Blood Forever (22 page)

Dejected, I sink down onto the velvet chaise longue, staring out onto the dazzling strip, wondering how on earth I keep ending up with guys who want to marry me against my will. At least back in Fairyland, I was under a magical spell and was oblivious to the fact that I didn’t want anything to do with my future groom. Not that the clarity I’m experiencing now will help me much in my current predicament.

Half of me wonders if I should have just kept my mouth shut—not speaking up about my nonhuman ancestry. But no, then Pyrus would have just killed me on the spot. At least this way I’ve bought myself some time. Bought myself an eternity, actually. Though what the heck I’m going to do with it, I have no idea. Will Pyrus actually treat me like a real blood mate—allowing me to voice my opinion and rule by his side? Somehow, knowing his personality, I’m kind of doubting it.

Let’s face it—I’m the trophy fairy. To be kept in an ivory tower and only trotted out during times of pomp and circumstance and political chess. Meaning I’ll be living most of my eternity alone. And I’ll probably never see any of my friends or
family again. Maybe a quick death would have been preferable, now that I think about it.

The thoughts tumble around in my head, not allowing me any rest. I try to eat something—the food looks delicious—but it tastes like cardboard in my mouth. There are no clocks, so I can’t tell how much time has passed, and I wonder how long he’s going to keep me here before the big event. Not that I’m anxious or anything. I also wonder about my sister. Has she had better luck than me? If she can persuade Jareth to call off the zombies, well, at least that would be something. Even as a vampire, I’d much rather live out my eternity knowing the human race still exists and thrives as a dominant species.

Lastly, I wonder about Magnus. I can’t help it. I know that he betrayed me—turned me over to Pyrus, of all people. I know that it’s technically his fault that I’m in this whole mess to begin with. But all I can seem to focus on is the guilt I saw in his eyes as he learned that everything I told him was true. How must he feel, knowing that his disbelief led to his Master’s death, not to mention my eternal damnation?

A knock on the door interrupts my reverie and my heart pounds in my chest as I tell the caller to enter. Will it be Pyrus? Or one of his flunkies, letting me know they’re ready to begin the ceremony? Will I still be human come dawn?

A man dressed in a waiter’s uniform walks into the room, carrying a tray of fruit. My shoulders relax. It’s not Pyrus. The man closes the door behind him, sets the tray on the breakfast bar, then turns to me, pulling off his hat. I gasp as I realize it’s not a waiter at all…but Magnus himself.

I don’t know exactly how it happens, but before I know it, the two of us are tangled in one another’s arms. Magnus squeezes me tight, his hands running through my hair, his lips kissing my face. I return his kisses with my own, rejoicing at the feeling of his cool skin against my mouth. This may be the last time I ever get to feel him. I’m going to make the most of it.

“Are you okay?” he asks, pulling away from our embrace and studying me with worried eyes. “They haven’t…hurt you…have they?” He walks over to the door and locks it from the inside.

I shake my head, reaching out to clasp his hands in my own. “No,” I assure him. “I’m fine. I mean, at least physically.”

“Oh, Sunny. Oh, my love.” Magnus shakes his head, dropping my hands and staring at the floor. “Can you ever forgive me? I’ve been such a fool. I should have listened to you. I should have believed you. You are my blood mate, after all. What I did was inexcusable.” He looks up, his eyes rimmed with blood tears. “Can you ever find it in your heart to forgive me?”

I reach out to brush a smudge of blood from his cheek, gazing at him tenderly. “There’s nothing to forgive,” I whisper. “I’m just glad to see you, even if it’s for the last time.”

He pulls me close again, his breath tickling my ear as his fingers stroke my back. I allow myself to relax in his arms, living in the moment, my heart bursting with the idea that I no longer have to hide behind the lies. He knows the truth. He knows the real me. And he still loves me. Unconditionally. I try to memorize the memories we’re making now—each touch,
each caress. They’ll be all I have to keep me warm during countless cold nights to come.

And then he kisses me. Fully and deeply and with a desperation that tells me volumes.

The kiss lasts forever…and yet ends too soon. Magnus pulls away, concern etched in his deep-blue eyes. “We have to talk,” he says. And I know he’s right.

He leads me over to the chaise longue and gestures for me to sit down beside him. “I’ve tried to get in touch with Jareth—to let him know that Lucifent is dead and Pyrus is not to be trusted. But I’ve gotten no answer.”

I frown. “I hope nothing’s happened to him and my sister. She and another slayer went to try to reason with him, just as I tried to do with you.”

Magnus cringes at my words. “I hope Jareth is more open-minded than I was,” he laments. “If only I had believed you, I could have prevented all of this.”

“Yeah, well, I should have taken you up on the blood-mate thing from the beginning,” I reply. “If I were already yours…and already a vampire…then Pyrus couldn’t…”

I trail off, my eyes widening. I look at Magnus, wondering if he’s thinking the same thing as I am. Could it work?

“No.” He shakes his head. “It’s a bad idea. You don’t want to become a vampire, remember? You never signed up to be one. I’m not Pyrus. I’m not going to turn someone against their will.”

“But I’m going to become one anyway,” I argue. “If Pyrus has his way, and you know he always does.” I give him a
pleading look. “And trust me, if I have to become a vampire, I’d much rather be your vampire than his.”

But Magnus just shakes his head a second time. “There has to be another way.” He rises from the chaise longue, pacing the room. I watch as he walks over to the window and looks down. Unfortunately we’re probably a hundred stories up.

“If I had my fairy wings—maybe,” I say, realizing what he’s thinking. “But otherwise I’m Rapunzel in this tower—with shoulder-length hair.” In other words, totally helpless.

“What if we just walked out the front door?” he suggests. “You could wear my disguise and—”

Suddenly a knock sounds on the door in question. So much for that idea. We look at one another, our faces mirroring our terror. “Please, Magnus,” I beg. “You’ve got to turn me. It’s the only way to save me now.”

Magnus looks away, tormented. “But he’ll figure it out. And he’ll kill you when he realizes you’re no longer any use to him.”

I shrug. “Then I’ll die. It’s not like I haven’t been there, done that, got the T-shirt. And trust me—an eternity in Hades is a much more inviting prospect than eternal life as Pyrus’s girl.”

Magnus says nothing. There’s another knock on the door. We’re running out of time.

“Magnus!” I hiss. “If you love me—if you care about me at all—you have to do this!”

My words seem to break him from his trance. He rushes to the kitchen, grabbing a knife from a drawer. Oh thank God. “I’ve already taken your blood,” he says as he pushes up his sleeve. “So all you have to do is drink some of mine and the
bond will be complete.” He slashes at his wrist with the knife and holds up his bleeding arm to me. He gives me a rueful smile. “Not exactly the romantic way I’d imagined this going down,” he says.

My heart bursts as I approach him. “I love you,” I tell him. “I love you so much.”

I press my mouth to his wound, squeezing my eyes shut and daring to take that first suck. The one that will change me forever. I start slowly, and then, as the power of the exchange starts to consume my senses, I find myself gulping down mouthfuls of sweet blood. My mind races, mingling with his as I drink, and I can almost feel the bond solidifying between us, never to be broken apart. It’s so strong and so overwhelming and so beautiful—it makes me wonder if this wasn’t what was missing from our previous relationship after all.

Too soon, Magnus pulls me away. I look up at him, my eyes full of wonder, my heart bursting with adoration. “I’m yours,” I whisper, reaching out to touch his cheek with my finger. “I’m forever yours.”

Magnus smiles at me with such tenderness I nearly swoon. He kisses me hard on the lips. “Oh, Sunny,” he whispers. “I hope you don’t regret this.”

I shake my head. “Never. I swear it.”

A battering sound interrupts us, followed by a loud cracking as the door splinters inward. Whoever wants to get in is only seconds away.

“Duck!” I command Magnus, wiping the blood from my
mouth. “I’ll get him out of here. You find my sister and Jareth. Maybe there’s still a chance we can make this right!”

Magnus doesn’t need a second invitation. He drops down behind the breakfast bar and I run over to the door, pulling it open before they can bust it in. I smile widely as Pyrus steps through the door, looking around suspiciously.

“Why didn’t you answer my knock?” he demands. “And why is the door locked?”

I shrug. “Sorry,” I say. “I was drying my hair.” I reach up to fluff the hair in question, hoping he doesn’t notice how unwashed it actually looks. “Wanted to look good for you when you stopped by.”

He relaxes. Men are so easy sometimes. Then he smiles at me. “Everything is prepared,” he tells me. “The coven masters are gathered. We will join together as blood mates tonight.”

“Excellent,” I say, forcing a brave smile. “I can hardly wait.”

F
or someone who didn’t have too long to prepare, I have to admit, Pyrus did a pretty bang-up job of setting the stage for our blood-mate nuptials. I guess it helps that they’re taking place in the wedding capital of the world. Only in Vegas would you find an already decked-out Gothic wedding chapel, full of vampire kitsch and no religious icons to worry about. He even finds the perfect dress. A full-on replica of Winona Ryder’s
Beetlejuice
frock. Rayne would be dying of jealousy. (Of the dress anyway. The groom, not so much.)

I glance at the grandfather clock in the chapel waiting room. Only a couple hours ’til dawn. Where is Rayne, anyway? Was Magnus able to get word to her and Jareth about what’s going down tonight? And more important, were they able to stop the zombie queen from bringing her minions to town? So many
unknowns. But at least I have two things to comfort me. Magnus loves me. And I will never be forced to become Pyrus’s blood mate.

I wonder if Pyrus will be able to tell, when he bites me, that I already belong to another. Is there a special taste to my blood now that binds me to Magnus forever? Luckily, since Magnus already sampled my blood back in Slayer Inc. prison, there are no gaping fang holes to give my secret away. In fact, since the full transformation takes about a week, right now there’s no visual way at all to tell I’m a vampire. Which buys me a little time, at least. Time for one of my sister’s famous last-minute rescues, for example. After all, it’s her turn, since I rescued her from Slayer Inc. back in Japan. Which now seems like a lifetime ago.

“Are you ready?” asks Trinity, the beautiful blond vampire that Pyrus assigned to help me dress. “They’d like to get started, if you are.”

I reluctantly nod my assent. I’d tried to stall as much as possible while dressing to give my sister time to show up. But I’m running out of excuses and there’s been so sign of her yet. I hope nothing happened to her…

“Sure,” I say. “Let’s get this thing over with.”

Trinity dutifully disappears behind a red velvet curtain and a moment later reappears, just as the organ starts to play. She bows low. “It is ready,” she pronounces. “Your blood mate awaits.”

Here goes nothing. Forcing my feet to take one unwilling step after another, I head into the chapel. The place is packed
with coven masters from around the world, seated in rows and facing a cobwebbed lectern at the other end of the room. The high ceilings are dripping in old-fashioned chandeliers, outfitted with black lights, which I guess are supposed to add to the atmosphere but actually only serve to make everyone’s outfits look linty. Red candles have been scattered around the room, casting foreboding shadows on the walls, and there’s even an actual coffin sitting up on a stage, decked in black roses. In other words, about as cliché Goth as you can get. Seriously, the place makes Club Fang look classy.

The organist continues to play some kind of dreadful, dismal tune as I slowly make my way down the bloodred carpet, toward the stage where Pyrus awaits. He’s almost looking nervous as he stands, watching my entrance, dressed in a severe black tux, complete with red silk–lined cape. Rayne always says he looks like that singer from My Chemical Romance, but to me he resembles a young, blond Dracula. And just as scary.

Too soon, I reach the end of the road, finding myself face-to-face with the man of my nightmares. The man once responsible for issuing my death warrant, now wanting to spend eternity by my side. It’s surreal, to say the least, to see him standing there, in front of me, like a Gothic bridegroom. It’s all I can do to stand tall and not shake in fear.

Pyrus reaches out and takes my hands in his own. How can he do this? Bind himself to someone who wants nothing to do with him, solely to gain more power? Has he ever really been in love? Does he have any idea what it’s like to give yourself to another person? Willingly sacrifice your own happiness for
theirs? I almost feel bad for the guy. It must be lonely at the top. But he’ll never see that. He’s too consumed with greed and lust for power.

If only the other vampires in the audience could see his true colors. Know what he’s planned. They could still stop him now—before he gains enough power to carry out his plans of world domination. I know there are good, decent vampires in the audience. Ones who respect the human race and would like to see it continue. But they have no idea what their leader has planned.

Maybe I need to tell them!

The thought hits me hard and fast as I realize there probably isn’t a rescue on the horizon. At least not one that will come in time. And once Pyrus realizes that I’ve already given myself to another, it’ll be game over for sure. I have a few precious minutes to speak—not to save myself—but to save the world. I have to take advantage. I may not be kick-ass like my sister, but I sure have a big mouth. And I’m more than ready to use it.