Night School (3 page)

Sunny turns to Mom. “So ... you’re supposed to be the new fairy queen?” she asks, eyes wide.

“No, Sunny,” Mom replies gently. “
You
are.”

2

“This is so not good. So not good!” Sunny moans as she hits disconnect and sets down her cell phone after leaving her gazillionth message for Magnus to
please, please call her
. After attending the play, her vampire boyfriend had hopped on his private plane back to New England, where the Blood Coven’s headquarters are. He’d be incommunicado, he’d told her, for at least five hours. At the time, it hadn’t seemed like a big deal; Sunny had assumed she’d spend a peaceful night with Mom and Dad—a rare treat—and then jump on a plane herself the next morning to join him back home.

Now everything has changed. Our lives have been flipped upside down. And not being able to share the news with Magnus is tearing Sunny apart. My own boyfriend, Jareth, is also traversing the world somewhere without cell phone service, but, to be honest, I am in no great hurry to mention the skeleton wings in our family closet. I mean, fairy princess? Could there be anything more embarrassing for a self-respecting vampire? After all, everyone knows real vampires don’t sparkle.

After hearing the news, we somehow convinced Mom and Dad to let us out of the condo for a few precious moments of decompression. We’d found a local diner and gotten a booth, each ordering a cup of coffee to keep the waitress Nazi at bay. I’d have preferred a vodka straight up but unfortunately my fake ID was confiscated last night at the Excalibur and also as a vampire I can’t get drunk, so the spirits would be worthless anyway.

“Sunny, relax,” I tell my twin as she bangs her head against the table in frustration. I look around and catch the waitress eyeing us suspiciously from across the room. “It’s going to be okay.”

Sunny looks up, tears streaming down her cheeks. “In what freaking universe do you live that any of this could possibly be okay?” she demands.

“Uh,” I look down at my mug and notice a faint stain of pink lipstick on the rim. Good point.

“Why does this keep happening to me?” Sunny wails. “First I get turned into a freaking vampire. Now I find out I’m an effing fairy princess!”

“At least you’ll probably find the fairy wardrobe preferable,” I mutter, wishing she’d keep her voice down. “Lots of pink?”

Sunny shoots me a glare.

“All I want to be is a human.” She sniffs. “A normal, everyday human who grows up and goes to college, gets married, has babies, and lives in a four-bedroom two-and-a-half-baths house with an open kitchen, granite countertops, and a pool out back. Is that so wrong?”

“It’s pretty specific, but I guess it’s not wrong,” I say, reaching out to her, squeezing her hand. “But you know, Sun, we can’t always get what we want.”

“Please don’t start quoting Rolling Stones songs. Seriously, I will stake you.”

I let go of her hand. “Look. You gotta have faith. And no—” I hold up a hand “—I’m not quoting George Michael, so don’t even start. Dad’s working on it and he’s assured us that everything will be okay.”

“Like how he assured us he’d be there for our birthday last spring?” Sunny asks pointedly. She picks up her cell phone. “I’m going to try Magnus again. Maybe he had a stopover ...”

I give up, pushing away from the table and throwing a handful of change down for my un-drunk, lipstick-stained mug of coffee. “You know you’re not even supposed to be telling anyone any of this, remember? Dad and Mom were both pretty clear on that. They said it could be dangerous.”

“It’s not
anyone,
” Sunny says, phone to ear. “It’s Magnus. If anyone can help, he can.”

“Of course. All while simultaneously achieving world peace and solving the nation’s financial crisis, I’m sure,” I mutter. To my sister, Magnus is not only coven master, but Superman, Batman, and the Incredible Hulk all rolled into one. “I’m going home.”

I can hear her scrambling after me as I stalk out of the diner, and another stab of pity bites into my gut. I don’t mean to be short with her—she has every right to be upset about the situation. But I hate that she won’t let me help her. I’m her twin—I’m supposed to be there for her. Yet all she cares about is her stupid boyfriend. Sigh.

She catches up, but still has the damn phone glued to her ear so I ignore her and cross the street, taking a right into Dad’s condo building. I hear her leave yet another codependent message as she steps into the elevator behind me.

“I hope he didn’t get in a plane accident,” she comments worriedly as the doors slide close. Argh. If I didn’t love my hair so much, I’d be pulling it out until I was bald right about now.

As the doors slide open on the seventeenth floor, I grab her by the shoulder and turn her to face me. “Look, I know you’re upset,” I say, my voice as stern as I can make it. “But try to suck it up in front of Mom and Dad, okay? They’re doing all they can and Mom’s clearly freaking out. So don’t go and make her feel even worse.”

Sunny scowls. “I won’t. Geez. Give me a little credit here.”

Shaking my head, I push open the apartment door. Dad and Heather are sitting together on the couch with Mom in a nearby chair, eating a big bowl of popcorn and watching that eighties movie
Ferris Beuller’s Day Off
. Mom bursts out laughing.

“Oh that Ferris!” she says, giggling. “He’s such a scamp.”

“Clearly freaking out, huh?” Sunny mutters in my ear.

“So, uh, what’s the plan anyway?” I ask. Dad grabs the remote and pauses the movie and the three of them look over at us, surprised.

“Your mother and I are going back to fairyland tomorrow,” Dad says, “to plead our case. You guys are going to stay here with Heather.”

“What about school?” Sunny asks. “We’re supposed to go back Monday.”

“Consider it a bonus vacation. I’ll talk to your teachers,” Mom replies.

“But I’ve got a field hockey game on Tuesday!”

“Then you’ll have to miss it,” Dad butts in firmly. “I’m sorry, but you can’t go back. It’s not safe.”

“The court knows where you live,” Heather adds. “Their soldiers have been watching the house. If you hadn’t had that super security system installed, I’m not sure your mom would have gotten out so easily.”

David. I’ve had my squabbles with Mom’s new boyfriend, but thank goodness he was there for Mom while we were away. I should have never come to Vegas in the first place after he told me she might be in danger. What kind of slayer/daughter does that?

“Then when can we go home?” Sunny cries, sinking into a nearby chair, her face ashen. I realize she’s back to thinking about Magnus again.

Mom rises to her feet and goes over to give her a hug. “I don’t know, honey,” she says, smoothing her hair. “But we’re together and that’s the important part. And there’s no way the fairies know we’re here.”

Suddenly, as if on cue, a weird thundering noise assaults the apartment. Like the buzzing of a thousand bees. I look over to the window and my jaw drops as I see a shirtless man hovering outside, peering in ...

Beating his wings.

“Um,” I say, pointing. “Are you sure about that?”

3

The window shatters before anyone can answer me. Though to be fair, it was kind of a rhetorical question anyway. I duck, hands over my head, to avoid the raining shards of glass, as six tall winged men float into my stepfamily’s living room, sinking down into the plush white carpet. Each, I might add, armed with flaming swords, unlike any I’ve seen outside an RPG video game.

The fairies have landed.

And just FYI, if you’re thinking “fairy” means the kind of lithe, lispy, glittery creature you might find at a David Bowie tribute night, let me set you straight: These guys are built to the max. Broad shoulders, expansive chests, six-pack abs, and muscular legs. At the same time, each one of them is oddly ... pretty, I’d guess you’d say ... with chiseled cheekbones, wide eyes with long lashes, and blindingly white teeth. Like Disney animated princes sporting wings.

Delicious but deadly.

A black-haired fairy—the spitting image of Cinderella’s Prince Charming, though a lot more pissed off—steps forward, his flashing dark eyes bearing down on my mother.

Mom stands her ground, shoulders back, a fierce mama-bear expression taking hold of her usually serene, hippie-chick face. A trill of pride spins down my spine as I watch her stare the big, bad invaders down, ready to protect her cubs at all costs.

Yeah, take that, fairy man.
My
mom’s no shrinking violet.

“Princess Shrinking Violet?” the fairy addresses her.

Uh ... Well, you know what I mean.

“Sir Apple Blossom?” Mom replies, through clenched teeth.

My eyes widen. This is the hottie Mom was supposed to marry back in the day? And she chose
Dad
over him? I mean, sure, I’m glad she did, seeing as we’d never have been born otherwise, but
damn
...

Apple Blossom continues, “We have come for the girls.”

I hear a squeak of fear to my left and turn to find a white-faced Sunny hunched up beside me, literally shaking with fright. I grab her by the arm, pulling her close to me.

No one steals my Sunshine. At least not without getting through me first.

Or my dad, it seems, for that matter. We watch as our father steps protectively in front of us. “I am their father,” he says in a voice that leaves no room for argument. “And you will take them only over my dead body.”

Wow. For a guy who never remembers to send a birthday card, Dad can really turn up the parental protection vibe to eleven when he feels like it. I glance over at Sunny, who’s staring at our father like she’s never seen him before.

“Over your dead body?” Apple Crisp smirks. “I think that can be arranged!”

On cue, his friends unsheathe their flaming swords. Seriously, how is the sprinkler system not going off at this point? If we survive all this, I’m so complaining to building management ...

“Violet—catch!” Seemingly out of nowhere, my dad somehow manages to produce a pair of swords of his own (though sadly, neither one appears to be on fire) and throws one to my mother, while wielding the other himself. Hippie, dippy Mom—who is always lambasting Mario Brothers as too violent a video game—catches the blade with ease, like she’s freaking Lara Croft or something. Behind her stands Heather, who has also somehow managed to commandeer a sharp-looking sword. Where do they get these wonderful toys?

“Sunny! Rayne! Run!” Mom cries, without turning around.

What?! I can’t run. After all, I’m a slayer. Not to mention a vampire. And I guess, if you want to be technical, a fairy to boot. There’s no way I’m bowing out of this fight.

I consider searching the evidently well-stocked luxury condo/ armory for another secret sword, but then get a better idea. As Mom, Dad, and Heather engage the fairies, I dive across the room to my purse. Digging in, I toss away Caesar’s Palace poker chips, orange gum, and a really cool Living Dead Doll I found at a small Goth shop way off the Strip, looking for the pièce de résistance.

My stake.

My fingers wrap around the smooth wood, just as Apple Pie and Ice Cream manages to plow through Heather and lunges at me. I whirl around, stabbing with all my might, stake straight to the chest.

Okay. Good news and bad news.

BAD
NEWS: Fairies don’t “poof” into an easy-to-sweep-up pile of ashes when pierced through the heart by a wooden stake like vampires do.

GOOD
NEWS: With enough force, wooden stake to the heart = hurts like hell, even without the whole handy-dandy poofing side benefit.

The fairy bellows in a mixture of rage and pain, clutching his heart as he falls to the ground, blood gushing from his chest. After a moment of convulsing, his eyes roll up into his head and he lies still. Nausea sweeps over me—killing fairies is a lot messier than killing vampires—but I swallow it down. No time for puking when my family’s still in mortal danger.

It’s then that I realize everyone’s stopped fighting and is staring at me. “She killed Apple Blossom!” cries the smallest of the fairies.

“Oh God, Rayne! What have you done?” Mom whispers hoarsely.

I look at the fairy, then at my parents, confusion warring inside of me. “What have I done?” I reply. “I ... saved ... I mean, I protected ...” What’s going on here? Weren’t we fighting to the death?

“Get her!” the fairy cries. The five remaining creatures take flight, swarming in my direction, swords blazing. I suck in a breath, hold up my stake, wondering how the hell I’m going to kill all of them at once.

“No!” Mom suddenly cries, leaping in front of me, just as the fairies start dive-bombing me. They slam into her instead and her thin body crumples like tissue paper as she falls to the ground.

“Mom!” Sunny screams from behind me. It takes me a moment to realize I’m screaming, too. In fact, I can’t stop. And I can’t look away, either. Mom. White as a ghost, not moving at all. Is she ... Could she be ...

I can feel Dad grabbing me and dragging me away from the action. “We’re going to Plan B,” he shouts at Heather, who’s busy facing off with the remaining fairies.

“Plan B?” I whirl around. “What’s Plan B?”

But Dad doesn’t answer. Instead, he reaches into a bag and blows some sparkly dust in our direction.

What the—

I accidentally inhale some of the dust and my lungs seize up. I start choking, my vision fading fast and my muscles atrophying at an alarming rate. “Don’t fight it,” I hear Heather say, as blackness races toward me at top speed. “I’ll see you on the other side.”

“Mom!” I cry one last time before succumbing to the encroaching night.

There’s no reply.

4

I wake to the sound of birds, cheerfully chirping to one another in a nearby tree. Probably gossiping about some worm one of them managed to procure, just by getting out of bed early. So annoying. I try to pull the pillow over my head to drown them out, but then remember I’m supposed to be in Vegas, a place where even birds see the merits of sleeping in.

Birds ... feathers ... fairies ... It all comes racing back to me. Flashes of wings, flaming swords, and screams of pain. My mother, jumping in front of me to shield me from the fairies’ blades ...

I sit up with a jolt. “Mom!” I cry.

“Shh,” Heather says in a soothing voice. I look over to find her sitting in a small folding chair, by the side of my bed. “You’re safe.”

Heart in my throat, I glance worriedly around the room, not recognizing anything I see. Where am I? Not Heather and Dad’s apartment, that’s for sure. My stepmom would never approve of such Spartan decor. Plain white walls, two twin beds—one on which I’m lying—a pile of boxes in the corner, and a small window. Outside I can see the tops of what appear to be large pine trees, blowing in the wind.

Definitely not Vegas.

“Where are we?” I demand. The place smells like bleach, like a hospital ward. But I don’t appear to be injured in any way. “Where’s Mom? Where’s Dad? What happened to the fairies?” The questions spill from my lips, fast and furious, and I realize I need to stop asking and allow Heather a chance to answer.

Heather swallows before replying, her eyes betraying her concern. “Those were messengers of the Light Court,” she explains. “Evidently the prime minister has grown short on patience, waiting for your parents to turn you over to the court to begin your training. He decided to take matters into his own hands.”

My mind flashes back to the dive-bombing fairies, with flaming swords, slamming into my mother, hitting her square in the chest. She crumples to the ground, writhing in pain.

“Is Mom ...” I trail off, not being able to vocalize my greatest fear. A large lump wells up in my throat and tears blur my vision. “I mean, is she ... ?”

Heather reaches out and touches my arm. “She’s alive,” she assures me. “It’s very hard to kill a fairy, unless you wield weapons of iron. Something other fairies can’t touch.”

Relief washes over me like a tidal wave. My mother and I have had our moments, that’s for sure, but at the end of the day, she’s like my best friend and I love her to death. If anything were to happen to her ...

I shake my head. I can’t even think that way. “So where is she then?” I demand. “I need to talk to her!”

“That won’t be possible. She and your dad surrendered to the fairies and were escorted back to fairyland.”

Horror slams into my gut and I feel like I’ve had the wind knocked out of me. “Wh-why would they do that?” I cry.

Heather gives me a steely look. “To buy me enough time to scurry you two away.” She glances over at the other bed and I suddenly realize the lump under the blankets must be my sister.

On cue, Sunny sits up with a start. “Where am I?” she cries, looking around, her tear-stained face white with fear.

Heather gestures for her to cross the room over to my bed. “They call this place Riverdale,” she explains. “Hidden deep in a remote valley, nestled within a large mountain range in the Alps, only a handful of people know of its existence.”

I stare at her, shocked beyond belief. Not only are we not in Vegas anymore, we’re not even in the United States? That pixie dust crap must have knocked me the hell out.

“It’s a type of boarding school,” Heather continues as Sunny joins us on the bed. “Run by an international affiliate of Slayer Inc. Here, they prepare teenagers to become slayers. Assassins who police otherworld creatures who don’t follow the rules.” She looks over at me pointedly. “But you know all about that, right, Rayne?”

Well, that answers the question on whether she knows I’m a slayer. But does she know about my other ... condition ... as well? I mean, Slayer Inc. vice president Teifert does, but he swore to secrecy. (Seeing as not everyone in the organization would be pleased about having a vampire-vampire slayer on the payroll.)

I decide it’s best not to ask, just in case.

“A school for slayers?” Sunny pipes in. “What about that whole ‘once a generation is born a girl destined to slay vampires’ thingie?”

“Yeah, that would make for a pretty small graduating class,” I add.

Heather chuckles. “The ‘once a generation’ thing was a pretty idea, but a totally outdated methodology for all practical purposes,” she explains. “The otherworld has grown exponentially over the years—with new vampires, werewolves, fairies, and other creatures that fall under Slayer Inc.’s policing jurisdiction. Obviously it’s not realistic to rely on only one slayer for all that. So they introduced slayer charter schools to train multiple potentials.”

“Hang on,” I interrupt. “I never went to any sort of school.”

“We do things a little bit differently in America,” Heather explains. “Our VP of operations, Charles Teifert, prefers to train his slayers one-on-one.”

“So then why did you bring us here?” Sunny demands. “Why are we at a school for slayers now?”

Heather looks surprised at her question. “Because it’s the best place to hide you from the fairies,” she explains. “Until your parents are able to work things out.”

I open my mouth to object, but at that moment a knock sounds on the door. “Come in,” Heather invites and a moment later a big, burly guy with arms full of boxes enters the room.

“These are the last,” he informs our stepmom in a heavy German accent. “Where would you like them?”

Heather gestures to the pile of boxes in the corner. “Right there is fine,” she says. “The girls can unpack at their leisure.”

My eyes widen as my stuffed Skelanimals bat, Diego, falls out of the top box as the mover sets his load down. “Our stuff?” I cry, realization hitting me with the force of a ten-ton truck. “You brought our stuff? How long do you think we’ll be stuck here for anyway?”

Heather shrugs. “I can’t really say. A few weeks? A few months? Hopefully less than a year.” She shoots me a sympathetic look. “Unfortunately there’s a lot of bureaucracy in the Seelie courts. Sometimes conflicts can really drag on.”

“Where’s the phone?” Sunny interjects in an urgent voice. “I need to make a call.”

“Sorry,” Heather says. “No phones. We’re miles away from any cell towers and there are no landlines on the premises either.”

Sunny stares at her, horrified. “What?”

“It’s for the best,” our stepmom adds. “It’s vital that no one knows you’re here. Even those you think you can trust. If word got out to the court, they’d come and take you away immediately. And all your parents’ negotiations would be for nothing.”

“But Magnus ... My boyfriend ...”

“I’m sorry, Sunny. But it’s for the best. Really,” Heather soothes. Then she rises to her feet. “I need to get going,” she tells us. “The helicopter is waiting. We’ll send word when we can.” She reaches out to hug me and Sunny. My sister pulls away angrily, staring down at her hands. Heather sighs. “I know you’re upset,” she says. “But you have to trust me. This really is all for the best.” And with that, she turns and walks out of the room, leaving Sunny and me alone with our boxes.

My sister flings herself at her bed, collapsing in tears. I feel her pain. This situation sucks big time. I can’t believe they locked us away in some kind of weirdo slayer boarding school with no telephone and I’m sure no Internet access either.

And worse—no blood substitute.

I swallow hard. I’ve been surviving on Blood Synthetic since Jareth turned me into a vampire back in the spring. (Yes, real blood is just too “ew” for this vegetarian.) But there’s no way on Earth they’re going to have some kind of
True Blood
-type thing in stock at a school for slayers, right? And any regular food will just make me puke.

Which basically means I’ll either end up starving to death within the first week of being here or have to resort to switching to real blood. And let’s just say snacking on one’s schoolmates probably isn’t the best way to make homecoming queen ...

In fact, it might even get me staked.