by Mari Mancusi
Besides, we’ve already established that he’s just being nice. He probably feels sorry for me and my pathetic little lost-daddy’s-girl thing. Ugh.
We tell Mom we’re going out and she looks so pleased that I’ve actually left my bedroom I bet if I told her we were off to smoke crack and get lap dances she would have waved and said, “Have a good time. Just be back by curfew.”
We jump in Jareth’s BMW and speed off to Club Fang. He turns the music up extra loud, just the way I like it, and I zone out to the crooning sounds of Morrissey. It’s nice and comfortable this way. No awkward convo and strained silences. He must sense that I’ve already shared way more than I ever share and am currently all talked out.
Club Fang is hopping when we get there. After paying the bouncer the cover charge, we walk inside and are enveloped by darkness, illuminated only by irregular flashing strobe lights and obscured by machine-created fog. The bass is up, the music is dark and enchanting, and I’m in Heaven already.
Jareth grabs my hand and together we weave through the crowd of sweaty gothed-out dancers until we get to the center of the room. Then he pulls me close and together we start swaying to the music.
At first I’m thinking, “Danger, danger!” and that I should not be here. With him. Falling deeper and deeper for a guy who doesn’t want me for anything more than friendship. But as the music takes me, my reservations start melting away. I’m here. I’m in his arms. I might as well accept things. Take them for what they are and enjoy the moment. Who knows when something so blissful will come around again.
As we dance, my troubles seem more and more trivial. I mean, so what if my dad didn’t show up for my birthday? It’s not like he’s a regular at any other family events. We’ve been fine without him for the last four years and we’ll be fine without him for the next four. And so what if Mike Stevens is a huge dick with an attitude? High school will be the best years of his life. Soon he’ll be strapped with five kids, a job that gives him ulcers, and a wife who doesn’t understand him.
None of it matters in the long run. Just the beat. The tribal sounds that stir something primitive inside of me. At this very moment there is no past. No future. Just a vampire’s arms wrapped around me, his hot body pressed against mine. Heaven.
Jareth seems lost in it, too. His eyes are closed as he sways against me. I study his face as the multicolored lights dance across it, creating alternating shadows and light. I wonder again what he’s hiding. What turmoil and hurt lies under his calm exterior. What has made him so angry? What has made him so like me?
Because he is like me, I realize. He hides his torment, conceals his pain, until he can’t anymore and then it explodes and he comes across as a nasty, angry person. But he’s not really like that. Not inside.
The beat slows and so does our dance. Jareth’s eyes open, almond-shaped sapphires that practically glow in the dark. I know I keep harping on them, but I’ve just never seen such beautiful eyes before and I’m sure I never will again. He reaches down and brushes a lock of hair away from my sweaty forehead.
“How are you?” he asks. And the way he says it makes me believe that he actually cares about the answer.
“Better,” I say, smiling up at him. “Much better, actually.”
“Sometimes it’s good to talk,” he says. “But other times you’d rather just lose your mind.”
I nod, amazed at how his thoughts totally parallel mine. He really is the perfect guy in so many ways.
Screw it. I might as well face the facts: I’m in love. And there’s nothing I can do about it.
26
TUESDAY, JUNE 12, 10 P.M.
We park down the street from the Blood Bar and go inside separately. Jareth goes through the employee entrance and I go through the front door.
“Hey, Shaniqua,” Francis greets, smiling at me as I approach. “Thought I’d finally seen the last of you.”
“Can’t scare me away that easily, Frannie,” I shoot back with a grin of my own.
“Luckily for me or I’d miss out on all this witty banter.”
“Didn’t I tell you that I’d grow on you? You should always listen to me. Always.”
“Hey. I do. Heck, if you told me to jump, girl, I’d only have to ask how high.”
We laugh for moment. Then I turn to more serious business. “So,” I lower my voice, “did you find your blood mate?”
His smile dips into a frown. “Yes,” he says, shoving his hands in his jean pockets. “It’s the weirdest thing. She’s evidently been inflicted with some sort of horrible virus. I mean, she’s really sick. She can barely sit up. And worst of all, I think she’s lost all her vampiric powers. Of course, she’s convinced herself that once she’s better she’ll get them back, but honestly I’m not so sure.”
Wow. Another vampire with ties to the Blood Bar who has come down with the virus. There’s definitely something rotten in Denmark.
“No one seems to know what’s wrong with her. The scary part is, she’s not the only sick one. A lot of her fellow biters have been coming down with it. One day they’re at work, sucking away like nothing’s wrong, the next they’re gone, replaced by some vampire we’ve never seen before. I’ve tracked a few of the missing vamps down and everyone seems to have contracted the same sickness.”
“Have you talked to management?”
“We’ve tried, but they’ve refused to speak with our union reps. They say nothing’s wrong and that they don’t want us to panic the others with our ‘delusions.’ ” Francis rubs his bald head with the back of his hand. “Honestly, I don’t know what to do at this point.”
I’m not quite sure what to do myself. This is all becoming far too clear, but I’m not sure who I should trust. Would Francis help me? After all, his blood mate has been affected, and he seems to love her an awful lot. But would he go against his employer? Risk his job and life? And what if he doesn’t believe me? What if he grabs his Nextel and calls Maverick to report me? I might be able to get away, but Jareth is still inside.
At least I’m beginning to understand what’s going on. The biters are evidently given the virus, unaware. Then, they unwittingly pass it off to the donors, who in turn pass it to their employers. The real targets are obviously the higher-up vampires in Magnus’s circle. Like Kristoff. People who keep things running at the coven. We’re extremely lucky, I realize, that Jareth gets his blood by mail order and doesn’t keep donors himself. Otherwise, I’m sure he’d have been targeted as well.
I make my decision, deciding to trust Francis. After all, he’s been personally affected by this dastardly plot. And the people getting sick are his friends and coworkers.
“Okay, Frannie, listen up. Here’s the deal. In reality, I’m not your typical Blood Bar patron. I’ve actually been sent here, undercover.” I stop before mentioning who actually sent me. The idea that I’m the Vampire Slayer should probably be left as a need-to-know.
His eyes widen. “Undercover?”
“You know the Blood Coven, formerly run by Lucifent and now run by Magnus?”
“Of course,” Francis says. “Everyone knows about the coven. My blood mate has been on a waiting list to join for years. I tried to tell her that they don’t take people like us, but she never gives up hope.”
Ugh. Vampire segregation? Is Magnus’s coven actually an elitist op? I so need to talk to him about that when this is all done. That’s so not cool that he leaves people out.
“Our boss, Maverick, the guy who owns the Blood Bar, is a member,” Francis adds. “In fact, from what he says, I take it he’s next in line for the throne or something.” The vampire snorts. “The guy’s such an arrogant jerk. Who knows if that’s true or not.”
“Francis, listen to me carefully,” I interject. “Magnus, Master of the Blood Coven, believes that Maverick may be staging a takeover. He wants to be in charge. And since he doesn’t have enough vamp power to start an outright war, instead we believe he’s created some kind of virus. The virus is injected into the h
igh-ranking coven members’ donors and then the donors pass it along to their vampires. All of Magnus’s loyal subjects become sick and weak. Maybe even Magnus himself. Then Maverick moves in and takes over.”
Francis stares at me. “That seems a bit complicated.”
“But don’t you see? It could totally work. Is already working, actually. Your friends aren’t the only ones who are sick. Several coven bigwigs have also come down with the disease.”
“But why are my coworkers being infected? They’re not even members of the Blood Coven.”
“They’re the innocents, being used by Maverick to advance his personal gain,” I say. “He probably injects them somehow so they’ll pass the disease off to the donors.” I bite my lower lip, thinking. “But how do they infect the biters, I wonder. Has anything been different lately, Francis?”
He shrugs. “I don’t think so.”
“Think harder. Some change in routine? Some new policy or procedure?”
I can see the idea lightbulb flash over his head. “The vitamin injections,” he murmers.
“What?”
“A few weeks ago some of the biters, including Dana, were told they were going to start getting weekly vitamin shots. To keep healthy. We thought it was a bit strange. After all, vampires don’t usually get sick.” Francis squeezes his large hands into fists. “That bastard!” he growls. “He infected her! Why, I should go down there and just kill him. Right here, right now.”
I shake my head. “Bad idea, Frannie. You’d just get overpowered by the others. And we don’t know who we can trust at this point. Some of the employees must be in on this, or else it couldn’t be running so smoothly.”
“Right. Of course, you’re right.” He sighs. “So what can we do? I want to help in any way I can.”
“Okay, good,” I say, relieved to have him on board. “I have a vampire working with me who’s been posing as an employee. He’s already inside,” I explain. “Can you help us get down into the restricted areas of the Blood Bar? We need to find out where they’re keeping the virus so we can bring a sample back to our labs for analysis. Our scientists believe if they have a vial of the stuff, they may be able to create an antidote.”
“And if your coven creates the antidote, will you share it with us?” Francis asks. “Those of us who aren’t members?”
“Of course,” I say, hoping that’s true. Well, I’ll make sure it is. No vamp discrimination in my book. “There will be enough vaccine for anyone who needs it.”
“You’re a good person, you know that?” Francis asks. “I’m glad I let you in that first day.”
“As if you could resist me.” I grin. “Now tell me what you think we should do.”
27
TUESDAY, JUNE 12, 10 P.M. (CONTINUED)
The Not-So-Great Virus Heist
Francis proves to be the best hookup ever. I doubt we could have done any of this without him. First, he sends me inside and I request Jareth as my biter. Once Jareth and I are together in our room, we wait. Francis shows up a moment later, costumes in hand.
“Maverick actually owns this whole block,” he explains. “And so there’s a huge sprawling basement under this building. Most of the areas are restricted, but I always see the employees who work down there dressed in these.” He holds out the clothes. White scrubs, complete with surgical masks.
“Cool. Where did you get them?” I ask.
He laughs. “I, uh, borrowed them from some employees I thought needed a little nap. So you’d better do this quick, before they wake up and figure out how to get themselves untied and out of the linen closet.”
“Wow, very nice, Frannie.” I hold up one of the outfits. “Now we’ll fit right in. Thanks so much.”
“Anything to help Dana,” he says with a sheepish shrug. But I can tell he’s pleased by the compliment. “Let me know if I can do something else.”
“No. This is great,” Jareth says, slipping the shirt over his head. “You’d better get back to the door before anyone becomes suspicious. Rayne and I can take it from here.”
“Okay,” he says. “The stairs to the basement are at the far end of the hallway. The employees were nice enough to leave their keycards in the pockets of those uniforms.” He grins. “Good luck.”
He exits the room and we scramble to don our scrubs and masks. Once outfitted, we nod to one another. This is it.
We find the staircase easily and swipe our keycards, then head downstairs. Francis wasn’t kidding. The underground is huge, full of windy corridors and closed doors. The dim fluorescent lighting and low ceilings don’t make it any more comforting either.
We try a few doors with our keycards, and at first none seem to work. But there are so many doors, I guess it’ll take a while to find the right one. Hopefully no one will catch us randomly trying locks. Might seem a bit suspicious.
But luck is with us. Jareth points at an employee dressed just like us, exiting a door at the far end of the corridor. I nod. Together, we casually walk down the hall, keeping our steps at a normal pace, until we reach the door.
This time, the keycards work and the door swings silently open.
We step into the room and my mouth drops open in shock. The place is like a regular laboratory, with Bunsen burners burning, test tubes bubbling, the works. Whatever Maverick’s got planned, it’s a full-scale operation. He’s got a couple employee vamps in the back, dressed as we are with face masks and scrubs, mixing some kind of multicolored powders together. They turn and acknowledge us, then turn back to their work. Phew. The disguises work. Thank you, Francis.
Jareth beckons me over to the left wall, taken up by the hugest refrigerators I’ve ever seen. He wraps his hand around the door handle and pulls one open. Puffy white freezer smoke billows out.
Inside there are rows upon rows upon rows upon rows of tiny medicine bottles. Like the kind you stick syringes into. Each bottle is labeled with an “M” which I suppose is for Maverick. Or maybe Murder and Mayhem. Or heck, it could stand for Mickey Mouse for all I know. But what was I expecting? A vial with a warning label? Do not consume this product if you are a vampire or a human who lets vampires snack on them.
“Let’s take two of the vials,” Jareth suggests in a low voice. “We’ll bring them back to our lab for testing. To see if they match up with what the donors were infected with.”
I nod and reach for one of the vials.
“Wait!” Jareth warns, but he’s too late. The room suddenly explodes with sirens and multicolored flashing lights.
Uh, oh. Not good.
“Damn it!” Jareth cries. “You must have tripped some alarm.” He glances anxiously around the room. The two employees in the back are staring at us. I can’t see their expressions under the masks, but I’m thinking the looks aren’t of friendly disinterest anymore.
“What do we do?” I hiss, my heart pounding like crazy in my chest. They didn’t cover this in Slayer 101.
Jareth pushes me forward. “Run!” he cries. “And don’t stop until you’re free and clear of this place.” He grabs two vials and pushes them into my hand. “Bring these directly to Magnus. Do not stop, whatever you do.”
“But what about you?” I cry, realizing he’s planning on going all heroic on me and not being sure I want him to. What if he gets hurt? Captured? Killed, even?
Jareth glances over at the two employees, who are making long strides in our direction.
“I’ll distract them. Head them off. Hurry!”
“But what if they—”
“For hell’s sake, Rayne, for once in your life just do something without arguing!”
And so I do. I dash down the corridor, weaving through the maze of passages, trying to remember which one leads to the stairs. All around me the lights are still flashing, the sirens still wailing. I hope Jareth is okay. What will they do to him if they catch him? What if they inject him with the virus? What if he gets sick? It’ll all be my fault for setting off the alarm.
Suddenly I slam face
first into a solid wall. A solid wall of flesh, to be more precise. I look up, swallowing hard as my eyes focus on the man standing in front of me. I’d recognize that face anywhere. Those hypnotic, icy eyes. That cruel stare.
Maverick.
“Uh, I’m, well, I work, uh, lost . . .” Panic has effectively robbed me of coherent sentence-forming abilities. Not that for one moment I think even if I could suddenly speak as eloquently as Bono I’d have any better chance of escaping with my life.
Because I’m caught. By the big baddie himself.
But wait! I’m the Vampire Slayer. I can kill him, right? I reach behind me and whip out my stake. The normally dull piece of wood suddenly erupts in a fiery light as I wave it into the air, just like what happened in the gym at school. w00t!
“Don’t come any closer,” I say in my most menacing tone, wielding the stake like a sword, ready to swing and stab.
Yeah, baby! Who’s scary now!?
28
TUESDAY, JUNE 12, 10:30 P.M.
Maverick Is a Meanie
Sadly, my victory dance is short-lived. Mainly because Maverick refuses to look all scared and worried at the sight of the glowy stake. Even more so when he starts laughing instead of shaking in his boots. Damn it, what does a slayer chick have to do to get a little respect around here?
“Um, you know, I’ll kill you,” I add, in case he doesn’t get the message. Maybe he doesn’t understand. When I show up, he should run. “I’m Raynie the Vampire Slayer.”
This time, to my utter annoyance, his laughter goes from a small chuckle to a big rolling belly laugh. He raises his arm and suddenly the stake goes flying out of my hand and right into his. He catches it with ease and it stops doing the glowy thing and becomes just another piece of half-carved wood. He tosses it over his shoulder and it clatters to the ground behind him.
Great. Well, so much for that idea. Now what?
They say when you’re in this kind of situation, your body gears up for one of two things: fight or flight. Well, without my magical stick, I figure I’ll be a pretty pathetic fighter, so I choose option B and turn tail.
