In any case, I had to find Steven’s creepy, freaky little ass that I was totally positive was somewhere at this concert. If this didn’t work, I’d just thrall my way past the security guards, grab the microphone from the lead singer, who looked like he’d just been released for a day pass from San Quentin Penitentiary, and yell out his name. I’d done karaoke before in my prevampiric life. I could belt out a little Bonnie Raitt if the situation called for it, no problemo.
I grasped the railing in front of me and closed my eyes, focusing on Steven’s hand on my throat. The warm scent of his skin. The blood just underneath racing through his veins.
The stadium shifted after a moment to something more tangible, more alive. I could smell past the light odor of sneaked-in drugs, sweaty armpits, and expensive snacks to something deeper. Twenty thousand hearts beating, pumping blood through their young bodies.
Twenty thousand tasty treats.
No. I pushed past that thought as if it was seaweed hanging down in front of me, squishy and unpleasant, getting past that so I was able to focus on one teenager in particular.
Focus. Weaving my way through the crowd, my senses opening up and searching like fingers lightly brushing over the audience, checking and rechecking, and I knew I was close. So very close…
“Hey,” somebody said.
My eyes snapped open and I looked to my side.
A man stood there checking me out. He wore a black T-shirt with a big white skull and the band’s logo emblazoned across it.
“Hey, baby,” he said. “Cool black contacts. They so rock.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah. They rock like Death Suck rocks!” He thrust his fists into the air. “Wooooo!
Death Suck! ROCKS!”
“Sit down,” I hissed.
“Okay.” His eyes glazed and he sat down heavily right in the middle of the stairway.
I fought against the fog that rolled over my senses.
I’d already fed from two master vampires that day. I didn’t need more blood. I could keep my bitchy little nightwalker at bay for a little longer.
I had to. It’s not like I had any choice.
Do or die.
Like, literally.
I opened my eyes to see that somebody was looking directly at me, somebody other than the über-fan who had made a lame-ass attempt to hit on me. Just on the other side of the aisle where the fan now sprawled was the very person I’d been trying to find.
“Hi,” Steven said. “I was wondering when you’d show up.”
He wore a T-shirt identical to the other fan’s shirt, but Steven’s was autographed, and he held a concert program under his arm.
I waded through the mental haze I saw him through. “You were wondering when I’d show up?”
He nodded. “I sensed you were near.”
“Well, that’s convenient, isn’t it?” I drew in an unneeded breath and felt a wave of relief hit me. He was here. It was going to be okay, after all. “You have to help me.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. I need you to find somebody for me. To do a location spell.”
“Dude,” another kid came up beside Steven. “Who’s the black-eyed babe?”
My eyes were still black? Not good. Luckily I probably fit in around here. I’d just pump my fists and yell “Death Suck rocks!” if anybody gave me a hard time.
Or tear their throats out and bathe in their yumtastic blood, my nightwalker suggested.
Uh, wait. No, no, no, that wasn’t a good thought, to say the very least. Let’s stick with the first one. Only the first one.
“She’s a client,” Steven said.
“A client?”
“For my magic shit.”
“You are the man.” The friend eyed me. “What’s your name, sweetness?”
I black-eyed him with distaste. “What are you, twelve? Get away from me.”
“That’s okay,” he replied. “I like my women frisky. I can handle it. And, for the record, I’m almost fifteen.”
I ignored him and looked at Steven. “So, can you help me?”
“Oh, yeah.” The friend leered at me. “He’s going to help you, all right. Help you all night long, baby. Uh huh.”
Maybe I could rip out one throat tonight. I’d promise to make it quick.
Wait… no. Not even one.
“Stop that,” Steven told him. “She’s old enough to be my mother.”
That snapped me out of my nasty nightwalker funk. “Hardly.”
“Steve, dude, I can handle older women. I’m all about that.”
“I told you to call me The Darkness.”
“Don’t be a wiener.”
Steven scowled. “A wiener? I’m not a wiener. You’re the wiener!”
I sighed. The fate of my best friend’s life was currently in this wiener’s hands.