I force myself not to make a face. “Um, Mom, this is Magnus. Magnus, Mom.” I pray the vampire keeps his fangs concealed until I can get him out the door. And that she doesn’t ask too many questions about what classes he’s taking this year. Unlike the vampires in Twilight, Magnus and the gang learned their algebra and biology the first time around and don’t feel the need to repeat the whole high school experience every year for eternity.
Magnus turns to my mother and takes her hand in his, bringing it to his lips for a kiss. “And here I thought you were her sister,” he says with a small smile.
Mom turns bright red. “Flattery will get you nowhere, young man,” she scolds playfully. “Just have her home before her eleven p.m. It’s a school night, you know.”
I cringe. I can’t believe my mother just lectured a thousand-year-old vampire about my curfew.
“Come on,” I say, grabbing Magnus’s hand, dragging him out the door and then slamming it in my mother’s way-too-curious face. “Parents,” I say, by way of explanation, shaking my head. “Can’t live with them. Can’t shoot them.”
“I wish I could live with mine,” Magnus replies wistfully, much to my surprise. “But they’ve been dead a thousand years.” He looks a little sad as he opens the BMW door for me. Poor guy. I never thought about him having parents before. He must miss them terribly. Yet another reason I don’t understand why people want to become vampires. I can’t imagine having all my friends and family start dropping dead while I live on for a lonely ever after. No wonder the guy’s so desperate for a blood mate.
I sink down into the soft leather passenger seat as Magnus climbs into the driver’s side. He turns up the satellite radio and soft jazz floats from the expensive speakers as we pull away from the curb and start down the road. I’m dying to know where we’re going, but at the same time I kind of like the idea of it being a surprise.
We cruise down windy roads and then up a long hill until we reach a secluded wooded circle. Magnus pulls the car to the side of the road. “My favorite spot in the city,” he announces, opening the door and exiting the vehicle. He comes around to the passenger side, opening the door for me with much chivalry. My heart beats fast with excitement as I climb out of the car and follow him around to the back. He opens the trunk and pulls out a picnic basket and blanket, making me nearly swoon with anticipation. A vampire picnic in the dark? Could it get any more romantic than that?
He hands me a flashlight, then takes my arm to guide me down a narrow, darkened trail. I wonder, for a brief moment, if I should be frightened. But then I remember, time travel or not, this is Magnus. The most gentlemanly vampire I have ever met. I have nothing to fear from him ever.
The trail widens out to a small clearing at the edge of a steep cliff. I gasp as I look out over the vista; you can see almost the entire town of Oakridge from this height, sparkling below in a sea of multicolored lights. It’s gorgeous beyond belief and I’ve never seen anything like it. It makes our tiny little nothing town appear as magical as a fairy kingdom. Bright stars twinkle above us, dancing around a full moon, completing the scene.
As I stare, breathless, Magnus spreads out the blanket and gestures for me to take a seat. Then he opens the picnic basket and starts laying out a variety of little sandwiches.
“I didn’t know what you’d like,” he says, sounding a little bashful as he pulls a bottle of blood from the basket and proceeds to pour the contents into a crystal goblet. “And to be honest, it’s been so many years since I was able to taste food, I’m not sure what you mortals find appetizing.”
“It all looks great,” I assure him, rummaging through the sandwiches and searching for something vegetarian. Unfortunately they all appear to have meat, so I grab a turkey and cheese and yank out the turkey, flinging it into the woods when he’s not looking, so as not to hurt his feelings. After all, he evidently went through much effort to please me. And I want him to know I appreciate it.
“So,” I say, after taking a bite of my rearranged sandwich. “To what do I owe this delicious feast?”
“Must there be a reason for a vampire to take his blood mate out for a meal?” Magnus asks, chuckling softly.
“I suppose not.” I grin, taking another bite of bread. I wonder how I can bring up the whole Project Z thing in a casual way. It seems kind of weird to just blurt it out, out of the blue.
But before I can finesse, Magnus speaks. “However, I do admit, there is something I wanted to speak to you about tonight,” he says.
I stop chewing, my pulse kicking up a beat. “Oh?”
“As you know, Lucifent has made me second in command of the Blood Coven. And in this position, I am required to accompany him to Las Vegas to meet with Pyrus and the Vampire Consortium,” Magnus explains. “And so I was wondering…” He pauses for a moment and I notice he’s wringing his hands in his lap, as if nervous. “I was wondering if you’d be so kind as to join me on my travels.”
I cock my head in question. “Are you asking me to come to Vegas?” This, I was not expecting.
He gives me an apologetic look. “I know it’s probably not a trip you wish to take. However, I can’t be sure it’s safe for you to remain here, all alone.” He shrugs. “We broke out of a Slayer Inc. prison, after all. I do not want to leave you unprotected if they were to launch some kind of retaliation for Lucifent killing their slayer.”
I stare at him, unable to speak, my mind whirling with the proposition. Should I agree to go with him? Get even more mixed up in this mess than I already am? Then again, what better way to learn more about Project Z if I’m at the scene of the crime?
“So, if I were to go,” I say, still not quite willing to commit fully until I talk to Rayne, “when would we leave? I mean, I’d have to pack and tell my mom and all that…”
“We’re scheduled to leave on the private jet tomorrow evening after dark,” Magnus says. He reaches out and takes my hand in his, stroking the back of my palm with cool fingers, causing my heart to go all a-flutter. “It would mean a lot to me if you could come.”
I look up, daring to meet his blue eyes with my own. He looks so sincere. So earnest. As if he’s already fallen in love with me all over again. The thought makes me happy, yet at the same time, a little nervous. After all, there’s so much he doesn’t know. So much I’m keeping from him…
“There is one other thing,” he adds, his voice filled with hesitation.
“What’s that?” I ask, wondering what on earth he could be suggesting now. Maybe he’s going to tell me about Project Z!
“I don’t want you to take this the wrong way,” he says after a pause. “But as a mortal, you’re very…vulnerable. Very…breakable, I guess you could say. Even under my protection, it wouldn’t take much for Slayer Inc. to take you down, if they decided to go after you. But if I were to…” He trails off, swallows hard, then continues. “If I were to turn you early…”
I stare at him, my heart literally stopping at his words. “Um, I’m sorry, what?” I manage to spit out. As if I don’t know exactly what he’s suggesting. As if what he’s suggesting isn’t the most horrifying thing in the history of suggestions.
He shrugs sheepishly, dropping his eyes to his lap. “You know,” he says, “into my blood mate.”
“You want to turn me into a vampire,” I blurt out before I can stop myself.
“Yes. That is the plan.”
“But you want to do it…now,” I try to clarify. “Like right now? This very second now?”
He nods and it’s all I can do not to run screaming into the night. Oh God. This is not good. So not good.
“I think it’s the wisest thing to do,” he says, steeling his resolve and meeting my eyes again. “And what difference does it make, really? In one month you will undergo the transformation anyway. Why should we wait?”
Um, I can think of about three million reasons…
“I don’t know about you,” he continues. “But I’m not all about the pomp and circumstance like some
vampires are. I’d be just as happy to turn you here, tonight, as I would in a lavish ceremony with all our peers. In fact, I think it’d be kind of romantic, sharing something so intimate between the two of us, under the blanket of a thousand stars.” He squeezes my hand tightly in his own, his eyes beseeching me. “What do you say, my darling? My Rayne?”
What do I say? What do I freaking say? How about that you don’t even know my real name? That you think I’m my sister. That I’m not even supposed to become a vampire at all? My heart pounds in my chest with a hardcore techno beat as I desperately try to figure out what on earth I should tell him. That I’m from another time. That he really doesn’t know me at all. That I’m not sure I want to become a vampire—ever—never mind right this second!
And by the way, even if I did someday decide I wanted to become a vampire, I still wouldn’t feel right doing it under false pretenses like this. I can’t make a lifelong commitment—make that an eternal commitment—to someone I’ve been lying to all this time. What would happen if he discovered the truth after he’d turned me? God, he might be so angry he’d never talk to me again. And then I’d be alone, for all eternity, trapped in the body of a monster I never wanted to be.
But how can I explain any of this to him? He thinks I’ve already got my vampire certification. That I’ve been on waiting lists, signed contracts. He thinks I’m fully dedicated to the process of becoming a creature of the night—and all we’re arguing about is a matter of a few weeks. Not life or death!
Bottom line, while I’m a hundred percent sure I want to be with Magnus and I want him to love me as much as I love him, this is a no good, very bad, awful idea.
“I’m—I’m sorry,” I say at last, hating the way his face falls at my words. “I don’t think this is a good time. I mean, there’s so much going on. All this chaos with Slayer Inc. And the launching of Project Z…I don’t want our moment to be rushed. I don’t want to sacrifice the specialness just because we feel pressured by the slayers. They shouldn’t be allowed to take that away from us.” I give him my most pleading look. “You understand, right?”
He nods slowly, though his eyes betray his total disappointment. My heart pangs at the idea of hurting him, but it can’t be helped. “I still want to go to Vegas,” I assure him. “I still want to be by your side.”
“I know,” he says, pulling me into an embrace. “And you’re right, of course. There’s no need to rush things. I know this is a huge life change and I want it to be as special as possible for you.” He pulls away from the hug and gives me a guilty smile. “I guess I’m just excited to make things official. Is that so wrong?”
I let out a sigh of relief. Oh thank God. I’ve bought myself some more time.
“Good things come to those who wait,” I manage to quip, though inside I still feel a little nauseated at my narrow escape. How long can I keep putting him off?
He laughs. “I suppose you’re right,” he says. “You’re always right.”
But as he leans in to press his lips softly against mine, I can’t help but think of how I feel so very wrong.
16
Rayne
The wind swirls around me, tangling my hair as I make my way down a dark, deserted alleyway, filled with billowing smoke from a nearby exhaust pipe. High above, thick gray clouds succeed in blocking out the sun, giving the landscape a gritty, film noir vibe. The temperature has dropped and I shiver as I press onward, hugging my arms to my chest. I wonder, for a moment, where I am. And where I’m supposed to be going.
Suddenly, a scream pierces the air and I stop in my tracks. A teenage girl with long blond hair whips around the corner, waving her hands frantically in front of her face. Her eyes are wide as saucers and her mouth is twisted in fear. She slams into me, knocking me backward with the force of her fall. As I scramble to regain my balance, she grabs me by the shoulders, shaking me with all her might.
“They’re coming!” she cries. “They’re almost here!”
I stare back at her, confused as all hell. “Who?” I ask. “Who’s coming?”
But she’s already released me—pushed past me—sprinting down the alley as if she’s being chased by death itself. As I watch her disappear around the corner, my ears suddenly pick up a low groaning sound from not far away. I turn in the direction of the sound, my eyes widening as they fall upon what appears, at first glance, to be a really grungy homeless person, dressed in filthy, tattered rags. But then I get a closer look. At his scarred arms and legs, dripping with greenish pus. At his hollow face, his deadened eyes, his slack jaw. He staggers toward me, arms outstretched, another moan escaping his puffy, blackened lips.
I take a step backward, horrified. I’ve seen enough episodes of The Walking Dead to know exactly what this creature must be.
Project Z. Of course.
I turn to run, but another zombie rounds the corner, cutting off my escape route. A female, from the looks of it, though far from a beauty queen. In fact, for all intents and purposes, she looks like your average seventy-five-year-old grandmother, if your seventy-five-year-old grandmother had a mouth caked with dried blood instead of dried lipstick. From the way her head lolls sideways, I’d guess her neck is broken. Not that this obvious handicap in any way slows her down. As she hobbles toward me on grimy, wrinkled bare feet, I can hear her muttering something that sounds a lot like “brains” under her breath.
My mind races as I try to remember what I used to do to stop the return of the living dead in my Vampires vs. Zombies video game, but unfortunately that usually involved a double-barreled shotgun, and I’m fresh out of those. In fact, I’m fresh out of any weapons at all. I’ll have to somehow slip past one of these beasties and pray they’re not too fast on their feet.
Zombie number one—let’s call him Charlie—takes another jerky step forward, stepping boldly into my three-foot bubble. I suck in a breath and shove him backward as hard as I can, praying he’s as unsteady on his feet as he appears to be—and that zombieism really is spread only by saliva, not skin-to-skin contact.
At first I think it’s going to work—that Charlie will fall and I’ll be able to break free. But the bastard somehow manages to right himself—he’s much more agile than the zombies in Night of the Living Dead, I must say—and keeps on coming. Behind me, zombie number two—Meredith, we’ll call her—gurgles something, then leans over to puke green slime all over my calves. Yum.
Resisting the nearly overwhelming urge to throw up myself, I instead whirl around, extending my vomit-dripping leg to kick Meredith hard in the gut. Luckily, she’s not as agile as old Charlie and she flails, falling butt first on the ground, where she writhes in fury. I can’t help but think of that old commercial.
Help, I’ve fallen but I can’t get up!
Without hesitation, I make my move, attempting to leap over Meredith and run like hell down the street, praying there are no other zombies nearby. But as I jump, Meredith grabs my leg. Seriously, for a senior citizen whose flesh is literally falling off the bone, she’s pretty damn strong, and try as I might I can’t free myself from her grasp.
Charlie takes advantage, lunging forward and grabbing me by the neck, then yanking me backward. It’s a zombie-on-zombie Rayne tug-of-war as both of them try to bring some piece of my flesh to their drooling mouths. In the end, Charlie is the winner, his rotted teeth chomping down on my shoulder, ripping the skin from my bones.
But just as I start screaming, Charlie’s head explodes. Literally. Like brains splattering all over my shirt. His hands slip from my neck and his body goes sliding to the ground. At the same time, I feel Meredith release me as well and realize her head has been separated from her body by an axe.
I look up to find my zombie savior, my jaw dropping when I realize it’s none other than Jareth himself. He drops the axe to the ground and grabs me, pulling me into a fierce embrace.
“Oh, Rayne,” he cries, covering my brain-splattered face with kisses. “I’ve missed you so much.”
“Um, you
have?” I repeat dumbfounded. This is getting weirder and weirder. “Seriously? Since when?” After all, last I heard he hated my guts and wished I’d just go away. It’s then that I reach up to touch my shoulder, where the zombie bit me. To my shock and surprise, there’s no wound at all.
“Okay, this has got to be a dream,” I realize, a bit disappointed. I mean, not about the zombie-wound-disappearing part. Believe me, while I love the idea of becoming undead, I prefer the upper-class vampire variety, not the working-class monster.
But when it comes to the part where Jareth is kissing me with wild abandon? That part I really wish were for real.
“Damn. I really need to stop eating all those Fritos before bedtime…”
Jareth reaches out and wipes away a smudge of zombie brain from my cheek. “It’s not a dream,” he tells me. “Well, not exactly.”
I cock my head in question. “What do you mean?”
“Think of it more like…a vision. Or a warning, maybe. I’ve been sent here by Hades to have a talk with you.”
Uh-oh. I cringe. Here it comes. I’m guessing the Lord of the Underworld isn’t so pleased at the mess Sunny and I have managed to make our first few days back.
Jareth leads me over to a small bench that seems to have appeared out of nowhere. He sits me down beside him and finds my eyes with his own beautiful emerald ones. “You were sent here under the assumption that you would help Sunny regain a normal life, as she always wanted,” he begins. “But instead, you’ve managed to put all of mankind in danger.”
“Um, yeah,” I reply, feeling my face heat at his admonishment. “We’re actually still in the process of working all that out…”
Jareth gives me a rueful smile. “I’m sure,” he says. “Knowing you, you probably have a great big plan in mind. But all Hades can see right now is that things have gone to hell. And not in a good way, either. By allowing Lucifent to live, you’ve given him the opportunity to introduce Project Z to Pyrus.”
I glance down at the dead zombies at my feet. “Let me guess,” I say. “Project Z doesn’t stand for Zantac and the plan isn’t to relieve Pyrus’s stomach acid.”