Bad Blood (20 page)

Okay, hang on a second. “Revenge? Why on Earth do you want revenge against the Blood Coven?” I demand. “They’re like the most peaceful, allinclusive coven in the entire consortium.”

For the first time Cornelius loses his cool. He glares at me, eyes shooting daggers. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, mortal,” he snarls. “They killed her. Burned her to death without remorse. To this day her screams still haunt my dreams.”

I’m taken aback by his fury. “Whose screams?” I ask, warily.

“Tabitha’s! My baby sister,” he cries. He shakes his head, a distraught look on his face. “All the poor, poor girl wanted was to become a vampire like me. I told her not to—that she didn’t want this kind of life. But she didn’t listen. Went and sold herself to that abomination—that child vampire freak—who did nothing but lock her away from the world, abusing her, crushing her spirit, and then finally burning her to death in her own bedroom to stop her from speaking up about his cruel ways.”

My mind suddenly flashes back to the story Magnus told me back at Club Fang earlier in the week. About Lucifent, the previous Blood Coven Master, whose blood mate died in a fire that may or may not have been sparked by his own hand.

Oh God, and now her brother wanted revenge. And he was willing to take it out on Magnus, the new coven leader.

“But Cornelius,” I argue, pushing down my rising panic. “That was Lucifent’s doing, not Magnus’s. And he’s dead. Slayer Inc. killed him—probably to avenge Tabitha’s death, now that I think about it.” That part had never made sense to me before. “In any case, there’s no reason to punish the rest of the Blood Coven for a dead vampire’s crimes. And certainly no reason to punish Magnus.”

But Cornelius is not so easily dissuaded. “No reason?” he roars. “They turned their backs on his crimes. Ignored her screams and went on with their nights as she died in the most painful way possible. And then, when it was over, did they condemn the man who killed one of their own? No. They covered up the evidence and kept that mutant child vampire on as their leader. A murderer as their Master.” He scowls, his handsome face looking suddenly old.

“Fine. So now you’ll have your revenge. Get back at the Blood Coven. Then what? What are you going to do next?”

“I guess you’ll see,” Cornelius smiles. “If you live through the night, that is.”

Beside me, Jayden whimpers. I reach over and place a hand over his. This is scary enough for me; I can’t imagine how frightened a normal human would be in this situation. One that, before now, had no idea vampires even existed. A sudden crashing noise outside makes us all pause. Cornelius is on his feet. There’s some kind of fight going on outside between the zombie vampires. He groans. “It’s so tough to be Master,” he mutters to himself, then turns back to us. “I will return in a moment,” he says. “I suggest you don’t go anywhere. Unless you like the idea of vampires gnawing on your bones.”

And with that, he pushes the screen door outward and steps outside. I can hear him yelling at his vampires, insisting there are enough vulture corpses to go around. I shudder.

Realizing we have to do something, I rise to my feet, grabbing Jayden’s hand and pulling him up with me. “We have to get out of here,” I say. “I can’t let Cornelius destroy the Blood Coven.” I look out one window then another. There are vampire zombies everywhere and I doubt we’d be able to make a run for it. Crap. What would Rayne do in a situation like this? “What to do?” I mutter, half to myself.

“Well you’re the vampire expert,” Jayden reminds me. He’s trying to sound brave, but his shaky voice relays his fear. “What are their weaknesses? Like what’s in the movies? Is any of that true?”

“Some,” I say, running the possibilities over in my mind. “Crosses, garlic, holy water all hurt. But I don’t think we’ll find any of that stuff here. I don’t suppose you can start a fire with two sticks by any chance?”

Jayden shakes his head. “I dropped out of Boy Scouts,” he confesses. “Too much camping. Anything else?”

“Just blood. They go nuts with the smell of blood. Though not my blood, I guess. Evidently the whole Holy Grail thing made it poisonous to a vampire.”

Jayden shoots me a look. “The Holy Grail thing? I so need to hear that story when we get out of here.”

“
If
we get out of here. I mean, not to be a glass half-empty girl here, but even if we are able to defeat Cornelius somehow there’s still a whole trailer park filled with vampires to contend with. We can’t exactly take on the whole town.”

Jayden bites his lower lip worriedly. “And you’re sure your cell phone isn’t working.”

I nod grimly. “Neither is the home phone. But even if they did, who would we call? A cab?”

“I’d probably call nine-one-one in this case,” Jayden says. “This is an emergency, right? Though it’d be a little hard to explain to the operator just what kind.”

Suddenly it dawns on me. Or hits me over the head, more like a lightning bolt.

“Oh my God, Jayden!” I exclaim, a plan forming in my mind. He looks at me anxiously. “What? Do you have an idea?” “Your . . . alert thing. You know, if you get cut. Doesn’t it automatically call nine-one-one no matter where you are?”

His jaw drops open. “Oh my God, of course!” he cries. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of that. It’s all satellite-based so we’ll get reception, even out here.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the device. It blinks back at him, a precious green light, promising freedom. “I suppose this qualifies as an emergency,” he says, ready to press the button.

But suddenly the trailer door bursts open, slamming into Jayden and knocking the device out of his hand. It rolls under the couch. Before we can dive after it, Cornelius is looming in front of us again.

“What are you two doing?” he asks suspiciously. “Not trying to escape, are you? I told you, it won’t do you any good. Silly little humans.” He sits down on the couch, blocking any chance of us leaning down and grabbing the device. Crap. I glance at my watch. Forty-five minutes and counting. If only we could distract him some way. Get him to get off the couch long enough for me to reach under and grab the device . . .

“Hey, Dracula! Over here!”

I whirl around, my mouth opening in shock as I see that Jayden has climbed onto the rickety kitchen table. He’s found a knife in the drawer and is waving it wildly. At first I think he’s going to try to stab Cornelius, which won’t do any good. A knife wound does nothing to a vampire. But then, a moment later, I see he has something much, much more dangerous in mind.

“Jayden, no!” I cry as he proceeds to drag the knife along his chest. A crimson stain of blood suddenly spreads over his white shirt.

“Come and get it, bad boy!” he snarls at Cornelius.

The vampire is on him before I realize he’s moved, his mouth on Jayden’s chest, greedily licking up the blood. It’s flowing like crazy and I know it’s not going to stop.

“Get the device!” Jayden cries, his eyes wild and his face white. “Save yourself! Save the Blood Coven!”

I glance over at the couch, then back at him, my mind whirling in confusion. I can’t just let him do this—sacrifice himself to save me. I need to do something. I need a stake. But even if I had one, could I really manage to push it through his heart? I’m no slayer and I don’t think it’s really as easy as my sister would have me believe. Otherwise, why would there be official slayers to begin with, born and destined and all that? They could just get any random guy off the street and hand him a stake.

If only I had stayed a vampire. I could kill him and save Jayden’s life. But no, I’m just a mortal girl. No superpowers. No super-strength. No way to save my friend . . .

Jayden’s cries are softer now, weaker, as he tries to fight off the vampire with ever-draining blood. I glance desperately around the room, for something—

anything!—that could possibly damage an immortal vampire. Then I see the stove. And I remember Cornelius’s story about Tabitha, Jayden and me discussing fire only moments earlier, and Rayne’s snarky comment about the blowtorch.

I dive for the appliance, my hands closing around the burner knobs, twisting them to high heat. Soon the stovetop is dancing with flickering flames. Here we go. I may not have superpowers, but I can definitely kill a vampire.

“Jayden!” I cry, backing out of the way. “Push him off you! Now!”

For a moment I think it’s too late. That Jayden’s too far gone to hear me. But then I see his hands make contact with Cornelius’s chest—shoving him forward with all his might, adrenaline compensating for actual strength. Caught off guard, the vampire loses his balance and teeters backward, stumbling right into the stovetop inferno. If you’ve never seen a vampire burn, let me tell you, it’s like they’re made of pure kerosene. Not a minute after contact, he’s running through the trailer, thoroughly engulfed. Screaming bloody murder. He doesn’t make it far, before collapsing and writhing out his last breaths. We did it. We killed him.

Jayden, now entirely out of strength, collapses, crashing onto the floor in a dead faint, blood literally gushing from his gaping wound. Oh God, Cornelius must have ripped open his chest with his teeth. I feel like I’m going to throw up or pass out, but force myself to focus and dig under the couch to find the device we need. A moment later I’m pressing the precious button and a beeping informs me that help is on its way. Thank God.

But we’re not out of danger just yet; the trailer’s become an inferno at this point—Cornelius, having managed to set the whole place ablaze from his thrashing around. (Did no one teach him as a child to stop, drop, and roll?) Choking on the thick black smoke, I duck down and crawl over to Jayden, who’s now out cold. I grab the folder with my proof and then grab onto Jayden by his shoulders and drag him out of the burning trailer, praying the other vampires will leave us alone until help arrives.

Luckily, the vampire zombies all seem to have a healthy respect for fire and what it can do to them. They run around, howling and screaming, but don’t approach. I pull Jayden a safe distance from the smoke and rip my shirt to use as a makeshift bandage, trying to put pressure on the wound as best I can. But it’s not a perfect solution when the patient’s blood won’t give him a break.

“Please be okay,” I beg, tears streaming down my cheek. “Please hold on a little longer.”

I think I see his eyes flutter for a second, but it could be my imagination. Leaning down, I kiss his forehead softly. Even lying so close to the fire, his skin is ice cold. Not a good sign.

A moment later, the cavalry arrives. An ambulance, fire truck, and two police cars pull into the trailer park, with bright flashing lights and piercing sirens that force the zombie vampires to retreat into their trailers to live another day. Safe and sound, at least until I report them to Slayer Inc. But I’ve got more important things to think of now. Five minutes later we’re racing down the desert road, on our way to the hospital. I’m in the back of the ambulance with Jayden, holding his hand as paramedics work on his cut. They’ve given him some kind of medication to stop the bleeding, but he’s already lost a ton of blood and their white, focused faces don’t give me any clue as to how this will end for him.

“Jayden, hang in there,” I whisper to him, squeezing his hand. The paramedic waves me off so he can better do his job. I reluctantly sit back down in my seat. I glance at my watch. Twenty minutes to go. What should I do? I don’t want to leave Jayden’s side. But I can’t very well let Sasha destroy the Blood Coven either.

Suddenly Jayden opens his eyes. His beautiful green eyes, now framed by purple bruising. “Sunny,” he gurgles, his voice sounding almost as if he’s underwater, probably from all the drugs they’ve pumped into him. “What are you still doing here? You need to get to the hotel and stop the ceremony.”

“But I don’t want to leave you!” I cry, my heart breaking. So typically Jayden. Thinking of me and everyone else before himself. “You’re hurt.”

“I’ll be fine,” he insists, brave ’til the last. “And even if I’m not, you need to see this through. You can’t let Cornelius win after all you’ve done.”

“After all
you’ve
done,” I correct. “I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.”

His mouth quirks into his crooked smile. “How about after all
we’ve
done, then?” he modifies. “In any case, Sun, you can’t let the bad guy win. You need to go stop the ceremony.” Reaching out, he grabs my hand, gripping it in his own much weaker one. He looks so pale, so helpless, yet so determined. My heart just about falls out of my chest and I have to swallow down the tears.
Please let him be all right
, I pray to any higher power that might be listening.
He doesn’t deserve to die for this.

But, I realize, if he does have to die, at least he should go knowing his sacrifice made a difference. I turn to the EMTs. “Stop this van,” I tell them. “I’m getting out.”

18

Of course they don’t stop the van for me. Ambulances don’t tend to stop midroute when taking a critically injured patient to the hospital. But luckily it turns out the ER is right around the corner. Five minutes later I’m in a cab, instructing the driver to get to the Mandalay as quickly as humanly possible. Thankfully, my driver knows some back roads and seems up to my challenge, peeling out of the hospital at record speed. He probably thinks I’m trying to get to the church on time; to stop a wedding—to speak now or forever hold my peace kind of thing. Which, I guess, in a way, is true. I glance at my watch. Eleven-forty-six. Fourteen minutes left.

Twelve minutes later the cab pulls up to the curb of the convention center. Grateful, I throw a handful of money at the driver and leap out of the car. Racing into the building, I play Dodge the Tourists, taking the escalator stairs two at a time, pushing past whoever’s in my way and ignoring their angry glares.

At the top of the stairs, I take off down the hallway, as fast as my legs will carry me, praying over and over and over in my head that it’s not too late. I glance at my watch—eleven fifty-nine. Oh please don’t let the powers-that-be have watches that run fast.

Finally, after what seems a marathon distance, but is probably only about twenty yards, I arrive at the ballroom where the ceremony is taking place. I ignore the ticket takers’ protests (I mean, tickets? To a biting?) and barge through the double doors, careening into the room and tripping over an electrical cable that must have been part of the lighting setup. I go flying forward down the aisle, slamming into the rug, my palms skidding in a way that’s sure to leave the most horrific rug burns. But I can’t even feel them now as I scramble to my feet.