Boys That Bite (7 page)

12

Roses Are Red, Blood Is Too . . .

Sunshine McDonald, please report to the principal's office." I perk up out of my sleep-deprived coma at my name being called over the loudspeaker system. I'm in trig class, which I hate, and have been hiding out in the back row, head in my hands, trying to do the whole "look awake while sleeping" pose. I'm so tired. So, so tired. I don't know how I'm going to get through this week, let alone the rest of my existence. If Magnus doesn't find a vampire antidote, I'm doomed to be a high school dropout. I glance over at the teacher to make sure he's heard the announcement. He must have, as he simply waves me toward the door with a saucy smile. Ew. He's like the fifth male teacher today to flirt with me. This Vampire Scent thing is great for boys my age, like Jake, but when it starts affecting pervert adults it gets a little freaky. I rise from my seat, thanking Lover Boy with a nod, and he goes back to calculating huge incomprehensible math problems on the board with a big goofy grin on his face. Ma- jor ew-age. I'm happy to step into the hallway, away from class, but I soon realize this might be going from the frying pan to the fire. I have no idea why I'm being summoned to the principal's office, but usually that sort of thing is never good. Then again, I've done nothing wrong. I haven't said or done anything weird, I haven't bitten any of the student body. I did run out of home ec class after the teacher announced we were going to bake cheesy garlic bread, but I later blamed that on my I aversion to carbs due to my South Beach Diet. I arrive at the glassed-in office and step inside, my heart beating furiously. I so don't need to get in trouble on top of everything else. "Hi, I'm Sunshine McDonald," I say to Miss Rose, the longtime school secretary sitting at the front desk. "You guys called me?" Miss Rose looks up. She's an older woman, probably in her sixties, wearing a prim little pastel suit with a perfect string of pearls. Got the Barbara Bush look down pat. But when she sees me, her demure smile morphs into what looks like a lecherous grin. "Hi, sweetie," she purrs in a low, sensual voice that no Barbara Bush look-alike should ever be allowed to use. "I'm so glad you could come down." She gives me the once-over from head to toe. "You're looking awfully pretty today, dear." I take a step back, a little shaken. Has she been affected by the Vampire Scent? She couldn't be! It only works on guys and ... I start to laugh. I can't help it. The whole thing is just so absurd. So surreal. I can't believe I'm in school being hit on by a secretly lesbian grandma. Miss Rose frowns at my merriment, looking rather offended. Poor thing. "Sorry," I say, swallowing hard to contain my chortling. "The principal wanted to see me?" "No, dear," Miss Rose says in wounded tone. "I had them age you so you could pick up your flowers." "Flowers?" Miss Rose gestures to the desk adjacent to hers. My eyes fall on an absolutely enormous bouquet of blood-red roses. There must be at leave five dozen in the vase, all meticulously arranged by some expert florist. "For me?" I ask, mentally cataloging my brain for who could have possibly sent me roses. And delightfully, the only person I can think of is Jake Wilder. Of course. It makes perfect sense. He can't stop thinking about me and our prom date on Saturday night. He wants to thank me for saying yes with this "little" token of his appreciation. Something to hold me over until he brings me my corsage. I walk over to the flowers and breathe through my nose, taking in their soft, powdery scent. Jake's such a wonderful guy. So thoughtful. So sweet. I reach for the card, hardly able to wait to read what I'm sure will be cleverly written poetry, professing his undying love for— Damn it, the flowers are from Magnus. I stare at the card, at first so lost in my fantasy world that I think maybe the florist just delivered the wrong bouquet. But no, the card says my name. It's just signed by a vampire instead of my prom date. So disappointing. I glance over at the flowers. He probably freaking stole them from the graveyard or something. Jerk. Why would he send me flowers anyway? I glance at the card again.

Dear Sunny, I'm so sorry for all you've had to go through due to my dreadful mistake. I'm sure last night was especially traumatic for you. Please accept this tiny token of my apology and meet me at Club Fang tonight, to discuss your situation. Yours truly, Magnus

I release an exasperated sigh. Now I have to go back to Club Fang? I'm already way behind on my homework, having gone out the past two nights. You know, turning into a vampire is bad enough without me flunking out of school as well. But what choice do I have? If I want to reverse this process, I've got to do what he says. "Sunny, dearest, would you like to come and sit on Miss Rose's lap?" the secretary invites, while fluttering her white eyelashes. "I've been dying to talk to you." Ugh. That settles it. Club Fang, here I come!

13

The Donor Chicks

I arrive at Club Fang at around eight p.m. Unlike last Sunday, tonight there's no DJ in a bondage cage and no one's doing the foot-stuck-in-the-mud dance to suicide-inducing music. No, tonight, the club's been transformed into a hip-looking coffeehouse and wine bar, with its inhabitants lounging at various cafe tables, looking trendily bored as they suck down frothy cappuccinos and glasses of wine. I check a few of them out, trying to decide which are the vampires and which are the humans who love them. Since everyone's pale faced, red lipped, and dressed uniformly in black, it's surprisingly hard to tell the creatures of the night from those still among the living. I see Magnus at the back of the room, sitting at a small table, accompanied by two hot girls. He catches my eye and motions me over. I realize I'm strangely excited to see him, which is very annoying, since that's not the kind of power I want him to have over me. It's probably just the anticipation of me turning back into a human that's got my heart beating faster and my breath catching in my throat, I remind myself. It's not like Magnus turns me on in any way, shape, or form, that's for sure. Especially, I note, as I get closer, not in that outfit. I mean, who would get turned on by a fitted black T-shirt that perfectly molds itself to his sculpted six-pack abs or a pair of tight black leather pants that showcases— Okay. Fine. I admit it, I'm attracted. Very attracted. In fact, I'm willing to bet I'm more attracted to this vampire hottie than I am to Brad Pitt, Jude Law, and Orlando Bloom put together. So sue me. Bottom line, attraction does not equal wanting to remain someone's blood mate for all of eternity. Period. End o' story. As I reach the table, the two girls, pierced and tattooed out to the max, look up and stare at me with unfriendly, black-rimmed eyes. Oh, let me guess, more jealous Magnus disciples, hating me 'cause I'm the guy's blood mate. As if I signed up for the stupid gig. "Hi," I say, looking straight at Magnus and ignoring his groupies. The guy should consider becoming a rock star like the vampire Lestat did in that Anne Rice book Queen of the Damned. He'd probably do very well in the screaming teenage fans department. "Hey," Magnus greets back, glancing at the girls with a smug smile, looking oh-so-proud of himself. I frown. Does he expect me to be jealous of his fan club or something? Puh-leeze. "Urn ..." I shuffle from foot to foot. Should I sit down? There's no extra chair. "Sit," Magnus suddenly instructs, almost as if he's read my mind. OMG, he can't do that, can he? That would royally suck. Especially since I was just thinking about how sexy he is in that outfit. Trying to shield my mind and think random non-Magnus thoughts about Marc Jacobs shoes and the square root of pi, just in case he does have some kind of mind-reading abilities, I grab a chair from a nearby table and take my seat. "Urn, hi, I'm Sunny," I say to the girl on my left. "Nice to meet you," I add, holding out my hand to the one on the right. "Do you guys come here often?" The girl stares at my hand, but doesn't take it. She also doesn't answer my question. What's her problem? Is she a mute or something? Or just incredibly rude? (Judging from whom I've met so far in the vamp community, I'm betting on the latter.) "It's okay, Rachel. You can talk to her," Magnus says, oh-so-grandly giving his permission. Jeez. He really does get off on this all-powerful-vampire thing, doesn't he? Then again, people let him get away with it. Like this Rachel chick, for instance. I mean, Magnus commands and both girls suddenly light up like those animatronic characters at Disney World. What's up with that? Are they trapped under some kind of Magnus mind control or something? Or are they just your typical obsessive Goths, like my sister, willing to do whatever the big bad vamps command? "Greetings, oh honored one. I am Rachel," says the girl on my left in a reverential, way overly dramatic tone. "And this is my companion, Charity." "Hiya, Sunny," says Charity, in a surprisingly squeaky valley-girl voice. Wow. I hadn't expected that to come from her blood-red-lipped mouth. "We've, like, heard so much about you." They have? They've heard about me? That would mean Magnus talks about me. Talks about me to his friends even. Which is interesting, of course, but certainly no reason to have my heart start beating like crazy. Trying to regain control of my once-again traitorous body, I study the girls more closely. Both have long, impossibly straight black hair, soft blue eyes, and china doll skin. Hmm ... I wonder . . . "Are you guys . . . ?" I trail off, not quite sure of the PC terminology. Would a vampire be considered mortally challenged? "Are you . . . ?" "Vampires?" Rachel fills in. My face heats. "Uh, yeah." Okay, guess they're cool with the V-word here. "No." Rachel says, shaking her head. "Unlike you, we are regretfully still attached to this mortal coil." "We wish, though," Charity chimes in. "That would so totally rock if we were." "Indeed," her friend agrees, solemnly. "To be a creature of the night would, as my dear friend so eloquently puts it, totally rock." O-kay, so they're not vampires. But they know about vampires. They're like vamp wanna-bes. Maybe they're part of the training program Rayne was in? "Actually, we're Donor Chicks," Charity informs me. "Donor—?" I scrunch my eyebrows. Then realization hits me like a ten-ton truck. I stare from one to the other. "You're Magnus's blood donors?" Wow. Magnus had told me that vampires contracted willing humans to provide them with their blood supply, but I didn't think about the fact that these donors would be very attractive young women. Dinner for Mag boy must be a real gourmet treat. "Yes." Rachel nods enthusiastically. "We are bound to serve Lord Magnus," she says, smiling over at the vampire in question, looking prouder than a peacock. "Offer him our blood sacrifice so that he may sustain immortal life." I roll my eyes. What a drama queen. "So what you're saying is you, like, willingly let him suck your blood? Why the heck would you sign up for something like that?" I'm trying not to be judgmental here, but seriously! "Are you kidding?" Rachel frowns, her expression telling me that I've just asked the stupidest question known to humankind. "It is an honor to provide sustenance to such a powerful being," she explains. "By doing so, we too are indirectly taking part in immortal life." "Plus it's great pay!" Charity interjects. Rachel shoots her an evil look, like it's rude to bring up the more mercenary aspects of their agreement. But Charity ignores her. "I mean, for a young mom like myself, there's no better way to earn a few extra bucks on the side. Definitely beats waitressing for a living. Now I can take care of my baby, rent a kick-ass apartment, and have enough money to go to college. All without food stamps. It's a total win-win, you know? Maggy here gets his bloody-wuddy," she says, clucking a frowning Magnus under the chin, "and me and my baby get a big fat bank account." Okay, then. There you have it. I mean, what can I possibly say to properly respond to that little spiel? "Well, um, I'm glad it's all working out for you," I respond lamely. "Wouldn't be my first career choice, but hey, neither is astrophysics and plenty of people do that for a living and make out real well." "Girls, could you get Sunny a drink?" Magnus says, speaking up for the first time. "She must be very thirsty." Without even a pause to question why I can't get up and get my own damn drink, or why both of them have to go for that matter, the Donor Chicks jump up and head for the coffee bar. "They're, um, cute," I remark, watching them across the room. Charity is giggling about something and Rachel is rolling her eyes at her. Magnus shrugs. "They're dinner," he says simply. As if he's talking about a pork chop or something. "They're also human," I protest, not knowing why I feel the need to defend them. After all, they certainly aren't unwilling victims. If they're stupid enough to think that the concept of a vampire downing their blood like some vintage red wine is cool, then who am I to say they're being exploited and used? "I mean, I knew you had donors, but it's just completely weird to meet them in person." "I can imagine," Magnus says, twirling his wineglass in his hands. "I debated bringing them with me. I don't usually dine out." Dine out. Hardy har har. "Is that supposed to be a lame attempt at a vampire joke?" He smiles. "Pun was intended, yes." He takes a sip of his wine. "I usually swing by their houses early in the evening, then go on with my night." "Ah. A bloody booty call." See, I can make vampire jokes too. "So no fraternizing with dinner allowed, then?" "It's not against the rules," Magnus says with a shrug. "We are allowed to associate with our donors if we choose to. In fact, I've heard of many donor-vamp relationships developing and lasting for years. But my particular donors are, how do I put this?" he asks, glancing over at the giggling girls. "A bit overwhelming at times." "I see." Well, I guess that means he's not attracted to them. That's a relief ... or not. Actually not. In fact, for the record, I think it'd be totally fine if he were attracted to them. If he had a relationship with them, even. Because after all, I couldn't care less who he's dating. No, really. "So why did you bring them here tonight?" I ask. He grins. "For you. I thought you might like a bite to eat." "Ha, ha. Very funny." "I wasn't making a joke this time." I screw up my face. "Ew! I'm not drinking anyone's blood." Then I blush as I remember the incident with the raw meat in the kitchen this morning. I really hope he can't read my mind, 'cause that was way embarrassing. "You have to drink blood. You're a vampire." "No. I don't have to and I won't. I'll just order a burger if I get hungry." "A burger won't—" "An extra-rare burger with lots of blood." Magnus shakes his head. "A burger is all empty calories," he says. "You need to be nourished with human blood." "I am not drinking blood. End of story." "You should just try it. You'd probably like it." "I won't like it. I know I won't." "You probably didn't think you'd like brussels sprouts the first time you tried them either," he reasons. "I still don't like brussels sprouts, just FYI. And I certainly will never, ever, in a million years like the taste of human blood." Before Magnus can respond with some other idiotic reason why I should partake in this cannibalistic behavior, the Donor Chicks return, carrying a goblet of red wine. Saved by the Goths. "Here you go," says Charity, thrusting the drink at me. "Your merlot." I take a sniff. It smells delicious. Not that I'm some wino, but this particular brand has a warm, spicy smell. I shouldn't be drinking wine. Especially not on a school night. Mom would absolutely kill me if she found out. But then again, I'm already dead, right? (See, I'm good at this vampire humor thing!) I take a sip. Mmmm. Thick and hearty, must be a very good vintage. I take another sip. This is good stuff. Really satisfying. Warms my stomach almost immediately, washing away all the stress and frustrations of the day. On my third sip, I look around the room. Funny, I would have totally guessed that a makeshift coffeehouse like this would serve only the cheap stuff. Like blush from a box or something. Um, in fact, now that I think about it, why would a coffeehouse serve wine at all? Would they even have a liquor license? Then it hits me. Oh. My. God. I spit my mouthful of "wine" back in the glass, my stomach heaving in disgust. I feel like I'm going to be sick. I look up at Magnus, who is smiling smugly from across the table. It takes every ounce of willpower not to slug him one. "You tricked me!" I cry. "This is blood, not wine, isn't it?" "I knew you would like it," he says simply. "You told me it was merlot," I accuse Charity. She grins. "Lord Magnus asks that we call it that. It sounds more ... civilized," she says with a giggle. "And, like, if you're out in public, you can't be talking about drinking the B-word 'cause people will lock you up and throw away the key." I feel a little like locking myself up and throwing away the key at this very moment. I can't believe I just drank some random Goth girl's blood. I can't believe I liked it. I can't believe I'm staring at the glass, wanting to take another sip. "Ugh. What's happening to me?" I moan. "Look, Sunny," Magnus says, leaning over the table and meeting my eyes with his own deep, soulless ones. "You'd find things a lot easier if you'd just start embracing your inner vampire." "But I don't want to be a vampire!" He sighs. "You've made that exceedingly clear, believe me. However, until we manage to stop your transformation, by all accounts you are becoming a vampire. Therefore, you must do the things that vampires do. And if you do not drink blood, you will very simply waste away and die before you get the opportunity to change back." Okay, I guess he has a point. I glance around the coffeehouse, making sure no one's watching me, then take a tentative sip of the blood in my wineglass. Soon, I'm gulping it down with wild abandon. Gross, I know. But I can't seem to help it. It just tastes so yummy. "Very good," Magnus says, as if praising a one-year-old for eating her first Cheerios. "Yeah, yeah," I mumble between gulps. "Whatever I have to do." I am so not admitting how delicious I find the drink or how I'm dying for a second glass. "Thank you, ladies," Magnus says, turning to the Donor Chicks. He pulls out a wallet from his back pocket and hands each a wad of cash. Guess vamp blood payment is an under-the-table type gig. "You are free to go." They take the money and giggle once again as they kiss Magnus on each cheek. "Thanks, Maggy," says Charity. "You're the best." "I will see thee tomorrow evening," Rachel adds. "Till next time, my divine immortal one." Oh, puh-leeze. This girl makes Rayne seem normal. Without further ado, the girls wave good-bye to me and exit the coffeehouse. Magnus watches them go, then turns to me. "Like I said ..." "... a little overwhelming," I finish, nodding. "I totally see your point." "So," Magnus says, clearing his throat. "I've done some research." I lean forward in my chair, excited. "And?" He pauses. "Do you want the good news or the bad news?" Why do people always ask that? It only prolongs the suspense, don't you think? And really, what difference does it make which one you bring up first? "The good news, I guess." After all, if I know the good news, then I'll be in a better mood to deal with the bad news. "The good news is that according to the ancient texts I've researched, there is a way for the vampire transformation process to be reversed. A way for you to turn back into a human." "Woot!" I cry, raising a fist in the air in triumph. That is good news! "I knew there had
to be a way!" Overjoyed, I can't resist the urge to lean across the table and give the surprised vampire a big smacking kiss on the cheek. "You rock, Magnus! Thanks so much! I knew you could do it." He waves off my attempted embrace. "I haven't told you the bad news yet," he reminds me. "Bring it on, then. No kind of bad news can wreck my day now." "According to my research, the only way to turn you back into a human is to purify your blood. And the only substance I know of that can do this is a drop of blood from the Holy Grail." The Holy Grail? Holy crap!