Juliet Immortal

air.
    I swallow and fight to keep the panic from my voice. “Hi, Dylan,” I say.
    Ben turns, and his expression grows hard, angry. “What do you want?”
    Romeo meets Ben’s glare with a smile. “I wanted to apologize to you about your car window. I’ll pay for the damage, of course. I just wasn’t myself last night.
Lo siento, hermano.
”
    “I’m not your brother,
chiflado
,” Ben says, his tone leaving no doubt that
chiflado
isn’t a friendly word.
    Romeo laughs. “You’re right. Of course.” In the distance, I hear Hannah call Dylan’s name. He glances over his shoulder, before turning back to us with a sad face. “I suppose I’ve got to go. See you both later.”
    “Not if we can help it,” Ben says to Romeo’s retreating back. He shifts his gaze to me, eyes softening once more. “He’s full of crap. I’ve got two classes with him, and he didn’t bother to apologize before. He only said that to look good in front of you.”
    “He’ll never look good to me, no matter how many apologies he gives.” My voice still trembles.
    “I just can’t believe his hand isn’t more messed up. He should have broken—”
    “I’m sorry, but I’ve got to get home.” I have to try to contact Nurse again. Now.
    “But I thought coffee sounded great.”
    “It did. It does. I just … I’ve got to go. I’m sorry.” I edge toward the door. “But you and Gemma should go. I know she’d love that. Tell her I’ll call her, okay?”
    “Okay.” Ben sounds confused, and he has every right to be, but I don’t have time to explain, even if I could. Which I can’t. I have no idea what’s going on.
    I grab my backpack from the floor and dash out the back of the theater into the downpour. I make it all the way to the student parking lot before I realize I don’t have a ride home.
    I curse and spin in an angry circle, kicking one of the puddles at my feet.
    Gemma drove me. How could I have forgotten?
    I briefly entertain the thought of going back to play practice but decide against it. Ben already thinks I’m unstable, maybe even flat-out crazy. I don’t need to do anything to reinforce that opinion. I need him to trust me, to be a person he listens to and confides in. I have to find another way home. The bus, or my own two feet. It isn’t
that
far. Maybe two miles, three at the most.
    I start walking. And walk. And walk. And walk. Through the town and into the country, down the highway in the mud at the side of the road with cars splashing my legs as they drive by. By the time I reach the turnoff for El Camino, it’s nearly dark and those three miles I’ve slogged through the rain feellike a hundred. There’s no denying it, I’m not in top form. I still haven’t achieved anything resembling supernatural strength.
    Whether it’s my poor diet since I arrived or the stress of this shift or something else entirely, I don’t know, but I feel … wrong. I need Nurse, more than I have since my first days as an Ambassador. Surely she will come to me now. One of the mirrors in this house will work. It
has
to.
    I let myself in the front door and drop my keys in the dish, shivering and exhausted and desperate to talk to someone who understands.
    “Look who finally made it home. You look like a drowned rat.”
    But not
that
desperate. Not desperate enough to talk to the boy waiting for me in the hallway outside my room. Romeo slumps casually against the doorframe, grinning as if he has every right to be there.
    I freeze, wishing I’d taken Ben up on that cup of coffee. At least then I’d be properly caffeinated, which might help when it comes time to fight for my life.

TEN
    I run, hoping to make it to the living room or kitchen before he reaches me. The hallway is too cramped. There’ll be no room to defend myself. It will be the car all over again, and this time I might not come out whole on the other side.
    “Wait! Juliet, wait!”
    I don’t wait. I run faster, jumping over the red chair near the television and lunging for the front door. I have the knob in my hand when he grabs me from behind and spins me back into the room. I fall to my knees, groaning as the sharp corner of the coffee table jams into my stomach. Pain flashes through my midsection, but I’m back on my feet in seconds, bendingmy knees and lifting my fists, bracing myself for the inevitable attack.
    “I didn’t come to fight,” Romeo shouts, raising his arms in a defensive position. “I want to talk. That’s all