ReVamped (5 page)

5

I woke up the next morning still reeking of smoke and blood. Last night, after downing a bottle and a half of totally grody congealed blood that I’d been way too tired to heat to acceptability, I’d done a face plant on the lumpy mattress and gone out before I could make the intended call.

I nearly fell out of bed when I awoke, flailing like I’d been falling to my death in my dreams, which was really weird, since I hadn’t had any dreams since I’d turned. I guessed that for humans, dreams were the subconscious working overtime, but for us vamps, sleep was more about
losing
consciousness, practically dying for hours at a time and coming back to life again. Normally, our lights went out when the sun came up, but the potion the Feds had introduced into our bottled blood was messing with the natural order of things, and my body was rebounding.

Anyway,
I tried to get a mental message to Bobby about the events of last night—so much harder to trace and eavesdrop on mind-speak than on cell calls—but no one was answering. That wasn’t unusual, since Bobby had to be actively listening for me in order for our brainwave radio to work. Still, I was a little miffed that maybe I wasn’t the first thing on his mind in the morning.

I decided I’d try to call the old fashioned way once I’d had a shower and burned the clothes I was in, because I couldn’t stand myself a second longer. I’d never actually washed my own clothes—Mom had always had our laundry picked up, done, and delivered. It seemed easier to buy new than try to figure it out for myself. Maybe I’d even go green and recycle my duds or something by dumping them into a donation bin. There had to be people out there with more need than fashion sense.

I shed clothes as I walked to the shower, but the apartment was so small I still had my skivvies on when I hit the bathroom. I figured the easiest way to salvage my matching bra and panties, the only decent parts of my ensemble, would be to wash them with me, so I started the water running and walked in, bra, undies, and all.

I felt much better once I emerged, leaving the black bikini to drip dry. Mischievously, I tried Bobby again as I stood there in my towel and nothing else. This time he answered.

Gina?

Ask me what I’m wearing
, I said.

Um, hold on
. It wasn’t exactly the reaction I was going for.

Sorry, had to close the door. So, what are you wearing?

Nothing
. I left out the towel, because, really, that was need to know, and he didn’t.
Want to sneak out of the mom-and-pop shop?

More than you know, but that would make us late for school.

I rolled my eyes. That’s what I got for dating a geek. I gave him a mental raspberry, which, being spit-free, was not terribly effective.
Spoilsport. Anyway, I’m really just here to check in
. Mostly.

I poured it all out—the party, the attack, the witnesses to my kick-assitude. Thankfully, I could probably convince people that what they’d seen was some kind of drug-induced hallucination, if push came to shove. I mean, little ole me whupping up on the big, bad jocks? As if.

Bobby treated my monologue to a thoughtful silence. Then,
You be careful. I don’t like you being in the middle of all this.

It warmed my unbeating heart, but at the same time seemed a bit chauvinistic.
I went through the same training you did
.

I know, but I can’t help feeling like I got you into all this and I just … worry.

Aww, that was so sweet. His bite
had
kind of set me on the path to unlife, but I hadn’t exactly been protesting at the time.

If you’re feeling that badly, I know how you can make it up to me
, I teased.
Diamonds
are
a girl’s best friend, after all
.

I could practically hear him gulp right through our mental link.
Diamonds … really?

I was going soft at my young age.
Okay, maybe I’m more of a rubies and sapphires kind of girl. I’m all about color. But don’t tell anyone. I have a high-maintenance rep to maintain
.

Your secret’s safe with me
. He promised to talk to “Mom” and “Dad” (aka Stick and Stuffed) about the goings on and get back to me about whatever they discovered.

He signed off and I sighed, contemplating another day as Dawn of the Dead. I turned the TV to news while I got ready. It wasn’t my usual, but I only got four semi-clear channels anyway and I wanted to see if the news had anything about Bram’s condition on it. They were on a story about some totally contested political campaign, as if
that
was news. I was in the closet when I heard, “ … leaving several kids hurt, two missing, and one in a coma.”

I froze.
Coma!

“The police investigation is ongoing. Chief Reilly had this to say—”

I stepped out of the closet in time to see a burly man with jowls and a buzz cut standing in front of a podium, flashbulbs going off around him.

“We’re doing everything we can to locate the missing teens. Search parties started at sunup this a.m. At this time, we’re asking anyone with information to call the number below.” An 800 number scrolled across on a ticker along the bottom of the screen. “In addition, we’ve made it a priority to crack down on these underage parties. Known locations will have an increased police presence.”

A female reporter at the front of the pack shouted down her peers. “Would you comment on the curfew that’s been discussed?”

Chief Reilly looked momentarily nonplussed. “I don’t think we’ve yet reached the point of making this a police state, do you? Next question.”

I didn’t hear any more. My mind was already reeling.
Coma
. I wasn’t a med head, but based on what I’d seen, that had to be Bram. Brave, multi-pierced Bram, who’d only been trying, far as I could tell, to protect Bella. My heart, with nothing better to do, not having to beat and all, ached. But only for Bram. I probably should worry about the guys I’d hurt in his defense. They might have been under some kind of influence, but … nope, I just couldn’t care.

But who on earth was missing? Everyone had faded away like smoke at the 911 call. How could the police have determined anything in last night’s insanity? Maybe the kids’ parents had reported them missing. Or … a horrible, horrible thought occurred to me. Could the whole smackdown have been a distraction for a kidnapping? I didn’t know what that might or might not have to do with our mission, but … Well, dammit, if someone had suckered me into a rumble to cover for them, they were going to pay.

• • •

School was weird. For one thing, the hearse was nowhere in sight when I pulled into the lot … late, because I kept waiting for the news to come back around to the incident at Red Rock. Unfortunately, the top of the hour had rolled around to crappy chat-news format, where special guests demonstrated new exercise techniques or talked about websites where parents could get rankings on kids’ games based on drugs, sex, and language, as if we didn’t hear all that at school. It was amazing what they called news these days. Glorified infomercials.

My sneer lasted until I hit the lobby and saw Lily and Bella in a huddle. Bella certainly looked a lot less bloody and more alert than I’d last seen her, but her cheek was still swollen, and now a vivid purple as well.

“Oh, Gen,” Lily started as soon as she saw me. “It’s so awful—they took Byron and Gavin right out of homeroom.”

“They?”

“The cops,” Bella said, in that whispery voice of hers.

Right, not everything is about vampires and juju
.

“Just for questioning,” Lily was quick to add. “But still, Byron and Gavin aren’t exactly their favorite all-American boys.”

“So they haven’t come for you two or Ulric?” I asked, showing my firm grasp of the obvious.

“Not yet,” she answered.

“It’s all my fault. They were fighting over
me
,” Bella moaned suddenly, her eyes huge in her pinched face. Her eyes were, in fact, the only things about her that could be called huge, unless it was her sense of drama. I seriously wanted to get the girl a Valium or a sandwich, whichever would do the most good. She looked like one of those ridiculous Manga girls you could snap in half as easily as a Twix bar. If she was praying to the porcelain god, as the gang seemed to think, she couldn’t be offering much in the way of tribute.

“Bella, they were fighting
for
you,” Lily said, reading my mind. “There’s a difference. Anyway, it’s about time someone showed those guys they can’t just take whatever they want. They never even saw Gen coming!”

I blushed, and wondered what that looked like on my bone-white face.
That’s right
, I thought,
Geneva Belfry,
Supergoth
. I could picture the black bat-winged cape, the killer knee-high boots with three-inch titanium heels. The better to beat you with. Wouldn’t Bobby just love it?

“It was the adrenaline,” I lied. “I probably couldn’t do it again in a million years.”

For a second, Lily looked ancient and knowing, but she only said, “Whatever happened, I’m sure they’ll get to questioning us sooner or later. About last night, the missing kids—”

“Missing?” Bella asked, her voice rising a whole octave. “Who’s missing? I haven’t heard a thing.”

“They said something on the news,” Lily volunteered, “but they haven’t released the names.”

The second bell rang and Bella nearly jumped out of her skin, which, now that I think about it, is a totally morbid expression.

“Gotta go,” she squeaked, hurrying off like a mouse.

Lily and I exchanged a look. “Don’t ask me,” she said. “Bella’s a mystery wrapped in an enigma.”

“Huh?”

“You know, weird.”

Oh yeah, weird was something with which I had a close personal relationship.

• • •

Part of me wanted to head for the hospital, despite the fact that hospitals gave me hives—a polyester allergy, maybe, or an aversion to those cutesy scrubs with suns and moons and the dish running away with the spoon. It was kind of hard to trust the credentials of a nurse wearing the latest in
Goodnight Moon
.

Anyway, it just seemed wrong to focus on stupid things like
learning
when so much
real
stuff going on—police interrogations, missing kids, Bram’s coma. And even wronger to be asked to focus without caffeine. I’d about kill for an espresso. Maybe I could insist that my next shipment of blood be tapped from the veins of a caffeine addict. Or maybe I could find a roommate to provide my blood hot and fresh every morning, like a Dunkin’ Donuts counter in my very own home. I wondered how I’d word
that
ad:

Roommate wanted. Free rent in exchange for bloodletting. Apply with photo and sample.

Hmm …

It took a minute to realize that my whole homeroom was staring at me, and an extra second for reality to penetrate and my little fantasy to fade away. Mr. Richardson’s pug eyes made his glower particularly effective.

“You’re smiling,” he accused me.

I gave him a blank look.

“I was talking about the events of last night, saying we’d have a counselor on hand to deal with the shock and grief. You were grinning like an idiot.”

There was something ugly in his tone, but I guess I could understand that.

“What were you thinking about, Ms. Belfry?” he asked, eyes trying to burn a hole through my head. But I’d done hand-to-hand combat with creepy psycho-psychics before the Feds ever found me and was not going to be intimidated by a Podunk professor. “Perhaps you can share with the class.”

“Coffee,” I answered. “But if I had enough to share with the class, I wouldn’t be daydreaming about it.”

The class laughed, breaking the tension a bit but pissing off Richardson, who turned away, muttering something about brain-dead kids and how he might as well mark us
all
absent, just like our minds.

I almost made it to third period before Ulric ambushed me in the hall outside art class, which Agents Stick and Stuffed had arranged for me, apparently not realizing that I hadn’t progressed beyond stick figures. (In their defense, I was
fabu
with a color wheel.) Lily and Bella were with him. “We’re ditching to visit Bram at the hospital. You with us?”