If it were thirty years prior, and Zo was at a themed sorority mixer, this would all make so much more sense. And she’d actually enjoy it. Maybe even be the wildest one there. But this was so not her college years. Now, nearly everyone had tattoos, some even up their necks. And the choice of makeup was different—white cover up and exaggerated eyeliner.
Lying there in the middle of everyone, the smarting bump on her head slightly throbbing, Zo thought about tattoos. She concluded washable colored ink pens would work better ‘cause she could change the artwork to go with what she was wearing. It made total sense in her confused state.
The darkness in the dungeon, or wherever they’d dragged her to, mixed with the scent of cheap cologne, was pressing on her already aching head. She went to touch her nose, but found she was bound with duct tape on some sort of altar.
“Sheeero shee … Sheeero shee…” was being chanted in a low drone by the mega-fanged crowd swaying in unison.
One creepy-looking not-at-all handsome vampire was holding up a balloon that bobbled around as if filled with Jell-o. He lowered the balloon and held it out in the center of the group, where Zo lay. “Brethren, and sister-en, we come together tonight with a new sacrifice,” he said, moving a hand toward their captive, Zo. “May the new blood quench our thirst.”
The crowd began to take places around Zo. Lacey stood to her right, rolling her head around, showing her bite marks with pleasure, while holding hands with a guy whose obsession with zippers made Zo want to unzip them all in a fury.
The sacrifice interrupted the festivities: “I should warn you … my blood tastes like garlic. I bought some potato chips that were laced with the stuff. Maybe if we wait a couple days for my body to cleanse—”
“Silence!” the head vamp warned, then resumed his instructions. “As part of our tradition at our Midnight Feast and Dance, we each place the blood balloon under our chins, squeeze it firmly against our neck, like so, without touching it with our hands, and pass it from neck to neck, going counter-clockwise. When we have completed a full circle, I will burst it over the neck of the one who has been chosen, then we shall enjoy our feastly festivities.”
“I object!” Zo wriggled her wrists, trying to loosen herself from the binds that tied her. “I just had my hair done, and I really need to go. I have a daughter to go home to, and a date tomorrow … whether or not he is in denial of his feelings for me, or the rest of the female race. This is all just bad timing!”
Someone turned on heavy metal music and the proceedings began despite her plea. She watched in disgust as one person passed the balloon to the next, the recipient arching their neck, then squeezing the balloon to the point it would surely burst right there, all over their emo ensemble. But it didn’t. After Lacey finally had a turn, Zo decided to go right ahead with her warning from Dracula: “Your head Volturi Dracula told me to give you this message: You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into, waltzing around town, showing off your bite marks.”
Lacey put her face close to Zo’s with an arched eyebrow and curled lip, showing off a fake fang. “What would you know?”
“I know that what goes around comes back around with dents. Writing fake emails to the newspaper and dressing up like Isobel to frighten the town shows the desperate desires of a shallow girl. It’s not doing your reputation any favors.”
Lacey laughed. “That just shows how much you know.”
“Yeah, I know a lot. I know an attention-seeker when I see one. But these tricks are going to get you hurt. It’s serious now. This isn’t a message coming from just me—both Kellen and Drac told me to pass it to you.”
The vampire cultist placed a hand to her ear and said, “What? I don’t speak ‘old lady.’”
That infuriated Zo. She imagined gripping her hands around the girl’s holey little neck. Unfortunately, the duct tape wouldn’t allow that fantasy to come true.
Then the balloon burst, and Zo’s neck was doused in the red stuff. She was rushed by the circle of vampires and they began licking, not biting, at it.
“Ewwwww!” Zo cried out.
Some onlookers cheered over the spectacle.
The music’s tempo changed and the dance began. Drinks came out on trays served by maids with white aprons, in short skirts with black stockings. One of them came over to Zo, asking, “Would you like a cherry 7-Up, you being a pure, although not virgin, sacrifice and all?”
“How do I drink it?” Zo was thinking, Duh!
“I can get a bendy straw for you.” She smiled a cute wide smile with extra pointy cuspids that hung over her bottom lip.
Before things went any further, a couple cops burst through a door from some alley. With guns drawn, they yelled, “Hands up!”
“Finally!” Zo said to herself in relief. She could hardly wait to be rescued from this surreal dream.
Somebody yelled, “The cops!”
Batman theme music suddenly played over the speakers and the two officers put in their fangy teeth and started to dance, peace-sign fingers being drawn horizontally across the eyes. They were doing the Batusi.
Oh, crappers! It just got worse. This was the first time Zo didn’t feel at least somewhat in control. A clown vampire walked past her and honked his rubber-bulbed horn at her. Where’s my gun when I need it?
The door opened again and another officer, older, paunchy, walked through. “Okay, Bob? Marv?” he called out. “We have a kidnapping and injury this time.”
The dancing policemen stopped, pulled out their teeth, and put them in their shirt pockets.
“Okay, okay. You know the drill. Load up into the riot wagons parked outside.”
It turned out to be two yellow school buses. Zo was untaped and rode with the captain to the police station.
*
“It was just strawberry syrup!” Lacey cried.
Zo and Claire stood in a hall at the police station, watching the girl’s interrogation through the room’s window.
“She is in deep doo-doo,” Zo said with a satisfied smile. “An arrest and jail time should teach her a lesson. It will be good for her. Plus, we’ve done our job of keeping her safe in the meantime.”
Claire nodded in agreement. “How dare she and her henchman come kidnap you. Thankfully, I have perfect vision and a great memory, so I could call the cops with the plate number.”
As they stood there, waiting for it all to play out perfectly, smiles faded. Lacey’s eyes were so pleading; she sniffled with a tissue permanently in her hand, making gestures like she was innocent … and the big lug of a cop actually went over to give her a tender hug of consoling.
“This is so not right.” Claire put a finger up in retort. “How can this be happening?”
Zo blew out in exasperation. “Small town cops. Everybody knows everybody, and it looks like this particular cop would rather play daddy to her.”
Claire went up to the glass and knocked tersely. The cop glanced over his shoulder, still holding Lacey, as a finger waved at him in heated disapproval. All that came in response was a half-hearted shrug of “oh well” from him.
The cherry on top was when Lacey finally came out of the room, continuing to sniffle on his shoulder, until she could pass a private little smile to the duo, rubbing her release in their faces.
When Zo and Claire were alone, Zo asked, “Is it evil of me to not care if a mob of townspeople tar and feather her, after all?”
“What do you say we go back to the castle and pretend this whole fiasco never happened? We have three more days left to what is supposed to be our ‘vacation,’ and then we can run out of here. Since you can’t identify the masked person who hit you with a stainless steel frying pan, and the car turned out to be stolen from a used car lot…”
“It would be nice to leave tomorrow.”
“It would,” Claire agreed, wrapping her arm around her mother’s and strolling down the hall, back to the lobby. “Only, Jim would be so disappointed if his fun was over. And you have an appointment with a handsome dance teacher.”
“You’re right.” Zo slipped through the front door Claire had opened for her, into the chilly night again. “How about we find a hair salon and masseuse tomorrow and totally pamper ourselves? I don’t think I got all the strawberry syrup out of my hair in the bathroom sink.”
“Sounds great.” Claire again linked her arm around her mom’s and they walked toward Claire’s VW outside the police station with tired expressions.
“Zoey!” a man called from a few cars over. It was Kellen, picking up his niece.
“Oh, Kellen!” Zo waved, her fleeting excitement squashed by the remembrance of her flat, wet hair, and the fact that he was blood-related to a demon child.
“I’ll see you tomorrow still?”
“Of course.”