Stake That (16 page)

I wonder what he’s thinking as he kisses me. Does he have feelings for me? Is this something he’s been hoping will hap-pen? Or is this just a gesture meant to cheer me up, to distract me from my pain? Sadly, I have no real clue what this immortal creature of the night actually feels for me and that scares me to death.

Stop thinking so much,Rayne, I tell myself.
You’ve got a hot guy making out with you in your
bedroom. Just go with it.

But I can’t. Not this time. Because I’m starting to develop a deep tenderness for this vampire. And that’s pretty damn terri-fying. After all, he’s told me a dozen times that he doesn’t get close to anyone. He doesn’t even have donors, for goodness sake. He never wants a blood mate. He likes being alone. If I fall for him, I’m going to fall alone. And when I hit rock bot-tom, it’s going to hurt like crazy. In fact, I’m not sure I’d even be able to survive. To claw my way up from such heartbreak. And so, as much as it sucks, I force myself to pull away. He stares at me dully for a moment, as if in a daze, then frowns. “What’s wrong?” he asks in a wounded voice that breaks my heart.

“Nothing,” I say briskly, scrambling to my feet. I cross my arms over my chest. “So let’s get back to business.”

“But—” The hurt on his face is unmistakable and I feel like a monster. Still, even though he’s a vampire, he’s also a guy. And guys can get like that after they’ve been denied sex. In fact, I’d be willing to bet he doesn’t care one lick about me as a person. He just wants to jump me. Just like everyone else. And I’m so not interested.

“You said you got the blood test results back. What did you learn?”
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He sighs deeply and then rises to his feet, running a hand through his dirty blond hair. He stares into the mirror. Unlike in the movies and TV shows, vamps DO have reflections and his, I notice, is not one of a happy vampire. But that can’t be helped, I guess.

I feel bad, but I tell myself that in the long run, it’s better this way. After all, this can’t go anywhere. It can’t become anything. So just rip off the Band-Aid and move on to the next scene.

“Well, that’s the strange thing,” he says at last, evidently resigning himself to the fact that he’s not getting any more nookie from this chick. “It’s definitely contaminated with some kind of blood-borne virus, but we’re not exactly sure what. Whatever it is, our scientists believe it’s the same virus that’s affected Kristoff. Obviously vampires don’t die like hu-mans, but somehow the virus has been able to weaken him and take away his powers.”

“How is Kristoff, anyway?”

“About the same. Not sick. Not exactly. Just weak. And powerless. It’s the strangest thing.”

“Poor guy.”

“Indeed. And he’s not the only one. Several of the coven’s top leaders have come down with a very similar illness. And all their donors are dead.”

“Wow. That’s terrible. So do you think it’s being spread through the donors? Remember, we saw Kristoff’s donors at the Blood Bar. Could it be possible that Maverick is behind this?”

“I do. In fact, I’d say it’s quite probable,” Jareth says, nodding. “It’s my theory that this is the way Maverick hopes tooverthrow Magnus’s rule. By crippling Magnus’s strong supporters, he can weaken his command, and then stage a coup.”

“Actually, that’s exactly what the Slayer Inc. guy, Teifert, says,” I tell him. “He suggested we go back to the Blood Bar and see if we can find a sample of the original virus itself. Maybe they have a room where they store it all. Maybe they even have some kind of antidote there.” I jump up from my seat, eager to be out of these closed quarters, lest I do some-thing stupid like jump his vampire bones again. “We should go now. Time is a-wasting.”

Jareth shakes his head. “I should go now. Not we. You will stay home.”

“What? No way! I’m so not staying home.”

“This could be dangerous.”

“But I’m Raynie the Vampire Slayer,” I say, grabbing the sake off my computer table and raising it in the air.

Jareth chuckles. “Oh, yes. I forgot. Very scary.”

“Come on,” I whine. “Please? It’s, like, my destiny and stuff, remember? Just let me come. I need an adventure. I can’t keep sitting around moping in my room.”

“Okay, fine. But you have to listen to me. Do as I say. No heroics here,” he insists. “You may have a stake, but I’d bet my fangs you don’t know how to use it.”

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“Not true. I got some Slayer Training this weekend. I’m now the stake mastah!”

“Ah. Impressive.” Jareth smiles. “Can’t wait to see you in action.”

“So should we head over now?”

“Hm.” Jareth looks at his watch. “Actually it’s only eight, The Blood Bar will be open ‘til two a.m. and we want to hit them closer to closing time.”

“Oh, okay.” A bit disappointed, I set the stake back down on the desk. So much for immediate distraction. “Uh, I guess just come pick me up when you’re ready to leave?” Hopefully by then Mom will be in bed. I doubt she’d be cool with me leaving the house at one thirty on a school night.

“Actually, I was wondering if you’d like to … do some-thing with me first,” Jareth says, sounding a bit shy all of a sudden.

I look up, surprised. “Uh, what?”

“Go dancing.”

“Dancing? Now?” Wow. That is so not what I expected him to say. Though I don’t know what I did expect. A shiver of delight makes its way up my backbone. Dancing. With Jareth. Mmm. Jareth shrugs. “Yes. Why not?”

Bleh. I know I should say no. Keep ripping off the Band-Aid. Not put myself in a position where the two of us could easily bookup. Dancing is powerful and dangerous and if I want to stayat arm’s length it’s the last thing I should agree to.

“I don’t know. No reason, I guess. It’s just—”
Just that I’m
not strong enough not to melt when you take me into your arms.

“Remember what we talked about at Club Fang the other night? About losing oneself in the music?

Seeking peace in-side the dance?” He smiles at me. “I think someone’s in need ofa little of that right about now.”

Oh. So that’s what he means. An unwarranted disappoint-ment floats through me. Bleh. I should have known. He has nosecret agenda to hook up with me. This is just a simple cheer-up technique to get my mind back on the job. Well, that’sbetter, I suppose. Safer, at least. And something I can justify doing. He’s still looking at me expectantly and I realize that I haven’t given him a verbal answer. “I’d love to,” I reply.

He takes my hand and pulls me to my feet, then ushers me tomy bedroom door, hand brushing against the small of my back. Gah. His touch really should be illegal. Almost makes mewant to skip the dance club and go straight for the bed. Notthat that would be a good idea. And besides, I kind of like this almost old-fashioned chivalrous thing he’s got going on. So unlike guys my age, who are just interested in getting it on with the Goth freak.

Besides, we’ve already established that he’s just being nice He probably feels sorry for me and my
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pathetic little lost-daddy’s-girl thing. Ugh.

We tell Mom we’re going out and she looks so pleased that I’ve actually left my bedroom I bet if I told her we were off to smoke crack and get lap dances she would have waved and said, “Have a good time. Just be back by curfew.”

We jump in Jareth’s BMW and speed off to Club Fang. He turns the music up extra loud, just the way I like it, and I zone out to the crooning sounds of Morrissey. It’s nice and comfortable this way. No awkward convo and strained silences. He must sense that I’ve already shared way more than I even share and am currently all talked out.

Club Fang is hopping when we get there. After paying the bouncer the cover charge, we walk inside and are enveloped by darkness, illuminated only by irregular flashing strobe lights and obscured by machine-created fog. The bass is up, the music is dark and enchanting, and I’m in Heaven already. Jareth grabs my hand and together we weave through the crowd of sweaty gothed-out dancers until we get to the center of the room. Then he pulls me close and together we start swaying to the music. At first I’m thinking, “Danger, danger!” and that I should not be here. With him. Falling deeper and deeper for a guy who doesn’t want me for anything more than friendship. But as the music takes me, my reservations start melting away. I’mhere. I’m in his arms. I might as well accept things. Take them
for
what they are and enjoy the moment. Who knows when something so blissful will come around again. As we dance, my troubles seem more and more trivial. I mean, so what if my dad didn’t show up for my birthday? It’s not like he’s a regular at any other family events. We’ve been fine without him for the last four years and we’ll be fine without him for the next four. And so what if Mike Stevens is a huge dick with an attitude? High school will be the best years of his life. Soon he’ll be strapped with five kids, a job that gives him ulcers, and a wife who doesn’t understand him.

None of it matters in the long run. Just the beat. The tribal sounds that stir something primitive inside of me. At this very moment there is no past. No future. Just a vampire’s arms wrapped around me, his hot body pressed against mine. Heaven.

Jareth seems lost in it, too. His eyes are closed as he sways against me. I study his face as the multicolored lights dance across it, creating alternating shadows and light. I wonder again what he’s hiding. What turmoil and hurt lies under his calm exterior. What has made him so angry? What has made him so like me?

Because he is like me, I realize. He hides his torment, con-ceals his pain, until he can’t anymore and then it explodes and he comes across as a nasty, angry person. But he’s not really like that. Not inside. The beat slows and so does our dance. Jareth’s eyes open, almond-shaped sapphires that practically glow in the dark. I know I keep harping on them, but I’ve just never seen such beautiful eyes before and I’m sure I never will again. He reaches down and brushes a lock of hair away from my sweaty forehead.

“How are you?” he asks. And the way he says it makes me believe that he actually cares about the answer.

“Better,” I say, smiling up at him. “Much better, actually.”

“Sometimes it’s good to talk,” he says. “But other times you’d rather just lose your mind.”
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I nod, amazed at how his thoughts totally parallel mine. He really is the perfect guy in so many ways. Screw it. I might as well face the facts: I’m in love. And there’s nothing I can do about it.

TUESDAY, JUNE 12, 10 p.m.

We park down the street from the Blood Bar and go in-side separately. Jareth goes through the employee en-trance and I go through the front door.

“Hey, Shaniqua,” Francis greets, smiling at me as I approach. “Thought I’d finally seen the last of you.”

“Can’t scare me away that easily, Frannie,” I shoot back with a grin of my own.

“Luckily for me or I’d miss out on all this witty banter.”

“Didn’t I tell you that I’d grow on you? You should always listen to me. Always.”

“Hey. I do. Heck, if you told me to jump, girl, I’d only have to ask how high.” We laugh for moment. Then I turn to more serious busi-ness. “So,” I lower my voice, “did you find your blood mate?”

His smile dips into a frown. “Yes,” he says, shoving his hands in his jean pockets. “It’s the weirdest thing. She’s evi-dently been inflicted with some sort of horrible virus. I mean, she’s really sick. She can barely sit up. And worst of all, I think she’s lost all her vampiric powers. Of course, she’s con-vinced herself that once she’s better she’ll get them back, but honestly I’m not so sure.” Wow. Another vampire with ties to the Blood Bar who has come down with the virus. There’s definitely something rot-ten in Denmark.

“No one seems to know what’s wrong with her. The scary part is, she’s not the only sick one. A lot of her fellow biters have been coming down with it. One day they’re at work, sucking away like nothing’s wrong, the next they’re gone, re-placed by some vampire we’ve never seen before. I’ve tracked a few of the missing vamps down and everyone seems to have contracted the same sickness.”

“Have you talked to management?”

“We’ve tried, but they’ve refused to speak with our union reps. They say nothing’s wrong and that they don’t want us to panic the others with our ‘delusions.’” Francis rubs his bald head with the back of his hand. “Honestly, I don’t know what to do at this point.”

I’m not quite sure what to do myself. This is all becoming far too clear, but I’m not sure who I should
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trust. Would Fran-cis help me? After all, his blood mate has been affected, and he seems to love her an awful lot. But would he go against his em-ployer? Risk his job and life? And what if he doesn’t believe me? What if he grabs his Nextel and calls Maverick to report me? I might be able to get away, but Jareth is still inside.

At least I’m beginning to understand what’s going on. The biters are evidently given the virus, unaware. Then, they un-wittingly pass it off to the donors, who in turn pass it to their employers. The real targets are obviously the higher-up vam-pires in Magnus’s circle. Like Kristoff. People who keep things running at the coven. We’re extremely lucky, I realize, that Jareth gets his blood by mail order and doesn’t keep donors himself. Otherwise, I’m sure he’d have been targeted as well. I make my decision, deciding to trust Francis. After all, he’s been personally affected by this dastardly plot. And the people getting sick are his friends and coworkers.

“Okay, Frannie, listen up. Here’s the deal. In reality, I’m not your typical Blood Bar patron. I’ve actually been sent here, undercover.” I stop before mentioning who actually sent me. The idea that I’m the Vampire Slayer should proba-bly be left as a need-to-know.