Stake That Page 9

  Oh, great.

  “Sorry, Mom.” What else can I say? I can’t explain why we did what we did. Or that it’s for her own good.

  She looks up at me, her eyes red and her face blotchy. “Why, girls?” she asks. “Why would you do that?” She grabs a napkin and blows her nose. “You could have just told me you were uncomfortable with me dating. You didn’t have to terrorize the guy. I really like him, you know?”

  Ugh. I breathe out a frustrated breath. Now what? We’ve just scared off Mom’s date, which is a good thing, seeing as he’s pretty much confirmed as an evil vampire. But now she’s hurt and upset and feels like we’ve betrayed her.

  “He wasn’t right for you,” I say, putting an arm around her shoulders to try to comfort her. “You’ll find someone else.”

  She looks up. “Wasn’t right for me? He’s perfect for me!”

  Sigh. Just sigh. I open my mouth to try again, but nothing comes out. Sunny is edging out of the room, abandoning me to the tears. Coward!

  “Look, girls. I’m not trying to replace your dad,” she says. “I just . . . well, I get lonely sometimes. You have your own lives and are always out and I sit in the house by myself half the time. I’m not that old,” she adds. “I’d like another chance at love. And I’m asking you guys to be okay with that.”

  Mom heads upstairs, slamming her bedroom door behind her. I sink into a dining room chair. Did we do the right thing? This is so hard. So, so hard. ’Cause I am okay with that. More than okay. In fact, I want nothing more than for my mom to meet a nice guy and live happily ever after. I just have one requirement. Prince Charming shouldn’t be an evil vampire. Is that so much to ask?

  Sunny reappears, her face white and her expression uber-serious. She’s holding a beige jacket in her arms. David’s jacket.

  “He left his jacket?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. This could be interesting. “Did you search it?”

  She nods slowly. “And I found something in his pocket,” she says, handing a folded piece of paper to me. “Look at this.”

  I take it and unwrap it slowly, my eyes widening as I read. “Oh, my god,” I whisper, looking up at Sunny, then back down at the paper.

  “Yeah,” she says solemnly.

  The scrawled writing on the paper looks like a cheat sheet—like something a cheating student would bring to a test. And it’s got information. Lots of personal information. About my mom. About Sunny. About me.

  And about Magnus.

  This is so not good.

  POSTED BY RAYNE McDONALD @ 10:30 P.M.

  TWO COMMENTS:

  CandyGrrl says . . .

  Ooh, that’s sooo scary, Rayne! Do you think Maverick knows you’re out to get him and sent a spy of his own? Good thing you scared the guy away! But what if he comes back?

  Angelbaby3234566 says . . .

  You know, now that I think about it, I think MY mom’s new BF might be an evil vampire, too. I’m so renting The Lost Boys and trying your guys’ techniques. Heck, even if he turns out to be human, maybe I’ll be able to scare him away anyway, which is good enough 4 me.

  16

  THURSDAY, JUNE 7, 1 A.M.

  Way More Than Six Feet Under

  That night Sunny calls Magnus and tells him about the David incident. He reassures her that everything will be okay and he’ll assign some vamps to guard our house and some others to try to track the guy down. Unfortunately, we only know his first name so it’s not like we can look up his address in the white pages. Sigh. I so should have staked him when I had the chance.

  The next day my cell phone beeps as I’m getting out of school, informing me I have a text message. I scroll through and find it’s from Jareth, of all people. (No idea how he got my mobile number, maybe Mom’s right when she says there’s just no privacy anymore.) The message itself is short and sweet:

  MEET ME AT CLUB FANG @ 7PM

  For those of you who don’t know, Club Fang is this way cool Goth club in Nashua, New Hampshire, that’s also a big vamp hangout. Well, by night, anyway. During the day I think it doubles as a Knights of Columbus hall. Heh. If only the “knights” knew the antics that went on once the sun dipped below the horizon. They’d totally freak.

  It’s also the place where Magnus first accidentally bit Sunny and turned her into a vampire, but that’s not such a fond memory for me so we won’t be rehashing that.

  I arrive at Club Fang, park the car, and pay my five bucks to go inside. They’ve got the smoke machines going and much of the dance floor is obscured by fog. Black lights shine down from the ceilings, casting purplish shadows everywhere. At the far end, a tubby DJ spins goth and electronica tunes. At the moment he’s playing the Sisters of Mercy song “Temple of Love,” which is one of my favorites. Not seeing Jareth around, I decide I might as well dance for a bit while waiting.

  I love dancing. Swaying my body to deep, seductive music. Letting myself become one with the beat. Losing myself in the orchestra of light. I close my eyes and weave my arms through the air, floating through the ambient waves of sound. It’s heavenly. All my troubles, all my stress, just float away into the night.

  In the old days, like when my mom was a kid, people always danced with a partner. Which is okay, I guess. But then you’re worried about the proper steps and the other person’s lead and stepping on their toes. When you’re dancing with yourself, you have none of these concerns. You can just let go.

  The song changes and I open my eyes. Responsibility replaces rhythm. As much as I’d like to dance all night, I’ve got to find Jareth. I scan the café side of the club, adorned with little tables covered by black tablecloths and lit by candles. Several vampy-looking patrons are sipping what appears to be a deep crimson wine. But the color looks a bit too dark to be your average merlot, if you know what I’m saying. Many have brought their donors with them. Usually pale, thin Goth girls who think it’s oh-so-cool to sell their blood to a thirsty vamp. Most of the donors are total vamp wannabes. Ones who failed the certification program to become vampires themselves.

  Maybe I should become a donor. Then I’d get to experience that amazing biting experience every night. Then again, that just rings a little too close to prostitution to me. The vamp would just be using me for blood.

  No, I can wait. ’Til I’m assigned a new blood mate. Someone completely compatible with me who I can spend the rest of eternity with. Someone whose bites will actually mean something. I want that. I deserve that.

  Anyway, no sign of Jareth, so I turn to head back out onto the dance floor. It’s there I spot him. At the far end of the room, lit by a black light, his pale skin is almost glowing. He’s dressed simply, wearing a white pirate shirt with puffy sleeves and black pants. But he looks like a god as he sways under the light. His eyes are closed, his face a mask of ecstasy and concentration. He’s got perfect moves, perfect rhythm. It’s almost as if he’s part of the music. I know that sounds weird, but it’s hard to describe. Suffice it to say he looks beautiful. Absolutely stunning.

  The Jareth I know is uptight and annoying. A total ass.

  This is not the Jareth I know.

  This is the Jareth I want to know.

  I weave my way through the other dancers ’til I reach him. His eyes are still closed, and I notice he’s wearing eyeliner. De-lish. I love a guy in eyeliner.

  Not wanting to disturb his dance-induced trance, I merely pick up the beat myself, closing my own eyes, floating my arms through the air. Finding the music and making love to it. Letting the dark, melodious sounds take me away. To the place Jareth has found. Hoping I can find him there, too.

  An arm wraps around my waist and a body presses against mine. I consider opening my eyes, but the feeling is too nice. The heat, the touch, the matching of my movements with his own.

  Is it Jareth? It has to be Jareth. And he feels so good. So right. Just as I imagined he would.

  I feel myself being pulled deeper and deeper inside the music. A rich darkness consumes me, pulling me toward a strange white
light. I take back every single thing I said about it being better to dance alone. It’s better to dance with Jareth. One hundred million, billion, gazillion times better.

  “You’re a good dancer,” his voice whispers in my ear.

  “You, too,” I whisper back, wanting this moment to last forever. Wow. This is so not the Jareth I know, that’s for sure. Who knew he was so deeply and darkly romantic. So—

  “Rayne, are you going to waste the entire night on the dance floor? Or can we get some work done here?”

  My eyes flutter open at the unmistakable voice. I glance at my dance partner. Uh-oh.

  It’s not Jareth. Not even close. Ew! I’ve been grinding with some totally random vamp who’s not even cute. Gr-oss. And uber-disappointing.

  I push the guy away, annoyed. I look over to see Jareth staring disapprovingly at me, arms folded across his chest. He looks terribly annoyed.

  “Jareth?” My head’s still foggy from the dancing. “I thought—”

  “If you’ve had your fun, I suggest we get down to business,” he shouts over the music.

  “Hey, buddy,” says my accidental dance partner. “She’s dancing with me.”

  Jareth rolls his eyes. “She can marry you, for all I care.

  Have babies. Live happily ever after in a white-picketed suburban McMansion. But for right now, I have important business to discuss with her and she’s coming with me.”

  He grabs me roughly by the arm and proceeds to drag me to the café side of the club.

  “Get your hands off me,” I protest, annoyed at his possessiveness. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was totally jealous. But that’s stupid, right? I mean, we don’t even know each other, really. Or like each other. We shared one bite. And it was performed under necessity, not attraction. Well, not total attraction, anyway. Okay, fine. I was attracted. But for him it was just part of our cover. At least I think so.

  Still, for some weird reason he’s making me feel totally guilty. As if I was, like, cheating on him or something. Which is so stupid. We’re totally not going out. We’re not even friends. We’re just partners thrown together to solve a vampire mystery. After that’s over, we’ll part ways. Forever. And I do mean forever.

  Jareth still looks pouty as he sits down in his seat. I decide to make peace. Even if he doesn’t have any right to be pissed at me.

  “I was watching you,” I say. “You’re an amazing dancer.”

  “Thanks,” he says, still sounding a bit on the grumpy side. “It’s something I enjoy.”

  I smile. “Me, too. I sometimes feel like dancing is the only way I can be at total peace with myself. It’s like the world stops while you’re dancing. And nothing matters but the music.”

  He pauses for a moment, then agrees. “I know what you mean. Sometimes I come here by myself. When the world is too much to deal with. I can escape for a few hours. Forget all the pain.”

  He stops talking and stares at his hands. I wonder, not for the first time, what secret hurt he’s hiding and whether we’ll ever be close enough for him to share it with me.

  I decide to confess. Maybe my humiliation will cheer him a bit.

  “You know, I had my eyes closed,” I say. “Stupidly, I thought that guy who came up and started dancing with me was you.”

  Jareth looks up, raising a perfectly arched eyebrow. “Me?”

  “Yeah.” I’m hoping the bar’s dim lighting is hiding my blush.

  “Would you . . . have liked it to be me?”

  Gah! He did not just go there. Now my face is burning. “Uh . . .”

  “You’re all red, my dear.” His smile tells me he’s enjoying teasing me, seeing me uncomfortable. Jeez. I should have never confessed that.

  “It would have been nice if it was you, yes,” I say at last, not wanting to let him win. Let him turn red for a while.

  But he doesn’t blush. He just looks thoughtful.

  “Anyway,” he says, apparently wimping out and changing the subject. “You’re probably wondering why I asked you here tonight. And it wasn’t, unfortunately, to dance with you.”

  “I figured,” I say. “What’s wrong?”

  He picks up the salt shaker and fiddles with it, not meeting my eyes. “Kristoff,” he murmurs at last.

  I cock my head. “You mean your vamp friend? The one whose donors you saw in the Blood Bar yesterday?”

  “Yes.” Jareth nods. “I went to see him this evening. To let him know we’d spotted his donors and that he ought to let them go. I pounded on the door of his crypt, but there was no answer. I waited for a moment, then heard strange noises coming from inside. A . . . whimpering almost. So I broke down the door. I found him in bed, looking deathly ill.”

  Concern claws at my heart. I’m thinking, “This is very strange.”

  “I asked him what was wrong. He could barely speak.” Jareth shakes his head, looking pained. Evidently this guy is a good friend. “He says the last few days, he’s been bedridden. Can’t even feed anymore. And all his vampire powers seem to somehow have left him.”

  “That’s weird.”

  “Very. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “Do you think he could have caught some weird disease? Like, because his donors were at the Blood Bar? Maybe they were infected by some other vampire and passed along the disease.”

  Jareth shrugs. “It’s possible, to be sure. But unlikely. The Blood Bar is more regulated than one might think. It screens all its biters. I had to go through a rigorous blood test before I was accepted into the program.”

  “So you think the two things are totally separate? Unrelated?”

  “I wouldn’t go that far. It’s too much of a coincidence. Oh, and even stranger? His donors are dead.”

  My mouth drops open in horror. “Dead?”

  Jareth nods.

  “But we just saw them two nights ago. I mean, sure they looked a bit on the pasty side, but . . . dead?” Suddenly this was getting pretty scary.

  “Dead.” Jareth repeats. “And no one has any idea why.”

  “Couldn’t they do an autopsy?”

  “We could, but the humans have them, obviously. I sent some of my men to do recon and they learned that the girls’ parents are doing their own autopsy. And, unfortunately, they’re both going to be cremated immediately afterwards. So we can’t get to their bodies.”

  “What would you need to find out what was wrong with them?”

  “A sample of blood would probably do it. We have some talented chemists in our coven.”

  An idea forms in my mind. “Do you know what funeral home they’ve been sent to? We could maybe sneak in and get the sample or something.”

  Jareth raises an eyebrow. “You want to do that?” he asks. “It could be dangerous.”

  “I laugh in the face of danger,” I quip, letting out a loud fake chortle. “Ha, ha, ha, ha!”

  Jareth shakes his head, not able to suppress a small grin. Heh. Even he cannot resist Silly Rayne.

  “Well, it’s not a bad idea. I’m told the bodies are at the funeral home. But they haven’t been worked on yet, so they still have their blood. We could go there before the place closes and hide out until after hours. Then we can get the blood sample.”

  “Sounds like a plan, Stan.”

  We leave Club Fang and head into the parking lot. Jareth suggests we take his black BMW and obviously I don’t argue. Leather seats and satellite radio set to an all-Goth, all-the-time satellite station is my preferred way to travel. We drive to the outskirts of town, to the funeral home. Neither of us say much in the car, but it’s a comfortable silence as Peter Murphy croons over the airwaves.

  The funeral home is still open when we arrive. Dozens of cars are parked out front. Whoever’s having a wake tonight was obviously pretty popular. I wonder how many people would come to my funeral. Luckily, if I turn vamp I’ll get to fake my death and see for myself.

  My dad better show up or he’s so dead. And when he does die, I won’t attend his fu
neral, just to spite him. Not that he’d be expecting me to, seeing as technically I’d have been the first to die.

  The vampire stuff can get confusing at times. . . .

  Jareth parks the car and suggests we go around to the other side of the house. The backyard hasn’t gotten the same landscaping attention the front has and we have to push through tangled briar patches to get there, totally ripping up my tights. It’s worth the fishnet sacrifice, though, when we find an unlocked window and slip inside.

  “Let’s find a closet or something to hide out in until the place closes for the night and the funeral guys go home,” Jareth suggests.

  “Okay.” I feel like a guest star on Six Feet Under.

  We tiptoe out into the hallway and try a couple doors. The first leads to a bathroom and the second to a tiny darkened chapel. (Which would have been the perfect place to hide were it not for the fact that Jareth’s feet would pretty much burn off walking on hallowed ground.) Finally, on the third try, we find what we’re looking for. A small broom closet filled with cleaning supplies that we’ll both fit in.

  Barely.

  We squeeze in and Jareth pulls the door closed behind us. It’s dark. There’s no room to sit down and I pray that the wake is nearly over. Jareth’s leg brushes against mine, sending a whole host of tingling sensations through my body. Did I happen to mention how hot he is? Half of me totally wants to jump him. Let him take me, right here, right now. I have to keep reminding myself I don’t want him. I really don’t want him.

  “Are you okay?” Jareth whispers. “You’re shaking.”

  Ugh. I’m shaking ’cause he’s totally turning me on. But I can’t exactly tell him that, now can I? At the same time, the last thing I want to do is let him think I’m scared.

  “Low blood sugar,” I whisper. “I only had an apple for lunch.” I actually had four slices of pizza with extra cheese, but he doesn’t need to know that.

  “Sorry,” he says. “We should have stopped at the drive-thru on the way. Sometimes I forget what it’s like to be human. To have feeding needs.”