTER 5

TRISTAN
I was waiting for her at the door of her chemistry class before the bell rang. She didn't see me at first, her head bent as she slowly gathered her things, those too-kissable lips of hers turned down into a frown as she trudged across the room toward me.
Then she looked up. Our eyes met, and she smiled.
And just like that, getting through the long, boring, tense morning was worth it.
Ron Abernathy shot me a sympathetic grin as he exited the room. "Good luck at lunch," he muttered, not sticking around long enough for me to figure out what that was supposed to mean.
It didn't matter. All that mattered was Savannah and finally getting to be a real couple with her. No more secrets. No more lies or sneaking around.
God, he's gorgeous, she thought, forgetting yet again that I could hear her.
I swallowed down a laugh. She knew just what to think to make a guy feel like he could take on the whole world if needed.
"Hi," she murmured as she drew close to me. "How was your morning?"
"Fine. Ready for lunch?" It was an effort not to rub my hands together in pure anticipation. And it definitely wasn't the food I was looking forward to.
"Mmm." She stepped out of the room and off to the side a little, making way for others in the hall to pass us by. "You know, I've been thinking about that. Maybe it's not such a good idea. We don't have to go to the cafeteria. We could go to the library and hang out instead. Ron's mom is the librarian. She wouldn't mind-"
"And miss out on all the fun? No way!" I held out a bent elbow. It took her a few seconds to realize I wanted her to hold my arm.
She slipped a free hand between my elbow and my body, her fingers coming to rest in the bend of my arm as if made to nestle there. I squeezed my arm tight against my body so her hand wouldn't slip away, and we headed into the packed main hall.
I stumbled to a halt as a f lood of strange sensations poured over me. Savannah grabbed my arm with both her hands.
What is it? she thought, her eyes darting side to side as she searched my face. What's wrong? Talk to me. Is it the bloodlust? We should get out of here.
No, it's not that, I thought, struggling to breathe as the sensations kept changing, throwing me continually off balance. I tried to find a way to describe what I was feeling. It's... something else. Like falling into one of those bouncy castles for kids, but this one's filled with giant cotton balls and knives and fire ants and stuff that's hitting me from all sides.
Try to breathe through it, she thought, rubbing my upper arm. You're just picking up their emotions. It'll take you a little while to learn how to match up their emotions with their thoughts so you can label them and recognize what you're sensing. If it starts to get too overwhelming, remember the key is to stay calm. The stronger your own emotions, the less you'll be able to control your abilities. And if all else fails, try to focus on a nearby descendant instead.
A descendant? I couldn't help but scowl at her for a second. Then I went back to searching the hallway, my instincts screaming at me to stay alert though I didn't understand why. Why would I want to sense anything from them?
Because it's like tuning in to a different radio station. It makes the humans go quiet. Clann thoughts might be nastier, but at least they're quieter since there are fewer descendants than humans.
Huh. Okay, if it shut off the thousand and one voices inside my head...
I nodded and tried to follow her instructions, focusing on the few descendants who passed by till the hall began to clear as the students rushed off to the cafeteria or their next class.
She was right. Listening to the descendants' thoughts was like tuning in to a much quieter radio station. Too bad it was one playing the "I hate Tristan and Savannah" soundtrack 24/7.
When the hall was half-empty, I found it easier to start moving again.
"We can wait here till they're all gone," she murmured, ignoring the curious glances shot our way. "I'm here. Just breathe."
"I'm okay. It was just...a surprise, is all." I took a deep breath, squeezed her hand at my elbow and started walking again. I could breathe easier again, too. "So this is what you had to deal with every day?"
She nodded. "I promise it gets easier."
We headed down the now mostly empty hall toward the main building's rear exit, her thoughts filling with a glow from the simple pleasure of our getting to walk together like this on campus around others for the first time ever. But it was hard for me to join in with a steady dose of guilt growing inside my chest.
I really owed her an apology.
"Sorry," I mumbled. "You know, for using this ESP thing against you all those times." It had been bad enough for me to have to deal with hearing and feeling all those thoughts and feelings from everyone else with Savannah there to guide me through it for the first time. I couldn't even imagine how frightening it must have been for her to go through it alone with no one there to hold her hand, reassure her that she wasn't going insane, tell her how to turn down the volume on it by listening to the descendants instead.
And I'd made it worse by teasing and tormenting her with my thoughts every chance I'd gotten, in a dumb campaign to make her jealous.
"You're forgiven." She said it so simply, as if it were no big deal.
Did she have any idea how much I loved her?
Sometimes I do, she thought, ducking her head to hide a knowing smile.
We walked in silence out of the building, along the cement catwalk with its metal awning roof, then down the cement steps to the sidewalk that wrapped around the cylindershaped brick cafeteria. At the doors, she tugged me to a stop.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" she asked.
I didn't even have to consider my answer. I nodded. "I want to rub their faces in it so hard they can't see straight for a week."
"But why? We don't have to prove anything to them or anyone else in there."
"Yes, we do."
She frowned. "Why? Why does it matter what they think?"
"It doesn't."
"Then why push it? And why do we have to do this today? We could always come back later in the week."
"I told you, I've dreamed about this moment for a really long time. And I'm not going to let them or what they think keep us from finally having this."
She sighed. "It's our first day back. It feels like we're pushing it too hard. Like if we get greedy, something's going to break. Isn't it hard enough to be in your classes without facing this many of them all at once?" She hesitated. "And then there's the small matter of my friends."
I searched her face. "Worried I won't pass judgment as your boyfriend?"
"No, of course not! I just don't feel you should have to try to earn their approval and deal with all those humans and the smells and sounds and the Clann's attitude on your very first day back."
I stared at her, everything inside me going still now. "Are you worried I can't handle it?"
She groaned. "All I'm saying is, why push so hard all at once when you could space out the challenges a little and make it easier on yourself?"
"You're forgetting I used to play football. I like a good challenge, and the bigger the better."
She groaned again. "Fine. But the second you look like you're stressing out, we're out of here. Okay?"
I nodded.
"Promise me."
I grinned and held up a pinky. "Pinky swear."
The f lashback to our childhood got a grin out of her. She hooked her pinky with mine. "Deal."
Finally.
I grabbed the metal handles of both doors, threw them wide-open, and we made our grand entrance into the beehive that was JHS's cafeteria. Almost every head in the place turned to stare at us. You could practically hear crickets chirp.
SAVANNAH
He was all too happy to lead the way to my friends' table, which he didn't even have to search for.
I told you, I've spent hours over the years staring at you with your friends and wishing I could be there beside you, he explained silently. I could map out this table's location in my head at home.
Mmm, stalker much? I teased, trying to ignore the audience all around us.
"Sav!" Michelle squealed as soon as she saw us. All of my friends jumped up from our table.
"Finally!" Anne pushed past Ron so she could be the first to give me a fierce hug. "I knew we should have ignored you and gone over to your house last night anyways."
As Carrie elbowed her out of the way so she could give me a hug next, I gave Anne a pointed look over Carrie's shoulder. "You know we had a lot of...unpacking to do."
Actually, I'd been too nervous about having all three of my human friends at my house with Tristan and my dad. The mere idea had seemed a disaster in the making, so I'd begged my friends to wait for lunchtime today for our group reunion.
Carrie stepped back, and I smiled at Michelle, expecting her to step up for a hug, as well.
But she seemed rooted to the linoleum f loor, her already large eyes even bigger as she stared openmouthed at something over my left shoulder.
Oh. Of course, Tristan.
"Hey," he said by way of a greeting.
Time to ease Tristan into the group. "Everyone, you know Tristan Coleman, right?" Who didn't at our school? "He'll, um, be sitting with us from now on."
"I thought you were going to skip this?" Ron leaned over and muttered.
I shrugged and made a face. "I tried to, but somebody's a spoiled brat and insisted on it."
Tristan waited to see which chair I reached for so he could be sure none of us had switched the routine seating arrangement. Then he gently nudged my hands free of the plastic chair so he could pull it out and hold it for me. I rolled my eyes. He was taking this show way too far.
Carrie poked Michelle in the ribs, making her jump then remember to return to her seat on the opposite side of the table.
As everyone sat back down, Tristan took his sweet time helping me hang my Charmers bag's strap over my chair. Finally he f lopped down in the chair beside me, turning sideways away from me to stretch out his long legs. Sighing loudly with satisfaction, he propped his hands behind his head then grinned at my friends.
Gradually the noise level around our table returned to normal as everyone lost interest. But then the hairs along the back of my neck stood up. I snuck a peek over my shoulder. Yep. We still had a small audience over at the Clann table, and they did not look happy. My hands yearned to rub away the mild prickly sensation caused by their staring, but I resisted the urge, knowing the movement would give them a tiny victory they didn't deserve.
Tristan caught that thought and made a big show of throwing an arm around my shoulders across the back of my chair. In the process, he tossed them a quick grin over his shoulder. I shook my head, glad at least he was able to enjoy this ordeal despite the noise of the cafeteria that had to be giving the inside of his head a beating by now.
Then he settled into his chair and turned to face my friends.
Our table was quiet. Too quiet, like they didn't know what to say to him. Not the reaction I'd hoped for. I had figured they would jabber on among themselves like they always did, and Tristan could either sit back in silence while getting used to everyone, or he could choose to jump into the group conversation when he was ready. Instead, everyone sat there staring at us with raised eyebrows as if they expected us to do all the talking. But what could we say about our long absence? Anne and Ron were the only ones at our table who even knew about the existence of vampires and magic.
As a Coleman and the former Clann golden boy, Tristan was known by everyone on our campus. But since my friends weren't descendants, none of them had spent much time hanging out with him. So what could they really talk about with him?
I looked at my friends, quickly considering each one's history with Tristan. Sitting at my right side, my best friend, Anne, was first on the list. She knew the truth, and she'd even helped out during the battle between the vamp and the Clann in the Circle last November. So she'd been there and actually seen me turn Tristan with her own eyes. She'd also teamed up with Tristan once or twice to secretly help fend off my first gaze-daze victims last year.
Not that we could talk about any of that as a group.
Next up was Ron, who sat at Anne's other side. As a shapeshifting Keeper and an ally of the Clann, he also knew all about vamps and the Clann and had seen me turn Tristan. He and Tristan had played for the JHS Fighting Indians football team, before Tristan's Clann abilities forced his parents to pull him from the team last year. Now Tristan's new vamp abilities would still keep him off the team.
That crossed football off the list of subjects to talk about.
Michelle sat on Ron's right. But she had a weird hero worship thing going on with Tristan, thanks to his helping her off the track at an eighth-grade track meet when she could hardly walk from shin splints. Even if she could actually find her voice before the end of our lunch break, they didn't have much in common to talk about. Neither of them had run track since junior high.
That left Carrie. But out of all of my friends, hers would be the toughest approval for Tristan to earn. Like Michelle, she knew only general rumors about the Clann and nothing about their true abilities or that vampires existed. And Tristan had never had an opportunity to help her or work with her on anything. A quick peek into her mind showed all she knew about him was his reputation as our school's biggest, richest player. She hated players. But worse than that was the money issue. She wanted to become a doctor, but her parents didn't earn a lot and were struggling to figure out how to finance her college dreams. Even my switch to expensive clothing, at my father's demand last summer when I'd moved in with him, had temporarily caused some tension between us. And we'd been friends for years.
Could she look past Tristan's last name and reputation?
Thankfully Michelle found her voice again and broke the silence to launch into her usual nonstop JHS gossip report, which brought the tension level down a few notches.
But while everyone else basically ignored Tristan, Carrie kept throwing quick little glances his way in between taking bites of her salad. I took another quick peek at Carrie's thoughts. She was trying to figure out what the attraction was between Tristan and me. Or more specifically, why I was attracted to Tristan beyond his good looks. She figured she understood why he was drawn to me...she thought of me as smart, nice, loyal to my friends almost to a fault, though occasionally a little weird and moody. But Tristan seemed the total opposite...a societal apex predator who went after anything in a skirt, cared more about money and image than what might lie underneath, and was about as deep as a dried-up creek.
Her words, not mine.
This wasn't going well.
Desperate to foster some sort of friendship between them, I reached for the first idea that came to my mind.
"Hey, Tristan, did you know Carrie's going to be a doctor someday?" I said, making my voice loud enough to carry across the table.
Carrie's eyebrows shot up then dipped into a frown as she wondered what I was up to.
"Oh, yeah?" Tristan turned to her with real interest. "That's cool. You know, I just learned some interesting stuff from Mrs. Horne today. She was talking about how there are companies out there now making synthetic blood using a process called blood pharming. Have you heard anything about it?"
Mrs. Horne the biology teacher? I silently asked him. When did you talk to her? We all took biology last year.
I ran into her in the hall on the way to your chem class and we got to talking, Tristan silently answered. Then he looked at Carrie again, waiting for her reply.
Carrie blinked several times in shock as she tried to assimilate her previous ideas of Tristan with this conversation starter.
Oh, of course, she thought. He's just trying to sound smart to impress me. Well, let's see how long it takes to reveal his real lack of IQ.
Out loud, she said, "Yes, I've read a few articles online about that. They're mainly creating the synthetic blood for use in the military in war zones."
Tristan nodded. "Because the regular donor blood doesn't last long enough on the shelf for use in areas far away from hospitals. By the time it reaches the soldiers, it's already too old and only lasts about a week. Plus there's that whole problem of getting enough of the more generally accepted O type blood donated."
"Too bad the synthetic blood requires the use of umbilical cords to make it." Carrie grimaced.
"How's that a problem?" Tristan said. "It's not like they're using the cells from the actual babies."
"Yeah, but it's an issue ripe for misuse," Carrie snapped. "Think about it. Who's got a big supply of umbilical cords they'd be too happy to sell off?"
"Hospitals?" Tristan said.
"And abortion clinics," Carrie said. "I'm all for a woman's right to choose, but I don't think anyone should be making money off of that. Abortion clinics would be only too happy to make some side profits by selling a bunch of umbilical cords to DARPA."
"DARPA?" Michelle asked, her eyebrows drawn in confusion.
"The Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency," Tristan and Carrie explained at the same time.
Carrie stared at him with round eyes, her shock deepening. "DARPA's funding the research behind the blood pharming. And they're the ones who'll probably end up using taxpayer dollars to buy the big old steaming piles of umbilical cords for all the blood pharming."
Anne made a choking sound and pushed away her chili cheese fries. "I'm not hungry anymore."
"Me neither," Ron muttered.
Oh, boy. What the heck had I started? "Um, guys, maybe we should talk about something else-"
But it was too late. Carrie and Tristan were deep into the debate now, and there was no stopping them.
"Why shouldn't we find a use for something that's going to be thrown away?" Tristan said.
"Because it comes from dead babies, that's why!" Carrie said, shaking her long blond bangs out of her furious eyes.
"Not only dead babies. And it's not like blood pharming is the cause of their deaths," Tristan said. "What about all the umbilical cords from babies delivered alive? Those get thrown out most of the time, too. Why not reduce the biowaste and help save lives at the same time?"
Carrie rolled her eyes and sat back in her chair with her arms crossed. "If the cords were only obtained from live births, that would be okay. But who's going to regulate that, especially if demand for synthetic blood skyrockets? Besides, blood pharming costs too much to be worth it. They can only create twenty units of blood from each cord, and it costs something like five thousand dollars to do it. That's around two hundred and fifty bucks to make each unit, not including whatever fees they work out to pay for the cord itself. If the masses start thinking they don't need to donate blood anymore because we can all rely on synthetic blood instead, there goes all the donor blood that's already in short supply. Then we really do end up having to rely solely or even mostly on expensive synthetic blood. Do you have any idea how much health-care costs would shoot through the roof then? A trauma victim can require up to fifty units of blood. And cancer patients make up twenty percent of all blood transfusions given. Can you imagine what their health-care costs would become?"
Of course you can't, she finished silently, not realizing Tristan and I could both hear her thoughts. Because you've never had to worry about money in your entire life!
Whoa. I sat back in my chair with a thump. I had never heard Carrie talk so much.
"The synthetic blood's only expensive right now because it's new and nobody's making it yet," Tristan said. "Once more companies learn how to create it and ramp up production to meet the demand, the costs will drop and make it more affordable."
"Oh, so you're going to rely on the free market's supply and demand to set the prices and help reduce health-care costs?" Carrie snorted. Why am I not surprised? Typical rich boy, taking zero account for human greed because he's full of it himself. "I guess you would be pretty excited, seeing how your family owns a biomedical supply company."
Tristan frowned. "What does that have to do with it?"
"Because obviously you're all set up to jump on the synthetic blood wagon and make a few billion more off others' misery for your family," Carrie said.
Tristan blinked at her in surprise. "To be honest, I didn't know my family's company could even do that sort of thing. I thought we only made sterilized containers for medical supplies."
One of Carrie's eyebrows arched as she thought, Ha! I knew he was stupid after all.
Out loud she said, "That's my point. Your company's facilities are already set up for creating stuff in sterile environments for the medical industry. I doubt it'd be all that hard to add some lab equipment and a few geneticists to start making synthetic blood for public use. Especially when the setup costs would earn out in no time."
"You really think so?" Tristan asked, his eyebrows raised.
Unable to read his thoughts, Carrie slowly nodded and watched him with narrowed eyes.
"Huh." He stared off into space for a minute. "It's an interesting idea. I wonder if Emily's heard about synthetic blood."
"Your sister? Why would she care?" Carrie asked. She'd always thought of Emily as a stereotypical dumb blonde cheerleader.
"Because she's the one destined to take over the family company as soon as she graduates from college," Tristan answered automatically. She's the future brains of the family, not me, he thought to himself, forgetting for a moment that I could hear him. "Em's always been the brains of my family."
He sounds sad about that, Carrie thought. Like maybe he wished he was as smart as his sister.
She cleared her throat, and when she spoke again, her tone was slightly softer. "You know, intelligence isn't set at birth. It can be improved with a little applied education. For instance, take a look around you at this table. Almost everyone here was practically f lunking their science courses till I started tutoring them." She hesitated. "If you ever need any help in that area, by the way, you can always bring your homework here at lunch." She finished with an attempted half smile.
Surprised by the offer, Tristan smiled back. "Thanks. I may take you up on that. Emily used to help me with my homework, but now that she's gone off to college..."
"Hey, what am I, chopped liver?" I blurted out with a laugh.
Carrie snickered. "Do not get her help with science unless you really do want to f lunk. English is Sav's forte."
Michelle nodded, making her short honey-blond hair bounce against the tops of her shoulders. "She brought my C average up to a B+ in English, but she doesn't know jack about chemistry."
"No, chemistry's my area," Ron argued.
Carrie rolled her eyes. "Puh-lease. Just because you understand the elementary table and throwing together a few chemicals doesn't mean you get science as a whole."
"Speaking of," Michelle interrupted Ron's planned argument. "Did you hear about what happened last week in chem class with Sally Parker and Terrell Stuart? She found out he was cheating with Christie Permetter and threw some chemicals at him during a lab, and..." And with that, Michelle was off and running and nobody could get another word in for at least five minutes while she filled us in on more JHS gossip.
Until Dylan walked in.
"Aw, look, now there's a matching pair of them," he sneered as he walked past.
Tristan scowled and clenched his fists. But he didn't turn to look at Dylan, which made me proud of him. Maybe I was wrong to be so afraid of his losing control.
Michelle muttered, "I cannot believe he and Bethany Brookes are together. What can she possibly see in that jerk?"
"What?" I blurted out, leaning forward in my chair, sure I'd heard her wrong.
"Oh, yeah, for four months now," Michelle added, her eyes wide. "Talk about the last couple you'd ever think would get together. But she seems to like him for some reason."
So that was why she didn't want to welcome me back. She was dating my boyfriend's former best friend turned archnemesis now and was probably embarrassed about it or something.
But...Bethany Brookes and Dylan Williams? The idea just did not compute. She was so sweet and nice, and he was so... well, not. Was she dating him just to get back at Tristan for leading her on all last summer and this fall?
Tristan twisted in his chair and looked across the cafeteria. Sure enough, Dylan had just dragged a chair over by Bethany, turned it backward with a noisy dragging of metal legs across the linoleum f loor, then straddled it. As we watched, he glanced our way, grinned, then leaned over and gave Bethany a kiss on the cheek that made her blush and lean toward him.
A single second of growling was all the warning I got. Next thing I knew, Tristan was gone. He reappeared across the cafeteria, where he held Dylan against the cylindershaped room's curved brown brick wall.
Oh, crap.