by J. A. London
“Not sleeping. Day or night. When I close my eyes, I keep seeing that gaping mouth and those fangs. Those awful fangs. They hurt going in.” She rubs her neck. “Then it didn’t. It started to feel good. How could it do that?”
“I think they must release some sort of numbing—”
“It wasn’t numb. It was almost … pleasurable. That thought makes me sick. That I could want it.” She glances around in shame, as though afraid someone might hear her. “Where’s Rachel?”
“At the Agency. Come on. Let’s go to my room.”
In my bedroom, Tegan immediately notices my dad’s notes on my desk. I was studying them again before she arrived. I’m not sure why I’m drawn to them, why I think they hold some secret.
“Already back on the job, huh?” she asks.
“It’s a side project,” I say, not ready to reveal that I’m no longer a delegate.
Tegan picks up the piece of paper where I drew that weird symbol, the one from my dreams and the one I found in my dad’s studies.
“What’s this?” Tegan asks. “It’d make a cool tattoo.”
“I don’t know, I keep seeing it in my dreams. It’s Ancient Vampiric.”
“How do you know that?”
“Victor told me.”
Her green eyes widen. “Victor was here? When?”
I sip at my coffee nervously, acting like it’s no big deal that an Old Family vampire pays me visits from time to time. “Last night. Just for a little while. He wanted to make sure I was okay.”
“Maybe that’s why you’re so tired today.”
“Maybe.” I shrug. “Probably.”
I cross the room, open the balcony doors, and wander out. It’s so bright, and I realize how rarely I spend time here during the day, but how often I have a visitor waiting for me here at night. Victor …
I become aware of Tegan’s presence beside me, taken a little off guard that she could move so quietly. I can feel her studying me.
“So you and Michael,” she finally says. “I guess things are over between you.”
I think about his parting words. He’s such a decent guy. Why couldn’t I have loved him enough? It would certainly have made my life simpler, but apparently my heart isn’t looking for simple. “Yeah. We’re completely over. I told him when he came to see me at the hospital.”
Those words leave an emptiness in me.
“Nothing is the same anymore,” Tegan says.
I point to a banner suspended over the street with rope.
“The Sunshine Carnival is the same,” I say, looking at the cartoony images of tents, fair games, and the sun that hasn’t shined that bright since before the war.
I used to go every year. I remember when I was fourteen my parents started letting me go by myself. The whole thing is designed for teenagers, by teenagers—students operate all the rides, make all the food, and sell various items they’ve made through the year to raise funds. It only runs during the day, so I guess my parents thought it was the best place for me to try out some newly gained independence. Of course, one time I saw them at the edge of the carnival trying to hide. I think I was sixteen before they ever fully let me go by myself.
Six months later, they’d be gone from my life completely.
“I’m not going,” Tegan says.
I’m not particularly in the mood to go either, but I’m bothered by Tegan’s announcement. She was the ultimate party girl. It’s something else Sin stole from her, and it makes me angry.
“I think we should go,” I tell her.
“Why? It’s stupid. Just a bunch of silly stuff.”
She’s the one who has taken a lot of vamp psych classes, the one obsessed with analyzing why vamps do things. She’s always applying what she’s learned to me, but right now I’m the one who’s reading her. “If we stop doing what we normally do, Sin wins.”
“I hate that creep. It’s like I can’t get him off my skin now. And every time I close my eyes I feel his fangs and … I hate it!”
I understand how she feels. Whenever I close my eyes I feel Victor’s fangs plunging into my neck. But I don’t hate it. I wish I did—somehow that would bring normalcy into my life, the familiarity of my hatred toward vampires. Everything changed, even before that night. Victor showed me they weren’t all the same. And when I felt his fangs, I felt his closeness, I felt his heart beating. Now, as though I’m peering through a kaleidoscope, I catch glimpses of all the moments we shared, and hear the little whispers we spoke, even when we weren’t speaking at all.
“It’s okay,” I say, putting my arm around her, drawing her in close. “He’ll never hurt you again.”
I won’t let him.
I feel her relax against me, but I don’t want her going to that dark place in her mind that Sin inhabits. “So,” I say with false cheer. “The Sunshine Carnival. Will you be my date? Because Victor can’t be it.”
Her lips twitch. “Yeah, I guess. I’ve got nothing better to do.”
I grin. “Then why aren’t we there already?”
Chapter 7
Tegan and I ride the trolley to the Sunshine Carnival. Every year it’s held in an immense, empty parking lot that has no real purpose now that we have so few vehicles. The yellow lines have faded with time; the asphalt is pitted and crumbling as weeds work to reclaim what remains. The carnival, however, has brought out a crowd.
Most people are wearing bite protection and sporting visible stakes. A lot of Agency bodyguards and police are wandering about. Even the Night Watchmen, wearing their balaclavas and identifying medals, are present.
I sense Tegan tensing beside me. “Think any of them are Day Walkers?” she asks.
“Highly unlikely.”
“Since the party, there hasn’t been a single attack during the day,” she says. “So maybe we’re all paranoid for nothing.”
“We’re not paranoid. We’re alert. There’s a difference.”
“Feels the same.”
I stop walking and face her. “Tegan, look, a lot of people are here. And the Agency has people on guard to handle any trouble. We’re going to be fine.”
“I know, I just”—she rubs her neck—“I’ll feel better when they catch Sin.”
“He’s a coward. I think he ran off with his tail between his legs.” At least that’s what I’m hoping he did.
“You’re right. Let’s have some fun.”
We stop at a booth and pay our entrance fee. When we step through the gate, we’re greeted with laughter, shouts, and squeals. The aromas of melted sugar and cinnamon waft around us. A guy with a white painted face is juggling balls. A girl is prancing around playing a violin. I see a man walking along holding a large hoop. A little dog keeps jumping through it.
It’s like we’ve stepped into a carefree world.
“Okay, I’m already glad we decided to do this,” Tegan says. “Let’s get some cotton candy.” She grabs my hand and pulls me toward the food tents.
Behind them, I see the top of a small Ferris wheel. I recognize the familiar echoing ding as someone swings a huge mallet down hard enough to make a puck travel up the rail and hit the bell. That particular challenge has been at every carnival for as long as I can remember.
I buy a big bag of pink cotton candy to share with Tegan, recognizing the girl selling it, but I’m not sure from where. Did we have a class together?
“It’s nice to see you here, Dawn,” she says with a genuine smile, and I wish I could remember her name.
“Thanks. It’s good to be here.”
As we walk away, I whisper to Tegan, “Who was that?”
She shakes her head. “Looks familiar, though.” Then she’s stuffing a wad of spun sugar into her mouth. I join her, loving the way the sugar melts on my tongue.
While we wander, for the first time in a long time I actually feel like a seventeen-year-old high-school girl. It’s always been delegates and Valentine and Old Family and vampires. But now … now I can just breathe in the air.
&nb
sp; Kids from school pass us, weave in and around us. Some acknowledge us with a quick word or smile; some look away like they’re embarrassed they saw us.
“People are weird,” Tegan says, taking the last of the cotton candy.
“Yeah.” But I can’t help but wonder if any of them spray-painted “Death to Dawn” on the side of the Daylight Grill.
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Lila Hursch. She’s easy to spot with her red hair gathered into a ponytail on the right side of her head. She spies me and starts sashaying over with her two favorite clones flanking her. When she reaches us, she doesn’t even pretend to be civil.
“You really screwed up,” she says. “With the Teen Initiative, the party, everything. You should be left outside the wall, for the vampires. You didn’t protect us, Dawn. That’s why Daddy is now the delegate.”
“Your dad the delegate? Dream on!” Tegan says with a bark of laughter. Then she looks at me, no doubt expecting me to confirm that it’s a joke.
But Lila’s words are like sharp little daggers. I didn’t do my job. At least not that night. But I can’t let any vulnerability show because it’ll just feed her meanness. As for “Daddy,” he’s the delegate because Victor wants to control him.
“You’re really special now, aren’t you?” I ask.
“Daddy will make sure the vamps understand their place.”
“Oh, they understand their place. We’ll see soon enough if your daddy understands his. And I’m already really bored with this conversation.” Edging around her, I can sense her hatred burning holes in my back. One of the reasons she and I have never gotten along is that she’s always wanted Michael for a boyfriend. Then when I became the delegate and all the attention was focused on me, her ego took a bruising. She needs the limelight.
Tegan catches up to me. “Why didn’t you tell me about Hursch?”
I shrug. “I just found out this morning. No official announcement has been made.”
She grabs my arm, stopping my forward momentum. “You still could have told me that you weren’t the delegate anymore. Lila doesn’t know what she’s talking about. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I made mistakes, Tegan, but I’m no longer the delegate because it complicates my relationship with Victor.”
“I bet. Do you ever feel like we’re caught in a whirlwind? Sometimes I just can’t catch my breath.”
“I know exactly what you mean. That’s why we need to be here. New rule. Let’s forget about everything that happened during the past month and just have some fun.”
“I’m with you. Let’s do it.” She nudges my shoulder and winks. “And let’s avoid Lila.”
“Absolutely.”
We walk over to the games section. Guys are throwing balls at glass bottles, tossing small rings onto pegs, trying to win the overstuffed bears for their girlfriends. None of them are doing very well.
Ding!
“There you go, man!” a carny yells.
Ding!
“Ha. How many stuffed animals you got? This kid’s on a roll, folks. Come and watch.”
Ding!
I see Michael raise a large mallet and bring it down on the tiny seesaw, sending the puck flying upward and slamming into the bell. He’s wearing a black sleeveless T-shirt, and his arms are bulging and tight from swinging that heavy mallet around.
“He’s so hot,” Tegan says with appreciation.
“You mean because he’s sweating?”
She punches me in the arm, then grows serious. “Do you miss him?”
“Yeah, but when I look at him, I just see a friend. I don’t get that crazy excitement that used to make my heart do little flip-flops.”
“Think he’ll give me that big stuffed cat he just won? I love cats.”
Last year, all his prizes went to me. I still have the stuffed bear and dog sitting on a shelf in my bedroom.
“All right, all right,” the carny says. “You’ve won enough; let someone else give it a shot.”
Handing back the mallet, Michael collects an armful of furry toys. I don’t see any pride or satisfaction on his face, and I wonder if he simply was taking out some of his frustration regarding Sin. Or even me.
As he starts giving his prizes to the little kids surrounding him, Tegan skips over to claim the one she wants. He grins at her. His bruises have faded a little more, and now he’s sporting a soft cast on his wrist. His gaze shifts past her to me. Growing serious, he finishes handing out his bounty.
“That’s all I’ve got,” he says, and the kids scamper away.
“You’re a hero,” I tell him as I approach.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be the villain tomorrow.” He shoves his hands into his jeans’ pockets.
A heavy silence falls. It never used to be this way. We grew up together, spent so much time together. So many of my good memories contain Michael. I hate this distance that separates us now.
“So …” Tegan says, breaking into the awkwardness that exists between us. “Why don’t we ride the carousel?”
“I’ve got some stuff to do,” Michael says. “Have fun.”
“Like what?” Tegan demands.
“Stuff.”
“Yeah, right. Come with us,” she urges, and I know she’s trying to rebuild a crumbling bridge. “I mean, you’re not here with anyone, are you?”
“No. Just me.”
“Then hang around with us. At least for the carousel.”
He looks at her, then me.
“It’ll be fun,” I say. Like old times. Although I know that’s not true. I’m not sure we’ll ever be completely comfortable with each other again.
“Okay, sure, why not?” he asks. “Let’s go.”
As though knowing that Michael and I need a few minutes, Tegan charges ahead of us, and I can feel the tension surrounding us growing thicker. I know I have to say something. I have to use this moment to explain.
“Michael, listen, about Victor. I was going to tell you about him. That night. Hell Night. After the party.”
“And what were you going to say? That you were serving as his blood diva?”
“No,” I snap, then reel in my anger. I hurt him. I can’t expect him to be happy about all this. “He never saw me as a source of blood.” Until death was coming for him, but I’m not going to tell Michael that. “We … I care about him. But I care about you, too. I want us to be—”
“Don’t you dare say friends.” He stops walking and faces me. “He’s a vampire, Dawn.”
I realize Michael is struggling with that fact. Maybe it would have been easier for him if I’d fallen for another guy from school.
“Yeah, I know. Who would have ever thought—me and a vampire, right?”
“It’s not funny.”
“I’m not laughing. And I understand that you’re angry and need time. Just don’t shut me out. And don’t tell Tegan, but you’ve always been my best friend.”
He tightens his jaw, shakes his head. “I hate the F-word.”
“Hey, come on, guys!” Tegan yells, interrupting us. “It’s getting ready to start.”
We hurry over and follow the next group of riders as they’re being loaded on. When I step onto the wobbly platform, I quickly claim a horse. Tegan takes the one beside it. Grabbing a pole, Michael stands between us.
The ride starts and we begin slowly revolving, the entire fairground moving past us in a soft blur, like so much of my life lately. I can’t remember the last time that everything seemed sharp and uncomplicated.
I glance over at Tegan. Clutching her stuffed cat, she’s wearing a small smile and her eyes are closed. Michael grins at her, then his gaze clashes with mine. It’s hard being with him like this. The music spilling from the speakers is loud, trapped beneath the canopy. It doesn’t provide the best backdrop for conversation, but watching Michael saddens me. He meant so much to me for so long.
“Other than dealing with how messed up things are between us, how are you doing? Really?” I ask.
&nb
sp; “Everything changed Hell Night, Dawn. I’m more focused on my training. A lot of my weaknesses were exposed.”
Michael’s always hard on himself, especially when it comes to this. He’d been taking extra after-school bodyguard and vampire-hunter classes. His goal was to one day become a Night Watchman. Not that he’d be able to tell me if he ever achieved it. Night Watchmen are notoriously secretive so they or their families don’t become vampire targets. Lord Valentine didn’t trust the Night Watchmen. I suddenly realize that I don’t know how Victor feels about them, but surely he understands they are needed as long as vampires infiltrate the city.
“How is that going?” I ask.
“Good. It’s just taking up more of my time.”
“Michael, I want you to know—”
That I’d never meant to hurt you gets cut off by a shrill scream.
Tegan’s eyes pop open wide and she’s glancing back. “What was that?”
It wasn’t someone winning a prize or someone too high up on the Ferris wheel. No, it was chilling.
Michael’s gone into warrior mode, his body tensed and alert.
We see the ride operator running away. As the carousel continues on, we’re treated to a view of the crowd fleeing in all directions.
“Something’s wrong,” Michael says, helping Tegan get off her horse.
I don’t wait for assistance. I just slide off, hitting the platform, feeling it shake beneath me. Another scream echoes around us. It’s much closer, on the carousel itself. People are scrambling off their wooden animals, grabbing kids, jumping off the spinning platform onto the ground. It isn’t high up, and it isn’t moving fast, but the fear causes most people to stumble before getting up and running.
Then I see what they’re running from.
A Day Walker.
He appears around the curve, blood running down his chin. He’s laughing, his hands covered with the same dark crimson, wiping it against the painted horses and dragons, smearing it against the brass poles.
Tegan, Michael, and I draw our stakes. The vampire advances toward us, taking his sweet time, dancing between the poles, even doing a twirl, laughing the whole way like some psychotic ballerina. He’s older, not a teenager at all. Then I think about the Night Watchmen who were turned by Sin. Am I looking at one?