by Mari Mancusi
He gives me a hopeful smile. “Oh, Sunny,” he says. “What would I do without you?” And my heart breaks all over again.
“Well, you’ll never have to worry about that,” I assure him firmly, so as not to crumble into a teary mess. I reach out to squeeze his hand.
“Okay, lovebirds, listen up,” Rayne interrupts. “I’ve found something that might work.”
“Oh?” I crawl over to her and look down at the iPad. “The Vampire Café? Are you kidding me?”
Rayne chuckles. “It’s a theme restaurant. Supposed to be like Dracula’s lair or something. But according to some of the vampire forums I just read, they supposedly have real blood on tap for the more... discriminating customer.”
“That’s awesome. Thanks, Rayne!” I turn to Jayden. “What do you think?”
But my friend is already passed out cold. I glance out the window. Sure enough, the first rays of sun are peeking through. I rise from my seat and pull the bamboo blinds closed.
“I guess he’s out for the day,” I tell my sister. “So we’ll hit the café tonight, if that works for you.”
Rayne nods. “I’ll do my best to sneak away,” she says. “But for now, I’ve got to get back to the Park Hyatt. They’ve got me and Jareth on day-missions, since none of the other vampires can go out then.” She glances at her watch. “My shift starts in less than an hour.”
As she rises to her feet I step over to hug her. “Thank you,” I say. “And I’m sorry I complained about the accommodations. They’re really quite charming, to be honest.”
“It’s okay. I’m used to you being the lame twin,” she teases as she hugs me back. I shove her away playfully.
“Now get the hell out of here and let me sleep.”
And so she climbs out of the room, sliding the door shut behind her. I reach into the closet to pull out the futon mattresses. Once I’ve got them set up into a cozy little nest, I drag Jayden’s sleeping figure onto one of them and pull a down comforter over his body, to further block out any stray rays of light. Then I curl up onto the other mat beside him and close my eyes.
But tired and jet-lagged as I am, I can’t sleep. And so I lie there, watching Jayden toss and turn in restless slumber.
“Sunny,” he murmurs in his sleep. “Oh, Sunny...” My heart full, I reach out and lay a hand on his arm, hoping my touch will soothe him, even in his sleep. A moment later, it seems to work and his body relaxes into a deeper phase of rest. I watch him for a while longer, taking in his tousled hair and sooty lashes brushing against his pale skin. He looks so innocent, so sweet. How could I have even thought to be mad at him?
“I’m going to make this work,” I promise him softly as my own body succumbs to my exhaustion at last. “I refuse to make you pay for my mistakes.”
13
The Vampire Café is located in the Ginza neighborhood of Tokyo, which is about as opposite of Asakusa as you can get. I’m talking luxury boutiques—Chanel, Louis Vuitton, Gucci, and a twelve-story (!) Abercrombie and Fitch. If Jayden weren’t so hungry, I’d so be shopping like a fiend.
We took the subway here and had a car almost all to ourselves after getting on and having Jayden shake and shiver like a heroin addict. He woke up with major blood withdrawal and it’s been getting worse ever since. Some Japanese women wearing surgical masks over their mouths gave him dirty looks before exiting to another car. Sadly, I couldn’t very well explain to them that vampirism isn’t exactly an airborne virus they could catch.
We meet up with Rayne outside the Ginza- itchôme Station, entering a world of bright lights and tall skyscrapers, to which my sister immediately turns up her nose in disgust. I think from her research she assumed Japan was one big charming manga full of boys and girls wearing cat ears, not a neon version of Fifth Avenue.
“Come on,” I say, grabbing her arm. “We’ve got to hurry.”
After wandering around a bit—Tokyo addresses are almost impossible to decipher, due to the fact that they’re based on a block system, rather than street address—we finally locate the building that houses the Vampire Café.
The three of us board the elevator and it slides open into a dark, mysterious restaurant. A Japanese hostess, dressed in a French maid’s uniform, greets us at the door and leads us inside.
Rayne lets out a low gasp as we step into the restaurant’s interior. The place is like her dream bedroom. All decked out in black and crimson with Gothic candelabras offering low mood lighting. In the center of the room is a life-sized, old-fashioned coffin, adorned with skulls and roses, and the black carpet has big red splotches that I guess are supposed to represent bloodstains.
Now, as you know, I myself am totally not into the whole Goth esthetic at all, but I have to admit, this place is pretty awesome, with many of the tables enclosed by red velvet curtains to give diners a sense of ultimate privacy. Our hostess leads us over to one of them, pulling back the curtains and allowing us to slide into our seats before closing the curtains once again, leaving us in a kind of cozy little cave. On the table are bloodred napkins, chopsticks, a candle, and a brass bell.
“If only Jareth were here,” Rayne swoons. “This is, like, the most romantic restaurant ever.”
“We’re not here for the five-star dining,” I remind her. “Especially since two out of the three of us can’t even eat food.”
“Yeah, yeah. Step on my rapture, why don’t you?”
I open my mouth to tease her some more, but at that moment the curtains part and a man, dressed in a butler’s uniform, starts chattering at us in rapid Japanese.
“No, no!” Rayne interrupts. “No habla Japanese.”
“That’s Spanish, you moron,” I point out, pulling the phrase book I bought at the airport out of my bag and frantically paging through.
“Eigo wo hanashimasu ka?” Do you speak English?
“Hai! A little,” he replies, looking excited but unsure. “You are American?”
We nod.
“You like blood... cocktail?” he asks.
Rayne gives me an excited glance. “Yes, please!” she says. “Two cups.”
“I’ll just take... um... mizu,” I add, after looking up the Japanese word for water. No blood for this fairy, thank you very much.
The waiter nods and backs away, the curtains slipping shut behind him. Rayne turns to Jayden and me, an ecstatic look on her face. “Oh my God, that was easier than I thought!” she gushes. “I guess I shouldn’t expect anything less from Tokyo. It’s so much cooler than the United States. I mean, they don’t even try to hide the fact that they’re serving vampires here, like Club Fang has to do back home.” She reaches out and grips Jayden’s forearm. “So awesome, huh?” she asks him. “We’ll get you fixed up in no time!”
The waiter returns a moment later with two dainty wineglasses filled with red liquid and my cup of water. Rayne and Jayden grab their drinks and each take an eager sip. Then they look at each other and set down their cups in apparent disgust.
“What?” I ask. “Not your blood type?”
“It’s wine,” Rayne replies in an overwhelmingly disappointed voice. “Like, real wine.” She looks up at the waiter. “I thought you said it was blood.” When the waiter looks back at her blankly, she grabs my phrase book from me and starts paging through. “Chi?”
The waiter nods and points to the glass. “Chi,” he assures her with a wide, naive smile. “You no like it?” Rayne sets down her glass, looking bummed. “No, I like it fine. It’s just not what I expected is all.”
The waiter shrugs, then scurries away, probably lamenting the fact he got stuck with the American table tonight. Rayne watches him go, scowling. “Wine,” she repeats scornfully.
“Come on, Rayne, what did you expect?” I ask. “This is a real restaurant. They’re not just going to have blood on the menu. The Japanese health department would shut them down in a heartbeat, I’m sure.” I pull open the curtain to spy on the rest of the place. In a corner, a group of Japanese teens are having what ap
pears to be a birthday party, complete with “bleeding” raspberry cake. “Face it.
This place is just a tourist trap, not a real vampire den.”
Rayne bites her lower lip. “That’s just their cover,” she says, unwilling, evidently, to give up. Her eyes scan the room. “The forums said they have blood on tap. Maybe it’s not in the main restaurant. Maybe they have a back door into a secret room. I don’t suppose your phrase book has how to say ‘blood bar’ in Japanese, does it?” She starts looking through the book again.
“Sure, it’s right after ‘Where’s the bathroom?’ in their list of top useful phrases,” I reply dryly. Rayne throws the book at my head.
At that moment, the waiter returns with our first course. Some kind of shrimp appetizer, swaddled in a plastic coffin and dripping in bloodred cocktail sauce. Genuine or no, I give this place an A+ for presentation.
“Do you know any vampires?” Rayne asks the poor waiter, evidently done with any attempts to speak his native tongue.
“Vampire!” He nods enthusiastically. Rayne’s eyes light up. “Where?”
He cocks his head in confusion, then makes a sweeping gesture around the restaurant. “Vampire... Café!” he says slowly, as if speaking to a dim- witted child. Which, of course, in this case isn’t far off the mark.
Rayne lets out a frustrated breath. “Well, where’s the back room? I heard there’s a Blood Bar here. Where’s the entrance to that?” She’s practically shouting now, falling into the trap so many tourists do—assuming that if they only speak louder, they’ll suddenly be understood.
But our waiter only looks baffled. “Bath-room?” he tries. Poor guy.
“No, no! I mean—”
“It’s okay,” I cut her off. “We’re fine,” I tell the waiter. “Domo arigato. Thank you.”
The waiter looks relieved and babbles something in Japanese that I assume is “Enjoy your meal” but very well could be “Go back to McDonald’s, you stupid American pigs.” I poke my appetizer with a chopstick, then take a tentative bite. Hmm, not bad. I chase it with Rayne’s glass of wine and then steal her appetizer off her plate. “Too bad you guys can’t eat,” I tell the two sulking vampires across from me. “This is pretty good.”
“A vampire restaurant is the stupidest idea ever,” my sister grumps. “Seeing as real vampires don’t eat.” She slumps back into her chair with a huff. “Maybe we should have tried somewhere else.” She pulls the curtain back, as if she wants to just leave then and there. I’m about to tell her that she can’t just up and walk away on the bill and, besides, I want to finish my meal, but then I notice that the birthday party people are all looking at us, and whispering furtively to one another. I also notice that none of them seem to be actually eating any of the cake in front of them, but the red sauce has been drained dry.
And they all have identical glasses of red wine. “Rayne,” I hiss. “Take a look at that group over there.”
Rayne stops climbing out of the booth and looks over in the direction of the party. “What, more stupid tourists? Who cares?”
“Yeah, but they keep looking at us and whispering.”
“Whatever. I’m so—” Rayne cuts off as she does a double take. “Wait a second,” she hisses. “Is that…” Her eyes widen in recognition. “Oh my God, it is! What the hell is he doing here?”
14
“Who?” I ask, trying to peek back through the curtains for someone recognizable at the party table, praying it’s not a member of the Blood Coven. But before I can scan the crowd, my sister yanks me back inside the booth.
“Race Jameson,” she hisses. “He’s sitting at the far end of the table.”
“What?” I stare at her. “Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure. I spent thirty days in lockup with Mr. Vampire Rock Star. I’d recognize him anywhere. I totally forgot that he’s here on some Japanese comeback tour now that he’s off the bad blood.”
“Cool.” I try to part the curtains again. “We should totally say hi. Do you think he’ll remember me from the time he helped us with the werewolves?”
My sister pulls the curtains shut again. “No.” “No, you don’t think he’ll remember?” “No, I don’t want to say hi.”
“But why?” I protest. “He’s totally nice. Not to mention he’s a vampire. He might know where we can get Jayden some blood.”
Jayden looks up hopefully.
But my sister shakes her head. “I don’t care if he’s walking around with an IV blood drip permanently fused to his veins. We’re not going over there.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “Rayne, what happened in rehab?”
But before she can tell me to mind my own business, our curtain parts. At first I assume it’s the waiter, coming back with the second course, but the piercing violet-colored eyes prove me wrong.
“Well, well, if it isn’t the Bobbsey Twins,” Race Jameson purrs in a velvety voice. “What on Earth are you doing here in Japan?”
“That would be the McDonald twins and none of your business,” Rayne retorts, refusing to look him in the eye.
“Aw, don’t be like that, my little Rayney Day,” he says as he plops down beside my sister. She scoots to the other half of the booth, as far away from the rock star as she can get. “I thought we were friends.” “Yeah, and I thought the Tooth Fairy was real,” my sister snarls. “Until, you know, I stopped believing in fairy tales.”
“Um, actually the Tooth Fairy is real,” I remind her. “In fact, Mom says she’s our third cousin twice removed.”
Race turns to me. “And there she is, the Sunshine of my life,” he coos. “You’re looking particularly fine this evening.” He sniffs the air. “And you smell divine. What is that scent you’re wearing?”
“Eau du fairy.” I giggle, tossing my hair over my shoulder, feeling my cheeks flush with sudden heat. Mmm. Race Jameson is so hot. Sooo hot. With his razor-cut black hair and skintight leather pants and... those eyes. Those gorgeous, unnatural, glowing purple—
“Uh, yo, Mr. Rock Star,” my sister interrupts. “No vampire scenting my sister.”
Race’s blazing eyes dim instantly, as if someone turned off a light switch. He scowls. “Aw, come on, babe. I was just having a bit of fun.”
I shake myself, my warm glow fading like Race’s eyes, replaced by the itchy feeling of little creepy crawlies running up and down my arms. Is that what the vampire scent feels like? Yuck. I look up at Race. Okay, fine. He’s still hot. But at least I no longer have the undying urge to crawl across the table and sit in his lap. So that’s something.
“There is no fun to be had here,” Rayne assures him. “At least not with my dear twin. Besides, I thought you were cured of that kind of thing. You know, twelve steps and all that?”
“I’m taking it one day at time,” he growls in a throaty voice. “And hey, how do you know this is just a random blood grab, anyway? Maybe I want to make your sister my eternal blood mate. To spend every moment of my life wrapped in her loving arms...”
“You know, I should have just let you take a sip,” my sister says, shaking her head in disgust. “Her Holy Grail–tainted blood would have put you out of your misery for good.”
Race holds up his hands. “Okay, okay, fine. I promise. No drinking from your blood relatives. But you still haven’t told me why you’re here in Tokyo. And if you don’t, I’m going to assume you’re stalking me like the rabid fan girl you are.”
“Please. I’d rather stalk Justin Bieber.”
“Oh, dear little Justin Bieber,” Race croons. “If only I could get close enough to make him one of us. Tween girls for generations to come would forever be in my debt.”
Rayne rolls her eyes. “Okay, fine. We’re on the quest for the Holy Grail, if you must know.”
“Uh...” Race raises an eyebrow. “The cup of Christ? You think it’s here in Godzilla land?”
“It was stolen,” I pipe in. “And my friend Jayden here needs it.” I motion to Jayden, who’s been sitting, stari
ng at the singer with awestruck eyes, which I’m hoping is due to the fact he’s never been in such close proximity to a rock God before and not Race vampire scenting him on the sly. Though can vampires even vampire scent other vampires? I still have no idea.
“You haven’t seen a group of Alpha flunkies hanging around the city, have you?” Rayne asks. “They’d be wearing red cloaks.”
Race shakes his head. “Sorry,” he says, actually sounding like he is, for once. “But I can keep an eye out for you.” His upper lip quirks into a half grin. “Give me your phone number and I’ll call you the second I hear anything.”
“Yeah, right. You’re not getting my digits that easy.”
Race puts on a hurt look again. “Oh, Rayney Day, you slay me.”
“If only it were that easy.”
I shake my head. They can banter all night. But Jayden looks like he’s going to pass out at any moment. “Look, Race,” I interject, “Jayden here is in desperate need for blood. We came here thinking there was some kind back-door Blood Bar here, but we’re totally striking out with the waiter. Can you help?”
Race grins. “Now, why didn’t you just say so?” he admonishes Rayne. “While the Holy Grail is out of even my illustrious, farreaching grasp, I can certainly hook you up with some blood. Just come back to my hotel room and I’ll—”
“Absolutely not.”
“Oh fine,” he pouts. “There’s a Blood Bar in this restaurant, yes. But it’s highly protected. And they’re not going to just let in any old vampire without going through the proper channels.” He scratches his head. “But let me see what I can do.” He rises from his seat and heads back over to the party table, whispering something to one of his companions. The girl, Japanese and utterly lovely, gives us a hard look, then shakes her head. Race whispers some more.
“It’s lucky we found him,” I observe, watching the scene.
“I could think of other words.”
