Immortals And Melodies (Blood And Guitars #2) (2 page)

“You’re bleeding,” Aurora said as she helped me to the couch. I lay down while she studied the left side of my forehead. “I never should have left you alone.” I opened my mouth to respond, but she was gone already, disappearing into the kitchen and returning only seconds later with a wet rag. “Where else does it hurt?” she asked, brushing my hair to the side and pressing the cloth to my head to stop the bleeding.

“I’m fine.” My answer probably would have been more convincing if I hadn’t winced. She used her free hand to pull out her phone. “Who are you calling?” I asked. “Please tell me it’s not 911.”

“Better,” she responded, pressing the phone to her ear. I had no idea what she meant by that, but I closed my eyes and willed the shooting pain in my head to ebb away. “Mark,” Aurora said into her phone. “Hey, I need your expertise.” I opened my eyes again to stare up at her blurry image in disbelief. Had she seriously called the vampire doctor?

“What are you doing?” I asked her. She ignored me and talked into the phone instead.

“I know you’re out of town. I just need to know what to do for a head wound.” She explained to the vampire doctor that I’d been attacked, which was pretty much humiliating, and that I’d taken a bad blow to the head in the process. “How’s your vision?” she asked me.

“Fine,” I said.

Aurora pointed at herself and whispered, “Walking lie-detector, remember?”

I sighed and relaxed into the couch again, knowing I was fighting a losing battle. She and Mark talked for a few minutes about me like I wasn’t there, and then she hung up the phone. She removed the rag from my head to examine the wound more closely. “This doesn’t look like it will need stitches. That’s the good news.”

“And the bad news?” I asked.

“You might have a concussion. Mark thinks it’s safe for you to sleep, though. I can slip into your mind on and off and make sure you’re okay. I don’t think pulling an all-nighter would be such a good idea. You have rehearsal with the guys tomorrow and you’re supposed to be interviewing for a new manager,” she said, putting the cool wet rag on my head again.

“All this fighting off vampires and talk of me being human is making me hungry for a snack.”

Aurora grinned and said, “At least you’re acting like yourself. I’ll grab you something.” She went into the kitchen, and I heard the microwave ding a few minutes later. She returned with a bowl of popcorn, which she set on the coffee table next to the couch. I didn’t waste time digging in. We ate dinner at the studio, but that had been hours ago. Aurora found the remote for the fireplace and turned it on. Flames grew out of nowhere and danced behind the glass. Then, she got comfortable next to me and watched me eat with mild interest.

“I don’t think I could sleep anytime soon, if I tried,” I said. “I’ll sleep later when you’re convinced I’m not going to wind up in a coma. For now, why don’t you take my mind off this headache, and tell me about the Synod.”

“That won’t do much for your headache,” she said.

“Who are they?”

“They are some of the oldest of our kind.”

“How old?”

“Centuries.” Aurora sighed. “I couldn’t even tell you for sure. I do know that they are about as powerful as they come, and you only get that way with age.”

“How many are there?”

“Three in Florida. There are a few assigned in each state to minimize the chaos that comes with the lifestyle.”

“So, collectively, they’re in charge?”

She nodded. “They don’t meet as a whole. Not really. I don’t think that’s happened for several centuries. There hasn’t been a need, I guess.”

I took a minute to process what she was saying. There was actually an entire subculture of vampires that existed right under our noses, right down to a government of sorts. “How … how many of you are there in Florida?”

“Last I heard … about eight hundred.” My face must have shown my shock, because Aurora smiled and added, “That isn’t that many when you consider there are eighteen
million
of your kind in Florida.”

“Touché.”

“Besides, we’re spread out. There aren’t quite two hundred of us in the Tampa Bay area.”

I crunched a popcorn kernel and swallowed. “Do you know all of them? Around here, I mean.”

“Most.” Aurora leaned forward and grabbed a handful of popcorn, popping one into her mouth. “We know each other, but not necessarily well.”

“So, you’re closest to the others that Antonio made, then?”

Aurora frowned. “Mostly just Mark.” There was a hint of sadness in her eyes, but she covered it quickly, forcing a smile for me. “There is another woman in our Brood, but we’re not close.”

“Her loss.” I grinned at her.

She shrugged. “We don’t have anything in common, and I’ve never been that social anyway. That’s only changed recently because of you.”

“Me?” It was hard to imagine that I was capable of changing anything about Aurora.

“Other than drinks with Mark and work, I didn’t used to have much of a life. Your life, your friends … you just sort of sucked me right in.” She grabbed the blanket off the recliner and lay down on the couch next to me. I wrapped my arm around her and pulled her against me, kissing the top of her head. “I’m sorry about tonight,” she said, her voice suddenly somber.

“Don’t be sorry. There’s no way we could have known this would happen just because we separated for thirty minutes.”

“I should have known,” she said. “My kind are capable of horrific things. It’s just that most of us haven’t forgotten our humanity entirely.”

“I’m still alive, aren’t I? It’s going to take more than one pushy vampire to take me out.” I smiled, knowing how utterly stupid that sounded as I lay on the couch bleeding. “Plus, we’re one night closer to the full moon.”

Chapter 3

Trey

I WANTED TO BANG my head against the wall. Okay, so I’d only just recovered from my last run in with a wall, but seriously, the way my day was going made facing down a vampire seem tolerable. I was forced to come up with a lame cover story for the guys about the gash on my head. Aurora had managed to heal it a little, and I was able to pass it off as a clumsy mishap. The guys bought it without too many questions. The band spent the first half of the day rehearsing at
Karatz
’ place, and then we’d been interviewing managers at my place all afternoon. To say that Wes is irreplaceable is the understatement of the century, but with a new record coming out and a tour looming in the near future we needed someone to have our backs. The guys and I had met with four potential managers in the last three hours.

The first had been a middle-aged woman who kept calling me ‘Sonny’ and actually pinched my cheek once. I’m still not sure if she even realized we weren’t a barbershop quartet looking for representation. Needless to say, she wasn’t going to work out. The next two guys were all right, but none of us were convinced they could actually handle the whirlwind that was about to hit with our album launch. They just didn’t have enough experience to cut it. The fourth was a girl in her twenties who flirted with me the entire time. She went on and on about how she’d always loved music, especially our music, and how she thought she understood us better than anyone else in the whole world. The only thing that kept me sane was the knowledge that Aurora was in the living room listening in on my mental griping, probably from the floor where she was, no doubt, rolling around in silent fits of laughter. Just when the guys and I had decided it was a hopeless cause, the last guy showed up and pleasantly surprised us.

He came by his tan naturally, but I couldn’t place his ethnicity. He was wearing a black pair of
Dickies
, a white button-up shirt with short sleeves, and a red and black checkered tie. His black hair was cropped short, doing nothing to help the fact that he was only about five foot six. He might have been a couple of years older than me, but no more than that.

“Hey, I’m Neon,” he said with a grin as he shook our hands, calling us each by name. We all sat around the dining room table and he casually slid his resume into the center of it. O’Shea picked it up and started browsing.

“Seems you’ve worked with a few bands and producers we know,” said O’Shea with an impressed nod.

“I’m a lucky guy,” Neon said simply.

“Okay, I’ll take the bait. Why should we hire you?” I said.

“I’ve been working in the industry since I was fifteen. I got my start in radio and then transitioned into management when I discovered a new band five years ago. I’ve been managing ever since.”

“These are some impressive references,” O’Shea added. “Are you prepared to take on a band like us full-time?”

“I’m looking for a band I can fight for,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “Music is something I’m passionate about and you guys make the kind of music I can get behind. I’m a pretty laid back guy, but I take my work seriously. I love a good challenge, and I want to work with artists who break boundaries and aren’t afraid to be different. From everything I know about Catalyst, I think we’d be a good fit.”

“How familiar are you with our music?” Chase asked.

“I’ve been keeping an eye on you since I saw you at Warped Tour with your first record.” Neon chuckled and said, “Back then you were fresh faced kids who had something to prove. Something tells me that part hasn’t changed.”

“Our new record is finished,” I added. “We’ve already got a string of cities lined up for the next tour. We need someone who can jump in the middle here and get things done.”

Neon’s face grew serious for the first time since he’d walked into the room. He sat up in his chair and leaned forward, arms on the table. “I know Wes left some big shoes to fill,” he began, earning surprised looks from all of us. “I met Wes on more than one occasion and I have a lot of respect for him, but I’m not here to try and be him. You guys have been through the ringer lately, and it says a lot that you’re still moving forward. I
can
tell you that I’m as loyal as a person can get, and I believe in what you guys are doing with your music.” He sounded sincere, and that was refreshing considering the other applicants we’d interviewed. “Feel free to call those references,” Neon added. “My information is there as well. Call me after you have time to talk it over as a group and let me know what you decide.” He stood up then and held out his hand to me. I shook it, surprised that he’d ended the interview himself. After saying goodbye, Neon let himself out the front door. We stood around in shocked silence for half a second before my head cleared.

“Who are we kidding, guys?” I said. “We need that man on our team.” I exchanged brief glances with my brothers and, in silent agreement, we all rushed the door. I heard Aurora’s musical laughter as she watched us scrambling. “Neon!” I called once we had all crammed through the doorway. Neon was about to climb into his car, but he paused and spun around at hearing his name. “When can you start?” I asked.

Neon smiled, shaking his head. He closed the car door and walked toward us again. “Is five minutes ago too soon?”

It was like having a fifty pound weight lifted off my chest. Nobody could ever replace Wes, but I did believe this guy could fit in and get the job done.

“Neon isn’t your real name, is it?” Chase asked as we welcomed him back inside.

“Actually, it is,” he said with a chuckle. “My mom loved the eighties, and I’ll just leave it at that. Now, are you going to play this new record for me or what?”

Before Neon and the guys left my place two hours later, he had listened to the entire new album, we’d pitched him our video treatment for “You Only Live Twice”, and he was set on finding a director in the next twenty-four hours. The guy was motivated. I had to give him that. The label was releasing the single to radio stations in a week. We had a lot to do before then, including a photo shoot and a slew of interviews.