Girls That Growl (12 page)

Jareth sighs, slumping down in his seat. "Of course you aren't," he says resignedly. "I should have known."

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"And as to how I performed my Houdini act of disap-pearing—"

"You used Sunny. Of course," Jareth says, not allowing me my triumphant explanation. "You left your poor twin a prisoner in the coven while you stowed away on an im-promptu trip to England."

"She owed me. I covered her when she went to England last semester to go get the Holy Grail. Besides, she'll be fine. Like a vacation. Maybe they'll even allow Magnus in for a little conjugal visit. Not that she's made up her mind to have sex with him yet."

"I should have guessed it wasn't you when she called me sweetheart," Jareth mutters. "And when she didn't bite my head off when I asked her if she needed anything to make her stay more comfortable."

"Really?" I raise an eyebrow. "Hmm. I told her to act mean and nasty. Guess she doesn't have it in her."

"And then there was that good-bye kiss ..."

I stop short. "Wait! What? Sunny kissed you?" OMG, she kissed my boyfriend? I'm going to kill her. I mean, it's bad enough she accidentally stole Magnus from me to begin with. She's
so
not taking Jareth as well. Even if he is an overbearing pain in the ass. He's
my
overbearing pain in the ass.

"Oh yes. Extensive makeout session, actually," Jareth says with a thoughtful smile. "I was actually wondering if you'd been practicing, you were so improved—"

I grab the air phone off its receiver. "Oh, I am so having a word with her!"

Jareth starts laughing and grabs the phone from my hand. "I'm kidding!" he says, looking pleased with himself. "She didn't kiss me."

I narrow my eyes. "Are you sure? You're not just trying to cover for her, are you?"

"I wouldn't dream of it," Jareth says, still chuckling. "You know, Rayne, you're something else. You really are. I can't believe you managed to break out of the coven and onto the plane."

"The plane thing was easy. Just show up with a little bot-tle of blood laced withAmbien and the guard was down for the count."

"Well, you're creative, I'll give you that."

"So you're not mad?" I ask.

He sighs. "Not mad. Just. . . well, worried. It's not like I locked you up for no reason. I really do think it's for the best that you take some time off. Get used to being a vampire."

"I'm fine. Really I am. I just had a rough day. Too many people giving me a hard time. It happens to everyone."

"Everyone doesn't get into their car afterward and smash it into a guardrail."

"That was a total accident caused by lack of decent satel-lite radio stations. It had nothing to do with me being in a bad mood."

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"Mmhm." Jareth doesn't sound too convinced. "You know, I still have half a mind to turn this plane around and drop you back off stateside."

"Oh, come on! Don't do that! I've been so looking for-ward to this trip. I want to meet all the English vampires. I mean, they're my peeps! And not in a weird, parasite-driven, ScottWesterfeld -novel type way, either. They're . . . well, they're my new family."

"Fine," Jareth relents. "But, please, I beg you, be on your best behavior on this trip. Remember we are representing our coven. The English vampires are very old and set in their ways. And we are their guests.

We must be polite at all times. No flying into rages or telling them off. No matter what."

"Yes, yes, of course. God, what type of vampire do you think I am?"

Jareth grins wryly. "A Raynie type."

"And what, may I ask, is that?" I ask, hands on my hips.

"Unique. One of a kind." He grabs me and pulls me into an embrace. I allow myself to melt into his arms.

He strokes my back. "Beautiful, stubborn, absolutely able to drive me crazy in two seconds flat."

"And?" I press.

"And the love of my unlife. Someone I never want to spend a day apart from."

"You'll never have to," I murmur, tilting my head up-ward. He smiles and leans down, kissing me softly.

Mmm. I love this vamp of mine.

"I'm very glad to hear it."

15

After chatting for a while longer, we curl up on the plane's couch and fall asleep watching the surfing movie
Endless Summer.
(Jareth claims he only Netflixed it because he thought I wouldn't be along to complain and if he'd had any idea I'd be stowing away he would have rented the digitally remastered
Nightmare Before Christmas
collector's edition for sure.) I sleep well, for the first time in a while actually feeling somewhat content.

Sure I've still got problems. Cait's angry with me, Mandy's probably about to kick me off the squad, and my mother's ready to ship me off to my Vegas playboy of a dad so I won't harass her new boyfriend.

Oh, and there's the car thing. Both she and Sunny are going to kill me when they find out I totaled it. (I sort of neglected to mention that to my twin when I was convincing her to trade places with me.) And, of course, my boyfriend thinks I need psychiatric inter-vention to cope with my vampire rage.

But cuddled up against Jareth, flying on a private jet to jolly old England where I will meet my undead brothers and sisters, find a werewolf antidote, and save the world again, I feel pretty darn good. Go ahead, life. Throw something at me. I, Rayne McDonald, can handle it.

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I fall into a restful sleep, dreaming of Jareth and me walking into the English coven. It's decorated like some eighteenth-century ball and everyone curtsies when we enter. They announce us as Lord and Lady and we're seated at the head table, as guests of honor. One by one the English vamps approach us, bowing low and welcoming me to England. Vowing to spend their entire lifetimes, if necessary, to make sure I'm—

"Get up, get up, you sleepyhead!"

What the . . . ? The dream fades as an obnoxious cry invades my ears. I roll over, pulling the afghan over my head. But Jareth will have none of it. He grabs the blanket, ruthlessly ripping it from my body, and starts tickling me awake, which, if no one's ever done it to you, is by far the worst way of being woken up in the history of wake-up tech-niques.

"Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey!" he says. Yes, these words actually come out of his mouth.

"Ugh. It's the middle of the night!" I protest, trying to squirm away from his fingers. "And we're vampires.

We don't eat eggs or bakey." Not that it doesn't sound amazingly yummy right about now. But I'm so not going to admit that.

"I know," Jareth says. "Which is why I brought you some real breakfast." He holds out a squeeze bottle filled with red liquid.

"Ah, thanks!" I grab the bottle and suck through the straw greedily. Then I spit it out. "Argh!" I cry.

"That's not my synthetic!"

Jareth sighs. "Sorry. But we don't have any synthetic on board. I didn't know you were coming, remember?"

I stare at the bottle. "So you gave me real blood? From a . . . real person?"

"That's usually where blood comes from, Rayne."

"But you know I don't drink it. How could you trick me like that?" I throw the bottle across the cabin in disgust.

"You're going to have to get over your aversion sooner or later. I thought now might be a good time to try."

"Thanks, but no thanks. Maybe they have some synthetic at the coven. I'm so not ready to be downing someone's vital bodily fluids."

"Rayne, you're a vampire," Jareth says. "That's what vampires do. You knew that before you turned. If you don't start drinking blood, you're going to waste away to nothing. And I'm sure the lack of sustenance has been one of the fac-tors affecting your moods."

"No,
you're
one of the factors affecting my moods," I retort, annoyed as all hell that he tried to trick me like that. "Always being so pushy. I'll get there in my own time and I don't need to be rushed into something I'm not ready for."

Jareth sighs wearily, as if I'm the one being unreasonable.

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"Fine. I won't bother you again," he says stiffly. "Just go get ready. We're due to be at the English coven in a half hour and I don't want to be late."

"Fine, I'll—" I stop short when I take a good look at him. "Hang on a second. You're going in that?" I ask, incredu-lous. "To the English coven?"

My vampire boyfriend, the once coolest Goth in the known universe, is currently dressed in an old faded Batman T-shirt and a pair of ripped jeans.

He shrugs. "Batman," he says, pointing to his chest. "Like me." He does a little flying imitation with his hands and grins. "I thought it was ironic."

Ironic? Ironic? "Dude! You can't show up to the coven looking like that!" I cry, panicked, my dreams of making a grand entrance going up in smoke. They'll laugh at us. They'll think I'm crazy for being at his side. They'll wonder why I didn't insist he change clothes.

"Whynot?"

" 'Cause, well, 'cause," What am I supposed to say? 'Cause I'll be embarrassed to be seen with him?

'Cause the other vampires will think he's a total nerd and a half?

"Look, Rayne. It's not a big deal," Jareth reasons. "They're just vampires. Like the ones from our own coven. They won't care what we're wearing."

"They may not say they care, but they're going to judge us by what we look like. That's what people do.

Do you want them to think you're some dork who just stepped out of Comic Con?"

"Frankly, my dear, I don't really care what they think. Rayne, we're not attending a fashion show. It's going to be a long night and I for one would like to be comfortable. What's the big deal?"

Argh! Did the blood virus somehow rob him of all cool-ness points along with his superpowers? First the beach, now stupid outfits. What's next? A sudden love for watching sports with his buddies while chugging beer and chowing on chips?

"What's wrong with you?" I demand, furious. "I mean, you used to be cool! You used to wear Armani and be all brooding and dark and stuff. Ever since we became blood mates it's like you've undergone a personality transplant. You've totally changed. Become a whole new person. In fact, half the time I feel like I don't even know you anymore."

Jareth's grin fades, replaced by a hurt expression, and I instantly regret what I said. "Well
you
certainly haven't changed." He sniffs. "You're your same nasty, bitter, angry old self who thinks the world owes her a favor. Sometimes I don't know why I bother."

I stare at him, my face hot with fury. I want to slap him, hurt him in some way. Make him feel as unhappy as I feel inside. But I force myself to suck in a breath before reacting. After all, this is my boyfriend. My blood mate. The one I love more than anyone in the world. Why am I so torn up inside?

What's wrong with me?

"I know you're pissed off at the world, but I don't see why that means I have to bear the brunt of it.

You've been nasty to me since school started," Jareth retorts. "And I'm sick of it. I'm not some doormat
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for you to walk over and ridicule and abuse because you've had a bad day. I'm sorry if me being happy for once in my life offends you so greatly."

"It's not that," I start, then stop. Is it that? Is that why I'm so mad at him? 'Cause he's happy and I'm not?

I burst into tears, furious at myself for being so messed up. Why can't I be a normal person? Like Sunny or someone. Why am I so angry and hateful? It's like I have this blackness in me. A burning pit of hatred that can't help but bubble up to the surface and lash out at those I love for no reason. I love Jareth. So much. And yet he's the one I'm most mean to.

You always hurt the ones you love. ..

"I just . . ." My voice cracks. "I just want them to like me," I admit, remembering the promise we made each other when we first got together. To share things. Even painful, hurtful things. "The other vampires. I want them to accept me as one of them."

Jareth's expression softens. He reaches over and puts a hand on my shoulder. "Raynie, luv," he says, "of course they'll like you. And acceptance has nothing to do with wardrobe, I swear." He pulls me close and strokes my head. "Sweetie, outside appearance doesn't matter. It's what's in-side that counts," he says, again spouting self-helpisms.

"I know," I say, relenting. "You're right. I'm sorry."

But deep inside, I hope he's wrong. Because if what's inside is what really counts, I'm not sure I have much of a chance of impressing anyone.

16

We hop in a waiting limo and speed down the wrong side of the street to our destination. The bright lights ofthebig city of Manchester fall away and the dark-ness of the English moors provides an eerie backdrop to our nocturnal adventure. I peer out the window at the dark landscape unfolding in front of me as we race through the night.

"I wish we weren't just here on some mission," I com-ment to Jareth. "I'd love to check out the country someday."

"Well, we have all eternity," Jareth says, reaching over to take my hand in his. "We can definitely come back."

I smile, leaving the window and crawling over to his side of the limo. I put my head on his shoulder and snuggle close. He strokes my hand with his thumb in a way that gives me shivers.

"I'm sorry about before, Jareth," I murmur, feeling extremely comfy-cozy in his arms. "I don't know what came over me. I've just been getting so angry lately. It's kind of scary, really. When I get into these rages it's like I can't con-trol my actions or what comes out of my mouth."

He kisses me on the top of my head. "You've gone through a tremendous amount of change in a short period of time. The stresses on you now are off the charts. It's enough to make anyone feel unsettled."

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