21
He Did the Mash. He Did the Monster Mash
It isn’t like our first kiss, the one out in the parking lot of Club Fang. That was a kiss full of lust. Of empty passion between two strangers who knew nothing of one another. And it isn’t like the kiss Jake Wilder gave me just before I jetted off to England. That was, admittedly, a bit on the sloppy side.
This kiss is different. It’s impossible to describe. At least not without sounding like someone out of my Aunt Edna’s romance novels.
So I stay still for a moment, simply enjoying the softness of his lips moving against mine, forgetting for a moment all my pain, my worries, my fears, and just relaxing into his embrace. Taking in the strength and reassurance his mouth is offering me. (Okay, maybe I am stepping into romance heroine-speak for a moment, so sue me.)
And then, against my better judgment, I kiss him back.
For a moment, we are one. Tasting, touching, loving one another. There are no longer human-vampire cohabitation issues. Just two individuals who feel the undeniable need to connect with one another on a kind of base, intimate level.
Insert major dreamy sigh here.
He pulls away first, blushing furiously. I notice blood tears leaking from the corners of his eyes before he brushes them away.
“I’m sorry,” he mutters, turning to look out the window. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
I stare at him for a moment, unable to speak, knowing that whatever I say next will turn the tide of our relationship forever. I realize my fingers are clawing at the leather seats and I release my hold.
I think of the possibilities. If I stay vampire, there’s no reason we can’t hook up, right? I mean, we’re blood mates; our DNA is compatible to spend an eternity with one another. And after all, if I’m stuck as a vamp, there’s no one I’d rather be stuck with than sweet, perfect, caring Magnus who kisses like a god.
By the same token, if I do manage to regain my humanity (and let’s be honest, that’s plan number one), would it be realistically feasible to keep such close ties to an immortal creature of the night?
Seriously. I mean, what would it be like to have a vampire boyfriend? As far as I can imagine, it could never work. We couldn’t get married, for one. (What would he put on the marriage license as his date of birth?) And after a few years, I’d start growing old and he’d stay looking like a teenager forever. What would people say to an aging sixty-year-old woman with a handsome teenage boyfriend? (Well, besides “ew” anyway.) I mean, the whole Demi and Ashton thing is weird enough. This would be much, much worse.
And then there’s the blood mate issue. The Council will eventually assign Magnus a new, proper blood mate. Someone to spend eternity with who won’t grow old and complain about her arthritis. And what am I supposed to do then? Make it a threesome? Somehow I doubt Mrs. New Blood Mate would be down with that.
Nope, there’s no way around this. It’s not going to work. And it’s probably better to pull off the Band-Aid all at once, as they say, rather than slowly prolonging the torture. Stop myself. Stop him. Stop this budding relationship now—before I’m in too deep. Before I find myself in love or something equally ridiculous like that.
“I think we need to concentrate on finding the Grail right now,” I say firmly, crossing my arms over my chest. I hope I look confident and in control, ’cause inside all that’s raging is doubt and confusion. I hold my breath, waiting for his response. Is he going to be pissed? Or beg me to reconsider?
But all he does is nod and I can see his hard swallow. “Of course,” he agrees, clearing his throat. “We should most certainly be concentrating on that.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. Gah! This is so, so hard. Suddenly all I want to do is throw my arms around him and continue where we left off. Kiss him senseless all night long. But that would be really stupid. Impulsive gratification that would lead to a lifetime of regret.
I can feel him staring at me, his beautiful blue eyes boring into my skull, as if he’s attempting to read my mind. I suddenly realize I never did determine whether he had the power to do that. I hope he doesn’t. I don’t want him to see all the confusion swirling around in my head.
“Well, since we’re here,” I say at last, determined to switch to a safer, less painful subject, “maybe we should go out and enjoy the festival.”
Magnus glances out the window again, looking as if I just asked him to dine on the blood of a garlic farmer. I don’t blame him. I’m sure the last thing he wants to do at this moment is wade through a crowd of drunken revelers, taking in the sights like some undead tourist with nothing better to do.
“Never mind,” I say, taking it back. Screw it. I don’t want to make things worse. Plus, how much fun could we really have in our depressed, mopey states? “It was a dumb idea.”
“No, no,” Magnus protests, looking back at me, his expression completely unreadable. “It’s a rather good idea, actually. You’ll probably never get a chance to experience such chaos again. Might as well make the most of it, right?” He tries to smile, but it’s definitely a halfhearted attempt.
“Okay,” I hedge. “If you’re sure . . .”
“Sure, I’m sure. It’ll be fun.”
I’d actually believe him, if he weren’t wearing a death-warmed-over expression on his pale face. But before I can object, he instructs the limo driver to wait here and opens the car door.
“Let’s go,” he says with what sounds to me like forced cheerfulness.
We step out into the night. Into the crowds. Into the craziness. “Here goes nothing,” I mutter, not sure why I thought this was a good idea.
We struggle to make our way through the throng, buy two tickets from a bearded scalper wearing a Tottenham Hotspurs soccer jersey. Then we head through the makeshift gates and onto the field. And it’s there that my jaw drops open in wonderment.
Wow. All I can say is wow.
Seriously, you’ve never lived until you’ve seen a hundred thousand people dancing all at once. The stage appears miles away and the performers look like ants from our location. But that doesn’t seem to bother the festivalgoers in our geographic sphere. They’re dancing like they’ve got front-row tickets to the action—bouncing up and down to the music, screaming their heads off, and generally having a grand old time.
I grin, feeling my doubt and depression slink away, replaced by a shared vibe of excitement. I mean, how cool is this? We have nothing like it in America. These Brits really know how to rock out. I’m so glad we decided to get out of the car.
“Well, this is a bit disconcerting, isn’t it?” Magnus yells in my ear, evidently not sharing my enthusiastic sentiments. Then again, as a proper, thousand-year-old vampire, I’m guessing this mania really isn’t his regular scene.
I, on the other hand, have determined that I’m going to have a good time and he’s not going to wreck it for me. ’Cause I deserve it, after all I’ve been through this week. Yup, I’m now ready to cut loose and stop thinking about all the bad stuff and just get down on the dance floor. (Or grass floor, as the case may be.)
And that means Magnus is so not allowed to be the old fuddy-duddy stick in the mud that I can see he’s planning to be. We need to put our differences aside tonight. Enjoy ourselves and our unique surroundings. After all, this could be a once-in-a-lifetime experience. I want to enjoy it.
So I grab him by the hand and drag him into the midst of the throng. “Dance!” I yell at him, not sure he can hear me over the music. I start bopping to the beat myself, hoping he’ll get the picture.
He rolls his eyes and stands still for a moment, perhaps calculating how many vampire coolness points he’d lose for getting his groove on at the Glastonbury Festival. Knowing what I do about the Vampire Code, I’m sure raving’s considered “behavior not becoming” for the incoming king. But still . . .
“There’s no one here to see you,” I remind him. “And I’ll never tell!” I grab his hands and start dancing around him, trying to force him to move. At
first he stands there like a stone statue, then slowly starts nodding his head to the beat. Then, other body parts follow.
At first he’s awkward, just going through the motions. But by the time the next song starts up, I can tell he’s getting into it. By midtune, he’s totally boogieing down.
“Whoo-hoo!” I cry, throwing my arms around him in a big hug. I probably shouldn’t be doing things like that, seeing as I’m trying to keep our relationship on a platonic level. But at that moment, it feels like a perfectly normal thing to do. And hey, we’re still friends, right? And friends hug. No big deal. I squeeze tighter. “I knew you could do it!” I say in his ear.
He laughs. “Bloody hell!”
And so we dance. And hop. And twirl. At one point we dance together, clutching onto one another like deranged prom dates. I can tell from the looks on the other ravers’ faces that this kind of twosome “old-fashioned” dancing isn’t really festival approved. But I don’t care. Having Magnus’s hands on my waist, spinning me on the grassy dance floor, feels too good for me to worry about what other people think.
After what seems like hours of cardio, we collapse, laughing and sweaty and exhausted, onto a nearby grassy clearing that is remarkably free of people.
“Whew!” I cry. “That was fun.”
“Indeed.”
Magnus lies down on the grass, staring up into the darkened sky. I join him. It’s a beautiful night. The moon hangs low and full and is almost orange in its intensity. Perfect temperature and a clear sky, glittering with pinpricks of light. Nice. You know, if I do end up stuck as a vampire for all eternity—never again setting foot under the sun—at least I’ll always have the stars to keep me company.
“I haven’t been dancing in probably eighty years,” Magnus admits. “Not since the Roaring Twenties, I shouldn’t think.”
“Really?” I’m surprised. That’s a long time not to get your groove on. “Not even at Club Fang?”
“Not really my thing,” he admits. “Just ’cause I’m a vampire, doesn’t mean I’m into the Goth scene.”
“Yeah. I suppose that makes sense,” I reason. “Like why go around dressing in black and wishing you were dead, when technically you already are.”
He grins. “Exactly.”
“Well, your first time dancing in nearly a century—how did you enjoy it?”
“Very much so. I think I might only wait a decade or two to try it again,” he says dryly. I shove him playfully on the shoulder.
“Whatever, dude. We’re so dancing again in like five minutes’ time and you know it!”
“Are we now? Well, if you say so, it must be true.”
I roll onto my side to face him and he does the same. “Come on, admit it. You had fun. You’re dying to do it again.”
“All right, all right. It was quite enjoyable,” he says with a small smile. “But don’t say a word to anyone back at the coven. I’m trying to build up credibility for my takeover. And I hardly think ‘getting my groove on,’ as you so delicately put it, will impress many as to my leadership abilities.”
“Who cares what they think? I mean, screw them! What business of theirs is it what you do in your spare time? Are you vamps not allowed to have fun or something?”
He sighs. “Vampire politics are very complicated. And our systems have been in place for nearly a thousand years. Most of our kind are very set in their ways and do not take kindly to modernisms or vampires who try to stay with the times. It’s unfortunate, though,” he adds after a pause. “I believe our species is missing out on a lot of good nights out.”
“Well, when you’re king you can change all that.”
“It’s not that easy. But we shall see.” He reaches over and brushes away a lock of hair that’s fallen into my sweaty face. I wish he wouldn’t keep doing that. I find it way too romantic for comfort. “You have a great outlook on life, Sunny,” he says, softly. “I could learn a lot from you.”
I can feel myself blushing and have no idea how to respond. “Thanks?” I venture at last.
He smiles, but doesn’t speak. For a moment we just stare at one another. I wonder if he’s going to kiss me again, but he doesn’t make a move. He’s probably afraid to, seeing how I reacted the last time. Instead he just lies there and watches me with his sad, blue, beautiful eyes.
I can’t stand it.
“I love this song! Let’s go dance,” I exclaim, jumping to my feet. I don’t really love this song. In fact, I’m not even sure what song it is. Or what band, for that matter. But I’ve got to break the spell somehow and this is the only way I can think to do it.
I grab him by the hand and yank him up. He laughs and together we weave back out into the crowds. Soon we’re dancing again and I’m relieved to note that Magnus seems to have abandoned his dark thoughts and looks actually rather happy as he moves to the rhythm of the night.
It seems like only minutes later, but must be hours, when I look up at the sky. The horizon has pinkened with predawn light. “We’d better get going,” I tell Magnus. “We don’t want to be caught in the sun.”
“One more song?” he begs. “I love Oasis.”
I laugh. Gone is the cool, slightly ironic vampire he pretends to be. Now he’s a kid in a candy store. Eyes shining. Alive. (Well not technically alive, but you know what I mean.) Mission accomplished.
“Fine by me. You’re the one who’s going to be burned to a crisp,” I tease.
He sighs. “You’re right, of course. Let’s go.”
We head back to the limo, which miraculously is still waiting for us. Guess if you pay someone enough, he’ll stick around till Judgment Day. So cool. I would love one of these chauffeur setups to bring me to school and back everyday. Fetch my lunch from the local pizza joint and have it hot and waiting for me at lunchtime.
The chauffeur opens the door for us and we climb inside. If I had a limo, though, I’d redo the boring interior. Maybe throw up a few disco lights or something. Make it really fun. Hmm, I wonder if MTV ever pimps these kinds of rides.
The chauffeur gets in his side and puts the key in the ignition. Soon, we’re speeding back to Château du Vampire.
“That was so much fun,” I say, after a long yawn, sinking back into my leather seat. I’m so sleepy all of a sudden. I guess hours upon hours of dancing in a field will do that to a girl. Not that it wasn’t totally worth it.
“Indeed,” Magnus agrees. “I had a fantastic time. More fun than I’ve had in centuries.” He smiles his shy smile. “Thank you, Sunny.”
“Anything for you, Maggy,” I respond, trying to keep the mood light. I can’t bear to have him go all mushy again. It’ll ruin all my work to keep things platonic.
I close my eyes, pretending to sleep, mainly to avoid looking at him. But even with my eyes squeezed shut, I can feel him on the other side of the limo. His stare. His desire for me. I don’t know if it’s a blood mate thing or what, but I can feel it radiating from his body.
He wants me. I’m sure of it. As sure as I am about Marshmallow Peeps being the best candy in the universe. And if I’m being completely honest here, I want him, too. In fact, I’d like nothing better than to cuddle up next to him and sleepily exchange sweet kisses and caresses all day long.
But I can’t. I can’t give in. I must stay strong. Break this all off now, before it’s too late. Before I fall in love.
I open one eye and steal a glance over at him. He smiles at me.
Oh God, what if I already have?
22
Ancient Druid or Mad Football Hooligan?
When I awake that night, it’s raining hard. And I can hear the wind whistling through the trees. I climb out of bed, careful not to wake Magnus, and pull back the heavy drapes to look out the window. This is the stereotypical weather everyone says England always has, I guess.
Suddenly I miss America with a vengeance. What am I doing here? In a foreign country, spending the night dancing in a field like a crazy person, with only a vampire to keep me company? Thi
s isn’t me. I’m normal. Average. I don’t do things like this.
I just want to go home.
But I can’t. Not until we get the Grail. Otherwise this whole adventure has been for nothing. Otherwise I’ll be stuck as abnormal for eternity.
I look at my watch. Eight P.M. I wonder how Rayne is doing, handling Mom. Pretending to be me. She sounded a little bored of the charade when I called her early this morning. But she said not to worry. That she’d take care of everything.
She never stresses out or overthinks anything. She just goes with the flow and doesn’t care what people say. I envy that in her.
“Sunny?”
I turn back to the bed. Magnus is sitting up, rubbing his eyes sleepily. Guess I woke him up after all.
“Hey,” I say, quickly exchanging my view of him for one of the ground, mainly to avoid seeing him shirtless and sexily mussed from sleep. Seriously, when I wake up in the morning (or evening in this case) I look like death warmed over. He looks like Brad Pitt at the Oscars.
“Hey yourself.”
Wow. This is kind of awkward, really. Things still feel so unsettled between us.
“So, um, do you think the festival’s over?” I ask, trying to stay on neutral ground.
Magnus nods. “Yes, I heard someone say Oasis was the final act. So I’m sure everyone’s either left or is sleeping it off somewhere.”
“So do you think that means that the druids could be back then?”
“Hopefully. We shall certainly try to find out.”
“Cool. Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go.”
Magnus gives me a funny look, but doesn’t comment at first. Is it that obvious that I just want to get him dressed and out of the bedroom ASAP?
“Sunny, I think we need to talk,” he says at last.
Talk? Sudden panic grips me like a vice. I don’t want to talk! If we talk, he’s going to tell me something I don’t want to hear. Like that he’s in love with me. Or that he wants me to stay a vampire with him. And then I’ll have to choose. And I don’t want to choose. Choosing is so overrated.