Bad Blood Page 14

  Heather looks up when I close the door. “Hey, girl,” she says. “Did you have a good night?”

  “Actually I did,” I’m able to answer truthfully. My cheek still burns from Jayden’s kiss and I involuntarily reach up to touch the spot. “It was a good night.” Maybe too good.

  She smiles. “Awesome. Well, please help yourself to any food in the fridge,” she says.

  “Yeah,” Stormy remarks. “There might even be a rotten banana left over from Fourth of July if you’re lucky.”

  “Or we can order you something if there’s nothing you like,” Heather adds, throwing a pillow at her daughter. Stormy dodges it easily and then throws it back.

  “It’s okay.” I laugh. “I actually just came from dinner.”

  “Want to play Dance Dance Revolution?” Stormy asks hopefully.

  “No freaking way,” Crystal interjects. “I’m watching TV here.”

  Stormy looks disappointed. It’s then I remember what I was going to ask her. “I actually could use some help with my computer homework,” I tell her. “There’s this problem I’ve been having and . . .”

  Stormy’s already off the couch and bouncing toward me. “I can help you!” she squeals. “Come to my room. My computer’s the best in the house by far. I’ve totally souped it up with a custom processor and, like, two terabytes of RAM.”

  I have no idea what that even means, which, I guess, is why I need her help in the first place. It’s time for a lesson in Hacking 101 from the little prodigy I call sister.

  I follow her to her room. Unlike the rest of the apartment with its sleek all-white modern décor, her room is a riot of color, as if a rainbow exploded everywhere and no one bothered to pick up the mess. Her walls are plastered with manga of every type and her bed is so covered with books that I wonder where she even sleeps. But the center of her room, the shrine, is obviously her computer, which sits next to the window and is covered with glittery stickers.

  “So what do you need help with?” she asks, pulling up two chairs to the computer and sitting down in the command seat.

  “I’m trying to get information from someone’s computer,” I explain. “An address from their address book.”

  “Hmm.” Stormy considers this and I cross my fingers that this isn’t a crazy, impossible request. Then I remind myself that, glitter stickers or no, this little girl can break into real-life casinos in her spare time. Of course she can find one teensy little address. “Do you have this person’s e-mail by any chance?”

  It’s then I remember the show schedule I got from the stage-hand at the theater. Reaching into my pocket, I pull it out and hand it to her. “It’s the guy at the top,” I tell her. “Cornelius.”

  Stormy nods and sets the paper down on the desk. “Okay,” she says, “so the easiest way to snoop into someone’s computer remotely without them knowing is to send in a Trojan.”

  “A Trojan?” Wasn’t that some old Greek horse? Or a condom company?

  “It’s like installing a secret back door into their computer. So we can go in and out and access whatever we want to on their computer.”

  “And you can do this? What about . . . firewalls?” I really needed to start paying attention in computer class.

  “Well, if we can get them to open a certain e-mail attachment themselves then it’ll launch an auto-install and bypass the firewalls, because the computer will assume it’s an authorized install.”

  “But who opens attachments these days?” I ask, leaning back in my chair. “I mean, we’ve been warned about that kind of thing since birth.”

  “We have, but older people aren’t always as computer savvy as we are,” Stormy reminds me. “Is this guy older?”

  Good point. From the way he favors clothing from the Old West, I’d guess Cornelius is at least a couple hundred years old. Definitely born before the age of Google. Maybe this could work.

  “The key is to play on their curiosity and vanity,” Stormy tells me. “Like, sending an e-mail that says, ‘Check out this video of you and me.’ That was a Facebook virus a while back and sooo many people got infected.” She shakes her head. “In fact, Crystal got the virus four times before I finally had to disable her downloading ability.”

  I laugh appreciatively. “Okay. Well, let’s write Cornelius an e-mail he can’t refuse.”

  Stormy grins. “Cool. What do you know about this guy?”

  He’s an evil vampire, possibly vying for the Blood Coven’s demise? Hmm. Probably something else.

  “He’s an actor of this really low-rent play. Fancies himself a vampire.”

  “Okay,” Stormy says, head down and typing furiously. A few minutes later, she looks up. “Got it,” she informs me. “I’m sending an e-mail that will appear to be from the Stratosphere Hotel, inquiring about his show. Turns out they’re sick of their current vampire revue, Bite, and are looking for a new act. They’ve attached a formal proposal to this e-mail, of course.” She winks at me.

  “Are you sure you’re only eleven?”

  She giggles. “I take it you like my idea?”

  “It’s brilliant. I bet he’ll totally fall for that.”

  “Okay, then I’m hitting SEND.” She clicks the mouse. “Done.”

  I’m impressed. “Brilliant!” I cry. I give her a high five. “You rock, Stormy,” I tell her. “Thank you so much.” I stare at the computer screen. “So now what?”

  “Now we have to wait until he accesses his e-mail and hopefully downloads the file.”

  “Okay.” Darn, I was sort of hoping for instant feedback. Not that I can go find her trailer tonight anyway, but still. It’d be nice to know I have something to look into tomorrow. After all, it’s my last day to investigate before the biting ceremony at midnight. The night Jane/Sasha will become one with Magnus forever. And no matter what ends up happening between Magnus and me personally, I would never, ever want to see him hurt.

  “So why do you need this address?” Stormy asks, curiously. “I mean, not that I mind doing it, but why can’t you just ask the guy himself?”

  I sigh. Even though she’s precocious, she’s still only a little kid and I don’t want to drag her into this mess any more than I have to. “I’m trying to find a girl who used to work on the show,” I say, purposefully vague. “She’s gone missing and I want to make sure she’s okay.”

  “Cool. You’re like Veronica Mars or something.”

  “Or something.” I snort. My detective skills so far have been decidedly amateur. “I think if anyone’s Girl Detective around here, it’s you, Ms. Hacker.”

  She looks pleased. “I like doing it. It’s fun.”

  “So’s Hannah Montana to most kids your age.”

  “Ugh. Don’t even go there,” she cries, swatting me playfully. I grab a pillow off her bed and get her back. Squealing, she dives for cover, retrieving a large stuffed bear as her weapon. Soon we’re in a full-fledged pillow fight, screaming and laughing.

  “Having fun?”

  A voice at the door makes me pause. Stormy takes advantage and whacks me good one last time, still giggling. Then she sees who’s watching and her arms drop, the stuffed bear falling to the floor. The smile fading from her face.

  Rayne’s standing at the door, arms crossed over her chest and a sour, disapproving look on her face. She’s wearing a long black dress, complete with black gloves that go up to her elbows. An elegant look, save for her mussed-up hair and the black raccoon makeup bleeding from her eyes.

  “We were just playing around,” I say, feeling my face heat as I replace the pillow on the bed. I suddenly feel super guilty, even though I know I did nothing wrong. My twin has a knack for making me feel like that.

  “Can I talk to you for a moment?” Rayne says. Then she adds, “Alone?”

  I turn to Stormy, who’s glaring at Rayne. “Thanks for your help,” I say, ruffling her head. “I really appreciate it.” Then I turn to my twin. “Sure. Let’s go take a walk.”

  I tell Heather where we’re
going and then we leave the apartment and head downstairs to the lobby and out the door. Only when we’re well clear of the building does Rayne finally speak.

  “You’re looking pretty cozy up there,” she snarls. “All adopted by the new family.”

  “They’re nice,” I defend, not liking her tone. “I like them.”

  “How sweet.”

  “You just hate them because of the Dad situation. You haven’t even given them a chance.”

  “Why should I give them a chance?” Rayne demands. “She hooked up with Dad when he was married to Mom and had a baby with him. The girl in there you were pillow fighting with is an evil spawn of Satan as far as I’m concerned.”

  “Give me a freaking break, Rayne,” I growl back at her, no longer content to let her bash the people I’m really starting to care about. “You have no idea what the deal was between Mom and Dad back then. Maybe they had an open marriage. I mean, they were both hippies, right? Or maybe their marriage was already over by that point and they were just staying together for us kids. You don’t know. You’re just guessing. And you’re making these people out to be monsters. Even Stormy. I mean, my God, it’s not as if she asked to be born.” I shake my head in disgust.

  Rayne looks upset. I guess she’s not used to me fighting back. Well, tough luck ’cause I’m not done. Not by a long shot.

  “Look, I know all of this has been a pretty big shock. Coming here and finding out Dad’s not even around and that we have a sister we didn’t know about. It sucks. But you can’t just keep hiding from it all, in the casinos all day and night, just to avoid them. These people are in your family, whether you like it or not, and someday you’re going to have to accept this and start dealing with it.” I reach over and touch her arm, trying to comfort her. It’s then that I realize she’s trembling.

  “How come it’s so easy for you?” she asks, her voice choked. “It’s not like I want to feel like this—all knotted up inside, being eaten away by my hate.”

  “You just have to let it go,” I tell her. “Stop being so proud. Stop walling yourself off in fear of getting hurt. Let them in. I promise they won’t hurt you. They’re not evil. They’re not out to destroy you. In fact, Heather has been bending over backward to make sure we’re okay. She’s really nice. I know it’d be easier if she really was a home-wrecking bitch, but she’s not.”

  “But what she did . . .”

  “You don’t know what she did. You really don’t.” I stroke her hair, trying to soothe her. “When we get home we can sit down with Mom and ask her to tell us the whole story. Then we’ll know. Heather says there’s more to it and I believe her. We’ll find out the truth and then you can make a decision on how you want this stepfamily to fit into your life. And if you never want to talk to them again, that’s your decision to make. But I’ve made mine and I’m not going to let you make me feel like a traitor for doing so.”

  Rayne lets out a sob and I pull her close, wrapping her in my arms and comforting her as best I can. She’s so sensitive under all her bravado, all her hate. I really wish she could let down the walls she’s built up, just a tiny bit. Because by seeking to protect herself, she’s actually trapped herself inside.

  “So you really think they’re nice?” she asks, pulling away from the hug. “Even Crystal?”

  I laugh and shake my head. “No. She’s still a total beeyatch,” I reply. “But Heather and Stormy, they’re great.”

  Rayne draws in a breath, a determined look coming over her face. “Okay,” she says. “Let’s go back upstairs. I’d like to get to know my family a little better. If it’s not too late.”

  “It’s Vegas bay-bee,” I say, grinning at her, happy she’s taking a chance at last. “It’s never too late here.”

  15

  Sunlight streams through the window and I groan, pulling the covers over my head, just wanting five more minutes of sleep. After Rayne and I went inside last night, Heather suggested hot chocolate and a game of Cranium. We played ’til one A.M.—with even Crystal joining in. Rayne was quiet and awkward at first, but eventually loosened up and by the end of the night was laughing and teasing along with the rest of us. Finally Heather announced that she was exhausted and had to get some sleep. So she set us up in Stormy’s bedroom and let her daughter sleep with her. I’d fallen into a comalike slumber and didn’t wake up until now.

  “Sunny,” cries Stormy, bouncing on the bed. “We’re in!”

  Groggily, I try to figure out what she’s talking about. “In?”

  “To the computer. He opened the e-mail.” She jumps off the bed and into her computer chair. “Look! He’s got his desktop totally vamped out.”

  I glance over at the screen. Sure enough, Stormy’s rainbow and unicorn wallpaper has been replaced by a black background with dripping red letters.

  “He really takes this vampire thing seriously, huh?” Stormy asks.

  “Oh yeah.” But then most vampires do, I suppose.

  “So here you can operate his computer just as he would,” she explains. “You can read his e-mail, check what websites he’s visited, whatever. You’re basically in the driver’s seat. Just don’t make any changes or he might notice something’s wrong next time he sits down at his computer.”

  I nod, taking the mouse from her and gliding it across Cornelius’s desktop. I find the icon marked ADDRESS BOOK and double click. A few moments later I am the proud owner of the address of Ms. Sasha Star on Fifth Avenue, Lake View Mountain Park, Calle Verde, Nevada.

  I scribble it down on scrap paper and then turn to my sister. “You rock, Stormy. Thanks so much.” I start to get up from my chair.

  She stops me. “That’s it? I give you the ultimate inside access to this dude’s computer and all you do is steal one little address?” she asks incredulously. “It hardly seems worth the effort. Don’t you want to check out his e-mail? Maybe see what websites he regularly visits?”

  “Okay, okay.” I sit back down, amused. “Let’s see if he’s into porn or something.”

  I load up Internet Explorer and hit the HISTORY button. But instead of websites like “HotVampsLoveBlood.com” I find that Cornelius has actually been looking up opportunities in higher education.

  At Oxford University to be precise. The puzzle pieces are starting to align.

  I take a screenshot and hit print and a moment later the evidence sits waiting on the printer. I grab the paper and rise from my seat, kissing Stormy on the top of her head. “Thanks so much, sis,” I say. “That was awesome. You really need to join the CIA or something when you get older.”

  She laughs, logging out of Cornelius’s desktop and going back to her own. “No way,” she says. “I want to be an actress.”

  “You really are my sister, aren’t you?” I smile at her. It’s then that I glance at the clock on the bedside table for the first time. “Three P.M.?” I cry, realizing I’d slept way later than I could have ever imagined.

  “Yeah,” Stormy says, looking amused. “I’ve already been to school and back and you’ve been sleeping the whole time.”

  Crap. This leaves me with only nine hours before the biting ceremony tonight. I’m running out of time. “Stormy, have you seen Rayne?”

  Stormy nods absently from her computer. “She left about an hour ago,” she says. “Something about a date with a slot machine she couldn’t refuse.”

  Damn it. She’s gambling again? And here I thought once she had made peace with the family she’d be done with all of that and ready to help me. Now we’re down to the wire and I could really use her help. After all, the last thing I want to do is break into a probably evil crazy person’s trailer by myself. It’s not like I have slayer training like her.

  Since I can’t properly plead on the phone with others in the apartment within hearing distance, I decide to get dressed and call her on my way. So I take a five-minute shower and change quicker than Superman in a phone booth, then say my good-byes and head downstairs and out of the apartment building. Once I’m d
own the block, I pull out my cell phone and dial my twin.

  “Hello?” she answers on the fourth ring.

  “Rayne, it’s me,” I say into the phone. “Where are you? I need your help.”

  “Oh hey, Sun,” she says, a bit too cheerfully. “I’m down at the Harrah’s Casino. There’s a huge poker match today—preliminary try-outs to become contestants on the World Series of Poker. You know, the TV show? I’m so trying out.”

  She’s got to be kidding me, right? “Rayne, listen to me.” I grip the phone tightly, forcing myself to keep my cool. “Tonight’s the night Magnus is going to turn Jane into a vampire unless I can prove to him that she’s evil and up to no good. I have her last known address. It’s out in the desert somewhere, according to Google Maps. I’m sure if we break in we can find some evidence. Some kind of irrefutable proof Magnus can’t help but pay attention to.”

  Rayne’s silent for a moment. “We?” she asks at last. “But I just told you, I’m in a tournament. Sunny, this is a once in a lifetime chance. I could win a million dollars.”

  “But, Rayne, I need you,” I say, ready to resort to begging if necessary. “You’re the slayer.”

  “I’m really getting sick of you saying that, Sun.” I can practically hear her rolling her eyes over the airwaves. “It’s not like I have some crazy superpowers or anything. Really, anyone can kill a vampire. You just need a chunk of wood to stab through his heart. So easy.”

  “Rayne, come on.” I can’t believe she’s being like this. Choosing some stupid poker game over her flesh-and-blood sister. After all the times I’ve helped her out over the years, the one time I need her and she blows me off.

  She sighs into the phone. “Do you really need me?” she asks. “Really?” She sounds like she’s hedging, but only out of guilt, not out of actually wanting to help me, which just makes me angrier.