Bad Blood

by Mari Mancusi

  I can hear his amusement on the other end of the phone. “Yes, Sunny. Like a hotel room.” He pauses, then adds, “No strings attached, of course. Just a quiet, romantic place where we can spend some time alone together. Candles, flowers, a silver plate of strawberries . . . how does that sound?”

  It sounds heavenly. And just what we need to reconnect. To make things right.

  “We’ll have a great night, just you and me,” Magnus promises. “And we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to . . . It’s not about that. It’s about spending time with my girl, who I love very much.”

  My heart melts at his words. “Oh, Magnus,” I whisper into the phone. “I love you, too. And it all sounds perfect. I can’t wait.”

  2

  We’re down by three, fourth quarter, fourth down, and Mike has the ball. Only seconds to go and the clock on the scoreboard counts down relentlessly. Mike backs up, looks for an opening . . .

  On the sidelines, Rayne and the other cheerleaders are going crazy—yelling and dancing and jumping up and down. “I never thought I’d see the day,” Mom mutters from my side. She and David are cuddled under a big stadium blanket and looking nauseatingly cute as they feed each other cotton candy. “If I’d had to guess, I would have put all odds on you up there, Sunny. Never Rayne. I mean, not that I’m complaining. I think it’s great. Just . . .”

  “Weird?” I prompt.

  She nods, looking relieved that she didn’t have to say it. Having Rayne as a child would be hard on any mom. If only she knew the real reason her freaky daughter first picked up the pom-poms . . .

  We turn back to the game.

  Mike sees Trevor enter the end zone. He’s wide open.

  As red uniforms converge on our quarterback, Mike throws. Trevor leaps into the air and manages to catch the ball—a split second before he’s tackled to the ground. Touchdown. The crowd leaps up in unison, a chaos of blue jackets, hats, and sweaters—cheering and clapping and whooping the old wolf pack howl.

  “Whoo! Yeah! Go Mike and Trevor!” yell the cheerleaders. Mandy does a back flip. Shantel and Nancy bounce up and down. Rayne does . . . something . . . that looks like a cross between a split and a dog lifting its leg to pee. She’s sweating profusely, I notice. She may have gotten spirit, but she’s still a bit weak on the physical fitness. Maybe this will teach her to quit smoking.

  “Let’s go congratulate Rayne!” Mom says, as the Wolves are pronounced victors of the night. We scramble down the bleachers and spill out onto the field with the rest of the crowd. Mom waves Rayne over with the kind of huge sweeping gestures that moms are innately gifted with to embarrass their offspring.

  “Hey, Mom,” Rayne greets, shaking a pom-pom in her direction. Mom embraces her tightly and my sister hugs her back. Aw. I’m glad to see them getting along again. After Mom pulled a Trading Spaces on Rayne’s bedroom and moved her into my room so David could have hers, things were pretty dicey between them.

  “Wow, Rayne. You were amazing. Really amazing,” Mom gushes, clearly overwhelmed by motherly pride. “I’m so impressed. I had no idea you could do those kinds of moves.”

  “Well, it did take some practice,” Rayne says with a bashful grin. She doesn’t take compliments well. Probably because she doesn’t get too many in her typical role as the bad girl.

  “Yeah, you were really something,” David says, walking up behind Mom. “A total natural.”

  “Isn’t she?” I say, wanting to encourage her. “I keep telling her that but she refuses to believe me.”

  “Can I speak to you for a minute, Rayne?”

  We all whirl around. Mr. Teifert, the drama teacher and vice president of Slayer Inc., the company Rayne freelances for, is standing there. Hmm, I wonder what crazy assignment he’ll give her this time? Demon lord about to be let loose? A banshee screeching in, set on nothing short of our total destruction? Or perhaps some leprechauns have swung into town, after their Lucky Charms?

  “Well,” Rayne says with some reluctance, glancing back at the fam. She’s probably not ready for a new assignment either. After all, she just got finished saving the town from cheerleading werewolves. You’d think she’d get a couple comp days or something after a major accomplishment like that. Or, I don’t know, a pay-check at the very least. After all, as she loves to remind me, even chicks with destinies have bills to pay, black lipstick to buy.

  “We’ll be right over here,” David assures her, not about to get in the way of his Slayer Inc. boss talking shop. He may be developing fatherly feelings for Rayne and me, but at the end of the day he’s still a company man.

  He and Mom and I take a few steps back. I try to stay close enough to listen, but I can’t quite make out Teifert’s words. Darn.

  Rayne rejoins us a moment later. She has a big grin on her face. Hmm. Usually a conversation with Teifert has her swearing and spitting. This really is a weird night.

  “Was that Sunny’s drama coach?” Mom asks her. Of course, she’s completely clueless about Teifert’s secret identity. “What did he want?” Mom knows that while Rayne may be a drama queen, I’m the one actually performing in the plays.

  “Nothing much,” Rayne bluffs. “Tried to convince me I’d make a kick-ass Morgan Le Fay in his King Arthur play. Which I would. But I told him I’m pretty overcommitted at the moment.”

  “So you’re staying on the . . . team?” I ask, meaning Slayer Inc., not the Wolves cheering squad. Though, come to think of it, I’m curious about the answer to that, as well.

  “Yeah,” Rayne says. “I think so. At least for a bit. Why not, right? After all, they definitely need me.”

  “Well congratulations again, Rayne,” my mom says, completely missing the undertones of the convo as usual. She kisses Rayne on the forehead. “I’m really proud of you.” She turns to David. “Are you ready to hit the road? I think the girls have some celebrating to do.”

  I glance at my watch. Magnus was supposed to be here a half hour ago. Where is he? He’d better not stand me up . . .

  David nods. “Bye, guys. Rayne, good job.” He offers a quick handshake (he’s not quite at “hug” stage yet) and then he and Mom turn to leave.

  Once alone, I grin at my sister. “A vampire, vampire slayer cheerleader,” I say. “Who would have thought?”

  “Yup. That’s me. Multitalented.” She laughs. “Actually Teifert was just trying to get me to quit the Slayer biz. I guess Bertha the vampire slayer’s all recovered from those blood pressure issues and ready to get back into business. But I told him he should keep me on retainer. You never know, he might need me.”

  “Well, I know I feel safer knowing you’re still on patrol,” I assure her.

  We’re silent for a moment and then I realize I should tell her about tonight. She’s going to be psyched that I made the decision without bugging her about it. “By the way,” I say, lowering my voice. “I’ve decided to do it.”

  “Do what?” Rayne asks, feigning complete innocence. As if she doesn’t know exactly what I’m talking about. She just likes to see me squirm.

  “It,” I say, my face reddening. “You know, with Magnus.”

  “Ahhh,” she says, realizing what I mean. “My little twin is going to lose her innocence once and for all.”

  I punch her in the shoulder. “Don’t put it like that!”

  “I’m sorry,” she says mockingly. “My sister is going to bonk her boyfriend for the first time.”

  “Rayne! I’m telling you a huge thing! And you—”

  She laughs. “I’m just teasing, Sun. I think it’s great. You and Magnus are a wonderful couple. He’s completely loyal and devoted to you and he loves you with all his heart. It’s obvious just by watching you two together. And if you think you’re ready and have really given it a lot of thought, then I say go for it.”

  I beam. “I mean, I know we’re not blood mates like you and Jareth. We’re not linked by blood to stay together forever with no one able to tear us apart. But we’re really close. I love him
so much, Rayne. I don’t even know how to explain it.”

  Luckily I don’t have to because Rayne’s BF, the drool-worthy vampire Jareth, chooses that moment to approach from across the field. He’s wearing a navy blue, tailored Armani suit and dark sunglasses, even though clearly there’s no sun in the sky. He’s all Jude Law meets David Beckham, sans tattoos. Guess this means Rayne finally wore him down on the whole beach bum/ surfer ensemble he donned all summer and has convinced him to embrace his inner metrosexual. Normally I’d be against such a blatant abuse of girlfriend power, but I have to admit, he does look good.

  “Hello, my darling,” Jareth says in his deep English-accented voice. He wraps his arms around Rayne and pulls her close, planting a way-too-PDA-for-the-football-field kiss on her mouth. A total “ew” moment, but I’ll let it slide this time, namely because I’m just so relieved they’re not bickering like an old married couple for two seconds. Poor Jareth. I’d stab a wooden stake through my own heart before I’d have agreed to be blood mates with my crazy, control-freak sister. I don’t know how he puts up with her. He must have the patience of a saint, if not the soul.

  “Hey now, don’t start the party without me!”

  I whirl around, my eyes lighting up as I see Magnus approaching. He made it! My heart starts palpitating too fast in my chest and my palms become sweaty. Not long now, a voice reminds me. This is it.

  “Did you rent the room?” I whisper as he wraps his arms around me.

  Magnus nods. “It’s all set, my love.”

  He leans down and kisses me. Now that the tables are turned, I so don’t mind the PDA. His cool lips feel so good, brushing softly against mine. I cuddle a little closer, so very happy that I will be able to kiss this vampire for the rest of my life. Everything is going to be fine. This night will be beautiful and perfect. And nothing can stop us from—

  “Magnus?”

  We break from our kiss and turn around in the direction of the voice calling my boyfriend’s name. Crossing the field is a tall, porcelain doll-faced girl with huge, green, almost catlike eyes and a red bow mouth. She has long red hair falling down to her waist and she’s wearing a slinky little black dress with platform heels.

  Who the hell is she?

  I glance back at Magnus and realize his normally pale face has gone stark white. Does he know this girl? And why is her sudden presence upsetting him so much?

  “There you are, Magnus,” the girl purrs. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. I’m so glad I finally caught up with you, my love.”

  Her love? Her LOVE? What the hell is going on here? I look at Magnus, then the girl, then back at Magnus again. “Um, why did she just call you her love?” I demand. And here I thought my heart was beating fast before. Now it’s the tempo of a hardcore techno song.

  “Yeah, who the hell are you?” Rayne demands, looking as if she’s ready to kick the crap out of whoever this is. I smile a little. She may be a freak, but at the end of the day she can be a good sister.

  The girl smiles. But not in a sweet kind of way. I so don’t like her already. “Who am I?” she repeats in a voice that sounds sly and catlike. “Why don’t you ask your fearless leader, Magnus?”

  Something’s wrong. Really, really wrong. I feel like I’m going to throw up, though I’ve no idea why. “Magnus?” I manage to choke out. “Who . . . is this girl?”

  Magnus swallows hard, running a hand through his hair. When he finally speaks, his voice is hoarse. “Sunny, this is Jane Johnson,” he says. “The vampire council has ruled that she is to become my blood mate.”

  3

  I stare at Magnus, then at the girl—Jane—then at Magnus again. My heart has pretty much bottomed out at this point, hovering somewhere around my kneecaps. The council assigned Magnus a blood mate? My boyfriend is getting a blood mate? My boyfriend is getting drop-dead gorgeous Jane Johnson as a blood mate?

  I guess in the back of my mind I knew this could happen someday. After all, Magnus is immortal. He’s going to live thousands of years on this planet while I, if I’m lucky, probably only have about seventy or eighty left. Many of which I’ll be spending growing old while he remains the spitting image of a hot high school student. At first, people will start calling me a total cougar, saying I’m robbing the cradle and stuff. Then they’ll ask if he’s my son. Grandson eventually.

  At some point we’ll have to break up ’cause it’ll just be too weird for us to be seen together. Either that or go into solitary confinement for a few years. Until, you know, I die. Of course, I sort of always figured he’d be so heartbroken about the whole thing he’d go around wringing his hands and swearing he’ll never love again for all of eternity as he could never find anyone as perfect and wonderful as me.

  But evidently he’s not even going to wait ’til I’m cold in my grave to find someone new. Or, you know, in my grave to begin with.

  “Magnus,” I say through my clenched teeth. “Can we talk alone for a second?”

  Jane frowns, sticking her full lower lip out (totally collagen-injected—I’d bet my life on it) into a full blown pout. “You know,” she whines, “anything you have to say to Magnus can be said in front of his blood mate.”

  I’m about to remind her that technically she’s not anyone’s blood mate yet, least of all my boyfriend’s, and, if I have any breath left in my body, she’ll never live to become one either, but suddenly Rayne chooses that moment to butt into the conversation.

  “Oh my God, Jane. What fabulous nails you have. What is that color?” she asks, grabbing the interloper’s hand.

  I stare at my sister. Can Rayne really be that fascinated by the lesser known shade of this fall’s Opi color collection at the worst moment of my life? But then I take a look at the nails in question. Hot pink. A color my Gothy sister wouldn’t use to paint the nails of her worst enemy. She must be trying to distract the girl to give me a word in edgewise with Magnus.

  I seize my opportunity and drag him a few feet away from the group. Out of Jane’s multipierced earshot. I can see from the corner of my eye that the bitch is struggling to follow, but my sister’s got her black polished claws into her—literally—and isn’t about to let go. Sometimes it’s good to have a twin.

  I turn to my boyfriend. “Magnus,” I hiss. “What the hell is going on here?”

  He shuffles from foot to foot, staring at the ground and refusing to meet my eyes. “Um, well, I don’t know,” he stammers.

  “Bull. You do know.” I put my hands on my hips. “You totally know. And you didn’t tell me.”

  “Okay. Fine,” he admits. “I knew the council was putting some feelers out, looking for a potential blood mate. But I had no idea they’d settle on someone quite so soon. I only learned this afternoon that she had passed all the background checks and was flying in. And I felt it was a bit harsh to break the news to you over the phone. Not to mention it would totally ruin our evening.”

  My stomach lurches. Our evening. In other words he wanted to make sure he got some hot sexual action before filling me in on the fact that our entire relationship was suddenly going to change, big-time. I see how it is. Love me and leave me. Bang me and bounce. Screw me before screwing me.

  “Don’t you think it’s information I’d probably prefer to know before we did what we were planning to do this evening?” I demand. “I mean, a blood mate? Does this mean we’re . . .” I swallow the lump back down into my throat. “Are we breaking up?”

  Magnus grabs me, cupping my cheeks in his hands so I’m forced to meet his eyes. “Sunny, calm down!” he commands. “Stop jumping to crazy conclusions. Of course we’re not breaking up. Don’t be ridiculous. I love you. And that’s not going to change. Everything will be as it was before, except that I’ll have a blood mate.”

  I squirm away. “A blood mate is like a freaking soul mate, Magnus,” I remind him. “What, are you going to be like a Mormon vampire? Have two wives or whatever?” As soon as the words leave my lips I regret them. It’s not like Mag and I have
ever discussed marriage. I’m still in high school for goodness’ sake. And I don’t think vampires usually get married technically anyhow. Especially since they’d literally catch on fire from setting foot in a church.

  But still? A blood mate and a girlfriend? I’ve never heard of such a thing. From what I understand, in the vampire world, you can mess around with girls, boys, whatever, while you’re a newly reborn undead, but once you turn one thousand, it’s time to commit to the vampire you’ll spend eternity with. Your blood mate. And then it’s time to put away childish mortal romances.

  “A blood mate fills a very different role than that of a wife,” Magnus insists. “It’s more of a civil partnership. Sure, sometimes that partnership is a romantic one—like Rayne and Jareth’s is—but that’s not always the case. And it won’t be with Jane and me, I promise you. She’ll simply aid me in running the affairs of the Blood Coven.”

  “I could do that!” I cry. “I could help you run the coven just as well as she could.”

  Magnus shakes his head. “Don’t be silly, Sunny,” he says. “Jane has been handpicked from a large pool of potentials for her advanced intelligence and expertise in diplomacy and political science.” He ruffles my head in that patronizing way I hate. “You haven’t even graduated high school yet.”

  I squeeze my hands into fists. This is so unfair. Back before Magnus was Blood Coven leader—when everyone assumed Lucifent would stay alive and in control of the coven forever—I was selected to be Magnus’s blood mate. Okay, technically Rayne was, not me, but we’re twins, which is close enough in my book. If only I hadn’t freaked out about the whole vampire thing and forced Magnus to turn me back into a human. Then I’d still be his blood mate and Jane wouldn’t even be a blip on anyone’s radar. Sure, I didn’t have the stupid poli-sci degree, but I could have helped the coven in other ways. For example, I make a damn good vegetarian quiche.

  Oh, who am I trying to fool here? The vampire council doesn’t want a qualified vegetarian quiche-maker as their Master’s partner in crime. Unless I could somehow make it out of blood. Which would totally ruin its consistency. Not to mention its vegetarianism.