Blood and Guitars (19 page)

I worked with my charcoal pencils and an
eraser to capture the scene before me. Trey was cracking jokes and
casting glances at me in between takes, but he could switch on his
serious side in an instant when they were ‘rolling tape’ as Ken
kept saying. I worked for almost an hour, my sketch coming to life
in front of me as I filled in the details of the guitars and the
clothes the guys were wearing.

I was pulled from my artistic trance when Ken
announced that they had finished. Trey put his guitar away on a
stand and came in to sit next to me.

“How’s it going?” He leaned over to glance at
my sketchpad. I tilted it toward him to give him a good view.

“You tell me.” I waited for his response.

His eyes scanned the drawing and a broad grin
crossed his lips. “Why Aurora, I’m almost embarrassed. I had no
idea you found me so irresistibly attractive.”

I elbowed him in the ribs and laughed with
him. Ken rolled his eyes at us from his chair, but I heard him
chuckling as Trey and I bantered back and forth. O’Shea came in a
few minutes later to ask if Trey was going to Jonas’s later for a
GH battle.

I blinked at them dumbly. “What on earth is a
GH battle?”

“Guitar Hero,” O’Shea stated.

Trey grinned and said. “Jonas is obsessed, to
put it mildly. We’ve been working hard so we’re all getting
together later to mess around and play. I was kind of hoping you’d
want to join us.”

“I don’t know the first thing about guitars,
or heroes for that matter.”

“Who better to educate you? Come on, it’ll be
fun,” O’Shea added. “And I’m supplying the food.”

“We’re trying to talk her into coming,” Trey
said to him. “Not make her turn the other direction and run.”

“I’m not doing the actual cooking,” O’Shea
clarified, turning to me. “Besides, Trey here will probably bail
and go home if you don’t come along.”

Trey shrugged and said, “No pressure or
anything.”

I studied him briefly and then surprised
myself by saying, “Sure. I’m game.”

Trey’s eyes lingered on me for a heartbeat
and his smile broadened. Had I seriously just agreed to a video
game version of playing musical instruments? Something was
seriously wrong with me lately.

“Great.” O’Shea said over his shoulder as he
walked away. “Trey needs a ride anyway.”

Trey and I were on the road in my car a few
minutes later. Trey spotted my iPod and picked it up, circling his
thumb over the wheel to shuffle through my music. I realized only a
moment too late what he would find on it. He clicked the center
button and looked up at me as the opening notes of “Filtered Ache”
began to blare through the car speakers.

“Tell me you pirated this.” He gave me that
irresistible half-smile.

I gave a little shrug and said, “I heard the
lead singer is hot. Besides, it’s kind of catchy. Don’t you
think?”

He chuckled and said, “I’m flattered.”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” I teased as
he started to sing along with himself. I briefly wondered what he’d
think if he knew about the latest addition to the décor in my
bedroom. Just after waking tonight I’d found a long cylindrical
package at my front door. I had opened it only to discover a giant
poster of Trey and the rest of Catalyst posing in front of a rusty
old pickup truck in what looked like the middle of a desert.
Apparently my membership in the fan club had rendered such a gift.
Feeling stupid and giddy like a teenage girl with a celebrity
crush, I’d tacked it up near my closet and spent a few minutes
staring at it before I’d realized it was time to go.

Trey gestured for me to take the next left
and I turned, following his instructions to a house down the road
about a quarter mile. We pulled into the drive and parked. Trey
turned off my iPod and climbed out of the car, coming around to
take my hand and lead me up the walkway to Jonas’s front door.

A girl who appeared to be in her early
twenties opened the door and greeted us happily. Trey introduced
her as Tara, Jonas’s younger sister. She gestured to the rest of
the house with one big arm motion and said for us to make ourselves
at home. Trey, who knew the way, thanked her and led me down a
hallway and up a set of stairs. I could hear music blaring before
we entered the home theater where the rest of Trey’s band mates
were hanging out. Chase and O’Shea, who had plastic guitars with an
assortment of stickers on them hanging from one shoulder, waved
when we walked in. Jonas greeted us from across the room where he
was manning a small version of a theater popcorn machine.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” he said to me,
throwing a piece of popcorn at Trey. Trey fumbled but caught it and
popped it into his mouth.

“About as humble as Trey’s house,” I said
with a laugh.

“Whoever heard of a humble rock star anyway?”
Chase asked while he and O’Shea tried to play a ridiculously fast
song on their plastic guitars. The screen in front of them was so
big that the notes were almost the size of my fist as they raced
from the bottom to the top in time with the music.

Trey plopped down onto a big leather sofa and
patted the cushion next to him. I sat down and snagged the bowl of
popcorn that Jonas held out for him. Trey laughed and stuffed his
hand into it, pulling out a fistful before unsuccessfully
attempting to fit it all into his mouth.

I giggled as pieces of it fell all over his
shirt and lap. He picked them up one at a time and ate them like
he’d done it intentionally, which made me giggle even more. Trey
and I watched O’Shea and Chase finish out their song and I noticed
Jonas dragging a little plastic drum set of sorts over in front of
us.

“Switch it up.” He handed Chase a wired
microphone that was plugged in somewhere out of sight.

“Can’t I play a guitar?” Chase whined.

“Next time.” Jonas handed Trey a pair of
drumsticks.

“Prepare to laugh.” Trey nodded in agreement
and got to his feet.

“What? Now you’re a drummer?” I teased.

“Nobody is allowed to play their regular
instruments in a switch up,” he explained. “It keeps things
interesting.”

“I bet it does.”

O’Shea was forced to play bass and Jonas
tried his hand at lead guitar as they played through a song. I
laughed at Trey when he fumbled and dropped a drumstick, but other
than that he actually did pretty well considering he’s not a
drummer. I studied the theory of the game as I watched them play,
and decided it really couldn’t be that hard. When Jonas insisted
that I give it a shot on the next song, I happily accepted a guitar
from him and stepped up next to O’Shea. I explained that I’d never
played before and the guys walked me through picking a musician and
then Chase selected a song. I heard a clicking sound and a
countdown appeared on the screen before notes began rolling up it.
I matched the colors on the screen with the ones beneath my fingers
and started playing. It really wasn’t bad at all. In fact, I was
really getting into it when the song ended. That was when I laughed
and turned to find all four of them staring at me in what appeared
to be downright amazement.

“What ever happened to I’ve never played
before?” O’Shea asked, finger quoting in the air.

“I … I haven’t,” I said. Then I wondered if I
should have lied. I’d done very well on the song. Too well.

“You just trashed O’Shea’s score on expert!”
Chase proclaimed.

Then I heard Trey laughing from behind me to
the right. I turned to see him grin and give me a thumbs-up.
“That’s my girl,” he said proudly.

I smiled back and shrugged, hoping I appeared
innocent. Then I moved to take the guitar strap off my shoulder
when O’Shea’s words stopped me.

“Oh no,” he declared. “We are so having a
rematch. I can’t go out like that,” he said, but he was
smiling.

I looked to Trey and he gave me an
encouraging nod. “Let him have it,” he said.

“Okay,” I said, straightening my shoulders
and facing the screen again. “You’re on.”

As O’Shea navigated the menu to select
another song I heard Jonas and Chase asking Trey if he knew I could
play like that. Trey was insisting that he was just as surprised as
they were, but I got a general sense that the others thought I was
lying about my nonexistent experience with the game. Either way,
they weren’t complaining. They seemed pretty happy just to see
someone beating their lead guitarist, especially when that someone
was a girl.

It was a mantle I was proud to take up. And
it wasn’t exactly like I could go back and pretend that I couldn’t
play now, could I?

As O’Shea and I played through the next song,
which came as effortlessly to me as the first had, I wondered if I
would have been any good at the game as a human. I’d always been
artistic, and musicians and artists have a lot of things in common,
so I settled for deciding that I would have been able to rock out
either way, even if not to the extent that I was now.

When a particularly crazy guitar solo came
up, I pretended to struggle through it a little bit, missing a few
notes here and there but never enough not to be believable. I kept
an eye on O’Shea’s score and made sure that his was above mine just
barely when the song came to an end.

“You got me,” I said in a defeated tone.

O’Shea looked at me in disbelief.

“That’s the hardest song in the game and I
barely managed to take you.” He stretched out his left hand like it
was sore and cramping up.

“Just barely,” I said. “I’ll get you one
day.”

Then I insisted on taking a break to rest my
‘tired hands’ and took a seat on the couch. Chase and Jonas took
the guitars and O’Shea took a seat at the little drums for the next
one. Trey, who was holding the little microphone now, sat next to
me, a big grin on his face. He covered the mic and leaned in close
to my ear before whispering, “You let him win, didn’t you?”

I smiled and put a piece of popcorn into my
mouth. “A girl doesn’t cheat and tell.”

He shook his head, smiling. “I knew it.”

“Hey songboy,” Chase called out. “You’re
falling behind.”

Trey chuckled again and then sobered up,
lifting the mic to his lips. He sang the words, although not very
seriously. He was goofing off more than anything, and even though
he wasn’t trying it was hard for him not to sound good. I sat back
and enjoyed the entire scene: the relaxed and silly atmosphere (not
something I’m exactly used to), and the popcorn (again, not
something I cook up at home). But most of all, it felt good to
belong to a group. And not a forced one built on vamp politics,
which is really all my Brood is. Trey and his band mates were
really accepting of me, even when I was stomping them in a game of
Guitar Hero. I hadn’t felt that kind of acceptance in a group… well
… ever.

The clock on the wall in the loft of The
Waking Moon read ten after midnight. I was standing at the easel, a
brush in my hand, while Trey worked out a new song on his acoustic
guitar. He sat on the floor with his back against the half-wall
while his voice echoed around the loft.

“I lie awake

These sleepless nights can last forever

I try to take you in.

“I can’t believe …

You’re in my arms- and here with me

I pinch myself again.

“Cause I know … it’s worth it

You’re worth- whatever it takes

To make you stay.

“And I’ll show … you over and over

Every day- as long as you’ll stay

With me….”

I’d been painting him for half an hour,
although of course, he had no idea that’s what I was doing. He just
looked so incredible sitting there barefoot in his jeans and
t-shirt cradling his guitar that I couldn’t help myself. The song
was getting to me, too. It was poetic, the way words flowed from
him effortlessly. Who knew I was a sucker for musicians? I’d
already finished painting Trey, capturing every aspect of him from
the carefree spirit in his azure eyes to the fashionably worn holes
in his jeans. As I switched to a silver metallic paint to work on
the details of Trey’s instrument, I struggled to shake off memories
of the night before.

After hours of playing Guitar Hero two nights
ago, I’d spent all day yesterday sleeping and had gone hunting
after dark. Finding someone to feed from had been the easy part,
but when I got close enough to get a good look at his face, I’d
been surprised to discover that he had a remarkable resemblance to
Trey. It wasn’t as if I’d thought it was Trey at any point. I could
definitely tell the difference. But the similarities were shocking.
He’d had hair just like Trey’s, and his eyes … they were the same
crystal clear blue. Instead of using whatever lie of a story I had
in my mind to distract him like I’d planned, I’d found myself
staring at him in astonishment until he was asking if I was okay.
In the end I’d mumbled something about how he might consider a
career as a celebrity impersonator as I walked away.

Not exactly the ending I’d had in mind. I’d
gone out for drinks with Mark afterward, trying to forget about the
incident. He’d known something was bothering me, but I hadn’t
explained myself and he’d been smart enough not to push the
issue.

Even if Mark had been clued in to just how
much time I’d been spending with Trey, which he wasn’t, I could
never have explained what was running through my mind. It wasn’t
the lack of feeding that was bothering me. It was the fact that I’d
been so repulsed by the idea of feeding from someone who could have
been Trey’s double. I’d clearly been in denial about my feelings
for Trey. I just hadn’t expected those feelings to manifest in a
way that would literally stop me in my tracks and cost me a
meal.