Thicker Than Water (9 page)

“To wear to the vampire club,” Kia said. She swigged her Diet Coke. “I don't know, corsets or Victorian-style stuff.”

Carol looked at her. “You want to go back?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Kia said. “I think we'll have a better time if we seriously do it up. Blend better.”

“Gee. So where should I go to get those very attractive red-eyed contact lenses?” Aaron said.

“Yeah,” Carol added, giggling. “Or fake fangs for freaks.”

“Losers R Us,” Aaron said, laughing.

Kia bristled. “I didn't think they were such freaks,” she said. “I had fun.”

“Maybe for checking out once,” Carol said. “But it was just so ...” She shrugged. “I mean, a whole scene pretending to be vampires? How lame is that?”

“How is that any lamer than people pretending to be witches?” Kia said. “And our little magic spells. Like that was oh so hip and real.”

“Hey,” Aaron said. “Wicca is an actual spiritual practice. And the spells are fun.”

Carol nodded. “Yeah, even if they don't work, it's not as if anything bad could happen.”

“Nothing was going to happen to us there,” Kia argued.

“Hecate seemed okay, I guess,” Carol said. “But the other people there? And she said it was only just getting going when we left. How weird did it get after we were gone?”

“That's something I really don't want to find out,” Aaron said. “The subway at two a.m. is weird enough for me.”

Kia looked away from her friends and glanced around the cafeteria. Virgil sat at a nearby table, with a couple of goth girls Kia knew a little bit from some of her classes. They basically tolerated Kia because she was Virgil's friend. She wondered if any of them had ever gone to a vampire night. Had Virgil? They hadn't spoken at all in homeroom. Kia was still pissed at him but too tired to really care. And he seemed kind of pissed off at her. Well,
he
was the jerk the other day. If anyone should apologize, it should be him.

“I have another spell I want to work on,” Aaron said, changing the subject.

Kia plunked down her soda. “Do you honestly think lighting some candles and dancing around is really going to affect anything?”

“It could,” Aaron said. “We just have to give it a chance. And practice. In fact, want to come over and do it again today?”

“Sure,” Carol said.

“No thanks,” Kia said. “I'm going to see my mom today.” She tapped her heel on the floor with a quick beat, her knee bouncing up and down.

“Tell her hi,” Carol said.

“And who knows,” Aaron added. “Maybe our spell for her worked.”

“Yeah, I'm sure we've discovered the cure for cancer,” Kia said sarcastically.

Aaron cringed. “I'm just saying, maybe she'll be doing a little better....”

“Yeah, we'll see,” Kia muttered.

 

“You look as bad as I feel,” Kia's mom said as Kia plopped onto the chair. “My roomie's gone. Should I book you her bed?”

“Any bed would make me happy right now,” Kia said, feeling dizzy with exhaustion. “Didn't get much sleep last night.”

“Hmm. As your mom, I'm torn between hoping that's because you were having fun and worried that you were having too much fun on a weeknight.”

Kia laughed. “I was with Aaron and Carol,” she said, telling mostly the truth.

“Okay,” her mom replied. “I'm glad you're doing things with your friends and not spending all your time worrying.”

Kia's brow furrowed. She suddenly realized that the entire time she had been at Vampyre Central she hadn't thought once about her mom, the hospital, her dad, nothing. She felt a flutter of guilt and then realized her mom really meant what she said: she didn't want Kia to spend her life being afraid and worried.

“Help me up,” her mom said, holding her thin arms toward Kia.

“Sure.” Kia helped her mother slide into a more comfortable position on the bed. “You seem better,” she said.

“Yeah, not so bad today,” her mother replied. She shrugged. “Don't know why, exactly.”

Kia blinked.

“Same meds, same doctors, same routine, but less pain,” her mother continued. “Well, don't ask why if it's going well, right?” She smiled. “Just be grateful for the little things.”

“Right,” Kia agreed, shifting in her chair. There was no way, though. It had to be a coincidence.

“I did enjoy having you read to me the other day,” Kia's mom said. “Would you do that again?”

“Sure. Do you want to hear the newspaper or the book I bought?”

“Book,” her mom declared. “Headlines these days just make me anxious.”

“Okay.” Kia settled onto the bed beside her mom and started reading.

An hour later, it was time for the doctors' rounds, and Kia left, feeling bizarrely optimistic. She stepped off the elevator and into the lobby, where she ran into Hecate, just leaving the gift shop.

“Hey,” Hecate greeted her.

“Hey,” Kia responded. Hecate didn't look tired at all. Then again, Hecate didn't have to show up for school at eight-thirty that morning. Today she looked more like a woodland sprite than a creature of darkness, in light cotton coveralls and a pale blue shirt. Only the tattoo on her upper arm and the boots with multiple buckles said goth.

“So I guess you guys made it back into the city okay,” Hecate said.

Kia nodded. “We had to work to stay awake till our stop, but we managed. We were totally wrecked today, though.”

“Vampire hours,” Hecate said. “If the vamps weren't already dead, the schedule would kill them.”

Kia laughed. “That was an awesome place,” she said. “I definitely want to go back.”

“Cool. Glad you liked it. Your friends, though.” Hecate shook her head. “They didn't seem so into it.”

Kia's heart fluttered. “Well, you know. They just don't get it.”

“Poor things,” Hecate said with a grin. “But it's not everyone's scene.”

Kia felt relieved. “Exactly.”

“So ... how's it going?” Hecate asked.

Kia knew that was Hecate's way of asking about her mom. “She seemed a little better today,” Kia said.

“Excellent,” Hecate replied. “That's all you can do, you know. Notice the good days.”

“How about you?” Kia asked.

Hecate smiled, her wide eyes sparkling. “Gramps is going home! They think everything went A-OK. This could even be his last trip here.”

“That's great,” Kia said.

Hecate nodded. “Yeah. It's so different at home without him. Hey,” she added, grinning. “We both have things to celebrate. Damon is spinning at Howling tonight. You know, the DJ from last night. Want to check out the vampires again?”

“Definitely,” Kia said. She wasn't exactly sure how she'd get out of the apartment on a weeknight without her dad freaking or how she'd stay awake for another late-night thing, but she didn't want to pass up the opportunity.

“Why don't you come by the store?” Hecate suggested. “I get off around ten. Then we can head out from there.”

“Sounds good.”

Hecate gave Kia the address of NightTimes and then took off. Now all Kia had to do was figure out a way to bypass her dad.

No problem, as it turned out. At home, Kia found a message from her father saying that he had to head down to Washington, D.C., and wouldn't be getting back till the next day.

Perfect timing,
Kia thought.

 

NightTimes was a small basement store down a rickety flight of stairs in the East Village. Kia could see Hecate through the window, sitting behind a cash register. She pushed through the door and little bells chimed. Hecate looked up from a catalog and smiled.

“Oh, good, this must mean it's almost closing time,” Hecate said. “I am too bored.”

“I'm a little early,” Kia confessed. “I was hoping to find a better outfit.” She had worn one of her long black dresses, but she really wanted something more hard-core.

Something more vampire.

“I can set you up, and I can give you my employee discount. Or,” Hecate added with a grin, “if you promise not to spill or to sweat, we can just borrow you some looks.”

Kia laughed. “I don't think I can promise either of those things, so we'd better stick to affordable stuff.”

“No problem.” Hecate came out from behind the counter. “Turn around,” she ordered Kia.

Kia instantly felt self-conscious as Hecate's eyes roamed up and down.

“I know exactly what will be perfect on you.” Hecate vanished into racks of black fabric. She emerged holding up a black dress with midnight blue trim. The body of the dress was corset-like, with lacings up the front and a full, short skirt.

Kia eyed the dress. It was going to be skintight. “Are you sure?” she asked. It was the kind of thing that she wished she was brave enough—sexy enough—to pull off.

“I am.” Hecate handed her the dress. “And it will work great with the boots you're wearing.” She pushed Kia to the dressing room.

“Oh, wait,” Kia said, stopping suddenly. The dress was sleeveless. Her track marks were still visible. “I'd love some long black gloves.” She grabbed a pair from a basket on the counter. Then she continued into the curtained dressing room.

Kia stripped, slipped the velvet dress on over her head, and wriggled it into place, tightening the ribbons on the corset. She stepped back from the mirror and stared.

She looked amazing.

Her cleavage bulged above the corset line like a girl's on the cover of a romance novel. The skirt flared from her hips, hiding the thighs she regretted, and ended a few inches above her knees. Hecate was right. The dress was perfect for her, and her Victorian lace-up boots went perfectly with it.

The only flaw was the pattern of angry-looking red scratches up and down her arms. She pulled on the elbow-length gloves, and the look was complete.

Kia stepped out from behind the curtain. “Well?” she asked a little shyly.

“This is the look for you, babe,” Hecate said. “You need to stick with the high Victorian stuff, not the grunge goth thing. You've got the body for it.”

“Do I need more makeup?” Kia asked, admiring herself in the mirror. She was truly transformed. She looked older, more mysterious, and very, very sexy—rock goddess sexy. Sexy like she never knew she could look.

“Nah, you're fine.”

Kia had put on heavy eyeliner and very dark lipstick. She had even powdered so that her face would be paler. She had designed a face on which fangs would not seem out of place.

Kia fumbled in her purse. “So, how much do I—”

Hecate held up a hand. “Let's see if it's returnable,” she suggested. “If you get covered in a bloodbath, then we can talk.”

“No,” Kia said. “I don't want to return it. I want it to be mine.”

Hecate shrugged. “Your call.”

Kia pulled out the credit card her dad had given her. With Hecate's store discount she could buy the dress without even getting close to her dad's limit.

“And now—to the Lower East Side!” Hecate declared.

She shut off the lights, locked the door, pulled down the grate, and linked arms with Kia as they headed toward a bus stop.

“This scene is a little different,” Hecate explained as they hopped off the bus on Delancey Street.

“How so?” Kia asked.

“The place is a lot smaller, a little more laid-back,” Hecate explained, lighting up a cigarette. “Damon spins great music, and there's some dancing, but people also just hang out and talk.”

Kia wondered what vampires talked about. Dental hygiene? Blood banks? How to avoid garlic? She shook her head—God, she was sounding like Aaron now.

They walked in without even getting checked by the door guy. They paid their five-dollar cover and headed toward the bar.

Once again, Kia was aware of the intense pounding of the bass track, the crash of the drums, the ability of the music to enter her body. She spotted a few faces from the night before—the red-eyed guy was standing at the bar talking to that Queenie woman. And in the corner, surrounded by a console and speakers, was Damon the DJ.

He was startling to look at. So beautiful that Kia had to turn away. In the other nightclub, separated by space and an iron rail, she could observe him objectively. But close enough to talk to, to touch—he was too vivid. When Hecate handed her a drink, Kia led them to the other side of the dance floor. Away from the DJ booth, as far as they could get and still be in the room.

Hecate leaned against the wall and tapped her foot to the beat. Kia looked around the room, trying not to stare at the array of outfits, images, and personas on display. There were all-out Victorians, women with bustles and men with tailcoats and top hats. There were women in vinyl catsuits and men in leather pants and vests. There were guys and girls simply wearing black—normal, ordinary clothing, just black. There were fangs and tattoos and piercings and those bizarre contact lenses—and plain street makeup. Every variation seemed to be welcome; everyone talked to each other. People danced alone, in groups, or in tight clutches. The overwhelming impression Kia had was that once through those doors, the vampires would welcome you—whoever you were.

“They're checking us out,” Hecate murmured. She held her drink toward two vampire boys standing near the bar. They were both in long black cloaks, with ruffled white shirts, tight pants, and high boots. Swashbuckling undead bookends.