CHAPTER 27
I didn’t give up entirely on the blood thing, but I will admit that Stephen’s little speech had taken the bloom off my research efforts. Scientifically, at least. Before I left school, I used the library’s computer to make a list of all the books I could find about vampire lore, the origins of vampires, and all the oh-so-fascinating rest of it.
Hollywood may say that Dracula was the first vampire, but I wasn’t so sure. And since the Latin riddle talked about a talisman, I figured I needed to know who I was dealing with. I mean, maybe there was a traveling museum exhibit, and I just needed to commit a minor felony in order to get the thing that would save me. That would be okay, right? I mean, I was already dead. How much worse could jail be?
The one incredibly useful fact I did learn was all about glamour. Not the Hollywood kind. The vampire kind.
That was when it all clicked. The way Stephen had sucked me in before he’d turned me. It hadn’t been lust—it had been glamour. In other words, magic. A spell. And once he’d vamped me, the spell was broken, and I saw the real Stephen loud and clear.
I didn’t get to do too much more research, though, because I had to go play cheerleader at exactly six-thirty-six (which, in case you’re wondering, is one minute after sunset).
Oh, the joy.
I was heading out of the library—a stack of books shoved under my arms—when I bumped into Richie Carter.
Splat!
All my books went flying.
I threw myself down and started gathering them up.
“A little light reading?” he asked, holding up The Vampire Book, a huge encyclopedia of vampire lore.
“Writing a script,” I said. “You know. To go with my film school application.” That actually wasn’t such a bad idea, and I made a mental note to consider that very thing. Assuming I ever got back to the land of the living.
“Oh. Good idea.” He’d stacked them up and now he handed them to me. Then he got to his feet and started walking away. “Well, see you.”
“Richie!”
He stopped, and I realized I didn’t have a clue what to say. “How come you were at that club last night?”
He looked away, his face going pink. “Why were you?”
“Cheerleading,” I said. “It seems I don’t have a choice.”
“Guess we’re even, then. Tamara asked me.”
“And you went? She doesn’t even like you.”
He lifted a shoulder. “She’s not that bad. I mean, maybe she doesn’t want to hang out during school, but she’s okay.”
“She just wants your vote,” I said.
“She’d probably be good,” he said.
“What did you do at the club?” I asked, changing tacks. “I mean, did you hang with her?”
“Not really,” he said. “But, you know, we had fun.”
“What happened to your neck?”
His hand lifted automatically to the sore. “No idea. Woke up with the bandage on. Guess I scratched it in my sleep and forgot about it.”
“Mmmm,” I said, as the word glamour! flashed neon in my mind.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Do me a favor, okay? Just pay attention. Tamara’s got an agenda. And I really think she’s using you.”
“Maybe I’m using her right back,” he said.
And, you know? He probably was. I mean, isn’t the definition of high school all about using people in order to fight your way up some stupid social hierarchy (am I jaded, or what?)? But Tamara had the advantage—she knew about the vamps. And Richie was just a meal ticket to her.
I hoped I’d at least hinted heavily enough that he’d pay attention (and read the Watch!) but I didn’t have time to worry about it since I was already late for practice.
I found Tamara, Stacy, and the rest of the gang on the field, all decked out in their little uniforms. All except for Melissa, who was sitting cross-legged in the grass, faded mascara lines marking her face.
The other girls were doing a good job of ignoring her. Stacy, as usual, had a hairbrush in one hand and was doing the requisite one hundred strokes.
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.
I also resisted the urge to grab hold of a few locks and tug. Hard.
“Beth!”
I jerked my chin up and found myself facing Tamara. “What?”
Where is your head? I’ve been calling and calling.” I waited for her to say something about the Watch photo, but nothing came. Maybe I’d managed to convince Stacy of my innocence earlier.
“Beth!”
“Sorry!” I plastered on a simpering grin. “I was just admiring Stacy’s hair.”
“Too bad yours is so shaggy,” Stacy retorted, her smile sweeter than divinity. “Now that you’ve been vamped, you’re stuck with what you’ve got. Too bad you hadn’t made a trip to Supercuts recently.” Her pert little nose wrinkled, and I fought the urge to rip it off. “Must be hell knowing you have to go through eternity looking like that.”
I bit my lip. Not because I was pissed (I was), but because she was right. I desperately needed highlights and a cut, but unless I wanted to deal with that every morning for the rest of my un-life, there was no point. Apparently all those books and movies about vampires got it right: you keep the looks you had when you died. So even if I bothered to do an early evening salon thing every day (night?), I’d be back to the same old dark roots and uneven bob the next night.
Did my luck suck, or what?
“When I’m vamped,” Lisa said, “I’m going to make sure it’s after I’ve just been to the salon. Maybe fly to Beverly Hills or something.”
I didn’t bother pointing out that the plan seemed a little extreme. I was too busy cluing in to the big bomb Lisa had dropped. “What do you mean, when you’re vamped?”
Her eyes went wide, and Tamara kicked her in the shin.
“God, Lis,” Stacy said, her tone bored even though she was obviously leery. “Do you have some sort of learning deficiency? Some sort of chemical imbalance that makes it impossible for you to keep your mouth shut?”
Sor-ry!”
Joan rolled her eyes. “Lay off her, Stace. It’s not that big a deal anymore. I mean, she’s hardly out of the loop now.”
“That’s right,” I said. “I’m in the loop.” I stared at them. “So what loop?”
Eye to eye to eye until finally they made a decision. “We wanted to have done it by now,” Tamara said. “But that kind of screwed up the early games and car washes and stuff.”
“Do it,” I repeated. “You mean turn into vampires?” Oh, man. I’d figured out they were Renfields, but I just assumed they got a kick out of dating the undead boys. Like maybe they thought it was a step above dating a jock. But they actually wanted this?
“It’s pathetic that you’ve got it before any of us,” Tamara said. “I mean, look at you.”
I ignored the insult. “Early games and car washes. No way you can do that.”
“Touché,” Tamara said.
“And you want to do this why?” Honestly, considering how much Tamara liked the look of herself in a bikini, I really couldn’t imagine.
“Cheer competition,” she said. “I mean, duh.”
“Oh.” I tried to process that. “Um . . .”
She rolled her eyes. “As soon as you figure out the secret for staying out during the day without looking like a damn minstrel, then the whole squad can convert.”
“Convert?” I mimicked. “Not exactly the word I’d use.”
“Honestly, I don’t care what word you’d use,” Tamara said. “So long as you figure out how vamps can walk during the day before the time change comes again . . .”
“Oh, sure. That’s what I live for. Solving your problems.”
“Please,” Tamara said. “You don’t think Stephen actually likes you, do you? He didn’t even let you drink from his neck, did he?”
I frowned, remembering how I drank from a glass. “So wha—?”
“I drink from his neck. Every day.” She licked her lips, slow and sensuous. Like a model or something. “Delicious.”
“You do what? Why?”
“Why the hell do you think?”
I had no clue, but I didn’t have a chance to press the point because suddenly Melissa wasn’t comatose anymore. No, suddenly she was on her feet, tears streaming down her face. “How can you guys even think about that anymore! I mean look what happened! Doesn’t anybody care? He’s dead!”
“Well, duh,” Tamara said. “He’s been dead for months.”
Melissa licked her lips. “I don’t wanna die. Not like that.”
“We aren’t going to,” Tamara said, shooting a look my way. “We’re just going to win.”
“Not if we don’t get on with practice.” Stacy stood to one side, tapping her foot, and shooting killer glances toward Melissa.
“Right.” Tamara looked at all the girls. “Everyone have a power drink today? Everyone except Beth, that is? She’s got the real thing.”
“You are such a bitch!” Melissa yelled, then slapped Tamara square across the face. Then she took off running. And that girl ran fast.
“Let her go,” Stacy said, as Tamara yelped. “She’s just upset about Ennis. Derek offered her a drink, but she blew him off. She’ll come around.”
“She’d better,” Tamara said, coldly. Then she sighed. “Come on. Let’s get to work.”
“Ladies! Ladies!” That from Ladybell, who’d been across the field working with two dozen drill team girls. Now she was rushing toward us, her hand waving. “Is there a problem?”
Tamara shook her head. “No, ma’am. No problem.”
Ladybell looked around, clearly counting. “And where is your sixth? This team can’t drop below six. I’ve cut down to the slimmest, most efficient number possible, but I can’t cut any further!” Her voice was rising, almost hysterical, and I was trying really hard not to roll my eyes. This was a woman who took cheerleading just a little too seriously.
Then again, the girls were drinking vampire blood to get an edge. So maybe they fit right in after all.
“Melissa’s not feeling well. No biggie.”
“You’re certain? We need to get these routines nailed.”
“Positive,” Stacy said.
Ladybell looked to each of us, and I managed a forced smile when her eyes landed on me. “I hope you’re as good as I think you are,” she said.
“Yes, ma’am,” I said. Which was stupid, but I couldn’t think what else to say.
“Very well. And remember, I want all of you at the basketball tryouts on Monday. I expect a flawless routine.”
“Yes, ma’am.” And this time, that came from all of us.
Then she turned, flipped her hair, and headed back across the field toward the drill team.
“Isn’t she going to coach us?”
Tamara rolled her eyes. “We’re doing just fine.” She motioned to the field. “Come on, ladies. Let’s show little Bethie the routine.”
I blanched as Tamara, Joan, Stacy, and Lisa leaped into the air, doing kick-ass, damn-near-perfect backflips onto the field. Not an impossible move, mind you, but I’ve known these girls for years. Dancers, yes. Gymnasts, no.
Now, though, they’d probably take the gold in the floor exercises.
And I could think of only one explanation. Not steroids. That was waaaaaay too passé.
No, my squadmates were loading up on vampire blood.
Personally, I think they were taking the competitive edge a little too far.