Take that, vampire commoners. I pause, waiting for the respectful looks such a claim should entitle me to. But instead, the stupid girls burst into laughter. Hmm. So not the reaction I’d been hoping for.
“Well, la-di-da, ladies!” cries Elizabeth. “Who knew little old us would be blessed by a visit from actual royalty.”
“Perhaps we should be bowing down to Her Majesty,” adds Susan. “Paying our respects.”
I can feel my face flame. Why did I have to go and say that? Stupid, Sunny. Way to try to fit in.
“Look, I’m not here on any fairy business,” I attempt. “I’m just acting as Jayden’s donor, that’s all. But I expect a little...” I trail off, catching their faces, which are currently twisted in sudden disgust. “What?”
“Ew,” Katie cries. “Are you serious?”
“You drink fairy blood?” Elizabeth asks, turning to Jayden. “Isn’t it completely gross?”
“I tried deep-fried fairy blood at the Vampire World Fair a few years ago. It’s so disgustingly sweet,” adds Susan. “Not to mention completely fattening, what with all the nectar and crap you lot consume.”
“A friend of mine knows someone who knows someone who got addicted to the stuff. He grew to, like, three hundred pounds before he spontaneously combusted one day.”
“Don’t worry, Jayden,” Elizabeth says, placing a comforting hand on my friend’s shoulder. “We brought some great vintages from our blood cellar up north that we’d love to introduce you to.”
“Wait ’til you taste a 1547 Henry the Eighth,” adds Susan. “You’ll never want to go back to that glorified pixie ripple again.”
“Look,” I interject. “I’ll have you know that my blood is the only thing that—”
But a dark shadow looming behind the girls makes me clamp my mouth shut. I gulp. It’s Dracula. Or, more precisely, the manor’s proprietor, Professor Lucedio, who just happens to look exactly like the legendary count of old, complete with tuxedo and black cape. I remember meeting him the last time I was here and he doesn’t look any less scary, even though Magnus assures me he’s actually quite a marshmallow on the inside.
“Ladies, what is going on here?” he demands. “Don’t you have anything better to do than bother my guests?”
The girls look at one another and titter. Then they look back up at their Maker with wide, overly innocent eyes. “Why, no, Professor,” says Elizabeth. “We have nothing better to do at all.”
“Unless someone were to let us borrow their sweet little Mini Cooper...” Susan adds.
The professor sighs and fishes out a set of keys from his cape’s inner pocket and hands them to the girl.
“And your credit card?” Katie chimes in. No wonder they like coming to visit this guy. “You know, in case we need... gas?”
“Progeny,” he mutters, rolling his eyes as he reaches for his wallet. He hands a black American Express card to Katie. “I’d better not see any charges from the Manolo Blahnik store this time,” he scolds.
“No, Professor,” the girls chime in unison. Though under Elizabeth’s breath I can swear I hear, “I prefer Jimmy Choo anyway.”
“Jayden, you want to come with us?” asks Susan. The three girls look at him hopefully.
He glances at me, then at the girls. “Um...”
“Now, girls, why don’t you let our guest get himself settled in before you try to abscond with him,” Professor Lucedio suggests, his voice leaving no room for argument. “He must be tired from his journey.” He shoots Jayden a meaningful look, and thankfully my friend nods in agreement.
“Oh, fine,” Elizabeth grumps. Then she winks at Jayden. “We’ll see you later!” she says saucily before she and her friends skip over to the detached five-car garage at the far end of the driveway and pull open one of its doors.
“Be back before sunrise!” Professor Lucedio calls after to them. Then he turns back to us, shaking his head. “Sorry about that,” he says. “They mean well. But they can be a bit much at times.”
“That’s one word for it,” I say, watching them peel out of the driveway at a thousand miles an hour. I hope their holiday is over soon and they pack up and head back to the Northern wastelands ASAP. ’Cause bunking with these bitches is so not going to be any fun.
I notice Jayden watching them go, a wistful expression on his face. Traitor.
A motor’s roar behind me brings my attention back to the present. I turn, just in time to see our stretch limo pull away from the curb.
“Magnus!” I cry, dashing after it. I can’t believe he just took off like that, without even saying good-bye. He must be more pissed than I thought. My heart pounds in my chest as I run after the vehicle, my lungs seizing with exhaust. But it doesn’t slow down, and soon I’m forced to stop, leaning over with my hands on my knees, trying to clear my throat. I feel a hand on my shoulder and whirl around, expecting it to be Jayden, come to comfort me. Instead, it’s the professor, looking down at me with a concerned expression.
“He’ll be fine,” he assures me, mistaking my heartbreak for worry. “He’s tough, that one. We fought side by side during the Werewolf Uprising of 1863. They called him the Biteproof Baron. Nothing could stop him from storming the wolves’ lairs and rescuing the humans they’d trapped within.”
I reluctantly allow the professor to lead me back to the house as I try to digest this new piece of Magnus’s history that I knew nothing about. It should make me feel proud inside—my boyfriend, defender of the helpless. But instead it just reminds me of how much I don’t know about him. Not to mention how many lifetimes he’s lived without needing me by his side. I’m just a ripple in his endless pond of existence. And if he grows displeased with me, I’m sure he’ll have no problem moving on, taking my crushed and broken heart along with him as he goes.
“Are you crying?” Jayden asks as we approach. “No!” I retort, angrily swiping my eyes with my sleeve. “I’ve got allergies, okay?”
“Oh. Right. Sorry.” He hangs his head and stares down at the ground, which only serves to make me more miserable. What am I doing, resenting him for talking to girls? He has every right to make friends. Or girlfriends. I had my chance to be with him. I chose Magnus instead. And now I need to learn to live with my decision and let him move on.
But as I catch a glistening tear caught in his black, sooty lashes, I realize that’s going to be easier said than done.
“Please, follow me inside,” Professor Lucedio instructs, clapping his hands in stiff-upper-lip fashion. “Rufus will bring your things to your rooms.” He starts up the imposing set of stone front steps, flanked by two gargoyles.
I give one last look down the now empty driveway, then reluctantly trudge up the steps, my legs feeling as if they’re made of lead. I still can’t believe Magnus didn’t even say good-bye...
8
About twenty minutes later, I find myself lying on a king-sized bed in a small bedroom, very similar to the one Magnus and I shared on our first trip here so long ago. (Okay, it was technically just last May, but with all that’s happened this year, it feels like a lifetime ago.) At the time I didn’t want to touch him— and he’d gallantly offered to sleep on the floor so as not to offend me. But instead, I let him stay, and while we both fell asleep apart, somehow, through the night, we unconsciously came together. I didn’t want to admit it at the time, but I was already falling fast for him.
What I wouldn’t give for another night like that now. Curled up against him, his strong arms wrapped around me, refusing to let go as we drift off to dreamland together without a care in the world. Instead I’m cold and alone and scared and he’s boarding a plane to go halfway around the world. And he didn’t even say good-bye.
I toss and turn in my bed. Will Magnus really keep his promise and make seeking out Jayden’s one hope a top priority? Or will he get caught up in Consortium business the moment he steps off the plane and, despite his best intentions, allow the quest for the Holy Grail to fall by the wayside? How long will I be
stuck here, waiting, wondering? And why can’t I just trust him to do the right thing?
Is it because of what he did in Vegas? Or something deeper than that? Are my past experiences with my dad and all his broken promises still tainting my ability to believe my boyfriend? Even though my father’s actions were all justified in the end and it turned out he wasn’t the terrible father we thought he was, it’s still hard to reconcile the feelings of abandonment I experienced through his extended absence. And that makes it nearly impossible to truly believe that there’s really someone out there now who loves me enough to never let me down.
And thus I force Magnus, time and time again, to pay for all my emotional baggage. Which is so not fair to him. If we want this to work—and oh God, I do, I do—I need to work on my own issues as much as he needs to work on his. One way or another, I need to learn to trust him. With all my heart, soul, and mind. Otherwise, like he said, why are we even bothering?
Realizing I’ll never be able to sleep, I slide out of bed and start unpacking. The lights are dim— probably to accommodate the manor’s normally nocturnal guests—so I draw back the curtains, hoping for some kind of early-morning light. But outside, the darkness still looms and rain sluices down, thunder cracking and lightning slashing through the sky. I shiver, then force myself to turn back to the chest of drawers.
I’m almost fully unpacked when I hear a firm rapping on the door. “Come in,” I say, pushing the last drawer closed and straightening up. I catch my reflection in the mirror and try to pat down my messy hair to better greet my visitor. But the hollows in my eyes from lack of sleep aren’t so easy to fix.
The door pulls open and Rufus, the human butler, steps in, carrying a syringe. “Sorry to disturb you,” he says in a stiff English accent. “But I’ve been instructed to prepare for Master Jayden’s feeding.”
Of course. I nod and sit down on the bed, holding out my arm to him to let him do his thing. By this point the needle no longer even hurts that much and soon I’m watching the blood drain from my veins, down a tube and into a blood bag.
“So how is Jayden doing?” I ask. “Can I go see him?”
“He’s fine,” Rufus replies. “The girls are back and keeping him entertained.”
Of course they are. “Well, I’d like to see him. Can you show me where he is after we’re finished?”
Rufus shoots me a sympathetic look. “I’m afraid that’s not possible.”
“Excuse me?”
“Professor Lucedio gave me explicit instructions. You’re to stay in your room until the sun rises.”
“He did?” A cold feeling starts creeping over me. “But why?”
“This is a hotel for vampires,” Rufus reminds me curtly. “And not all of our guests are... accustomed to sharing such close quarters with mortals.”
“You’re mortal.”
“Yes. And I’ve had some... accidents... in the past because of it.” He tilts his head to the side and I gasp to see a myriad of white scars crisscrossing his neck. Ouch.
“Dude. I hope you got major workers’ comp for that.”
He chuckles softly. “I’m used to it by now,” he says. “And guests are usually respectful enough just to take a sip or two.”
“Is that even legal? I thought it was forbidden to take from anyone who’s not a sanctioned donor.”
Rufus shrugs. “Sometimes, when you’re on holiday, you’re tempted to... let your fangs down, so to speak. And we, as a premiere holiday destination, find we’re better off looking the other way when it comes to that sort of thing. After all, there’s no use risking our impeccable TripAdvisor rating just over some random inconsequential indiscretion.”
“No offense, but that seems a bit more than an indiscretion...”
“Which is why we need to keep you here,” Rufus concludes. “Especially since you’re not only mortal, like me, but you’ve got fey blood in your veins as well —which can be very addicting to some vampires. And let’s just say you don’t want to put temptation directly in their paths. You may not live long enough to regret it.” He pulls the needle from my arm and presses a cotton swab to the wound. “It’s better that you just stay here and rest, trust me.”
I sigh. So basically what he’s saying is I’m stuck under house arrest for my own safety for the foreseeable future. Stupid weakwilled vampires, unable to control their own bloodlust.
“And when morning comes and all good vampires are resting in their coffins or beds, you can come downstairs,” he adds. “I’ll cook you a big delicious breakfast, then give you a tour of the entire place.”
“Great.” I feel bad—I know he’s trying to be nice and accommodating. But what good will walking around in the daytime do me? Jayden will be asleep with the rest of them by then. So much for him keeping me company. I am seriously going to die of boredom in this place, aren’t I?
“Look, I totally get it,” I say. “But maybe you could send Jayden up to my room if I can’t go down to see him? I want to make sure he’s okay, at the very least.”
Rufus gives me another pitying look. “Lord Magnus gave explicit instructions you’re not to be alone with the boy during your stay here.”
I frown. Why, Magnus? Because he lusts for my blood? Or because I might be lusting for something else...?
Rufus pats my shoulder comfortingly. “Don’t worry, miss. As I told you, the girls are seeing to his every need. He is having a grand old time down there with them in the library. His laughter rings through the halls.”
Awesome. Just... awesome.
The butler rises from the bed and collects his things, then heads to the door. “Please feel free to use the intercom if there’s anything you desire,” he says, pointing to a little box on the wall. “Your door is programmed to unlock at sunrise.”
And with that, he exits the bedroom, closing the door firmly behind him. A moment later I hear an electronic click, dooming me to my fate. Because I’m a masochist, I run to the door anyway, trying to force it open. But, of course, it doesn’t budge.
I slide down the wall and onto the floor, hugging my knees to my chest, mixed emotions swirling inside of me. Did Magnus know this was what it’d be like here? That I’d basically be a glorified prisoner during my stay? And if so, he was okay with all that?
And while I’m stuck in vampire jail, Jayden’s living it up with those ditzy girls, all wanting to jump his bones. Probably completely forgetting that I even exist.
Seriously, boys can completely suck sometimes.
9
In the movies, we often see our heroine get trapped by the bad guys and though there’s a completely obvious, easy way for her to escape, she doesn’t notice it until moviegoers are literally screaming at her at the top of their lungs to stop being too stupid to live and just go through the freaking window already.
But, let me tell you, when you’re in the same situation yourself, it suddenly doesn’t feel all that black and white. You’re scared, you’re stressing out, and your thought processes aren’t being lubricated by buttery popcorn and a giant diet Coke.
So yeah, it takes me about fifteen minutes and a rousing mind game of “What Would Rayne Do?” to realize that though Rufus locked the door, the large window looking down onto the grounds remains fair game. Especially for a fairy with wings.
Of course first I have to break said window, which, I might add, looks a lot easier in the movies than in real life. In fact, it takes about thirteen exhausting attempts and the assistance of a nearby armchair to finally shatter the glass enough so I can crawl through and climb onto the ledge without cutting myself on the nasty shards jutting out from the frame.
Once outside, I press my back against the wall of the mansion, praying my feet won’t slip out from under me as they seek solid purchase on the ledge, slick from the downpour of rain. My vision reels as I dare look down to the ground, four stories below, and my stomach roils in protest. Suddenly this doesn’t seem like the most genius plan ever after all. To be honest, up until this poi
nt I’ve never trusted my wings to take me anywhere I couldn’t already jump and live to tell the tale. Rayne once dared me to fly off the Stratosphere Hotel in Las Vegas but I wasn’t having any of that, let me tell you. Heights are so not my thing.
Lightning slashes through the sky, followed by thunder that seems to shake the whole manor house. More than half of me wants to just climb back inside—to wait until morning and figure out a less death- defying escape plan.
But then I see my sister’s disappointed face. And I hear Magnus telling me I need to stay home where it’s safe. No one believes I can be the kick-ass twin. I need to prove them wrong. And what better opportunity to do so than to jump off a four-story window ledge in the pouring rain?
Sucking in a breath and closing my eyes, I unfurl my wings and...
Okay, I know you’re expecting me to say “jump,” but to be honest, that might be overstating my next move a bit. Fine, I’ll admit it. I fell. But you try reaching behind your back to pull your wings out from under your shirt on a ledge that’s about three inches wide without having your foot slip.
And so I fall, careening toward the ground, wings still trying desperately to unfurl. I’m like a paratrooper whose chute didn’t open and I’m quite positive I’m soon to become intimately acquainted with the ground below.
Oh God, I should have stayed in my room! Accepted my non-kick-ass twin status and—A gust of wind catches my wings, launching me upward again like the second part of the Twilight Zone Tower of Terror ride at Disney World. I suck in a breath, readying myself for another tumble, but luckily life isn’t like a Disney ride and instead of a second drop, the wind guides me gently to the ground again. I won’t claim my landing was a perfect ten, by any means, but I don’t seem to have any broken bones, so that’s something at least.
I let out a long breath, trying to still my wildly beating heart, rejoicing in the feel of solid ground beneath my feet. Seriously, if I ever manage to get out of all this alive, I’m so going to take flying lessons over the summer when I’m visiting Mom in Fairyland. Gathering my courage, I start traversing the perimeter of the old Victorian mansion as rain sluices down, soaking me to the skin. I shiver as I slip around a corner, praying to find an open door so I can grab Jayden and the two of us can make our escape.