Plagued: Book 1 (34 page)

Chapter 14

Fearless

Gemma couldn't have been more right. Things did change.

Monday morning, cell phones all over the school texted the news: Mrs. McCarthy was gone, baby, gone. Absent on indefinite leave for medical reasons.
WTF? Smiley face, smiley face
. Her replacement: the no-nonsense Assistant Principal, Mr. Reeves. Thankfully he had no children at the school and no secret agendas. His obsession was hall passes and tardiness, like any assistant principal worthy of the title.

Everyone wanted to be my new best friend, asking me to sit with them at lunch, join a study group – where studying was the last thing that got done – or asking me out. Boys were asking me out and I was refusing them. Me! Having to refuse dates because I was seeing the hottest guy in Tokyo. Or anywhere else as far as I was concerned. Abigail and Missy, shifting orbit from Amber Lynne's cooling dwarf star, changed trajectory to circle my rising sun. They agreed Savan was pure male perfection. He'd taken to driving out in a shiny, silver BMW roadster to pick me up on the days I actually made it to school, which were growing more and more infrequent. In truth, I really didn't have much time to hang around with my new list of Social Network pals begging to be ''friended” over the following weeks. The Club always had an exciting and entertaining agenda keeping me out most nights. No one could be more interesting than Vanessa, Anders, Stephanie, Lilly and, of course, Savan of the smoldering looks and liquid kisses. Grade point averages had become
déclassé
.

Today I ditched my last class to get to the station and make it into town in time to meet Vanessa. She was taking me to her favorite vintage stores on a hunting expedition. We were hunting for a dress.

That's what Vanessa called clothes shopping. Whenever we hit the shops, she would designate who was the hunter and who were the beaters. The beaters' job was to drive the game towards the hunter. In shopping this took the form of crying out, “Here, here, here! This is
so
cute!” Or, “I see it! It's perfect! Come here, come here,
come here!
”

Vanessa made
everything
more fun.

Today was an extra special hunt for an extra special dress because there was going to be a party just for me. My birthday was almost here and we were going to celebrate big time, Vanessa said.

“Your birthday will be spectacular, I know it! We will have a fantastic time. The cherries may be finished, but everything else will be green and fresh. A new beginning.”

'
How could anything be more wonderful than these past two months?
' I thought to myself.

Impossible. Catching sight of my reflection in a shop window, I hardly recognized the girl standing there. Automatically smoothing my hand over my hair, though those errant curls were long gone. Vanessa's hairdresser had seen to that. Instead, it lay sleek and smooth as silk across my shoulders, held back by a pair of Gucci sunglasses perched on top of my head. An early birthday gift from Savan. I was wearing a long-sleeved Pucci-style dress, another vintage store find. Silver, turquoise and green in dizzying geometrics, topped with a tiny Burberry jean jacket with flared sleeves I'd picked up for next to nothing a couple of weeks before. We hardly needed coats anymore now that spring was in full bloom.

Vanessa's cell phone rang and after a brief conversation, she laughed. Grabbing me by the hand, she said only, “That was Lilly. Detour!”

Jumping in and out of a taxi, the two of us went to a neighborhood nearby, hopping into a branch of the Italian coffee house chain
Sega Fredo
.
This and a couple of other coffee houses served as a sort of unofficial town square for many of the affluent foreigners that clustered in this part of the city. The terraces of the Starbuck's or Sega Fredo coffee shops were places to see and be seen, where men and women from a dozen countries automatically sized each other up. Tokyo was a place you
dressed up
to go for coffee.

Sega Fredo always had copies of the glossy magazine, The Tokyo Weekly. Flipping through, Vanessa quickly found the six pages of gossip and society news from columnist, Bobby Hereford.

“
Ta da!
” she sang, holding the magazine up and out with a flourish.

I saw myself staring back in full color. It was still a shock to see my face on the society page. For this spread, we were standing with a hotter-than-hot LA rap singer. (Who, it turned out, was actually more suburban Thousand Oaks than the rough blocks of Compton, and very well spoken. Though I said I'd never tell.) His entourage had us surrounded, me in the middle, with the other Club members on either side. We were shining more brightly than the rapper's gold and diamonds. Savan had his arm around my shoulders.

“That's six weeks in a row we have been in Bobby's column,” laughed Vanessa.

We gave each other high fives.

When I got home several hours later, just to change, Dad was there. I checked my watch. Seven o'clock. He never came home this early anymore. I said “hi” and dashed to my room. We were all going for cocktails, a private club on top of some high-rise. We'd have a table by the window with a stunning view of the city – like always. After drinks we planned to go on to the elegant Peninsula Hotel for dinner at a very chic supper club where Vanessa had reserved a private dining room.

Running past him on the way out five minutes later, I gave a casual wave goodbye. To my surprise, he moved to block my way.

“You've been missing classes. The school called me.”

I rolled my eyes.“What? You mean your secretary let a call through? Or they called your cell and you didn't automatically send them to voicemail like you do me?”

“Lexie.”

“Lexie
what
, Dad? You pay no attention to me. I haven't seen you in over a week.”

“Things are busy at work right now.”

“I've seen how busy. Five-foot-two, blonde and pretty, out-for-cocktails on a weeknight busy.”

He looked stunned.

It had been just over a week ago. Savan, Vanessa and I were having a drink after a concert. Savan was sipping a vodka tonic and Vanessa the same. The crowd ebbed and flowed and for a moment parted directly in front of me. Across the floor, I saw my father and the blond sitting together, his dark hair making hers seem even fairer. She laughed at something he said and leaned forward to kiss him on the mouth. The crowd shifted again and they disappeared from view. I was not really that surprised.

“
Yeah, I know about the one in Paris as well and Bangkok. Isn't it funny how they all
look like Mom? Is that why she left? Because you have a thing for blonds you're
not
married to?”

“That's, that's not fair,” he stammered. I'd obviously surprised him with my secret knowledge. This glimpse into his private life. I wondered if I should bring up the 'mirror-at-the-foot-of-the-bed' thing? He used to bring his women home when I was at school. Send the maid out for coffee or shopping. Various neighbors in various countries had positively enjoyed giving me
that
information.

“Fair? You're going to play the 'fair' card? How is it fair that you drag me all over the world like baggage because it's convenient for
you!
All you do is work – and whore around, obviously.
You're
the reason Mom left!” I threw the words at him like a knife, knowing they would cut just as deeply.

His face lost all color. For a moment, he was silent, saying finally in a tired voice, “You can't keep missing school.”

“I can and I will. How are you going to stop me?”

And I pushed by, leaving him standing there staring as I walked boldly out the front door. He couldn't stop me. No one could. If he tried, I would pack my stuff and get a part-time job and stay here. I wasn't moving again. I wasn't going anywhere, not for a long time.

How wrong can a person be?

Chapter 15

With This Drink, I Thee Dead

Blue Oyster Cult was playing “Don't Fear the Reaper” on the sound system and I felt happy. I didn't fear the reaper. I didn't fear anything, not when I was with the coolest group of people on the planet. Me, Alexandra Carpenter, with
them
. Savan held my hand and kissed me. At midnight, I would become a part of the Club, an actual member, and nothing,
nothing
would ever be the same.

Though we started the evening somewhere else, by eleven we arrived
en masse
in a very sketchy part of Tokyo's Shinjuku red light district, Kabukicho, at a tiny place called The Reaper. Savan, explaining to me as we squeezed through the narrow door that it was named for Blue Oyster Cult's  rock classic. I knew that song, everybody knows that song. I thought it was scary and I'd had nightmares about it. Of course, I had nightmares about a lot of things as a child including clowns, seagulls, and mirrors. Now the song just seemed mysterious and profound. Maybe I was growing out of my fears at last. The tiny Reaper played only 70s music and was packed with a small, stylish international group of people laughing and talking over the music. Vanessa, Savan, Cameron and the rest of our members seemed to know everyone there and much kissing, hugging and high-fives back and forth ensued.

I'd barely spoken to my dad since our fight a few days before and I didn't care. He had his career and his blond. He didn't seem to need much from me anymore and I was finally at a point where I felt the same way. The Club and my friends, nothing else mattered. Looking at Savan, I thought I'd done pretty well for myself. Savan was a pretty spectacular catch as a first boyfriend.

The bar was not the sort of place I would come to without a group. It seemed full of shadows for such a small place and the light from the dingy, white, geometric fixtures hardly reached the corners. It felt more like a Goth hangout than a shrine to the 70s, or so I thought. It certainly smelled like it hadn't been dusted since that decade, so that was
a touch of realism. Everything was slightly grimy. Very different from the beautiful, sparkling people crowded inside. The bartender appeared to have lived through the 70s several times over – one of those guys whose wrinkles had wrinkles. He was tattooed and pierced and wore an ancient Hell's Angel's vest. I couldn't tell if he was Japanese or not, his face was all squeezed together with age.

This was such an unlikely gathering place for the Club members that I couldn't help feeling disappointed. They'd made such a big deal over my birthday party this past week, shushing each other about the preparations whenever they thought I was listening. My expectations had run more along the line of plush settees and sparkling views.
Peter's
at the Peninsula Hotel. They all knew that was my favorite, and I'd dressed appropriately in a tiny gold and brown, sequin sheath dress and a pair of achingly beautiful high-heeled Prada sandals borrowed from Vanessa.

On the Reaper's narrow bar sat several oversized glass jars. Something inside appeared to be moving. Peering closer, I saw they each held a handful of live snakes. Writhing and curling over and around each other, their quick tongues darted in and out as they tried in vain to get traction on the slippery glass sides and escape. The bartender followed my stare and smiled. In a flash, he reached in to pull forth one of the reptiles. He held it out to me and I drew back, afraid. Savan spoke to him sharply in another language and shrugging, the barman dropped it back with the others.

“Snakes?” I couldn't stop staring at them. They seemed to be staring back. “What's with the snakes?”

“Come on, their role will become clear later in the evening.”

“I don't know if I like the sound of that.”

Savan gave me a laughing smile, his cheeks dimpling up in that adorable way I loved, and pulled me towards a group of people I didn't know. They were sitting at several little tables beneath a wall completely covered with eight-by-ten black and white photographs. There must have been more than a hundred. Every photo was a close-up of a teenage or maybe slightly older boy or girl. White, Black, Asian, and in-between. The people in them looked dead. In all the photos each one lay on a stone or concrete floor, their heads centered in some sort of diagram like a – I counted the points of the stars – six. A hexagram. Exactly like the little red star burned into my skin by the English boy at the techno club. Eyes open, mouths slack. I found the pictures beyond disturbing and though I tried not to look, my glance kept flicking up to them from where we sat.

Very soon, the old fashioned clock above the bar showed only a few minutes left to the midnight hour. Savan opened a bottle of champagne.
Everyone cheered as he poured out glass after glass. Several more bottles shot open in quick succession. Apparently, the entire group was joining in my birthday toast.

Three or four people dressed in black leather, exactly as at my first Club meeting at the Chateau Robuchon, squeezed inside. Each carried a silver tray covered in
carnival
masks festooned with ribbons. I flashed back to my welcoming dinner. There had been masks then, too, weren't there? I had all but forgotten about the masquerade. The Club's love of ritual. Masks and something more. What was it? Animals? I couldn't quite bring the memory into focus. I shrugged it away. That wasn't important now. Savan had said the Club must have its rituals. This masquerade was part of mine. I felt comforted in that.

Savan tied on his dark gray mask with the silver eyes and red ribbons.

“Where's my mask?” I asked as the person in black moved silently on to the next person. “Don't I get one now?”

“
Shhhh
.” He put his finger to my lips, a secret little smile on his mouth. The mask made him look a slightly scary, like a stranger. “Wait and see.”

I looked over to see the bartender staring at me. I shivered. With a wink, he held out a champagne bottle, different from the others. Black all over: glass, label, and cork. He handed it to Savan. Savan then presented it, rather ceremoniously, to Vanessa, who set it down on the bar. Vanessa already had on her black velvet mask with the cut-out wings swirling elegantly up onto the sides of her head. Her dress tonight was black velvet as well, with a deep V-neck and a swirling silk flounce around the hem. I thought she looked beautiful. The mask the perfect finishing touch. I was so proud she was my friend. So proud of them all.

The wrinkly bartender reached down somewhere out of sight and pulled out a shimmery, dark cloth bag which he gave directly to Vanessa. She placed the bag next to the bottle. Carefully drawing aside the strings, the bag fell away to reveal an exquisite crystal goblet covered in the most delicate silver metal filigree work I had ever seen. The silver spread out from the stem in the shape of two outstretched wings. I looked more closely, the metal base formed a fanged figure in the center, its face set in a grotesque grimace. Not quite what I expected.

Vanessa gave me a full smile from beneath her lovely mask and I automatically smiled back. Nerves again. That's all. She deftly removed the cork from the black bottle, pouring just a small measure of the liquid, fizzing and popping, into the slim goblet.

I jumped as the clock began to chime loudly.

“Almost time,” Savan whispered, leaning down to kiss me on the mouth. “So special,” he breathed around my lips, still kissing me. “So very special this day, this hour, this moment with you.”

His mask must have scratched my cheek and forehead as I felt them burning. Then, in a flash, I remembered the silver-haired boy and his mirror; the mirror reflecting strange red symbols burned into my skin. Ritual marks or something like that, he called them. There was an odd feeling in the pit of my stomach. Almost like fear. I pushed it aside, angry at myself and my childish fancies. There was no reason to be afraid. I was happy. This party. My friends. Tonight's masquerade was all for
me
.

Six chimes. There was a murmur of excited whispering from everyone present and they raised their glasses. The bartender reached into the cage and grabbed one of the snakes, banded red and yellow. It wriggled and twined itself around his wrist trying to escape. Its struggles were futile, he held on firmly, gripping it tight.

At the stroke of twelve, before I knew what was happening, he twisted the snake's head off and grabbing the tail, held the headless, writhing body over the strange goblet. The snake's blood dripped into the small measure of champagne, staining the liquid dark red.

I looked on in horror. Everyone else seemed terribly pleased and a cheer went up.

“Drink,” said Savan, grinning from under his mask and pushing the glass towards me.

“Drink,” said Vanessa, smiling behind her black velvet and lace, the ribbons fluttering sinuously as the captive snakes. “To become one with us, with the Club, you must drink this. It is a measure of trust. You do trust us, don't you?”

They looked at me expectantly. I stared from the headless snake, still weakly squirming, to the glass and back to them.

“Drink,” she urged again.

“Drink!” shouted the others.

Savan spoke so only I could hear. “Close your eyes and drink it down, the ritual will be over in a moment.”

I didn't want to touch the glass, much less drink what was in it.

Vanessa picked the goblet up by the beautiful silver wings and handed it to Savan. Savan held it to my lips.

How could I refuse? They had done so much for me. This was just some silly initiation ritual, an old school sorority or fraternity initiation type thing. Like the masks. The whole masquerade. Ritual. I could swallow my pride and choke down their traditional concoction. If it brought me closer to them, what harm could it do?

I opened my mouth and let Savan tip it to my lips. I wanted this, I did. To belong to the Club. To belong
somewhere
. Closing my eyes as Savan said, I tossed it off in one gulp. Thank God Vanessa had poured so little liquid into the glass; otherwise I am sure I would have thrown it right back up.

When Savan put the goblet down, empty except for a red smear along the side which I looked away from hurriedly, another cheer went around the bar. Everyone took a drink from their snake-blood free glasses. Whisking away the goblet, the bartender disposed of the now still snake and, rinsing the glass, returned the ornate goblet to my place at the bar. Savan poured in a full measure from the special black bottle and, clinking glasses, I took a drink of the liquid hoping to rinse the taste of the snake's death from my mouth.

One by one the Club members I had come to know and care so much about came over to wish me happy birthday. Some I could recognize behind the masks, most of them, I could not. There were kisses and hugs and lots more champagne. Too much. I was a little dizzy. Savan seemed to sense my distress and guided me to a table at the back. I hadn't even noticed this little alcove. He settled me on a chair, smoothing my hair and my dress, stroking my cheek in that intimate gesture that was ours alone.

“The flavor of your soul is beyond delicious.” Removing his mask, he ran his tongue slowly along my lower lip. “I must have you, it must be me.”

I had no idea what he was talking about and said so.

“Doesn't matter, doesn't matter. Everything will become clear.”

“Everything but my
head!
I need something to eat, Savan.”

He sat down next me. “Of course, now that it's after midnight, we won't be much longer. Alexandra,” his voice changed, becoming husky. He slipped off his mask, showing me his beautiful face. There was a subtle shift in his body, in his touch. “Darling, if I was to ask you for something that is yours to give. I wonder if you would surrender it to us?”

Us? He must have said “me.” The noise level in the little bar was rather high, I just hadn't heard him correctly.

“You, Savan? Surrender it to you?”

He smiled. Closing the few inches that lay between us, he kissed me with his beautiful mouth. Kissed me deeply, luxuriously, in a way I had never been kissed before. I felt a rush to my senses, from my head to my toes. A delicious jingling and jangling of nerves that made my fingertips buzz. His kiss deepened, his tongue teasing its way into my mouth. Though I was surprised, I didn't pull away. It was a strange sensation at first. My mind might not know how to respond, my body, however, seemed to understand just what to do. I opened my mouth a little and his tongue pushed its way deeper. My senses floated, untethered to the chair, the bar, the earth. Floating, floating on clouds of deep-throated kisses. He kissed me harder, demanding, and still I didn't resist. My arms reached up seemingly of their own accord and tightened around his neck, drawing him to me. My tongue tickled his as I pushed, tentatively back. The noise in the background faded to nothing and all I could hear was the pounding of my own heart.

He moved to kiss my throat, slowly, lingeringly. This sent a whole new sensation tumbling through my nervous system. Gently grasping my head in his hands, his lips brushed my ear lobes with tantalizing softness. “My darling, will you surrender? Give freely what no one can take from you? Give it with love and your blessing?”

I was seventeen tonight, almost a woman. Everything felt fuzzy and indistinct. I thought I knew what he was asking. I was a virgin. He wanted me to give myself to him. The first time. He ran his tongue along the inside of my ear, then once again along my throat. Gripping my hair, he pulled my head back ever so softly and slipped his tongue again in my mouth.