The Silver Kiss
Annette Curtis Klause
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Zoe is wary when, in the dead of night, the beautiful yet frightening Simon comes to her house. Simon seems to understand the pain of loneliness and death and Zoe's brooding thoughts of her dying mother.
Simon is one of the undead, a vampire, seeking revenge for the gruesome death of his mother three hundred years before. Does Simon dare ask Zoe to help free him from this lifeless chase and its insufferable loneliness?
From the Paperback edition.
a story. He could point out these problems so gently and positively that you never, ever felt criticized or slighted. I learned so much from him. As people dropped out and the writers’ group eventually disbanded, Larry invited me to join another, more established group that met much further away. The problem was that I didn’t drive back then and didn’t know how I could attend these meetings at night and get back home at a reasonable time. Larry had the solution: he would pick me up from work and
none. He paced her garden with slinking gait, examining basement windows and garage doors. He could not enter unless invited, but he liked to know the ways in, and out, if needed. The animal was close to the surface tonight. It reminded him of when he first changed, when he roamed the woods like a beast for what seemed an eternity, mindless from shock. Threads of memory clung to him, though most was a blur. Images sparked bright at times; pictures frozen in the muted green light of the
Christopher stood at the entrance to the underpass, the dimly lit, tiled tunnel that led under the tracks to the ticket station in the middle, and across to the parking lot on the other side. The stairways that led to the tunnel were crooked and angular, and the light bulbs were often broken, leaving many dark corners. The entrance was well lit, however, and Christopher’s bundle now assumed the shape of a teddy bear dangling from one of his small hands. Simon settled into the rough stone of the
Lorraine had turned on her heel and walked away. It was a relief, actually. She wouldn’t have known what to say, how to explain. I have to apologize, she told herself, just as she’d told herself over and over yesterday. But no matter how often she said it, she still couldn’t seem to do anything. “I’m such a jerk,” she suddenly said out loud, and snatched up the phone. The number jabbed automatically from her fingers, then she waited, almost holding her breath. The third ring was cut off short.
through his fingers, through his arms, through his chest, like the blood through her veins. It thrummed a rhythm in him that he shared with her. She sighed, her breath came harder, and he felt himself falling. I must stop now, he thought. But I can’t stop. He held her closer still, as if he could never let go. He couldn’t let go. Yet he did. Gasping, he firmly pushed her away. They stared at each other muzzily. “I can stop if I want,” he whispered hoarsely. She blushed, then touched her neck