The Afterlife of the Party

by Marlene Perez

  She paused to gather her thoughts, and I let out a breath. “Go on.”

  “He told me to come with him,” she said. “And I did, even though I didn’t want to, even though every muscle in my body was trying to resist. I couldn’t.”

  “Did he take you to the warehouse right away?”

  “I don’t remember,” she said. “I think I was there at least two days. And it was nothing like those books. I read ’em when I was in middle school, and the creep who grabbed me was not a gorgeous, swoony vampire.

  “And,” she added indignantly, “he wasn’t a vegetarian.”

  “None of them are,” I said.

  “To tell you the truth,” she added, “I think he tied me up just because he could. He liked hurting me. He liked me helpless.”

  The thought of it made me clench my fists with rage.

  Our rideshare came then—a Mazda with a college-aged guy at the wheel. We were silent the entire drive. I was surprised he was willing to take our fare, but it was nighttime, and I guessed he’d seen pretty much everything as a ride-share driver.

  The car pulled up at the hotel where Vaughn and I were staying, and she said, “Now that’s more like it.”

  I glanced out the car window and saw Vaughn standing out front waiting. “He’s not a vampire.”

  “Even better,” was all she said in reply. We got out, and Vaughn walked over to us.

  “This is Misty,” I told him.

  He put out a hand to shake, but instead, she took a step closer and grabbed his hand with both of hers. “And you are?”

  He lifted his eyebrow. “Vaughn Sheridan,” he replied. “Tansy’s boyfriend.”

  Misty dropped his hand like she was afraid I was going to go full vamp on her, and though freshman me wanted to jump up and down and squeal—even though I knew he was practicing for our cover story for The Drainers—instead, I gave him a small smile. “Yup, that’s my boyfriend, all right.”

  Then we went to the room so I could rinse the vampire guts off me. Misty was a bloody mess, too.

  I’d offered Misty the first shower, but she declined until Vaughn said he’d wait for us downstairs.

  I had the feeling that even though I’d rescued her, she was wary, and I didn’t blame her. We were strangers.

  I found some clean clothes for Misty. She came out wearing a hotel robe, and then I took my turn at cleanup.

  I scrubbed away the vampire blood and gore, and when I was done, my skin was tinged celery green—also known as puke green, but celery green sounded better. To most people, anyway. To me, celery tasted a little bit pukey, so it was a tomato/tomahto situation.

  In any case, vampire gunk left a mark.

  When I got out of the shower and dressed in fresh clothes that were blissfully guts-free, I joined Vaughn and Misty in the hotel restaurant.

  It looked like the place was getting ready to close, and the only server shot me an irritated look when I slid into the booth. Vaughn was telling Misty why we agreed that she shouldn’t call the cops.

  I gave Vaughn a grateful look. He’d ordered an iced tea for me and a soda and a sandwich for Misty. She must have been starving after being held captive for two days.

  “We ran into some vampire cops when we reported something before,” Vaughn explained. “And the vampire who took you knew Travis.”

  “Who’s Travis?” Misty asked.

  “He’s the lead singer of The Drainers,” I said.

  “Their music sucks,” she said.

  “I know, right? And his dad is the number-one big bad vampire daddy,” I added. “They’re going to be pissed that they need a new drummer.”

  We ate and then drove her home. It turned out she lived in Diablo and her parents had been gone for the weekend, so, as she had predicted, no one even missed her.

  Despite the nightmares I had that night, I knew I’d done the right thing. Was Fang a shitty excuse for a guy because of the vampirism in him? Or did power just make it easier for him to hurt people? And what did that mean for me?

  Still, I promised myself I’d never take a life again.

  I had no way of knowing how quickly I’d break that promise.

  Chapter Fourteen

  I’d overslept, so I bustled around, brushing my teeth and generally ignoring the dark circles and the residual terror that came with memories of being kidnapped by Fang.

  “I’m ready,” I finally said. “Let’s get moving.”

  Vaughn, who’d evidently been up and dressed for some time, studied my face. “You all right?”

  “Let’s go and see if we can figure out where The Drainers are staying.” I grabbed a hat and sunscreen, and we were on our way.

  “They’re probably sleeping,” Vaughn said. “Sunset to sunrise is when vampires are out.”

  “That’s true,” I agreed. “But we have a better chance at convincing Skyler to come with us when Travis isn’t around.”

  No luck. If anyone knew where The Drainers were spending their days, they weren’t talking.

  Without any other leads, we’d stopped for a late lunch at a cheerful-looking café. The restaurant was almost empty, so they sat us at a table looking out over the ocean.

  The air conditioning was a relief, but the sour odor of my sweat clung to my body.

  We ordered—ham and brie for me and a gigantic burger and fries for Vaughn. At the last minute, he added two slices of chocolate cake.

  I was picking at Vaughn’s fries when Rose and Thorn slid into empty chairs at the table next to us.

  “What’s the matter, little witch?” Thorn asked. Her head tilted to the side inquiringly. I was relieved to see that there was no sign of her dagger, but I was pretty sure she had it hidden underneath her clothes somewhere.

  I glared at her. “Where’d you run off to yesterday?” I asked. “Did you set me up?”

  The server came by to take their order, but Thorn waved her away.

  “You think we would betray you?” Rose frowned.

  I held her gaze. “I don’t know.”

  “We were required to be somewhere else,” Thorn said.

  “You let Fang grab me and take me to his lair.”

  “From the look of it, you handled that just fine,” Thorn said. “Apart from the cleanup, which we handled for you. You’re welcome.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “I’m sure vampire is hard to get out of…everything.”

  “We can help you find your friend,” Rose offered.

  “That’s what you said last time.”

  “She’ll turn up at one of their shows sooner or later,” Thorn said.

  Vaughn put a comforting arm around my shoulders.

  “Friendship is a powerful bond,” Rose said solemnly. “You should not discount its power.”

  “And you shouldn’t feel guilty about killing Fang,” Thorn said.

  “Because he was already dead?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “Because he was a monster. It was for the good of humanity.”

  “It doesn’t feel like it,” I murmured.

  “That’s because you’re not a monster,” Thorn said.

  I looked down, overwhelmed by the fear she was wrong. My phone was on the table, so I picked it up and searched The Drainers’ social media posts for clues. Rose and Thorn said they were needed elsewhere, and they left.

  Natasha, the leader of the Bleeders, was someone I’d never met yet disliked intensely just from the content of her Instagram feed. She posted nasty comments about other Bleeders and took way too many selfies with the band, which usually featured one of them biting some part of her body.

  I followed her anyway, because I was desperate for a clue about Skyler’s whereabouts. She was either part of the problem—the problem being bloodsucking vampires who fed on and murdered girls—or a vain, clueless follower
who was oblivious to the pain of other people.

  It was worth it, though, because she’d also posted that The Drainers were holding auditions for a fill-in drummer while Fang “recuperated” from the flu. Could vampires even get the flu? And Fang wouldn’t be “recuperating” from what I’d done to him. I was sure of that.

  My mind flashed to that room—the kidnapped girl, the wall stained with blood—but I forced it back to saving Skyler. I wouldn’t kill to rescue her, but maybe if we hung out with the band, we could get what we needed to break Travis’s hold over her. I thought about trying to make her come with us, but she’d just go back to him the first chance she got.

  Did their fans realize the boys in the band were real vampires, or did they think it was just a marketing ploy, like that son-of-darkness shtick that headbanging band Granny liked had done? In any case, The Drainers needed a new drummer—and I happened to know just the person.

  “Vaughn, weren’t you in a band?” I asked casually. I already knew the answer to my question. I’d mooned over Vaughn playing the guitar enough times. “Don’t you also play the drums?”

  “Yeah. Years ago.” He was focused on his chocolate cake, but something about my question made him look up quickly. “Why do you ask?”

  In response, I handed him my phone with the “Drainers need a drummer” audition notice.

  He read it quickly and then practically shoved the phone at me. “No way, Tansy,” he said, but I gave him a pleading look.

  “We need to infiltrate the band,” I said. “Then I’ll cast a spell to break the hold Travis has on Skyler and we’ll take her home.”

  “You know why I quit the band back in middle school?”

  “I thought it was because you were too busy with sports and helping your dad,” I said.

  “Stage fright,” he replied. “I felt like puking every single time I got onstage.” He studied me for a minute. “But I’ll do it for Skyler,” he said. “And for you. I’d do anything for you.”

  And just like that, my little crush on Vaughn Sheridan turned into an avalanche of feeling. How could I keep resisting him any longer?

  “What will you do while I’m off being a rock star?” Vaughn joked. “Assuming I get the gig, that is?”

  I batted my eyelashes at him. “I’ll be your devoted girlfriend.”

  “I like the sound of that,” Vaughn said softly.

  So do I.

  “Now, finish your dessert,” I said. “We have some shopping to do.”

  We ended up—despite Vaughn’s protests—at Goodwill, searching for the perfect audition outfit.

  “Remember, I haven’t played the drums since middle school,” he said.

  I considered that for a minute. “Then you’ll get the gig for sure. The Drainers sound like they haven’t touched their instruments in years, despite all evidence to the contrary.”

  “What exactly are we looking for?” he asked while I thumbed through a rack of dress pants.

  “I’m going for a pretentious-asshole vibe,” I said. “So you’ll fit in with the rest of the guys.”

  “You think they know Fang’s”—he made an explosion motion with his hands—“or do they think he’s holed up with a groupie somewhere?”

  I wondered if The Drainers had any true fans or if every one of them had been compelled into their superfan status.

  I shrugged. “Travis knows. You’ll go in and chat up some of the Bleeders who’re sure to be hanging around and see if you can find anything out about Sky.”

  Vaughn gave me a sarcastic thumbs-up.

  “These look promising,” I said, holding up a pair of synthetic leather pants.

  He read the tag. “They’re a size too small.”

  “Even better,” I said. I draped them over my arm and then perused the men’s shirts. There wasn’t anything frilly enough there, so I drifted to the women’s stuff. I almost collided with a life-size mannequin wearing a tight white bustier and black stovepipe pants. It looked like something Natasha would wear to show off her bite marks, and I made a face.

  I found a white silky blouse, extra-extra-large with a bunch of ruffles down the front. Vaughn could leave it unbuttoned, which would be the only way it would fit his broad shoulders. I was going for Russell Brand circa Forgetting Sarah Marshall.

  “Go try these on,” I ordered.

  “I’m gonna look like I flunked pirate school,” he complained, but he went into the dressing room anyway.

  I was checking for messages on my phone when Vaughn summoned me. “Tansy, get in here.”

  “Come out so I can see.”

  “There’s no way I’m appearing in public in these,” he said. “Help me. Now.”

  I knocked on the dressing-room door. “Are you decent?”

  “Decent is a relative term,” he said, sounding aggrieved. “I’m fully clothed, if that’s what you mean.”

  I opened the door, then let out a low whistle, and he blushed. The pants clung to his long legs and tight butt.

  “Tansy, my junk is somewhere near my kidneys right now.”

  There was a lot of tan chest on display, and I wanted to linger to appreciate every inch, but Vaughn really did look like he was in pain. “Okay, I’ll see if I can find something a little roomier.”

  It took a few minutes, but I found a similar pair of pants in a larger size and brought them back to Vaughn. “Here you go,” I said cheerfully. He huffed a little but grabbed the clothes and went into the dressing room.

  After a few minutes, he called out grudgingly, “These will work.”

  “It’s for Skyler,” I called back.

  “Then I’ll wear whatever you want me to.” He was a good friend. He came back out wearing his own clothes. “The tryouts don’t start until after sunset, right?”

  “Right,” I said.

  “Then there’s still time to shop for you,” he said, heading to the women’s section before I could open my mouth to protest.

  “I can’t go,” I said. “Travis and the guys know what I look like.”

  He held up a long black wig. “Not if you wear this.” He scanned the clothes racks, and I knew what he’d found when his face lit up with a grin. “And this.”

  He motioned to the bustier-clad mannequin I’d noticed earlier. “There’s no way that will fit me,” I protested.

  “You never know until you try,” he said. I thought about arguing until he threw my words back at me. “For Sky.” I made a gimme motion and went into an empty dressing room. I changed and then sat on the little bench. Maybe if I was quiet, Vaughn would forget all about me.

  “Let me see,” Vaughn insisted.

  “No way,” I said.

  “I showed you mine.”

  “Yes, yes you did.” I giggled, and he let out a bark of laughter.

  “I showed you my outfit,” he clarified.

  I sighed. “Come on in, then.” The clothes fit, although the tight bustier made my boobs land somewhere near my chin, and I could barely take in a breath for fear of a nip slip.

  “I look like Morticia Addams in this,” I said. I tugged at the bodice, but it wouldn’t budge.

  “Exactly,” he replied. “You’ll fit right in.”

  “I guess,” I said. I felt twitchy, though. These pants felt way too slippery.

  Vaughn didn’t say anything for a long minute. “You won’t be able to run in that,” he finally said.

  “I can barely breathe in it, so no,” I replied.

  “Let’s find something a little more comfortable,” he said. “But keep the wig.”

  I smiled at him gratefully. Vaughn understood my discomfort but didn’t tease me about it.

  “I need something that will hide my necklace,” I said. “I don’t want any of the guys in the band to recognize it.” Travis had reacted badly to it before.

&nb
sp; We settled on short shorts and a silky top that, though it revealed more skin than I was used to, had adequate coverage and didn’t put my nipples in danger of making a public appearance.

  We started getting ready just before sunset. Vaughn even let me put a little guyliner on him.

  For my own look, I went with red lips and lots of cat’s-eye liner and darkened my eyebrows to match my wig. I even remembered to dab some concealer on my neck. The puncture marks had faded, but there was a tiny golden scar that I wanted to hide.

  “You look like a different person,” he said.

  “That’s the idea,” I argued. “You have the whole hot-rocker thing going for you, too.”

  I’d slicked his hair into a fauxhawk and grabbed a couple of cheap leather bracelets and put them on his wrists.

  “Do you think Travis will recognize me?” Vaughn asked. He started to run his hands through his hair and then seemed to remember I’d just styled it and stopped.

  “It was dark,” I said. “Plus, he was concentrating on me, and he probably only caught a glimpse of you before you threw that soda can at him.”

  “My pitching skills come in handy once again,” Vaughn replied.

  We studied each other.

  “I prefer the way you usually look,” he said.

  “Me too,” I said. Even though I’d opted out of the bustier, I still couldn’t wear my necklace. The last time I’d been without it, Travis had taken a bite out of me, so I stashed it in a tiny clutch, along with a pair of folding travel scissors and some plastic baggies, in case I got close enough to give a vampire a haircut.

  “I’d like to feed Travis a fistful of garlic,” I said.

  “With a stake chaser,” Vaughn said.

  I tugged on Vaughn’s hand. “There’s one other thing I need,” I said. “We’ll make a quick stop at the gift shop.” In the elevator, I couldn’t stop staring at him. He was my boyfriend, even if only a pretend one.

  The gift shop had a small selection of high-end perfumes.

  “I need your help to pick out the strongest perfume,” I told Vaughn. “Nothing that smells fruity.”

  “Good call,” he said. “I might put my fist through Travis’s face if I hear him rhapsodizing about how good you smell one more time.”