Enthralled: Paranormal Diversions (17 page)

“Never fails.” I turned to Kit. “How is she?”

“We’re going to take her back to the house now. She’s unconscious again.”

“Then we’ll walk back,” Derek said. “Give you room in the van to lay her down.”

His dad agreed and went back inside. As we walked toward the steps, I looked down at Derek’s hand, holding mine.

“No one’s around,” he said. “And we can take the back way.”

“Good,” I said, and entwined my fingers with his.

Let’s Get this Undead Show on the Road
by Sarah Rees Brennan

vampire craze has taken the world by storm. It seems as if everyone is developing a taste for blood. “Riding this crimson wave is the English boy band 4 the One, who rocketed to the top of the charts a couple of months ago and stuck.

“And as we all know, two months at the top is eternal life in showbiz. We at
Sizzling Hot News
were lucky enough to score an exclusive interview with the four hot young things and their manager, Faye Fanshawe.”

The flickering screen was the only light in the tour bus, but unfortunately Christian was a vampire and could see in the dark. He was trying to concentrate on the television, because he was afraid to look at anyone in the room.

The camera panned down along Faye’s body; her mulberry-colored suit; her chestnut-colored coif, highlights gleaming with copper and evil; and her literally killer shoes, with wooden heels that she was always threatening to use to stake Christian if he avoided the wind machine at concerts.

Faye’s face was suddenly in close-up beside the reporter’s. They smiled at each other with all the warmth and sincerity of two skulls placed side by side.

“Why do you think that 4 the One has struck such a chord with their audience?” Christie (no last name) of
Sizzling Hot News
inquired, and as Faye opened her mouth, Christie went smoothly on, “With so many competitors, do you worry that 4 the One will get lost in a forest of fangs? Take Night Is Falling for You, a band of Canadian vampires who combine menace with folksy charm—”

Faye’s lip curled. “I’d rather not. I like my boys.” She sent a smile at the camera that combined menace with ferocious intent. “I don’t believe, Chrissy—may I call you Chrissy?”

“Christie.”

“Thanks,” Faye cooed. “I don’t believe the glut of vampires on the market will affect us at all. For one thing, I think part of what draws people to the group is that we have three humans and only one vampire. Chris is a bit of a special case. He isn’t part of a group of vampires, and I think people respond to his essential loneliness—”

The bus behind them rocked gently but visibly. Christie started. Faye remained absolutely calm.

Christian’s eyes flicked to Faye’s face offscreen. She had a fixed, murderous look about her, and even though it was dark and she couldn’t possibly have known he was looking at her, he saw her lip curl back from her teeth.

He cringed and returned his gaze to the TV screen.

“He’s the only vampire in a sea of humans,” Faye on the television continued serenely. “He yearns to be human, but he can never truly be one of us. He’s the alluring other who makes us feel good about ourselves. Emo bangs to fangs, he’s the whole package.”

Behind her, the door of the bus slammed open, and out staggered Christian. He was moving with all the vampiric grace of a cat. A cat with its head stuck in a tin.

“And here’s that package now,” Faye said, sending him a glittering smile. “Practically almost on time. And his lovely bandmates.”

Bradley, lead singer of 4 the One, came out stretching like a stripper, wearing only skintight silver trousers and a look of innocent surprise.

“Are the reporters here already?” he asked, stretching some more. “I’m so sorry,” he added, artfully rumpling his already artfully rumpled blond hair. “What must you think of me?”

“I can’t tell you what I think of you,” Christian muttered. “There are ladies present.”

Offscreen, Christian winced. He hadn’t realized he’d said that loud enough for the cameras to catch.

Even with his vampire eyesight, Christian could only make out the dark shape on the screen, slinking behind Bradley, that was Josh. Someone as shy as Josh should probably not be in an internationally famous boy band.

Like Christian was one to talk about being temperamentally suited to the job.

The fourth member of the band, Pez the drummer, came outside and beamed beatifically upon all of them. He looked as if he was not entirely certain who any of them were.

Christie clapped her hands together in a way Christian thought was meant to display enthusiasm. It actually reminded him of a teacher calling her class to order. “Boys! Are you excited to be on your first tour?”

“Oh, we’re on tour,” Pez said, regarding the tour bus with an enlightened air. “I was wondering why our new house had wheels.”

Bradley, Christian, Josh, and Faye all shared a moment of embarrassed silence.

“I’m really excited to be on tour!” Bradley announced finally, saving the day and flashing his trademark boyish grin.

Christian had to briefly stop watching the screen in order to roll his eyes.

“As you can see,” Bradley said, dimming the smile expertly from dazzling to bashful, “I’ve been working out.”

Christie frowned. “Do you always work out covered in glitter?”

“Actually,” Christian said, “it pains me to admit this. But he really does.”

Christie’s nose almost twitched as it turned toward him, like a hound on a scent.

“Chris,” she said.

“Christian,” said Christian.

“Chris, darling,” Christie said firmly. “How do you feel about this?”

Christian blinked. “Well, he does get a lot of glitter in the carpets, but in the end I guess it’s his business.”

On the screen, Faye’s face was perfectly serene. In the darkness of the tour bus as they watched the interview, Faye’s snort rang out like a gunshot. Christian flinched.

“I meant about the tour,” the interviewer said patiently.

“Oh, well,” said Christian. “I am obviously excited to meet the fans and thrilled about this opportunity—”

“Where do they put your coffin?” Christie inquired brightly. “Do they store it in the luggage hold?”

Bradley’s shining blond head turned. “In the luggage hold?” he demanded. “Like an animal? No way.”

He leaned over and hooked an arm around Christian’s neck. Christian leaned away.

“Chris is one of the band,” Bradley announced. “His coffin rides in the tour bus with us. Anyway, you know, he’s cooped up in the coffin all day long, he needs to be amused. I play knock-knock jokes on the coffin lid for him. We have a blast together.”

Now that Bradley had moved to snag Christian, Josh’s face was clear, thin and pale behind his wire glasses. It expressed exactly how thrilled he wasn’t about having a coffin in the tour bus with him.

Just as clear was Christian’s murmur of “Put me in the luggage hold. I beg you.”

“One of the stops is in Birmingham, near the area where you grew up,” Christie continued. “The word is that you haven’t been back there for almost two years, since your mother threw you out of your home.”

Christian’s mouth tightened. “My mother didn’t throw me out.”

Christian’s mother had not thrown him out. But they had all been uneasy around him after the change, and his fifteen-year-old brother Rory had stopped hero-worshipping him and become afraid of him instead. He’d had nightmares every night Christian stayed in the house, and Mum had said, well, you’re eighteen, after all . . .

Eighteen forever. Rory was the one with the future.

Christian had left. They hadn’t thrown him out, it hadn’t been like that, but he’d had to leave, and he’d liked playing guitar in his garage band, and there had been auditions for a boy band.

He had never thought it would spiral out of control like this, but as soon as he had signed the contracts, Faye had been in control. He’d been a very new vampire, not sure who or what he was.

Faye had been sure, and had shaped them all according to her vision. Now, with success, her vision had expanded, become as huge and glittering as one of the onscreen projections of their concerts. It was hard to know what lay behind that vision.

But that wasn’t this interviewer’s business, and things were better now with his family. Rory owned the band’s CD, and the new single. They were proud of him, Mum said when she called him. She’d started calling him more and more often after their first single had hit the charts. Everything was fixed between them, and he’d see them soon.

“Really?” asked Christie, sweet as candied arsenic. “I understood that after you, ahem, transitioned into an alternative state—is that the term you prefer?”

“I prefer ‘became a vampire.’”

“Well, since you . . . did that, I understood that your brother was afraid to have you in the house, and your mother threw you out?”

“I said she didn’t throw me out!” Christian shouted.

There was a blur of movement on the television screen, away from Bradley and toward Christie. Then all movement ceased.

It took Christian a second to realize this was because Faye had pressed pause.

She flicked the light on.

“Well, one could call that a very successful interview. If one also wanted to call the voyage of the
Titanic
a lovely pleasure cruise. Can anyone tell me what Christian did wrong?”

Pez put up his hand. “Can I go to the bathroom?”

“Thank you for that valuable contribution,” Faye told him. “And no, you may not. Just because I feel like being unkind. Anybody else? Josh.”

“He menaced that poor woman with his vampire powers,” Josh said in a low voice.

“Exactly,” Faye said. “Exactly! He moved too fast and loomed over her, and she was scared and stumbled back, and he did it all on camera! Can you all tell me what he looked like?”

“A vampire,” Christian remarked drily.

“Exactly!” Faye said again. “That’s exactly my point.”

If Christian had still been human, he would’ve bitten his lip, but he’d learned the hard way that that was extremely painful as a vampire.

“Faye, I am a vampire.”

“That’s absolutely no excuse,” Faye said sharply.

Christian stared.

“You see, Christian, being a vampire in the context of a boy band is a lot like knocking boots.”

“What?”

Bradley, who had been lounging across three seats at once, leaned over and whispered helpfully, “She means making love, Chris.”

Christian transferred his horrified stare to Bradley.

“You guys are a boy band,” Faye said. “Your job is to make girls think about sex, dream about sex. Your clothes and attitudes are meant to suggest sex. Under no circumstances are you to be caught actually having sex with one of these deeply under-age fans. If possible, I would like no indication to appear that you ever really have sex at all.”

“By caught, do you mean there should be no visual evidence?” Bradley inquired. “Like photos or say, hypothetically speaking, videos released online involving whipped cream?”

Faye looked appalled.

“Whoops,” said Bradley. “Oh well.”

Faye visibly made the decision to ignore this. “Or the way Pez, who is doing an excellent job portraying the perfect stoner drummer, is not permitted to take real drugs. And he very seldom actually does so!”

They all turned and looked at Pez, sleepy-eyed under his crown of dreadlocks. He gave them all a double thumbs-up.

“I really don’t think resorting to snorting baking powder is helping him,” Christian said eventually.

Faye ignored that too. “And vampirism is like sex.”

“How?” Christian demanded. “How is it like . . . that . . . at all?”

“Little hints of vampirism are very alluring,” Faye said. “Subtle touches. But we don’t want them thinking of real vampirism, any more than we want them thinking of real sex. That stuff is scary. What we need is for the danger to seem perfectly safe.”

“That’s impossible,” Christian told her flatly.

Faye gave him a brilliant smile. “That’s showbiz.”

She pressed play again, so that on the screen Christian was looming, the reporter was shrinking back, and Bradley was interposing himself between them, talking lightly and easily, speaking lines that Faye had approved.

In the brightly lit tour bus, Faye uncrossed her legs and rose from her perch on the table, and began giving instructions.

Christian wasn’t sure which he found most depressing, Faye’s list of commands or Bradley’s earnest platitudes on the screen.

“This tour is going to be a journey. Journeys are all about discovery: we’ll learn things about each other, about the fans. About ourselves.” Bradley flashed his safely dangerous grin for the ladies. “We’ll be bonding closer than ever as a band. And who knows who we’ll meet along the way. . . .”