by Mari Mancusi
“Nothing. I just find him pretty much the most annoying vampire to walk the face of the Earth.”
“But why? He seems so harmless.”
“Sunny, don’t be fooled. His bite is much worse than his bark.”
Race returns to our table. “Okay,” he says. “I talked to Suki. She says this Blood Bar’s velvet rope is the tightest in town. Only celebs and politicians even have a chance. But she thinks maybe she can score you a guest pass to the Harajuku Bite Club tomorrow night. Can you wait that long?”
The two of us look at Jayden. He nods weakly. “I think so,” he says.
“I guess we have no choice,” Rayne adds. “So what, we meet back here?”
Race shakes his head. “The girls over there belong to the Cosplay Coven.” He hands Rayne a folded piece of paper. “Here’s the address. Suki wants you to meet them after sundown. They’ll take you to Bite Club from there. Unfortunately,” he adds, “I have a concert tomorrow night. I won’t be able to join you.”
“How tragic,” Rayne mutters.
I look over at the girls, who are watching with curious expressions on their faces. “Are you sure we can trust them?” I ask.
Race grins cockily. “Do you have any choice?”
15
After plopping down a huge tip for the waiter, the three of us exit the restaurant. (And are subsequently chased down by said waiter, who hands me back my extra yen. Turns out the whole tipping thing in Japan is not done. In fact, it can be seen as a sign of dishonor. Weird, huh? Personally, if I were him, I’d just take the money and run. Especially after having to deal with my annoying twin sister. He earned his money that night, big-time, just for not spitting in her drink.)
We say our good-byes to Rayne, who jumps in a cab to cut west across town and get back to Shinjuku and her luxury hotel. Jayden and I, on the other hand, are back on the subway, heading toward our little ryokan. Rayne did offer to try to get us a new reservation at a nearby Best Western, I but figured it was easier to just stay where we are at this point. Besides, I have to admit, the place is growing on me. Like a cozy little nest for just the two of us.
Jayden sleeps for most of the subway ride and then listlessly shuffles down the main road toward the ryokan. I study him worriedly as we stop at a crosswalk. Under the streetlights, his skin looks almost translucent and the hollows under his eyes are as deep as the Grand Canyon. When we get back to our room, he plops down on the futon mat in exhaustion.
“How are you feeling?” I ask worriedly.
He looks up, trying to put on a brave face. “Fine.” “You don’t look fine. You look terrible.”
“Thanks.”
I climb onto my own futon, propping myself on my side with my elbow. “You know what I mean,” I protest, poking him playfully. Just a small tap, but it nearly knocks him over. My teasing face sobers. “Seriously, Jayden. Are you going to make it ’til tomorrow?”
He rolls onto his back and stares up at the low ceiling. “I don’t have any choice, do I?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I could try to catch you a rat or something. They’ve got to have rats here, right? Even though, to be honest, I don’t know what they’d eat, the streets are so freaking clean...”
“I don’t want a rat, Sunny.”
“A cat? Though I think they might be sacred here. Or lucky. I guess it’d be lucky to find a cat to feed you...”
Jayden manages to throw a pillow at me.
I sigh. This sucks. And I can’t even feed him my own blood, because the whole syringe/blood bag thing is back in England.
Unless... “Jayden,” I say softly.
For a moment I think he’s already fallen asleep. Then I hear a quiet. “Yeah?”
“What about my blood?”
“I thought you said you were too low.” “I feel much better today. I think I can give a little.” “But we don’t have the syringe.”
“I know but... what if you took it the old-fashioned way?”
His eyes widen. “I couldn’t. I mean, remember what happened last time? And here there’d be no Magnus to save you...”
I swallow hard, wondering if I’m sure what I’m saying. Once I make the offer, there’s no turning back. But if I don’t, I’m not sure Jayden will live through the night.
“Well, you’ve had training since then,” I remind him. “You had no problem sampling from that girl back at the coven and letting her go afterward.”
“Yeah, sure, but I don’t love her,” Jayden blurts out. Wait—what? What did he just say? My heart starts pounding in my chest with the intensity of an 808 drum. “Jayden—”
His pale face pinkens. If he wasn’t a vampire, I imagine he’d be tomato red at this point. “Never mind,” he says quickly. “I can probably drink from you. If you’re willing to risk it, that is.”
At this point, I’m scarcely interested in the drinking discussion. I want to know more about his slip of the tongue. Does he really love me? What about Elizabeth? If he does love me, why did he kiss her? Well, kiss me thinking he was kissing her. But if he loved me he wouldn’t have tried to do that, right? Unless somehow deep inside he knew it was me, but pretended he didn’t so he could kiss me without any consequence.
This is so confusing. I shake my head. Don’t go there, Sunny. Why torture him and make him admit something that won’t do him any good? Loving me is probably a noose around his neck right about now. And if I press the issue, I’ll probably end up choking him.
So I let it go. But inside, I have to admit, I do feel a little warmer.
“Okay, let’s do this,” I tell him, back to the matter at hand. “Um, where do you want to bite? My arm? My leg?”
He manages to sit up on his mat, looking at me with sleepy green eyes, framed by lashes way too long for a boy. Smiling shyly, he points at my neck.
I bite my lower lip. “There? Really?”
He shrugs. “The blood there is the most powerful, according to the girls,” he says simply. But I wonder, suddenly, if he’s telling the whole truth about that.
I guess it doesn’t matter. “Okay,” I say, my hands shaking as I pull back my hair. I draw in a deep breath. “Okay. Whenever you’re ready, I’m—”
I gasp. Unable to finish my sentence as he leans into me, taking me firmly into his arms and pressing his face to my neck. At first it tickles, the brush of lips against sensitive skin. Then there’s a sting.
And then there’s the ecstasy.
My head swims in rapture as sunlight flames around me in the middle of the dark room. Heavy warmth envelops me, stealing my breath. A thousand fingers tangling through my hair. My toes curl, my mouth gapes. My eyes roll to the back of my head. I’m like a new baby come into the world. But at the same time, the oldest, wisest soul leaving it behind. I’m a wild deer, running free through an emerald forest. A sleek silverfish diving into the ocean’s depth. A giant bird, soaring through the crystal-blue sky.
“Oh, Jayden,” I murmur huskily.
Suddenly the light turns off. The glow fades, the feeling ends. And I’m back in the small, cramped ryokan. Back to the girl I always was.
“Oh my God,” I cry, reaching up to feel my neck. “That was incredible. Even better than the first time.” I shiver. The room suddenly seems to have dropped in temperature about twenty degrees and I’m desperate to get that warmth back. I crawl after Jayden, who’s retreated to the other end of the room and is hugging his knees together, a distraught look on his face and a drop of blood dripping down his chin.
“Jayden, you stopped too soon,” I tell him. “I have plenty left. Drink some more. Come on.”
He scowls. “I’m not thirsty anymore.”
“What?” My heart wrenches with a sudden, startling sense of abandonment. “Of course you are. You didn’t drink nearly enough. I understand you didn’t want to go too far, but instead you left too soon. Drink some more. Please.” I know I’m begging, but I can’t help it. All I can think about are his gorgeous fangs, attached firmly to my neck.
>
“I’m fine, Sunny,” he asserts. “Just go to sleep.” “Jayden, you’re being unreasonable here! I have plenty more blood to give.”
“Then go give it to someone else, you crackhead,” he mutters, getting up and walking out of the room, sliding the door shut loudly behind him. In the distance, I can hear his heavy footsteps stomp down the hall.
What on Earth did I do to make him so mad?
16
“Are you ready yet?” I call out to my sister, who’s locked herself in the tiny ryokan bathroom for the last forty-five minutes. For someone who supposedly scorns all things fashion, she sure takes a long time picking out her outfits.
The door opens. Rayne pokes her head out, her black hair sticking out at every angle. She catches sight of me and scowls. “Sunny, you’re still in your pajamas. How can you ask me if I’m ready?”
“Please. I’ll be ready in five minutes, if I could just gain access to the bathroom.”
Rayne clicks her teeth in disapproval. “Didn’t we go over this already? You can’t just wear your boring old jeans and flip-flops when visiting real Harajuku vampires. If you’re not dressed like some manga or anime character, they’re going to think you’re an outsider.”
“Right. Because my blond hair and American accent won’t have already given that away.”
Rayne sighs. “Come on, Sun,” she begs. “Try to be a good sport. We’re infiltrating a foreign vampire coven here. At least try to play the part.”
“You know,” I say, “this is strangely reminiscent of that first night at Club Fang when you talked me into wearing a BITE ME T-shirt to ‘blend in.’ Do I have to remind you how that turned out?”
Rayne rolls her eyes and retreats back to the bathroom. I glance over at Jayden and grin. He laughs and shakes his head.
Early that morning, just before sunrise, he returned to the ryokan, full of apologies and regret for leaving like he did. I, in turn, apologized for my own weird addictlike response to his blood drinking and we both decided drinking blood from the source was just a bad idea for everyone involved and the next time he needed a fix, we’d get it through a needle again. After more murmured apologies we fell asleep, side by side, only to wake up at dusk with my sister banging on the door. There was still more to be said—like addressing those three little words hanging over our heads like an elephant in the room, for example—but they’d have to wait. First, he needed his blood.
A few minutes later, Rayne flounces out of the bathroom, wearing a gorgeous short red-and-black kimono-like dress, fluffed out with large petticoats. Her hair has been straightened to an inch of its life and her copious black eye makeup is stunning. I have to admit, she made the most of her time in there.
Jayden gives a low whistle. “Wow, Rayne, you look hot,” he teases.
My sister’s cheeks color into a blush. “Well, when in Rome,” she says. “Or in Tokyo, Japan, in this case.”
“Well, now that you’re done, let’s talk about me,” I say with a small grin, a delicious plan forming in my mind. I grab her iPad and hand it over to her. “Show me the kind of outfit you think I should be wearing.”
She grabs the iPad and sits down on the floor, cross-legged, firing up Google Images and typing in “Harajuku Cosplay.” The screen fills with Japanese teens in colorful costumes. Boys with oversized prop swords and spiky blue hair. Girls with lacy dresses and parasols, holding up signs that read FREE HUGS! Manga characters come to life. I have to admit, they look pretty cool.
“How about her?” I ask, pointing to a picture of a girl in frilly pink-and-white dress with a big bow in her hair. The caption underneath her reads SWEET LOLLI, and she’s way more my style than some of the Gothy-looking ones.
Rayne peers down at the photo. “Sure,” she says with a shrug. “I mean, she’d be perfect, of course. But unless you went out for a daytime shopping spree after I left you, I’m guessing you don’t own—”
I snap my fingers. Rayne and Jayden stare at me, mouths agape.
“Oh my God,” my sister gasps. “How’d you do that?” Jayden adds.
I fluff up my new golden curls and straighten my flouncy dress, enjoying their shocked faces. “Fairy powers are so useful when it comes to keeping up with fashion trends.”
“You can shape-shift?” Rayne cries.
I nod. “Of course, I need to have a point of reference. A person, a photo...”
“That is so not fair! All I got for stupid fairy powers is the inability to lie. Which, obviously, isn’t a power at all, but a crippling weakness that is bound to bring about my doom.”
I laugh, scrambling to my feet. “Poor Rayne. Life’s so tough for you.” I walk over to the door. “Now come on, let’s head to Harajuku!”
We crisscross the city by subway and exit at Harajuku Station. Rayne’s practically dancing in excitement as she gapes at all the teens in their costumes. It’s so strange how they just congregate here. Like a living, breathing art exhibit for all the tourists to see. And the variety in their outfits is mind- boggling. From giggling girls in pretty light pink and blue dresses, similar to my own, to scary girls in gas masks and military gear. Most are wearing brightly colored wigs, but some of them have sculpted their own hair into manga-esque spikes that defy gravity. Almost all of them carry rollaway bags, which I assume means they changed into their costumes in a nearby bathroom, not at home, for their parents to object.
“This is so cool,” Rayne breathes, her eyes darting from group to group, as if desperate to take in every detail. “Why don’t people do this in America?”
“Come on,” I say, grabbing her arm. “We can do the tourist thing later. Right now we have to find Race’s friends and get Jayden some blood.” I glance back at my friend. He’s already lost some of the color he gained from my blood the night before and definitely looks in need of a refill.
My sister nods and pulls out her hand-drawn map. “Okay,” she says. “According to this, we have to head down Takeshita Dori here. She points to a narrow pedestrian-only street milling with Japanese teens. “It’s on a small street off the main drag.”
Jayden and I follow her lead and soon we’re dodging tourists in a kind of outdoor mall, with two stories of storefronts selling everything from sundresses and thigh-high stockings to dark, bondage-looking Goth gear, complete with metal buckles and shiny studs. We pass bubble tea shops galore, a McDonald’s, and street carts selling about a billion varieties of crepes. There are also a ton of clothing shops, selling T-shirts with English phrases that just don’t make any sense. Of course, Japanese kids probably feel the same way when they come to America and see everyone with kanji tattoos that are supposed to mean “peace” and “Zen” but probably really mean “stupid” and “naive.”
“Hang on a second,” I cry to Rayne and Jayden, over the bad’70s American rock spilling out over the airways. I stop at the crepe shop and pick out a strawberry-and-crème-flavored one. As a fairy, my sweet tooth has grown about 300 percent and I crave sugar as much as vampires crave blood. And luckily, as a fairy, I’ll never gain an ounce, no matter how much I eat, thanks to a magical nectar elixir fairy scientists concocted that literally dissolves fat cells. Meaning fairies can eat all they want—and never have to count carbs.
Which is good, seeing as right now, as Jayden’s blood donor, I need all the nutrients I can get.
Once I get my dessert, the three of us cut behind the main drag and into a small, unassuming neighborhood. It’s hard to believe just walking a street over can make such a difference in atmosphere. Here, small houses and apartment buildings line the quiet streets.
“This is the place,” Rayne says, stopping in front of a small cinder-block home. It’s boxy and ugly, styled in a sort of ’80s modern design. So not the type of place I’d imagine a Japanese vampire coven to call home.
My sister rings the bell and a moment later, a little girl, probably about nine years old, answers the door and bows low. “Konbanwa,” she greets solemnly, which I remember from my phrase b
ook means “Good evening.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I say, a little taken aback. The girl is dressed like a Japanese schoolgirl—the real kind, not the slutty manga kind—and has her hair parted into two silky braids. “We must have the wrong place...”
“Rayne? Sunny? Jayden?” The girl squeals in a high-pitched but perfectly spoken English. She bounces up from her bow as if her feet were made of springs. “So glad to meet you! Race has told me so much about you.” She smiles widely, revealing a set of blindingly white fangs.
Whoa. I glance at my sister, shocked beyond belief. This is only the second time I’ve ever seen a child vampire in real life. They’re extremely rare and totally illegal—at least in the United States. In fact, Slayer Inc. sees them as an abomination and is always trying to wipe their kind off the face of the Earth.
“My name is Amaya,” the girl adds, tossing her long black braid over her shoulder. “It means ‘night rain.’” She winks at my sister. “We have much in common, you and I.”
The look on Rayne’s face tells me she finds it hard to believe that she and some little vampire kid have anything in common besides evidently sharing a name, but she recovers quickly and bows to Amaya. “Nice to meet you. I’m Rayne. But I guess you already know that.”
Amaya giggles in that way that only Japanese schoolgirls can giggle. “Follow me,” she instructs. “The others are dying to meet you—” She catches herself and giggles again. “Well, I suppose, to be fair, they are all already dead.”
I can’t help but giggle back. Vampire humor still cracks me up.
Our little hostess turns and leads us through the small but tastefully decorated home, done up in minimalist style with low couches and tables, soft lighting, and bamboo screens covering floor-to- ceiling windows. Everything is clean and dainty with no clutter whatsoever. I could never live in a place like this—I feel like I would trash it just by breathing.
