Chapter Twenty

The next night, Vaughn drove us to a performance at a seedy club just outside of Diablo called Alexa’s Bar.

Vaughn turned down a narrow two-lane highway until we reached the parking lot. We’d arrived early, but there were already a bunch of cars there.

I was wearing another one of my disguises, same black wig, different dressing like the drummer’s girlfriend outfit.

“This is where you’re performing?” I asked. The building looked like a strong gust of wind would knock it over, and the paint was faded and peeling.

There was a bouncer at the door. “Twenty bucks,” he said in a bored tone. He didn’t seem to know or care that we were underage.

“We’re with the band,” Vaughn said. The guy frowned, looking squinty-eyed at the both of us before waving us through.

The walls were wallpapered in red velvet, the carpet a faded red with unidentifiable stains. A scarred black bar ran along the end of one wall, and the place was ripe with perspiration and cheap beer.

There were a lot of people crammed into the small space. I recognized some of them as Bleeders.

The carpet felt tacky when we walked, and I was glad I’d decided against sandals and instead had paired low-top purple Converse with a black maxi dress. I looked like a crow in a sea of white doves, since there were a lot of Bleeders in their let’s get bloody white outfits.

“I don’t see Skyler,” I said fretfully. I thought I caught a glimpse of Bobbie Jean in the crowd, but she disappeared before I could talk to her.

I was running out of ideas. I’d thought that being face-to-face with Skyler would have given me the opportunity to break the hold Travis had on her. Or that our friendship would be some magical cure. But it wasn’t. Sometimes, friendship wasn’t enough to save someone.

Part of me wanted to give up on my best friend—just go home and leave her to her fate. But I could never do that—not to her or all the other victims here—so instead, I followed Vaughn backstage, into a teeny-tiny dressing room marked with his name.

“Don’t you have a show to get ready for?” I teased. “What’s your pre-show process? Meditation?”

“Kissing my girlfriend,” he said. There was barely enough room for the two of us, but he didn’t seem to mind as he pressed up against me and kissed me. “For luck,” he said.

When he released me, I noticed a package with a note on it on the only chair. “Looks like someone left you a present.”

Vaughn reached for it and read the note before opening it slowly. “The guys expect me to wear this tonight,” he said, unfolding a sleeveless black tee.

“It doesn’t seem so bad,” I said, but then I saw the lettering. I DO bite was written in block letters under the band’s name.

“Ugh,” I said. “Travis had to be the one who thought that one up.”

“They’ve been making noises about how I’m the only human in the band,” he said. “And how they should change that.”

I sucked in a breath. “It’s not safe for you to be alone with them.”

Vaughn shrugged off my concern. “Anything for Sky.” He stripped off the shirt he was wearing, and I zeroed in on his bare chest. Vaughn was so ripped. God, his body was a thing of beauty.

The door opened without warning, and Travis appeared. He put the STD in stupid, but he’d been paying attention lately. Too much attention.

“Am I interrupting something?” he asked with a sly grin that told me he’d hoped he was.

“Not at all,” I replied at the same time that Vaughn growled, “Yes.”

Travis inhaled deeply. “It smells good in here,” he said. “Like a strawberry milkshake.”

I flinched. Travis smiled at me, his fangs flashing.

“It’s probably my shampoo,” I said. “Lots of girls use strawberry shampoo.”

“Not like this,” Travis replied. “It’s like strawberries and vanilla and—” His long pause made me shift on my feet, but the next word made me freeze. “Magic.”

With that mic drop, he turned to Vaughn. “Get your ass moving. We have a show to do.”

After Travis left, I met Vaughn’s eyes. “I screwed up. I don’t think my perfume is working anymore.”

“You think our cover is blown?” he asked.

I nodded. “I’m afraid so.”

…

But everything seemed normal at the gig. I left Vaughn backstage and joined the audience.

Predictably, there were a bunch of females gathered around an empty stage. Most of them wore white. And they were whispering about me. The words were clear over the clank of the busboys clearing dishes, the server who was chewing gum, and the roadie unloading instruments onstage.

“What’s she doing here?” Natasha hissed as she stared right at me. I stared back.

She had her shiny black hair down but held away from her neck by two silver barrettes. Her outfit was the skimpiest I’d ever seen. Her white dress was basically two strips of cloth connected by a gold chain.

It wasn’t my business what she wore, but it made me queasy when I realized she was dressed that way in order to show off her bite marks.

I shot a look at Natasha. “I can hear you, you know.”

She smirked at me. “I know.” And then she flounced away.

“Natasha’s not happy with you,” Rose said. I hadn’t even noticed she was there. Spooky.

Bobbie Jean leaned in and spoke in my ear. “She and Thorn have been following you since you got here. Where’s Natasha?”

“Don’t know where the number one Bleeder is,” I said. “She’s probably doing something for The Drainers’ Instagram feed.”

“I’ll be right back,” Bobbie Jean said, and then I lost sight of her in the crowd. I had to admit I was happy that Rose and Thorn were here because the Bleeders surrounding me looked like they’d rip me limb from limb and smile while they did it. Jealousy, I guess, because I was dating a band member?

Or something else?

Bobbie Jean appeared a few minutes later.

“Where were you?” I asked.

“In the bathroom,” she replied. Something about the way she said it made me nervous.

“What were you doing in there?”

“The usual,” she drawled.

“I thought you were trying to give us the slip.” Stress was making me paranoid. Bobbie Jean had been completely forthcoming with me. Hadn’t she?

She shook her head. “I just really had to pee.”

I was sweating. The room was crowded, and as bodies pressed in, I felt light-headed.

“Why are you so consumed by that girl? Why do you want to help someone who doesn’t want your help?” Bobbie Jean’s voice was sharp.

“Because she’s my friend—my best friend,” I replied. “She needs my help whether she wants it or not. And maybe I can help some of the others, too.”

“You can’t save everyone, Tansy,” she said.

“I can try,” I replied.

The lights went off, and then a laser show started. The band took the stage to the roar of the crowd. Travis held up his hands, and two balls of vampire fire appeared to float in the air. As the crowd’s cheers grew louder, the flames went higher. Then he clenched his fists and the flames went out, and another kind of noise began when the band started to play.

I stood in the front, surrounded by girls in skimpy white outfits, and admired the way Vaughn’s arms flexed as he kept the beat.

After about an hour, the band took a break and disappeared into the back room.

“The new drummer’s hot,” one of the Bleeders said.

“He has a girlfriend,” I snapped.

“So?”

“So that girlfriend is me,” I said.

“Drummer’s off-limits. Got it,” she said quickly and dragged her friend to the other side of the stage.

The band came back onstage, and the screaming began again. And I wasn’t talking about from the audience. The definition of a cacophony was taking place in front of me, and people were convinced it was music.

I watched Vaughn; he looked like he was in pain, but I couldn’t really blame him.

Travis screamed into a microphone right next to him, so Vaughn was getting an earful of pitchy wailing.

“They sound worse than last time.” I spoke in Bobbie Jean’s ear, but the music was deafening, so I doubted she could hear me.

Thorn shoved her way next to me. “Maybe earplugs will help.” I handed a set to her. “He mesmerizes them with music,” I said. “Didn’t you know?”

She frowned but took the earplugs. I put my set in. Immune or not, I didn’t want to hear Travis making “music.”

After I rescued Skyler, maybe she could help me figure out a way to stop the band for good. I adjusted them in my ears to make sure they blocked out most of the sound.

I thought I caught a glimpse of Skyler right by the stage, but by the time I’d elbowed my way to the front, she was gone.

Travis almost dropped his guitar, which would have been a bonus, but he recovered quickly.

At every gig, I’d noticed the guys in the band—excluding Vaughn, of course—all picked out a few girls from the audience, and tonight was no exception. Gary scurried around to escort the twelve girls (blech, twelve girls for three guys) to the back.

The band left the stage, and I thought my ears might get a rest, but the girls in white started to clap and shout.

Please, no encore, I begged, but after a few minutes, Travis came back looking as engorged with blood as a summer tick. There was an encore. A long, loud, painful encore.

When it was finally over, I went to the bathroom and sprayed on a new cloud of scent-concealing perfume and took a few deep, cleansing breaths.

I headed to the VIP area, which was cordoned off by velvet ropes and guarded by a big guy with a judgy expression. The band was already lounging on some couches in the back. The bouncer stepped in front of me and tried to stop me from entering.

I heaved a long sigh. “I’m with the band,” I said.