VLAD SHUT THE RUSTY CAR DOOR behind him, thankful that it didn’t fall off its hinges, and followed Andrew to the sidewalk, where the other goths were waiting. They’d ridden in Andrew’s car. Andrew was the only one among them with a license, and also the only one with what could possibly pass as a vehicle. But it didn’t matter that Andrew’s car was rusty, loud, and unlikely to survive the winter. It didn’t matter that the chill of mid-February couldn’t be kept out by its metal frame as it barreled down the highway. It didn’t matter that the outside was four different colors, and that the inside smelled like old milk. Vlad-and the rest of Andrew’s friends, he was certain-was incredibly envious that Andrew even had a license, let alone a car. Truth be told, Vlad was dying to own anything that he could refer to as a car-even a piece of crap like this. A car meant freedom. A car meant cool.
The outside of the club didn’t look like much. In fact, it resembled all sorts of places Vlad had seen in movies-mostly, places people ended up dying in. It had no windows, and but for the spray-painted sign above the door that read The Crypt in large, swirling letters, Vlad would have no idea that this was the club his new friends were taking him to.
October smiled at Vlad, her lip piercing glinting in the streetlight. “You okay, Vlad?”
Vlad shrugged. He was actually pretty nervous about tonight, but he wasn’t about to give the goths any reason not to like him. “Yeah, I’m cool. This is it, huh?”
“Wait till you see inside. It’s Goth Heaven.” Sprat grinned and tilted a handful of open Pixy Stix up, filling his mouth full of flavored sugar. He offered some to Vlad, but Vlad shook his head. His stomach was already jumping from nerves. The last thing it needed was sugar.
Kristoff brushed his silver hair from his eyes, lined thick with black, and pulled the dull black door open. Music, heavy with bass, poured out from inside the club, reverberating through Vlad’s chest in a strangely familiar way, even though he didn’t recognize the tune at all. Suddenly, Vlad was seized by a warning sensation in his chest. It was something he couldn’t explain, but he was overwhelmed by nervousness inspired by the unfamiliar. And there was no way out of this… not that he was necessarily against the idea of hanging out with the goth kids. After all, hadn’t he wanted to do this for a while now? To connect with them? Just what was he afraid of?
Kristoff gestured inside with a snort. “Come on already.”
October led the way, followed by Andrew, who couldn’t seem to stop staring at his shoes. Sprat tugged the shoulder of Vlad’s jacket until they were heading down the hallway. Behind them, Kristoff kept his distance, as if signaling to anyone who might see that he wasn’t a follower. The door closed, sealing them all inside the long hallway that led, presumably, to the club. The walls were painted a deep blood-red. The carpet matched. The floor slanted downward, and as they walked, Vlad felt like they were descending deep into the earth. The sensation was discomforting.
They turned a corner at the bottom of the hallway ramp and entered the club. Vlad gasped.
The walls and floors of The Crypt were painted black. There were no windows, but the corners of the room were home to long velvet drapes in rich eggplant purple. Along the walls, there were hundreds of empty picture frames.
October caught his eye and smiled again, straining to be heard over the music’s pumping vibes. “Empty picture frames are supposed to catch the souls of any ghosts that might be lurking around.”
Vlad raised a sharp, disbelieving eyebrow. “Really?”
She shrugged and moved out of Kristoff’s way as he walked to one of the fluffy velvet sofas in the corner of the room. “ That’s what they say.”
“Who?”
“You know… they.” She laughed softly and pointed to a long black counter, lit by black lights. The entire room was fairly dim, but the bar seemed to be its heart. “ They have juice, soda, glow jewelry, candy, coffee, tea, this vampire energy drink, and a bunch of other stuff, if you’re interested.”
Vlad bit his tongue in surprise at her mention of the V word. “Vampire energy drink?”
She nodded and wrinkled her nose. “It’s way too sugary for me, but Sprat loves it, says it’s better than Red Bull. Come on, I’ll introduce you to everybody.”
She led him across the room to the group of velvet couches in the corner. On the wall above one couch hung an oversize mirror that looked like it had seen better days. Between the couches, which were covered with several throw pillows-each one more tasseled and velvet than the last-sat an old trunk that had been painted black and acted as a coffee table. October gestured to the group that was sitting there. “Everyone, Vlad. Vlad, everyone.”
Several kids nodded at him. Some found their way to the dance floor. A few excused themselves to unknown destinations. Vlad took a seat at the end of one of the couches. Its cushions were worn and well-loved. He sank into its fluffiness and slipped off his jacket. He still couldn’t shake the feeling of impending doom, but attributed it to the fact that outside of Henry, Joss, and Meredith, he’d never really hung out with anyone for an extended period of time. He wasn’t sure how to act. Or what to say.
Sprat flopped down on the couch beside Vlad. From the way he couldn’t seem to stop moving, Vlad thought the sugar rush from all those Pixy Stix had probably finally hit him. The lapels of Sprat’s many-buckled jacket were covered with buttons. Most of them belonged to bands, but a few were pretty funny. Like the one that read MY FAMILY’S A FREAK SHOW WITHOUT A TENT and the one that boldly proclaimed I (HEART) BEING AWESOME. Vlad pointed to the one that read I’M SO GOTH PEOPLE ASK ME TO AUTOGRAPH BOXES OF COUNT CHOCULA and smirked. “Where’d you get that?”
Sprat looked down at the button and beamed. “You want it?”
But before Vlad could insist that he wasn’t goth, Sprat had removed the button from his lapel and pinned it to Vlad’s shirt. Vlad nodded his thanks, but he wasn’t sure Sprat saw, as Sprat had all but run onto the dance floor.
October returned from the bar and thrust a plastic goblet into Vlad’s hand. The thick red liquid inside sloshed against the glass, almost spilling. Vlad sniffed, but it was hard to discern what he smelled in the glass. At first, he thought it might actually be blood, but then he realized that not only would that be ridiculous-after all, why would a human hand him a cup of blood?-but also that the scent of blood pumping furiously through veins as the teens danced behind him was throwing off his sense of smell. He took a sip. It was sugary sweet, and nothing at all like blood, except for its appearance. Vlad wrinkled his nose but drank it anyway. He didn’t want to be rude.
Kristoff lounged on the couch across from him, one leg flung over the lap of a very pretty girl with raven black hair and pale china skin. The girl shoved his leg away and leaned forward, smiling at Vlad. “You have such lovely eyes.”
Vlad swallowed, shifting uncomfortably. He’d never been smooth at taking compliments. “Uh, thanks.”
She extended a hand, her silver bracelets clinking together on her wrist. “I’m Snow.”
Vlad took her hand in his, and the moment their skin touched, he inhaled a whiff of her scent, the blood pumping through her veins. It was almost dizzying. He managed a smile. “Cool name.”
Snow smiled, parting her burgundy lips. “ Thanks.”
Vlad took another drink of the red, slushy liquid, hoping to distract himself from the delectable scent of Snow’s blood. It was almost irresistible. AB negative, he was certain.
As if tiring of not being the center of attention, Kristoff eyed Vlad with an air of indifference, and said, “Just so you know, I’m a vampire.”
Vlad nearly spit out a mouthful of “blood” and resisted the urge to laugh. Kristoff was no more a vampire than Principal Snelgrove.
Kristoff opened his mouth, revealing pretty realistic fangs-they’d probably been made by a professional costumer. They were impressive. But not real.
Vlad dropped his eyes momentarily to his glass, suddenly cautious of the strange feelings that were boiling up within him. He was tempted to reveal that he was one too.
He mulled over the idea, all the while sipping the sickly sweet concoction that October had given him. On one hand, he knew that Kristoff was pretending. On the other, he had an edge, an insight to what vampires were really like-not to mention the urge to one-up the guy who seemed to think he was so much better than everyone else. Besides, as far as Kristoff knew, Vlad was pretending too. Trying hard not to think about possible repercussions, Vlad forced himself to swallow and met Kristoff’s serious gaze with a knowing smirk. “ Then we have more in common than I thought.”
Snow grinned and moved from Kristoff’s side to Vlad’s. The scent of her was maddening. “I knew it! The moment I saw you, I was all ‘That guy’s a vampire.’ How long have you been playing?”
Playing? Vlad blinked. He had absolutely no clue what she was talking about, but if she didn’t keep her distance, he was going to make a seriously bad first impression. Vlad scooted over half a cushion. The distance wasn’t much, but it was something. “For as long as I can remember.”
“Liar.” Kristoff’s voice was low, but ragged. He glared at Vlad, then looked aghast at the rest of the group. “What? He’s clearly lying. Vampire: The Masquerade has only been in existence for like a decade.”
As if a lightbulb had flickered on over his head, Vlad relaxed. “Oh, I don’t play that game. I’m just… well, a bloodsucking monster. You know.”
Snow smiled brightly. October and the others were all looking at Vlad as if he were the coolest person on the planet. Kristoff sulked.
It didn’t matter that they were pretending, that they didn’t really believe that they were in the presence of a real, actual vampire. What mattered was that he had confessed, had come out with the truth, and not one of them-well, except for Kristoff, but he didn’t count-had balked at the idea. Rather than fear him, they seemed to respect him. Even if it wasn’t real to them, it meant a lot to Vlad.
Snow and October exchanged glances-they seemed to be speaking in that weird telepathic way girls have. Vampires might be good at carrying on conversations with their minds, but all of Elysia couldn’t hold a candle to the female population.
The girls each grabbed one of Vlad’s hands and dragged him out to the dance floor. Horrific images of spinning in slow circles at school dances flitted through his mind and Vlad dug his heels into the floor, shaking his head emphatically, but it was useless. They tugged harder until finally he was immersed in the crowd on the dance floor. The music was a heavy techno with bass so loud that Vlad could feel it pounding in his chest. As if in response, his pulse began to race.
Snow put her arms in the air, swaying slowly even though the music was pretty fast in tempo. October moved her feet like crazy and jumped up and down. Vlad closed his eyes and listened to the incredible blend of music, chatter, and beating hearts. If he listened close enough, he could almost make out the rushing of blood through veins. With a smile, and his eyes still closed, Vlad danced to his own music.
A long, long time later-Vlad couldn’t tell just how long, as the music and the blood seemed to pump nonstop-he opened his eyes and realized he was having the time of his life. He grinned at October, who grinned back, and then he shouted, “ This place is so cool! Do you think next time I could bring Henry?”
October burst out laughing. “Henry McMillan? I don’t think he’d like it like you do, Vlad.”
Vlad yelled over the music, “Why not?”
“Because you’re goth and he’s not.” She shook her purple-streaked head. “He wouldn’t get it.”
Vlad’s feet slowed to a stop. “But I’m not goth.”
Both Snow and October stopped in their tracks and stared at him. “Wow, Vlad!” Snow shouted. “You’re so goth you don’t even know you’re goth.”
Vlad shook his head, bewildered. “I’m gonna take a break, okay?”
The girls nodded, and Vlad headed back to the couch, where Kristoff sat scowling into a goblet of the syrupy red “blood” mixture. Vlad took a seat across from him but didn’t say anything. He had a strong feeling that Kristoff didn’t care very much for his company.
Kristoff met Vlad’s gaze. “Don’t you have better things to do than go slumming with us?”
Vlad raised an eyebrow. “Did I do something to offend you? I wasn’t aware we hated each other.”
“Just stay out of my way. And keep away from October.”
Sudden realization hit Vlad, and he smiled inwardly. Kristoff had a thing for October and thought Vlad was trying to edge his way in. He couldn’t have been more wrong. “It’s not like that, man. I have a girlfriend.”
Kristoff grew very quiet. Subdued. Almost calm. After several minutes, they were joined by a girl who looked like a china doll. Kristoff stood when she approached and took her hand in his. “Ah… dinner has arrived.”
Vlad couldn’t imagine biting through all that makeup just to get to her veins, but hey… whatever does it for you.
Then Kristoff swept the girl into his arms and, once she moved her hair to the side, he bit her on the neck. The fangs weren’t real. Vlad knew that much. But seeing something that resembled his own fangs sinking into flesh-not breaking skin, but biting nonetheless-sent Vlad’s fangs shooting from his gums, and suddenly it was all he could do not to rip the girl from Kristoff’s arms and indulge in every last delicious drop of her. Vlad clutched the couch cushion and forced his eyes away.
But it wasn’t enough to keep him from thinking about what he’d seen, or to stop his stomach from rumbling.
Moving as quickly as he could, Vlad hurried toward the nearest exit, which opened up to a back alley. The music blared into the night until the door swung shut, muffling the trance-inducing beats. Vlad leaned against the building’s outer brick wall, resting his head back. His fangs were fully elongated and, try as he might to will them under control, they wouldn’t shrink. The gums beneath them pulsed with hunger.
In hindsight, he should have known better than to come to a club full of humans without bringing a backpack full of blood-not that he thought it would have been enough to prevent this. His bloodthirst had grown to obnoxious levels, and lately, just the scent of blood and adrenaline coursing through a group of humans’ veins was enough to bring his fangs out and set his stomach rumbling. He was losing control, and he had to find a way to rein himself in. And fast.
The side door swung open, and out stepped Snow. Vlad eyed her for a moment, her porcelain skin, that perfect blue vein that ran up one side of her neck. It moved slightly, pulsing with life-oddly, in sync with Vlad’s gums. Vlad tore his eyes away and slid his thumbs in his front pockets, making certain his lips were covering his fangs at all times. “It’s cold out here. You should go back inside.”
Snow cast a timid glance back at the door, her eyes shimmering, the black eyeliner under her left eye smudged. “I can’t. My dad’s in there.”
And that’s when Vlad noticed the red mark on her left cheek… about the size of a hand. “Did… Snow… did someone hit you?”
Tears poured from her dark eyes and she nodded, drawing her arms around her small frame. “My dad. He’s drunk again. He’s always doing this.”
The door swung open again, and a burly man with a swagger in his step stumbled into the alley. His words were slurred. “You better get home like I told you. Hanging around these freaks-didn’t I raise you better?”
Vlad stepped in front of Snow, ready to defend her. She was, after all, such a tiny girl, and her father a hulking mass of muscle and flab. “I’ll make sure she gets home okay, sir.”
The man shoved Vlad aside and, closing the gap between him and his daughter, started to unbuckle his belt. “ This time I’ll knock it right out of you. Teach you a lesson you won’t forget.”
Snow backed up against the wall and squeezed her eyes shut, as if she knew she could no longer run from his abuse. Her cheeks, coated with tears, glistened in the streetlight.
Vlad didn’t think. He didn’t have time to think about what was right and what was wrong, about who might see and who might not. He grabbed the man and pulled him back, then shoved him as hard as he was able.
Snow’s father hit the ground several yards away. He groaned in pain, stood, and ran off. To where, Vlad didn’t know. But at least he was gone.
And Vlad was left with the understanding that shoving Tom that hard last year hadn’t been a fluke. Apparently, another skill Vikas and Otis had yet to mention was vampiric strength. He flexed his fingers and turned back to Snow, who looked beautiful despite her tears. “Hey. He’s gone now. You can open your eyes.”
Snow looked down the alley, then blinked at Vlad, confused. “Where did he go?”
Vlad shrugged. “Let’s just say I convinced him to go home and sleep it off.”
She met his eyes, and understanding filled them. Then she wrapped her arms around him and hugged him, nice and tight and close. Her skin smelled like roses and Vlad drank in her scent, so sweet. He couldn’t resist placing a small kiss on her pretty cheek, still moist from tears. And then another, on the smooth, pale skin of her jawline. And one more, just one, as he inhaled her sweet, irresistible scent, on her neck. He could taste the salt of her tears as he placed each kiss, and when he kissed her neck, they flowed into his mouth and over his tongue. They weren’t salty anymore, but sweet, like her scent, like her. And she tasted… so… good.
Vlad’s jaw tightened, bracing her neck against his jaw even tighter. He knew he was drinking from her, swallowing mouthfuls of blood, but he couldn’t stop, no matter how he tried. He swallowed and swallowed, feeling terrible that he was feeding from her, but not caring that he couldn’t seem to stop. He couldn’t recall when he’d started. The kiss on her neck, he surmised. But there was no stopping, no walking away now. There was just her blood and his hunger. Nothing more. Nothing else seemed to matter at the moment.
Vlad slipped his arms around her, cradling her body as she trembled, then weakened into his embrace. Her heartbeat was fluttering against his chest, each beat sending a splash of crimson onto his tongue. And he swallowed, drinking it down, so much better than anything he’d ever tasted before. He wanted more, so he took it, ignoring the fact that her heart was rattling at a dangerous rate, that he was probably killing her, that she was a human and he’d vowed not to do exactly what he was doing right now, never, never, never. But he was doing it. He had to. It was so sweet and tasty and filled his muscles with an energy he’d never felt before. And she tasted… so… good.
And finally, his belly was full, but Vlad kept drinking, just to taste her, just to have her blood coursing through him just a little bit longer. The idea that she was dying sent an excited chill through him… and that’s when Vlad’s stomach clenched. He shoved the girl away from him, not caring that she was going to fall onto the hard pavement, only that she’d be away from him, and safe… safer than she was in his arms. His fingers were trembling, a twisted blend of fear, excitement, and insatiable need. His face felt warm and flushed. His feet refused to remain still, so Vlad paced the alley, his dark eyes locked on the nearly unconscious girl lying next to the Dumpster.
He’d almost killed her.
He’d almost taken her life, all because he couldn’t control his hunger.
And what had set him off? The taste of her tears? Vlad retched at the thought.
It had been too easy. He’d gotten too close. And it could never, ever happen again.
The girl stirred, as if waking from a dream. She sat up, bruised from her fall and weak from Vlad’s feast, but the glazed expression in her eyes said that she likely didn’t recall exactly what had happened. She rubbed her neck and stretched, looking around the alley in confusion. When her eyes met Vlad’s, he took a step back, as if the distance would help.
It wouldn’t.
He knew that, just as sure as he knew that the only thing keeping him from crossing the alley and drinking the last of her blood until she’d slipped into death’s arms was his dire fear of enjoying such a terrible, disgusting act, his utter terror of himself.
Snow blinked at him, still dazed. “Vlad?”
Vlad swallowed hard, the taste of her crimson still on his tongue.
“What happened? Did I fall?”
Vlad paused, then nodded slowly.
Then, because there was nothing more that he could do, Vlad turned and walked away, down the alley, down the street, until he was blocks away from the club, from the girl with the salty sweet tears, from the part of him that he couldn’t bear to be near. Along the way, he tried once again to reach Otis with his thoughts, but Otis still wasn’t answering, so Vlad kept his head down and walked until he’d found a pay phone. He dialed Henry’s cell number, cursing Nelly for not letting him have one, and waited for the rings to cease. Finally, they did. “Yeah?”
Vlad licked his lips, took a deep breath, and squeezed the phone closer to his mouth. “Henry? I need your help.”
He could almost hear the irritation in Henry’s breath. For a long time Henry didn’t answer. When he did, his voice was tense. “What makes you think I’ll help you? Going to order me to?”
“Henry…” Vlad’s eyes brimmed with tears. “I just fed on a human.”
And he broke. The sobs came quickly, his body shook. And his stomach, so full of irresistible blood, ached as it had never ached before.
Henry’s tone softened, once more the friend that Vlad had always had, once more his loyal drudge… but more, he was Henry. He was Vlad’s number one. “ Tell me where you are. I’ll be right there.”