Authors: Mari Mancusi
“Hello?” he whispers as I stare at him in disbelief. “Oh, hey, baby,” he says after a pause. “That’s so sweet of you. But I’m right in the middle of something now. I can’t really talk.”
I squeeze my hands into fists. Is he for freaking real? Making mad gestures, I soundlessly urge him to hurry up. He holds up a hand.
“No, no, I’m alone,” he assures her as he looks up at me, putting a finger to his lips. It’s all I can do to prevent my jaw from dropping to the floor. “Well, I appreciate that. Good-bye, sweetie.” He pauses, then laughs. “No, you hang up!” Another pause. “No! You!”
I grab the phone from his hand and throw it across the field. As he watches the phone fly through the air, a look of horror on his face, I shrug. “Sorry,” I say. “You seemed to be having some difficulty disconnecting. I thought I’d help you out.”
“I can’t believe you just—”
“So are we going to do this whole rescue? Or did you need to ask your girlfriend for permission, first?”
Jareth lets out a long sigh, then closes the door behind us, leaving his phone out on the field, where I hope the rain will douse it so it will never work again.
“Fine,” he says. “Now where to begin?”
“Oh just shut up and follow me,” I growl, no longer feeling excited about our daring rescue. I stalk down the hall, not looking back to see if he’s following. I can’t believe he answered his
phone. Not only answered—but was all cutesy to the girl on the other end. That’s so not like the Jareth I know. I mean, he’s never once talked to
me
on the phone like that!
Jealousy burns at my gut as I push open the door that leads down into the basement, where the dungeon is located. I stare down into the darkness, wishing I still had my flashlight.
“What are you waiting for, all-powerful mortal?” Jareth asks, coming up beside me and whispering in my ear. I jump a mile in surprise.
“Nothing,” I retort, trying to still my heart. “Just…just looking for a light switch.”
“Not a good idea. It might alert someone to our presence.” He grabs me by the arm and pulls me close. “Just stick by me,” he purrs, his breath tickling my earlobe. “Perhaps I have my uses after all.”
I
t’s been a half hour since the blood transfusion and Magnus is already looking a hundred percent better. The bleeding has gone, the wound has closed up, and his abs are once again the six-pack of perfection they were always meant to be. I have to admit, being a vampire does have some benefits. Namely the amazing power of regeneration.
Which I, on the other hand, am severely lacking. While Magnus did manage to restrain himself from draining me dry, my donation to his health has left me in a very weakened state. Not surprising, I suppose. If I were to have given blood at the Red Cross, I would have at least gotten some orange juice and cookies out of the deal, to help keep me standing. Here I don’t even get a dry crust of bread.
I do, however, get Magnus’s chest as a pillow, which, let’s face it, is better than cookies and OJ any day of the week. I guess he feels bad about my suffering for his sake because after the transfusion, he cares for my wound as best he can in these unsanitary conditions, ripping off a swatch of fabric from his pants and wrapping it around my wrist. Then he pulls me close to him, cuddling me in his nook, arms wrapped around my body, hands softly stroking my back. As I curl up against him, breathing in his warm, familiar scent, I feel a strange sense of peace wash over me. Sure, we’re in a bad situation. We may even be in danger of our lives. But here and now, with Magnus gently running a hand through my hair, his fingernails lightly scraping my scalp, I have to admit, I haven’t felt this good—this at ease—for a very long time.
I’m not sure of the moment I fall asleep. Or how long I’m out once I do. But at some point I’m awakened by a loud clattering noise outside the cell. I jerk up in bed, peering out into the dimly lit jail. Magnus rouses beside me, looking a little sleepy himself.
“Who’s there?” he demands.
“Magnus? Is that you?” a male voice calls out through the darkness.
Magnus is on his feet in a flash. “Jareth?”
Sure enough, a moment later, my sister and Jareth step into view. Seeing us, Rayne turns to her vampire companion, a smug smile on her face. “See? I told you they’d be down here!”
“I never said they wouldn’t be,” Jareth grumps back. “So save the ‘I told you so’s’ for someone who cares.”
Ah, yes. Rayne and Jareth and their infamous bickering. Some things even time travel can’t change.
“Sis!” I cry, leaping off the bed with a burst of energy I didn’t know I had. “Thank God you’ve come!” I do my best to hug her through the bars.
“Yeah, well, if you had invited me to begin with…”
Oh, here we go. “If I had invited you to begin with, you would be stuck in here with us and thus not available to help us stage our rescue.”
She grins. “Touché, sis.” As we part from our hug, I catch her gazing at my bandaged wrist with a questioning look on her face. Feeling my face heat, I quickly yank down my sleeve. I don’t want her to get the wrong impression.
“Magnus, what were you thinking?” Jareth demands, crossing his arms over his chest. “Coming here alone—without backup. You could have been killed.”
“I could have been,” Magnus agrees. “But I wasn’t. Thanks to my blood mate here.” He gives me an affectionate look. “She not only rescued me from a slayer but allowed me to drink her blood to heal my wounds.”
Rayne fist-bumps me through the bars. “Score yet another one for us mere mortals!” she crows at Jareth. The vampire general only sighs.
“You do realize that sharing blood with an unlicensed mortal is strictly forbidden,” he reminds Magnus.
“It was a matter of life or death,” Magnus replies quickly, throwing me a knowing look. “Now are you here to report me or rescue me?”
“Don’t be daft. Of course I’m here to rescue you,” Jareth retorts, heading over to a nearby desk and rummaging through the drawers, presumably looking for a key. Rayne joins him on the hunt. “I’m just surprised,” he continues. “First you run off here on a crazy whim. Then you manage to get yourself captured. And, if that’s not bad enough, you decide to drink blood from a practical stranger. I have to say, it’s not like you to take such risks.”
“Well, we can discuss my risky behavior another time,” Magnus declares. “Right now we must get out of here and get to the Blood Coven crypt as fast as possible. Slayer Inc. plans to slay Lucifent tonight. And we must figure out a way to stop them.”
Jareth stops his search to look over at Magnus in surprise. “Tonight?” he repeats. “Earlier you said a month from now.”
Magnus looks sheepish. “Right. Well, I’m afraid our little…intrusion…may have forced their hand. Sped things up a little.”
“Oh, Sis,” Rayne tsks disapprovingly.
“Don’t blame us,” I declare. “It’s Mr. High and Mighty Vampire General who demanded proof. If we just could have met with Lucifent to begin with…”
Rayne holds up a key that she’s found hanging in a dark nook. “Ta-da!” she cries. “Score another for—”
Jareth yanks the key from her grasp. “Mere mortals, yes,
yes, we get it. God, you’re like a pit bull with a bone.” He slips the key in the lock and turns. The door creaks open. Magnus and I are free.
“Come on,” Magnus says, grabbing me by the arm and hurrying me along. “Let’s go save Lucifent.”
A
t first I assume Magnus and Jareth plan to take Rayne and me with them as they attempt to stop their Master’s murder back at the coven crypt. But it seems they have somehow convinced themselves that we’re of no use to them in this fight and they’re better off going at it alone. Which is ridiculous, seeing as I saved Magnus’s life not hours before and Rayne totally helped Jareth break into Slayer Inc. Manor. But, sadly, they don’t seem to recognize our obvious advantages as they take off in their luxury automobiles and leave Rayne and me on the side of the road with our rusty Volkswagen Bug.
But maybe it’s for the best. After all, I’ve got a lot to debrief my sister on. Once we get into the vehicle and close the doors, I turn to her. “We have a problem.”
“That Jareth is a huge, pigheaded idiot who refuses to admit
the fact that a mere mortal can do anything a vampire can do…and probably better?”
“Er, while I’m sure that is very problematic in and of itself, that’s not exactly what I was talking about.”
“Sorry. Go on.”
I draw in a breath, wondering where to begin. “After we fought Bertha, Teifert showed up. And he said something strange. He said there was a good reason that Slayer Inc. wanted Lucifent dead.”
“Yeah, we know,” Rayne interrupts. “Because he’s a child vampire. The same reason Slayer Inc. went after Jareth’s family back in the day. It’s such a stupid technicality, if you ask me. Who cares if a vampire looks like a little kid forever? What does it hurt anyone else?”
“That’s what I said,” I reply. “But Teifert looked at me like I had two heads and said they’d never do something like that. Then he hinted there was something else that Lucifent was involved in. Something…bad…that could hurt the Blood Coven. Not to mention mankind.”
My sister furrows her brow. “Like what?”
“I don’t know. He didn’t elaborate. But, Rayne,” I say, a feeling of dread creeping into my bones all over again. “What if we were wrong? What if Slayer Inc. really did have some top-secret reason to take out Lucifent that had nothing to do with his being adult-challenged?”
Rayne bites at her lower lip. “Did we just screw up big-time?”
“Here we are, thinking we’re changing history for the better. What if we just made things a lot worse?”
“What should we do?” Rayne asks as she turns the key in the ignition and flips on the headlights. “Should we follow them to the cemetery? Maybe help Slayer Inc. slay Lucifent after all?”
“We could. But if we did, that’d be it. There’s no way we’d ever get Magnus and Jareth back after that. We’d be their enemies forever.”
“I wish Teifert had been more clear on the details!” Rayne pounds on the steering wheel in frustration. “What if the Lucifent thing isn’t a big deal?”
“What if it’s a huge deal? What if we’ve just signed humanity’s death warrant?”
“Oh God,” my sister moans. She puts the car in gear. “All right, let’s go to the cemetery and at least see what’s going on. Maybe we can figure something out on the fly.”
I nod in agreement—what else can we do?—and a moment later we’re speeding down the dark roads, on our way to St. Patrick’s Cemetery, home of the Blood Coven crypt. I remember my first trip down into the underground headquarters. The night Lucifent got killed by Bertha. At the time, his murder had seemed so evil. So unnecessary. But now I’m not so sure. What if my murderer was actually a good guy in disguise?
We pull over at the edge of the cemetery, then creep through the dark gravestones toward the crypt. At first I’m positive we’re going to end up seeing nothing—that all the vampires will already be deep down inside, where no mortal can enter. But instead, as we grow close, a set of headlights sweeps into view. A long, black limo approaches, pulling over at the entrance to the crypt. A moment later, the door opens and none
other than Lucifent himself steps out, into the night air. A little blond boy, dressed in an adorable mini-tuxedo. It’s hard to believe someone so tiny and seemingly inconsequential has the power to change the world.
Rayne grabs me and yanks me down behind a gravestone, just as a bellowing cry echoes through the night sky. It’s a cry I’d know anywhere.
Bertha.
The slayer leaps over the grave she’s been hiding behind, letting out a piercing roar. Without pause, she launches into a round-off back-handspring, flipping toward the Master at breakneck speed, two stakes strapped to her massive thighs. I hold my breath, gripping Rayne’s hand in my own. Maybe this is it. Maybe we didn’t screw things up after all.
But before she can reach him, Jareth and Magnus step out from the shadows, taking their places in front of their Master. Together they grab Bertha and fling her backward, as if she’s a rag doll. The slayer slams into a nearby grave and crashes to the ground.
“Wow,” Rayne breathes, squeezing my hand. “I don’t know whether to cheer or boo.”
Bertha scrambles to her feet, her face twisted in rage. She starts again toward the vampires, her steps slow but determined.
“Halt,” Magnus demands. “You are not welcome here, slayer. Walk away now and I will let you live.”
“Take another step and you shall dine tonight in hell,” Jareth concludes.
“You know people always say that as if it’s a bad thing,” I
whisper to Rayne. “To be honest, there are some pretty amazing five-star chefs down there. And Bertha, for one, would be pleased to know that calories no longer count.”
“Shh,” Rayne hisses.
Bertha’s mouth lifts in a sneer. “I am a licensed slayer. On an official commission for Slayer Inc., which has been appointed protector of the vampires. If you touch one hair on my head it’ll be seen as an act of aggression. And the contract we’ve held with your kind for centuries will be broken forever.” She pauses. “In other words, there will be war.”
Rayne and I exchange worried glances. She’s right, of course. As much as I’d love to see Bertha dead, I’m not sure murdering her in cold blood while she’s on official assignment is the best way to go about it. Especially if it comes at the cost of peace between slayers and vampires. Could this be what Teifert was worried about?
“She’s right,” Magnus says suddenly, and I let out a breath of relief. He’s always been the rational one. “You should go home. We should meet with your leader in the morning. Talk this through. I’m sure we can come up with a diplomatic—”
But his words are cut off as Lucifent lunges at the slayer, so quick I can’t follow the movement. He grabs her and slams her against a nearby angel statue. There’s a sickening crack as he breaks her neck and she crumples to the ground.
Magnus and Jareth stare at Lucifent in horror. “What have you done, Master?” Magnus whispers.
“Exactly what needed to be done,” Lucifent purrs. “Slayer Inc. has been the bane of vampire existence for far too long. It’s
time to take a stand against our oppressors. And thanks to you two, we now have the perfect opportunity to do so.” And with that, he gestures to the slayer’s prostrate corpse. “Now come on,” he says with a sickening grin. “Dessert is served.”