Marianne by Elizabeth Hammer (best books to read in life TXT) 📕

I guess I didn’t factor in the sheer power that his poetry would have over you.”

“Funny.” She shifted slightly to work on his other eyebrow. “Start again from the beginning. I want the full effect.”

He smiled and started reading again, only moving his eyes. “‘I want to paint my face in the shades of your soul, your sinew and skin, mine alone to behold.’”

Marianne gasped. “I don’t know whether to feel grossed out or sexually harassed.”

Patrick grimaced. “Both, I think. But here we go... ‘Abyss and the nadir, we descend them together. The black trial, a band that binds us forever, and weeps beneath a mantle of shadows.’”

Marianne interrupted again. “What the hell’s a nadir?” She brushed back parts of his messy black hair so she could give him a widow’s peak.

“The lowest possible point. Okay, here’s the next verse... ‘I want to drench myself in the beauty of your blood. Your crux and tincture, stains of my belov’d.’”

“Okay, dude, don’t blink.” Marianne started underlining Patrick’s eyes. “And what’s tincture?”

“Color, tint... ‘Your crux and tincture, stains of my belov’d. Hollow, frail, and lost, this fire razes us both. Grief, oh, grief! Whisper to our hearts your tender truth and lure us toward the peace of unity.’ That’s the end. He signed it, ‘Raven’s Dark Lord.’”

Marianne sat back. “Wow.”

“I think I should add, though, that he spelled peace, P-I-E-C-E.”

“Well, I’m convinced.” Marianne threw the little pencil across the room onto the pile of laundry. “I think it’s obvious now that Alvin and I belong together.”

“Nothing could be clearer.” Patrick shrugged. “So, what have you done to me?”

“You’re a vampire now.” Marianne crossed her arms and surveyed her work. He actually looked pretty good.

Marianne reached over and took the camera from him. She hit the camera’s power button and turned it to photo mode. “Smile. No, a little scarier.” Click. “Good. Just one more.”

Marianne jumped down and retrieved the silver necklace from her bed. “We have to complete the look.” She slipped the long chain over his head and took three more photos. Marianne turned, covered the flash with her hand, and took a photo of the poem on the mirror. Then she sighed and turned the camera off again. “Fabulous, darling.”

Patrick pulled off the necklace and studied it. “Is this supposed to be a fang, or something?”

“Yeah. Romantic, huh?”

“I... guess.”

“My biggest fear is that the glass part screws off.”

Patrick gave her a confused look and started fiddling with the fang. Sure enough, the two-inch-long glass tooth detached easily from the silver skull holding it. Patrick held the vial up to his eye. “Are you supposed to keep your stash in here or what?”

“Stash?” Marianne laughed. “Is that what your mind jumps to? What kind of past do you have, boy?”

Patrick coughed. “We’re not discussing me right now.”

Marianne smiled. “I’ll let you try to figure it out while I get a trash bag for all this stuff.” Marianne paused on her way out. “You can be looking for the syringe while I’m gone. That’s a hint.”

“Nooo...”

“Yes.”

Patrick closed his fist over the necklace. “His blood, or yours?”

“Oh, mine, naturally.” Marianne grinned. “He wants to wear my crux and tincture around with him everywhere.” Marianne’s smile faltered at non-expression on his face. “What?”

“It’s just lucky for the Dark Lord that I didn’t know about this when he was raging all over you.”

Marianne got the butterflies all over again. “Be right back.”

She dashed to the kitchen, fetched two white kitchen bags, and came back. Patrick was on his knees scooping silk petals into a pile. Marianne shook out one bag and knelt down by him. “I’ll do this. You can go wipe your face off now.” She pulled open the top drawer of the dresser and pulled out a packet of makeup removing wipes. “And clean the mirror while you’re at it.”

Patrick took them from her and stood up. He bent down in front of the mirror and started rubbing at his forehead. “I’m going to smell like a girl.”

“You’ll live.” Marianne tossed all the petals into the bag and moved on to the ones on the bed. “Geez. He really did put a lot of time and thought into this whole thing. It kind of makes me feel bad.”

“He threw a doll at you,” said Patrick.

Marianne shrugged. “He didn’t hit me.”

“He tried.”

“Hmm… this is true.” She nodded.

“So, Marianne... He doesn’t exactly seem your type.”

“Oh!” Marianne couldn’t believe that she’d forgotten to explain. “It wasn’t a proper relationship, for me anyway. I met him through this friend of mine at school. She’s Goth, too. He seemed to really like me, and he hadn’t ever had a girlfriend, and he was so sweet when he asked me... I let my pity run away with me.”

“Interesting,” said Patrick quietly.

“It was only for two weeks.” Marianne crossed the room to the stereo and trashed Alvin’s CD. She grabbed the stack of her own music and flipped through the cases. She looked at Patrick in the mirror’s reflection as he rubbed off the poem. “Jack Johnson or Radiohead?”

“Radiohead.” Patrick looked back at her through the mirror, and Marianne’s stomach did a little jump. He hadn’t quite gotten all the makeup off his eyes and he looked like an Abercrombie model.

“Yeah, good,” said Marianne, who’d forgotten what she was supposed to be doing. She slid the disc into the slot and pressed play. “And I never let Alvin touch me, by the way. I pinched him every time he tried. It’s very important to me that everyone knows that.”

“Noted.” Patrick smiled. “But still, it was a sweet thing for you to do for him.”

“And a big mistake, as it turns out.” Marianne waved her hands around the room. “He even cheated on me, the rat.”

Patrick came over to her and dumped two handfuls of candles into her bag. He gathered a few stray petals and threw them away, then pulled the necklace off the dresser. “This, too?”

“Everything.”

Patrick put it in and picked up the coffin-shaped box of chocolates off her