Better Off Undead

by D. R. Perry

  “Um, Irina?” I stood between her and Matt. “Now is not really a good time.”

  “You’re right.” She crossed her arms. “A good time to let Margot Malone interview you would have been yesterday. Or really any time since the night I told you about Fred’s deal, maybe.”

  “Okay, I get it. But we have to practice, and having a human here is pretty distracting.” I shot a glare at Matt. "For those of us who're too busy to bother filling up before practice."

  “Um, but Al’s sitting right there.” Irina shrugged. “No one’s biting him.”

  I sighed, not wanting to explain.

  “I’m masking my scent and heartbeat with faerie magic.” Sir Al to the rescue, go go Gadget chivalry. “You don’t have glamour.”

  “I might not, but I can do this.” Irina tapped her foot on the floor, her rhythm perfect, of course.

  “Woah.” Matt made a face and dropped the now-empty blood bag in the trash. “I’m not hungry anymore.”

  “Well, duh.” Pete rolled his eyes. “You just had a bag.”

  “I needed more blood than that, though.” Matt narrowed his eyes. “What are you, Psychic?”

  “Empathy, dude.” Irina tapped her nose in perfect time with her foot. Al laughed. Well, sort of. Guys that stiff and formal don’t exactly laugh, they just chuckle without moving their faces, as if being straight-laced is social armor. And people think punks like us are weird.

  “Well, I guess you can stay if you want to.” I shook my head. “But I don’t have time for interviews. We have less than three weeks to practice before the big event. We also have to worry about where we’re staying.”

  “Yeah, our days of sleeping in the van ended the night we all got turned.” Matt pulled his guitar back around and strummed a few chords.

  “Let me worry about that.” Irina chewed her lower lip, foot still tapping. “I have a couple of ideas.” She pulled out her phone, then continued talking as she sent out a message. “Just worry about getting everything together musically. From what I heard out in the hall, you guys need the practice.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Matt stared so hard laser beams could have shot through Irina’s face. He reminded me of a mean girl.

  “It means all of you are off your game for some reason.” She shrugged, leaning against the doorframe again. “You’ll figure it out, though.”

  “Wait. What do you mean, all of us?” I knew perfectly well what had me distracted. Della. I didn't know exactly what was up with Matt. Maybe he'd joined a fight club? But he'd obviously been in a brawl, healed his injuries, and gotten hungry. “Pete? Dave? Is there something you guys aren’t telling us?”

  “Uh, well.” The drummer scratched the back of his head, looking at his bass pedal.

  “Spill it.” I put my hands on my hips, trying to look authoritative. The neck of my Epiphone tilted down and whacked me in the knee. I winced. At least Pete was still looking down.

  “I got an Incomplete. Got a make-up test to take.” Pete glanced up, then away again. “Dunno how I’m gonna pass.”

  “We get you a tutor, that’s how.” I knew Lynn Frampton had helped Bobby Tremain ace a final he’d slept through all the notes for. I could see if she was available. “What about you?” I turned my glare to our bassist.

  “Um, you know that trip I had to cancel, right?” Dave sighed, then dug his wallet out of his back pocket. He opened it and showed us a small photo of an attractive woman with a fanged smile.

  “You sly dog!” Pete threw his head back and laughed. “The long nights weren’t the only thing you wanted from Australia!”

  “Well, I bet Natalie will never talk to me again now.” Dave sighed.

  “Didn’t you tell her what’s going on here?” I rolled my eyes. It all seemed so simple to me. “And that plane ticket. You could have swapped the destinations and put it in her name. Invited her here.”

  “What, to see us lose?” Dave put his hand over his mouth, his eyes wide behind his glasses. "Sorry, Lane."

  “No, it’s okay.” I shook my head. “I feel the same way. And the only thing that will change our chances is practice, so let’s shake off this funk and get it done.”

  A chorus of protests, mostly starting with the word “but,” rose all around me. It felt like the time I’d been cornered and kicked around by an anti-vamp gang until the cops showed up. I almost caved and stormed out, but couldn’t. The Gattos wouldn’t let up just because Dave had girl trouble and Pete had grade problems. And Matt decided to act like Tyler Durden.

  “You.” I pointed at Pete. “I know smart people. I’m getting you a tutor. And you.” I slapped Dave on the shoulder. “I’m calling this Natalie chick and making sure she knows I’m the bad guy here. And you.” I glared at Matt. “Whatever your issue is, tell us about it so we can help. Otherwise, fix it yourself. If you don’t, we’ll have a lead violinist instead of a lead guitarist.”

  “Holy tough love, Lane!” Pete blinked. Irina snorted a laugh.

  “Don’t laugh, Kazynski.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “You’re coming to practice to learn our songs, just in case.”

  “Fine, but she won’t need to.” Matt gripped the neck of his guitar so hard I worried he might snap a string. “I’ll deal.” His fingers moved back into place, and he started the opening riff again. This time, we got through half our original material before the clock told us it was time to head home.

  Five days later, Tony Gitano sat on the stool once occupied by Sir Al. Actually, he slouched. His face exuded boredom, but he kept tapping his feet to our music. I could tell we’d improved our performance on our originals even though none of us had realized how rusty we’d gotten at them.

  The little red light on Tony’s phone meant he was recording. I had no idea what he’d do with the video or audio recording and I didn’t have time to care. Vampires with their feet to the fire shouldn’t stand still, even when said flames were figurative. And I had to admit it might turn literal. The Gattos surely knew all the vampire weaknesses well. They weren’t in the business of supernatural leverage for nothing. If Tony’s dad wanted us to win, then we’d better. The last thing I wanted was getting our ashes handed to us.

  I wondered for about the billionth time whether we could pull out a victory. Even though I hadn’t known Jack Steele was a vampire while he taught me chords and time signatures, he’d always intimidated me. He was big, almost a bulky as Pete. The Gatto Gang had to have some enforcers who could put some hurt on Jack if they really wanted him to lose. But something about that idea bothered me. When we finished our new and improved rendition of Points, I called for a break.

  “Hey, Tony?” I glanced at the phone and the red recording light.

  “Yeah, what’s up?” Tony tapped the screen and the light went out.

  “Why are the, um, well, your dad’s employees, um, well…” I wasn’t sure how to phrase the question without sounding like I had a problem with Tony.

  “You wanna know why the pressure’s on you and not on Jack Steele and his egotistically named band.” Tony raised an eyebrow, the ghost of a smirk on his lips.

  “Yeah, something like that.” I let out a whole lungful of breath I’d been in denial about holding.

  “Too conspicuous.” Tony tucked the phone in his trench-coat pocket. “Bad enough the band you’re replacing has injuries. If the same thing happened to Jack or his dudes, the fuzz would get suspicious.”

  “Man, I can’t believe you basically just called Newport’s Finest ‘the fuzz.’” I shook my head, snorting at the situational comedy.

  “Fuzz, coppers, the po-po, bacon, blue-men group, whatever. And from what I hear, they’re nice and cozy with old Jack. Too much heat in that kitchen.” Tony waved a hand. “But I gotta ask, why are you changing the subject when you’re the one who brought it up?”

  “Thought you gave me an answer already.” I shrugged.

  “Ha!” Tony slapped his knee. “I got so used to Blaine Harcourt style interrogations
about everything from my motives to my hairstyle, I guess I expect more prying. I’m a hinky cat-man, you know. Everyone in the Tinfoil Hat Pack is supposed to worry about whether they can trust me.”

  “Well, after what you did for Fred, I don’t have that problem.” I looked him right in the eye. “I trust you.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t.” Tony met my gaze, not blinking or looking away. “That many brainy PPC Dean’s Listers must know something, right?”

  “They know plenty about books, research, and other academic mumbo-jumbo.” I smiled. “You’re not a course of study, man. I’m not all that sure why you let them treat you like one.”

  “I got no choice.” Tony shook his head, finally cutting his eyes away. “They treat me exactly the way they should at this point. And I’m trying to tell you, copying them is a good idea. Walk the walk and talk the talk, even if you’re faking it.”

  “I’ll take your advice.” I nodded. “Just don’t forget that I’m doing it because I believe you.”

  “It’s good to know someone on this plane of existence does.” Tony waved his hand again, this time in more of a shooing gesture. “Now, get outta my face, and act more like you’re pissed that I might be spying on you. Because I probably am.”

  “Geez, Tony.” I rolled my eyes. “Whatever.”

  I stalked back to my place behind the microphone, then counted to three. Night Creatures played on.

  Chapter Four

  Hotel Vampirella

  “Welcome to the Hotel.” The perky brunette with the high-neck sweater smiled, revealing nary a fang in her highly polished head. “What can I do for you?”

  “Um, hi.” I tried talking without moving my lips much. I didn’t want to scare this lady, especially if she’d be got to decide whether we got room service or not. “I’m Lane Meyer.”

  “Oh. My. God!” The woman’s perpetual smile got even bigger, a feat I hadn’t thought possible. “I love that movie! The one with John Cusack and that awful young woman who dumped him for a skier.”

  “That’s great.” It wasn’t. I hated that movie almost as much as the reminder that the protagonist I’d been named after while my mom was zonked on labor medication had gotten himself dumped, just like me.

  “Anyway, here are your room keys.” She held an envelope with what I assumed were four of those little plastic cards in it by one corner, dangling it between us like a dog treat. I understood.

  “Gee, thanks!” I tilted my head to one side like the RCA mutt and tried to imagine a tail wagging behind me. “We sure do appreciate your hospitality here.” I held my hand out under the envelope, glad I couldn’t flush with anger at being treated like a performing lapdog instead of a sentient, if undead, person.

  When she finally let the packet of keys fall into my waiting palm, I stifled a sigh of relief. If I had to act like a moron to get service here, I would. This hotel was the only place in Newport offering lightless rooms, not to mention the place Irina had arranged for us on the cheap. Which actually meant free. It was either stay here or dig a hole on the beach.

  Luckily, the peanut gallery kept itself quiet enough to hear a pin drop. At least, they did until we headed down the flight of stairs to the basement and took a left to get to our rooms.

  “Welcome to the Hotel Vampirella,” Matt sang softly. I rolled my eyes. I didn’t hate The Eagles. Who could? But who wants to contemplate the idea that their stay might go sideways?

  “Yeah, okay, whatever.” I tossed one of the keys over my shoulder. A slap of two hands coming together and lack of plastic clatter meant one of them caught it. While listening, I noticed something else. “Hey, we’re not alone on this wing like we thought we’d be.”

  “Huh.” Pete’s hand came down on my shoulder, stopping my progress through the hall. “Sounds like a party’s going on.”

  “Yeah.” Dave stepped past me and jerked his chin at the door to my right. He was still bummed that Natalie hadn’t come to visit. But, at least she hadn’t broken up with him. “In there.”

  We all stopped, turning our heads toward the panel of wood marked 042. Sure enough, some music and a near-constant chatter came from the other side. I focused my aural attention on the rest of the hall, realizing the noise went farther than that. In fact, the entire even-numbered side seemed alive with sound. Life, too. I heard a gaggle of heartbeats.

  I glanced down at the envelope in my hand, confirming that our room ended in an odd number. Good old 045. I turned my back on all the ruckus, found our door, and slipped the key in the slot. When the click came, letting me know the magnetic stripe had disengaged the lock, I pulled down on the handle. But it was too late. I growled. Then, I heard the door across the hall open. I turned.

  “They’re heeeeeeeeeeeeeere!” The lame Poltergeist quote came straight out of Lynn Frampton, standing in the doorway to 042.

  “Oh, cool!” Bianca peeked over her head and waving at us all. “Horace says hi, guys!” She’d brought her favorite ghost on vacation.

  “Hoo, boy, they finally made it.” Olivia Adler yawned, rubbing her eyes before tugging at the hem of her pajama shirt.

  “Move along, nothing to see here.” Pete, Matt, and Dave got out of the way as Blaine Harcourt came down the hall with a keg of beer on his shoulder and another under his other arm. Lynn held the door open, then dragged an overstuffed backpack and a satchel out of the room after her.

  “We’re getting our study on, buddy.” The brainiac tossed that satchel at Pete. His drummer’s reflexes let him catch it even though he staggered back a step. “Irina’s orders. You’re turning that Incomplete into a passing grade. No excuses.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Pete nodded.

  “Hey, dudes.” A head popped out of the door to 044. I could hardly believe who I finally saw again.

  “Hells bells!” I dropped my bags in front of the door to our room and stomped over. “Ren Ichiro! I heard you came back from the dead.”

  “Not really, just back from the greatly exaggerated rumors of my death is all.” He grinned. “I’m a Selkie now, too. Water powers are spiffy.”

  “You and Beth married yet?” He’d been engaged to Josh Dennison’s big sister before he vanished a few years earlier. The Dennisons were all werewolves, and with Ren sporting new magic shifter abilities now, I figured he’d be considered even more of a catch.

  “Um.” Ren glanced around, opening and closing his mouth a few times.

  “Nope.” Kimiko poked her head out from under her brother’s arm. “Looks like I’m probably beating my dear brother in the Wedding Bell Invitational.” Kim dropped me a wink and blew a raspberry at Ren.

  “Can it, kiddo!” Beth’s blonde head emerged from 046, her face wearing a scowl caustic enough to remove paint. “Your brother’s not even in that race anymore.” Ren sighed, vanishing back through the doorway.

  “Hey, how many rooms did you guys rent, anyway?” I leaned against the wall, hoping all the noise would keep some shifters from overhearing my question.

  “All of them.” Kimiko smiled. “Well, the ones in this wing, anyway. We didn’t want any, ah, trouble." She squinted at a spot just over my shoulder, and I remembered she could literally see Luck. "With your competition.”

  “Trouble?” I narrowed my eyes. “Why would you think there’d be trouble?”

  “Don’t worry about it.” She flipped her hair over one shoulder. “It’s just, when Irina called Blaine for a place to stay, she thought he’d be able to put you up at the mansion. You know, where it's warded.”

  “That’s what I would have thought, too.” I raised an eyebrow. “If we didn’t want trouble, then why didn’t he?”

  “Hertha outmaneuvered him.” Kimiko shrugged. “She gave some lame excuse about it not being a long enough time for decency after losing Wilfred.”

  “Wow.” I’d almost forgotten that Blaine’s stepdad had died. “I’m sorry.”

  “Oh, don’t be.” Kimiko shook her head. “Hertha isn’t. She’s milking the entire situation f
or all it’s worth. Blaine hasn’t even been allowed home since Spring Break ended. His mom usually goes overseas every summer, but not this time, apparently.”

  “Wow.” I wasn’t sure what else to say. My own parents hadn’t given me any grief, doing huge renovations to make our house sun-safe once I got turned. They’d been awesome pretty much my whole life. I just couldn’t get my brain around the idea of parents turning their backs on their own flesh and blood or making their lives harder. Maybe that was why I thought she must have had a reason. From the look on Kimiko’s face, I shouldn’t mention it, though. I was probably the only one in the group with that opinion. “Anyway, I’d better thank him.”

  Except when I looked around for Blaine, he was gone. So were the kegs. I closed my eyes for a moment, using my nose to try to pinpoint the dragon shifter’s location. He was somewhere in the bank of connected rooms, but so were way more people than I’d expected.

  “Josh, Nox, Irina, Sir Al, Olivia…” I opened my eyes. “Pure faeries?” I blinked at Lynn since Kimiko had gone back through the door with Ren.

  “Yeah.” Lynn grinned. “Gee-Nome’s hiding in one of the bathrooms. There’s a Pixie I haven’t met, an imp, and heck, there’s even a Spite outside in the garden. Irina calls them Daryl, but I’m nicknaming them Scaryl.”

  “Hey.” I sniffed, realizing one scent was missing. “Where’s Tony?”

  “Oh, please.” Lynn put a finger over her lips. “Don’t say the T-word. Blaine vetoed him being here due to the risk of his temper causing him combustion issues. Fire is not good for the vampire complexion.”

  “But he’s still coming out to watch us play, right?”

  “Oh, yeah, our hinky neighborhood cat-man will be there.” She nodded. “He’s just staying someplace else.”

  “Okay, thanks.” I wondered what place she meant, specifically, and then I imagined him sleeping on the beach. That just wouldn’t be right. I figured I could call him and make sure, but not where Blaine could hear me. I headed down the hall, all the way to the corner where this wing met the other lightless one. And that’s when I smelled her.