Vamped (5 page)

“Look,” Chickzilla said. “Rick and Larry recognized you two last night. And since you,” she twitched in my general direction, “are supposed to be dead, and you,” a second twitch at Bobby, “
aren’t—
as far as we knew, anyway—blue eyes here has some explaining to do. End. Of. Story.”

I glared daggers at our captors and we drove in silence for a while, until I couldn’t stand it any more.

“You must have made quite an impression,” I said to Bobby.

He gave me one of those smiles that convinced me he had some typical male in him after all. “Guess so.”

Sparky hissed.

“No one was talking to you,” I told him.

“No one should be talking, period.”

“Napoleon complex,” I whispered to Bobby. Then louder, “Hey, you know you’ve got some male-pattern baldness starting back here?”

Chickzilla chuckled and Sparky started to veer toward the shoulder of the road before she nudged him back on track. “Just drive. I don’t think Mellisande wants this one, so you can probably do whatever you want once she’s done, but she’ll be pissed if you take the initiative without her say-so.”

I didn’t like the sound of that. I looked at Bobby to see if he was going to pipe up, but he seemed totally focused inward, like he was trying to be some kind of Zen master … a Zen master with ants in his pants, the way he was squirming around. I didn’t know what his hands were doing there behind his back, but—

Bobby suddenly nestled up against me and I felt his hands scrabble at my waistband.

“Hey.”

“Shhh!” he hissed.

“What’s going on back there?” Chickzilla asked.

“Bobby bumped me,” I offered, though I still didn’t know what I was covering for.

“Don’t make me pull this car over,” Sparky threatened.

Something cold and hard pressed into my hand, and I started before I realized that Bobby was trying to pass me something. I grabbed hold of what felt like a Swiss Army Knife, and he gave a tug, as if to free one of the tools. Then he scooched until his wrists were beneath my hands, which I guess meant I was supposed to saw him loose.

He winced as I moved the blade back and forth over what I hoped was the restraint but maybe wasn’t. The thing—knife—jerked in my hands with every swipe, and I strained to hold on in my awkward position. The car hit a pothole, Bobby yelped, and I lost hold of the knife.

Bobby let his head smack back against the seat. “Great,” he muttered.

I felt around on the seat for the dropped knife and only succeeded in pushing it farther into the crevice.

“Sorry,” I whispered.

After only a second, Bobby whispered, “Never liked that knife anyway. Been thinking of upgrading.”

I smiled—feebly, because that’s all it deserved. Still, I appreciated that he’d made an attempt at a joke, especially after I’d fumbled our chance at escape.

6

M
ellisande’s digs were a thing of beauty. All clean, modern lines and mirrored windows that I was guessing protected the vamps within and foiled prying eyes from without. And it was … maybe not huge, but ginormous at the very least.

I was still trying to figure out the mixed bag of bodies we’d seen so far. Larry had to be a vamp, since Bobby knew him to be dead, but everything about him said newbie. Chickzilla had the power to smack us around, but she didn’t seem to be one of us. Sparky just wasn’t pretty enough to be a vamp. Hawkman … I hadn’t seen enough of him to be sure. He wasn’t
Top Model
material for certain, but maybe the transformation could only do so much. Anyway, it was clear that this Mellisande chick had at least some human minions, which made sense if daylight smacked her around the way it did me. She couldn’t let herself be helpless and unguarded from sun-up to sundown. Minions sounded pretty cool, maybe even cooler than a mere entourage.

I didn’t get much chance to mull all that over, since Bobby and I were being hustled through a low-lit entryway that nonetheless gave an impression of space (or at least height). We were pushed into a back room with heavy, dark gold drapes and lamps and such in a style I think they call “Missionary” or something like that. Everything was all light-wood frames filled in with rectangles, triangles, and circles of stained glass in earthy tones, like the artist only had elementary school skills and a natural palette to work with. It still managed to be cool, I guess, in that monied, understated kind of way.

The lady herself rose from behind an impressive desk as we entered, leaving the hottie who’d been leaning over her in mid-sentence. I sized up the competition as she practically floated toward us like a finishing-school diva. A cornflower blue silk dress crisscrossed low over her chest, spilling cleavage and yet still managing to look classy. The skirt portion had just enough fabric to levitate as she glided, revealing
way
too much leg. I looked down at the bed-wrinkled skirt I hadn’t gotten to change and then at Bobby, whose gaze hadn’t yet risen above Mellisande’s mid-thigh. She smirked at me as I turned back toward her. Above the neckline she was all Kewpie-doll cute. Bowed lips, pert nose, wavy honey-blond hair, eyes the exact same shade as her dress. I hated her on sight.

I snarled and turned to study the much more intriguing hottie she’d left behind. Unlike most of the minions I’d seen, this one wasn’t bulgy at all, or not so you’d notice. Bobby’s blushing must have been infectious, ’cause as I met the man’s rare green eyes—I mean, like, gemstone green—I felt a little flush. And that
hair
… bad-boy long, black as midnight, falling just slightly in his face, making me want to brush it back. I felt like I was falling into a dream of firelight and hot toddies, whatever they were, bearskin rugs, and—

I blinked, snapping myself out of the bizarre little PG-13 film playing in my head. I mean, bearskin rugs were so yesterday. Not to mention, I … I froze as pretty boy pulled out a desk drawer, probably to put back the document he’d been holding, and a deep blue glow emerged, bathing his face in light.

I must have made a sound, or maybe it was the fixed look on my face, but the darling diva turned and saw the scene for herself. Her eyes widened and for a sec her polish and control fell away for something like wonder. Then she shut it down.

“Connor,” she barked. “Bring it here.”

“But it shouldn’t be poss—”

“Connor!”

The look he shot her was venomous, but he palmed whatever was in the drawer, light leaking out from between his fingers, and walked toward us. I probably should have been scared, but I’d seen Connor both stare into it and lift it with his bare hands, so I figured it wasn’t going to incinerate us on contact. And besides, I was way too curious for caution. Just forty-eight hours ago I’d had no idea that vamps and unidentified glowing objects even existed. I felt a little like Alice in Wonderland—with pointy teeth and bloodlust. Okay, so maybe as Quentin Tarantino would do Alice …

The blazing gemstone, and I could now see that’s what it was, moved toward us, even more riveting than the hottie’s eyes. In fact, it shone the same impossible color as Bobby’s baby blues, and it flared as it neared him, as if like called to like.

“I knew it,” Mellisande gasped, but if that was true, why did she seem so surprised? “Try the girl,” she added, turning her narrowed eyes on me.

Connor held the glow out toward me, putting himself between me and Bobby as a buffer. The gemstone flared once, and then faded almost to nothing. I was disappointed without even knowing why.

“Dim—what a surprise,” Mellisande said nastily. “Remove the girl.”

“You won’t hurt her!” Bobby cried out, sounding credibly commanding. The gemstone flared again, nearly blinding me, but at the same time it was
pretty
, like the sun. It would make a fabulous conversation piece in the right setting.

Mellisande’s and Connor’s eyes met and something passed between them. Then Mellisande wet her lips seductively and turned to Bobby, holding her hand up to pause the scene just as Chickzilla started to lead me away.

“She means something to you, this cheap … thing?”

Bobby broke from her spell long enough to look at me. “Yes.” The heart I wasn’t using anyway kinda melted.

Mellisande’s nose wrinkled in distaste. “
Really?
Well, that’s … interesting. You and I have unfinished business. Perhaps I will hold her as collateral for your good behavior.” She flicked her hand, as if hitting
restart
, and Chickzilla led me away, painfully gripping my elbow.

One of the other thugs flanked me, leaving two behind with Bobby and his vampire vixen. If steam could really come out of ears, my whistle would be blowing.

7

A
bazillion hours passed and Bobby didn’t even come visit me in my dungeon. Not that it was a dungeon exactly. I mean, this was Ohio. And I could hear a constant murmur of voices from somewhere, like a radio turned too low to make out the words, so the walls couldn’t be all that thick. But it was desperately dim and dusty—a partitioned-off section of basement with a cot, a door inset with bars, and a truly gag-worthy topless toilet. It stank like way too many people had tried hovering over the pot and missed. Personally, I was hoping to die a true death before things got that urgent for me.

As a distraction, my brain kept supplying images of just what ’ole Melli could want with
my
boyfriend. I wondered what kind of unfinished business she could be talking about and whether there was anything Bobby hadn’t told me about that post-debate fling with his dam, or whatever she’d be called in vamp lingo. But duplicity didn’t seem to be in Bobby’s makeup. He was almost absurdly noble—though really, how well did I know him? We’d been practically speed dating.

I’d already tried to turn into a bat or mist or
anything
that would help me escape, but either fiction had things all wrong or I wasn’t doing it right. I seriously needed to get my hands on
Vampirism for Dummies
, the
CliffsNotes
version, or maybe a subscription to
Modern Goth
. With my escape plan, such as it was, shot, I was reduced to counting the concrete blocks of my cell and developing extreme makeover ideas for the pitiful place when the basement door creaked open.

“Bobby!” I called, rising from the cot, fluffing up some parts of me and smoothing down others as I approached the barred door so I could see better.

But the guy who’d entered the basement was none other than Rick-the-rat-Lopez, who was partially responsible for me being in this dump.

“Traitor,” I said, too ladylike to spit.

Rick leaned against the closed door and gave me a kind of creepy grin. “Can’t be a traitor. I’d have to stand for something first.”

“Fine. Rat, sleaze, doofus—take your pick.”

He gave me one of those up and down looks guys seem to think are suave. “I don’t think you want to talk to me like that, Gina. We’re not in high school anymore. No more Chaz, no more primping posse. Just you and me—and I’m the one with the power … and the key. You play your cards right, maybe we can help each other out.”

I didn’t like the glint in his eye or the way his hand was kneading itself on his thigh, perilously close to—ewww! It was on the tip of my tongue to ask just how desperate he was that he needed to trade for favors, especially since I had to look like something the cat dragged in and batted around. But it didn’t seem too bright to drive away my only source of information, and possibly of escape.

“We might be able to come to an arrangement,” I hedged, sidling up to the bars and tamping down my gag reflex. “What does this Melli witch want with me and Bobby?”

“I didn’t come to talk about Bobby.”

I gave a cute little pout and added a nose wrinkle for good measure. “Come on. You gave us up. How do I know I can trust you? You’ve got to give me something.”

Rick got closer, close enough to try to look down my blouse, but I shied away with a squeak when he slipped a hand through the bars.

“Shhh!” he warned, which was interesting. It meant that help was pretty close by, maybe even as close as those voices I’d heard earlier—

“You want … something,” I said, shuddering to think what that was. “I want something too. Answers.”

Rick’s eyes narrowed, so I took a
deep
breath to distract him from the suspicion that I might be playing him. It had the usual effect of inflating my chest and riveting any man in the vicinity. Remembering to breathe took a bit of practice, but it sure got results.

“You want answers? Fine.” He spat the word out, not even bothering to lift his gaze to mine again as he spoke. “Here’s what ticks me off. Mellisande turns herself a vamp army. Even nerds like Bobby and Larry have a place in her new world order, but does she remember us baseline humans, as she calls us? Oh no—we’re too useful. She likes us just the way we are. Well, screw that. I’m branching out. So, here’s the deal: you bite me, I free you. We both win. If Larry hadn’t been there last night, we’d never have had to go through this little dance. I’d have kept you to myself and tracked you down later. He’s the one you should be pissed at.”

I considered that. It sounded good—in theory. One bite and I could sashay out of here, assuming Rick really could get me out of the house and not just this damned cell, but it felt … wrong. What was I going to do on the outside? Either I could live forever in the shadows or out myself. Assuming I could avoid any righteous mobs convinced I was evil incarnate, maybe I could spin fifteen minutes of fame out of my rising. But if fame were fickle? If the cameras didn’t love me—or even capture me on film? What then? Flipping burgers? Working retail? Okay, that wouldn’t be bad as far as employee discounts went, but then there was the actual customer service. And escape would mean leaving Bobby. Running off with—gag me with a celery stalk—Rick. Maybe I should stick around long enough to see if I could make a place for myself in Melli’s “new world order.” Just as, like, a jumping off point for launching my own empire. First, though, I’d have to get out of this cell. Maybe escaping on my own terms would show her what I was made of.

“I don’t know,” I hedged. “Maybe I should see what the other side is offering first.”

His leer went a bit feral. “Nothing good. Mellisande’s got some kind of plans for your new stud, but for you? You’re like the red-headed stepchild. And with Mellisande, if you’re not one of hers, you’re no one. She keeps her people on a pretty tight leash.”

“Like you?”

He snarled. “Fine. If you won’t come willingly—”

He leapt for the cell door, key out like he was ready to stab me, but just happened to hit the keyhole instead. The door swung open, and I nearly crowed. Oh, I jumped back out of the way like some scared little girly-girl, but just far enough to put some real momentum behind the swing of my pointy-toed boot. I had Rick doubled over the family jewels before he knew what hit him.

“Gotcha!” I hooted, swooping down to grab the key. Only he still had enough presence of mind to grab my wrist, fast as thought, and
twist
, bringing me down onto one knee in front of him. I didn’t like the position one bit and before any qualms could take root, I head-butted him dead center.
This
time he really went down, howling and cursing. But his diction sucked, so I couldn’t tell which hell he’d see me in.

I grabbed the key and stepped over his writhing body to make my escape, locking the cell door behind me with Rick-the-rat on the inside.

I was in a cinderblock hallway, like Melli had finished her basement on the cheap. It echoed, so the murmur of voices bounced around, but they seemed to be coming from a set of double doors off to my right. I made for them and burst through—straight into the Twilight Zone.

The scene inside stopped me dead … well, immobile, anyway. A few eerily familiar people near the doors turned in surprise at my sudden entrance … and then I was hit with a flying tackle, like a blast from the past.

“Gina!” a voice shouted in my ear.

“Marcy!” I hugged back for all I was worth. There might have been squealing.

“Oh, Gina, thank God. I thought I was all alone in here.”

I looked around at all the people—all the very familiar, very
un
dead bodies which, I was assuming, had gone missing from cemeteries much like the one I’d risen from. Right away I saw Cassandra Stiles, who’d died in some bizarre hot-tub incident a few weeks ago, and an underclassman whose name I couldn’t remember who’d supposedly OD’d on drugs. Marcy’d still been alive last I knew, so she must have died on prom night like me. This was, like, déjà vu all over again. High school, part two. Rick had mentioned Melli’s vamp army, but just how many had the dragon lady killed? I couldn’t take it in. All these kids …

“Becca is still on the other side,” Marcy continued, adding to my confusion.

“The other side of what?” I pulled out of the hug far enough to look into my friend’s amber eyes. I never thought I’d see them again. Suddenly, I got it. “Oh, you mean she didn’t rise?” I asked, horrified.

“She never fell,” Marcy whispered, like it was the ultimate social faux pas. “She’s still got finals and everything, poor girl. But Gina, honey, speaking of poor things, what on earth have they done to you?”

I remembered my wrinkled clothes, my continuing lack of shower or hairbrush. Further proof that my world was spinning out of control.

“Makeover!” we both cried.