Vamped (13 page)

16

T
he next night, the house was in an uproar. None of us belowstairs knew what was happening, not at first, but shortly after sunset the doorbell rang, and a few minutes later came the cry of a scorned woman. Then there was a lot of running to and fro, and some slamming of doors. Neither Alpha nor Beta teams were called out.

After the events of the past few nights, the mood in the dorm was tense. Some kids played cards, others talked or tried to read the spotty magazines, but deep down everyone listened.

A couple of underclass girls approached me, kind of shyly, as if they might scatter if I said “boo.” The shorter of the two spoke when I looked up, after taking in a gasp of air. “Uh, hey. Um, Marcy had said she’d braid our hair tonight and her being, um, away, we were wondering if maybe you—”

I grabbed onto her like a lifeline and she nearly jumped out of her skin. “Well, thank God. I’m going so nuts wondering what’s going on up there that I was about to do something
crazy
. Sit.”

I pulled the thin foam pillow off my bed and threw it to the floor so she could sit in comfort. A tremulous smile formed on her face. “I’m Katie, and this is Di.”

“Hi. Gina, but I guess you’ve heard.”

“Yeah, kinda,” she admitted. “Did you really sleep with the entire football team?”

I was going to
kill
Tina Carstairs … with metal, so she’d heal and I could kill her again. “You’ve got me confused with someone else,” I said sweetly.

“Oh.” She blushed. “Sorry.”

“Sit,” I ordered.

Her friend Di produced a brush, and I might have been a little—vigorous—at first with the strokes, but after a while it was kind of soothing to work on her hair. It was thick and a really pretty shade of chestnut that went with her brown eyes. The freckles … well, concealer could take care of those, maybe take her from cute to junior-league hottie, especially with some sun-kissed copper on her lips and cheeks, maybe some highlights. On the other hand, the freckles kind of worked for her. “What do you want?” I asked. “French braid? Inverted braid? Weave?”

“Um, whatever?”

And she’d
definitely
have to lose the “um.”

I gave her a double braid into a classic bun. Made Katie look like a prima ballerina. It wouldn’t have been my thing, but it made her look dainty and polished rather than just cute, which everyone knew was a four-letter word meaning “let’s be friends.”

Di was next, but she had kind of sharp features and a braid would totally be too severe. She’d look like the kind of librarian you just didn’t cross.

“What about a cut?” I asked.

Di shifted from foot to foot. “Like what?”

“I’m thinking bangs. You’ve got such a high forehead, some bangs would totally soften you up.”

“Um … ”

I looked her in the eyes. “You going to wear the same hair for all eternity?”

She scrunched her face at me, but plopped down on the pillow her friend had vacated.

“Anyone got scissors?” I yelled out.

I looked up and found we’d gathered a mini-audience of girls forming a rough line-up where Di had been standing.

“Cuticle,” offered one of the girls.

“Anything else?” I asked hopefully.

Everyone looked to everyone else, but there wasn’t a set of shears to be found.

“Cuticle it is then,” I said, thanking the girl who offered them.

It wasn’t easy, and I practically had to go strand by strand, but eventually, Di had fairly credible-looking bangs. I fluffed them a little around her face, pushing the bulk of them off to the right in a flirty asymmetrical look, and changed the center part of her hair to do the same. She looked like a whole ’nother person.

“Tomorrow, makeup,” I said, brooking no argument.

She nodded and practically bounced off to get second and third opinions, since mirrors were totally useless.

“Me next?” asked a girl with a really heinous page boy cut. Even Catherine Zeta Jones had a tough time pulling that one off in
Chicago
. Page boys should have been outlawed ages ago, along with beehives, mullets, and fauxhawks—that cut for guys who weren’t edgy enough to commit to the full mohawk, which unless you were punk was another iffy look in my book.

“You trust me?” I asked.

She turned on the pillow to study me. “Maybe?”

“Close enough,” I said. “Turn.”

And before she could think twice, I started clipping. “Flinch and I’m likely to nick an ear,” I told her. Not that it was the kind of threat it could have been, if she’d still been human with only natural healing abilities.

I gave her a really modern, spiky pixie cut. She looked totally mod now, like she could go out and start her own band.

I smiled, almost able to forget where I was and why. Gina Covello, beautifying the world one girl at a time.

Then those double doors opened again—trouble every time. This time Bobby stood there, flanked by nearly Mellisande’s entire entourage.

“You’ve got two minutes,” she told him.

I rose and stepped over the girl who’d dropped to take the pixie’s place.

“Gina,” he breathed, meeting me halfway but holding me only by my hands so that he could see my face, like he was trying to memorize it. “I have to go. They’re sending me”—he looked back over his shoulder toward the dragon lady, and not with longing—“somewhere, for a while. I wouldn’t leave without saying good-bye.”

The council
. I was sure of it. Melli-noma was handing him over. But why? If she was plotting something, as everything here seemed to indicate, wouldn’t she want him with her rather than against her?

“When will you be back?” I asked.

He pulled me to him then and held me. I breathed in that musky scent that was him and gripped him tightly. “I don’t know.”
But I’ll try to get you word,
he said in my head.
I’m not sure how far my power will extend.

I tried not to react, but it stunned me senseless. I wondered how long
that
power had been developing. With Connor thinking hot toddies at me and the freakshow psychic crawling like critters through my mind, I might as well hang out a “For Rent” sign and get something out of the whole deal.

Knock first next time
, I thought back at him, not certain I wanted him to hear. The one-way ticket was one thing, but I wasn’t actually sure how I felt about a boyfriend who could read my mind. My mouth alone got me into enough trouble.

He kissed me then and it was practically one of the great screen kisses of all time … like MJ and Spiderman, only right side up. Bobby would love that thought, and I kinda had to wonder if it was for certain my own because I wasn’t usually big with the superhero references. Though, in my defense, Tobey Maguire did have totally hot blue eyes. But I wasn’t really thinking of Tobey Maguire then … or, not much anyway. Bobby was nipping at my lower lip, nuzzling my nose with his, his hands practically like claws down my back. I could totally remember exactly how I’d gotten into trouble with him at the after-prom party. The boy was hot!

“That’s enough,” the dragon lady cut in, sounding really peeved. “You’ve said your good-bye.”

Only Bobby didn’t pay her any attention. She snapped, and I felt him stiffen all over. Slowly, unwillingly, he left me to go to her.

Larry and Hawkman each took an arm before Bobby could buck her control.

Having been shanghaied the second I got back from rescuing Marcy to play the target in Melli-noma’s sadistic games, I hadn’t had the chance to report anything at all to Connor. I could only hope he sought me out tonight, because I wanted some answers myself. This had all gone too far. Kids dying to become Melli’s Merry Minions was bad enough. Kids like Marcy permanently disappearing—in theory if not in actuality—was another thing altogether. The dragon lady had given me way too many reasons not to trust her. She was playing a dangerous game with this mysterious council—keeping secrets, building an army, stockpiling weapons. I didn’t want my friends to be cannon fodder in whatever war was brewing, and I was not excited about my boyfriend being on the front lines.

The line-up for my amateur beautician services still hung uncertainly around my cot, but I’d lost focus. When Connor called me out, like, an
hour
later, my nerves were totally shot. I was starting to seriously consider nailbiting as a hobby.

“What did you learn?” he asked right away, as soon as he had me in the dungeon area where Bobby and I had necked just a few nights before.

I hit him. I don’t know who was more surprised, him or me. It was only a blow to the arm, but still …

“How could you let her send Bobby away?” I asked, not at all liking the needy quality of my voice.

He narrowed his eyes at me. “It’s all part of the plan. Don’t worry, he won’t be there long.”

“What does that mean?” I asked, liking the belligerent note a lot better.

“It means that Bobby’s presence with the council will open doors.”
Just like in the prophecy
, I thought. “That’s all I will say on the matter. Now—”

“And all that running around we heard earlier tonight— what was that about?”

He snarled. “Tell me—” I could feel him try to compel me, but it was like a gentle wave compared to Bobby’s tsunami of power.

I waited for him to remember. “No,” I said.

“Fine,” he spat. “We received a
gift
from the council that convinced us to move up our timetable.”

“What?” I asked, not at all liking the freaky emphasis on
gift
.

His eyes gleamed with sadistic glee. “Someone I think you might know—part of her, anyway. She’d been scalped.”

“Marcy?” I asked in horror.

Rick had said the council was watching. They must have seen Melli’s goons take Marcy and been waiting with open arms when she escaped the psycho-psychic. I’d only managed to send her from the frying pan into the fire. My knees nearly buckled, but then I realized … as a vampire, she could probably totally heal from a scalping, although it was, like, a fate worse than death; Marcy would be devastated. She also, either from torture or compulsion, would have told them everything they wanted to know about smelly Melli’s setup, which had to be the message the council was sending with her scalp.

“It was a summons. Mellisande
will
appear to swear fealty to the council and bind her and hers to the council or she will be crushed.”

“But just swearing—”

“It is not so simple as that. The ritual is binding. Now—”
Like a bird of prey, he swooped in to grab my arms, hard enough to bruise.
“Tell. Me.”
There was no power behind it this time, just a clear physical threat. I wasn’t afraid, but I
was
finished with him.

“Bobby is what matters, okay? He’s, like, some kind of key.”
And I’m chaos
, I thought,
hear me roar
. “You said he’d open doors. Well, the psychic said the same.”

“So, Mellisande will prevail?” he asked.

I shrugged. “He didn’t say so specifically. Just something about the boy who debates holding the universe in his hands, unlocking doors and causing change.”