We wander through the neighborhood, searching for the right street. The cool thing about being this far from the center of the city is that in place of massive apartment towers are actual houses. Sure, they're on shaky foundations and they're just one storm away from being knocked over, but they're houses nonetheless.
"Here it is," Vivi says.
The house we're in front of has more lights on inside than any other on the block, which isn't saying much. Music is spilling into the street. Through the windows, I see the shadowy silhouettes of guys and girls having a great time. At the door, a large bouncer, six and a half feet tall and built like a train, holds out his hand to stop our progress. He has several crucifixes dangling from chains around his neck, despite the fact that they were proven to be ineffective against vampires long ago. I've even seen vampires wearing them.
"Fang check," he says, and Vivi shoots him a wide grin. He lifts up her lip, examines her teeth, then waves her in.
Fang check," he says to me, and I endure the same process, his burly fingers rough against my mouth. "Have fun, ladies."
It's a silly ritual. Vampires can keep their fangs retracted, and when they do, they look just like us. But I guess whatever makes people feel safe…
Inside the music is deafening. Five guys and a girl are on a makeshift stage set up in the huge living room. Drums. Bass. Guitar. Synthesizer. Mic. They've got everything. The boys are attacking the instruments like their lives depend on it, but it's the girl who catches my eye. She's my age, but she has utterly mesmerizing tattoos covering one arm. She's singing with one of the guys, but it's her voice that comes through. It's grungy, like she's been smoking since she was born. Her hair is butchered, cut just above her chin.
That's who I want to be. I want to be her. I want to be able to do anything I want, instead of what I'm forced to do. I don't want to have to wear particular clothes or keep my hair a certain length because the Lord Vampire insists. I want to have no responsibilities. No worries.
Vivi grabs my arm and pulls me through the crowd. In the kitchen an older guy is handing out beer in small cups. It doesn't taste very good, but still I chug it, then grab another and drink it as well. I want a buzz, anything to keep me from thinking about the dangers I'll face tomorrow night. No one here cares that we're only seventeen. It's one of the reasons that Vivi chose this party. The other is that no one knows us. For someone like me, anonymity is rare.
"Where are you two from?" a guy asks us. He's tall, with shaggy blond hair. Based on the smile Vivi is flashing at him, I can tell she thinks he's cute, but he's not really my type.
Downtown," she says, referring to the center of the city. The very safe, recently rebuilt center.
He laughs. "A couple of good girls, huh?"
"Not all good." She winks; he grins.
"You ever been this close to the wall?"
"No, and we're so scared," Vivi says, holding on to me and faking a shiver.
"Don't worry, I'll protect you." He pulls his right pants leg up to reveal a wooden stake strapped to his calf.
Vivi looks like she's impressed, but she's carrying one as well. And, like me, she knows how to use it. Neither of us believes in relying on someone else for protection.
The guy looks at me, gives a little jerky nod. "Cool ink."
"Thanks." I know he's referring to the crucifixes tattooed on my neck. One on each side, right where a vampire's fangs would go. My brother had a pair as well. Not that they did him any good. I tell myself that now isn't the time to be thinking about it. The nightmares devour my sleep; I can't let them consume my waking moments, too.
The guy signals the one pouring the drinks to get two more.
"Some of the premium stuff," he says, handing each of us a cup. "It might sit better with you. After all, you're probably used to fine downtown drinks. Not that other garbage."
We take them. Vivi, as if she has something to prove, swallows it in one gulp. "Awesome stuff. I could use another."
"Sure thing," he says, before stopping and staring at me, my drink still in hand, untouched. "Hey, you look familiar."
My heart jumps, slams against my ribs. I'm going to be in big trouble if he recognizes me. My face has been plastered all over the news and newspapers lately. Luckily, it's an official delegate photo—partial profile, hair up, makeup designed to make me look older, a blouse with a high collar covering my tattoos, and a dark jacket. "Just one of those faces, I guess."
I think Vivi picks up on my nervousness, because she starts pushing me toward the door. "Maybe we'll see you on the dance floor," she says to Shaggy Guy.
She grabs my arm and drags me out of the kitchen before I even have a chance to drink the premium stuff, and I toss my still-full cup into an open trash can. Dancing is hard enough for me, but drinking while rocking to the beat—forget it.
"Don't worry. No one is going to figure out who you are," she whispers near my ear.
"I hope you're right."
"I'm always right."
In the living room, she pulls me toward the dance floor, already swaying her hips, getting into the rhythm. Then she grins broadly as two guys approach. It's just that easy for her. The little game is played, each one jockeying for position, deciding whether they want her or me.
Vivi whispers into their ears and then cuts to the chase, yelling to me over the music, "This is Chris"—she points to a guy with flaming red hair and a solar system of freckles covering his face—"and Marc." His black hair falls across his brow, nearly hiding his eyes. "Pick one."
Like they're door prizes.
After downing the beer so fast, I feel as though everything is moving slowly. I don't want to make any decisions. Tonight was supposed to be decision-free. Turns out it is. Before I can answer, Vivi takes off with Chris, and Marc grabs my hand and pulls me deeper into the crowd. Then he releases his hold and starts gyrating. I tell myself that I need this. Some fun, a little craziness. Everyone is looking for a good time, because nothing is simple anymore. Maybe it never was.
The music thumps, changes tunes, and we're just dancing. I move my head from side to side, letting my long hair whip back and forth. I forget about my responsibilities. Forget about what awaits me tomorrow night. Forget everything except the rhythm of the beat.
One song shifts into another. I get lost in the moment and, in the process, lose sight of Vivi. It doesn't worry me until I realize several songs have passed since I saw her. My body is damp from dancing, the crowd is suffocating me, and suddenly I feel like there's no escape from this wall of bodies. I need some air. I need some space. I need Vivi.
"I'll be right back," I shout into Marc's ear. But he doesn't care. He just turns and starts dancing with someone else.
Wading through the forest of dancers, I circle the room. Vivi's nowhere to be seen. I go back to the kitchen. She's not at the beer counter, and neither are the two guys who were talking with us earlier. My instincts warn me that something's not right, and I always listen to those.
I move back into the living room and hear a commotion on the stairs leading to the next floor. Quickly I start up them, pushing past a couple caught in a lip-lock. Vivi's gold-glittered boots become visible. I see her struggling to climb up the steps. She's being helped by the guy with blond, shaggy hair. The one who gave us "special drinks." The pieces fall into place when Vivi starts laughing maniacally and has trouble standing. Her top-quality beer was laced with something designed to make her more … agreeable. Not all the monsters have fangs.
The guy keeps pulling her up, whispering into her ear, and rage fills me. I storm up the steps and push him as hard as I can.
He crashes to the floor. "Hey, bitch!"
He pops back to his feet, trying to stare me down, but I'm not in the mood to be intimidated. Vivi wraps her arm around the banister, using it as a crutch to remain standing. "Dawn?" My name gets tangled on her tongue. "I was … to play a game with … um… What's your name?"
She looks disoriented, eyes glazed over, her head wobbling like it's too big for her neck.
"Come on, Vivi, we're going." I wrap my hand around her arm. The guy reaches for his stake, but I'm faster. Mine is out, the tip pressed against his chest before he even touches his.
"These work equally well on people," I say.
His eyes widen. He raises his hands, backs up.
"I know who you are now," he says, his voice laced with disgust. "Dawn Montgomery. The city's new delegate."
"So you also know that I can have the Agency here in five minutes and you're busted. But all I want is to leave with my friend."
"Sure. Go ahead. Just don't come back."
"Why would I want to?"
Quickly pulling Vivi to her feet, I put her arm around my shoulders and hold her by the waist. I carefully guide her down the stairs. I give Shaggy Guy one final glance and see the anger in his eyes, but know that it can't possibly match mine. "Bastard!" I throw back at him.
"Was that his name?" Vivi murmurs.
"Yeah." I shoulder our way through the moshing crowd. It's a struggle to keep us on our feet. Vivi's dragging me down.
"You can't sleep yet," I tell her.
I take Vivi outside, hoping some fresh air will clear her head.
"Is she all right?" the doorman asks, before fang-checking another partygoer.
"I don't know," I say.
"Well, don't bring her back in. The last thing we need is a girl ODing on the dance floor."
"Someone spiked her drink!"
"Whatever…"
That's the thing about people in this city: No one cares. Was it always this way? If so, what were we fighting for during the war?
"Are we going home already?" Vivi asks.
"Yeah, just hold on."
As we stumble past a crowd of people heading toward the door, the wind blows across our damp bodies, cooling us. The air is dirty out here, but at least there's plenty of it to breathe in. Holding Vivi close, I walk down the cracked sidewalk until the party is just a whisper, then a murmur, then nothing at all. I turn around and can't even see the lights. When I was inside, I thought the whole city could hear that music. But no, it barely reaches a single block.
I lower Vivi to a bench alongside the trolley tracks and drop down next to her. She presses her head against my shoulder.
"I don't feel so good," she mutters.
"Just hold on until we get to my place and you can sleep it off." Or maybe I should take her to the hospital. She's breathing, but so listless that I'm getting more worried. I shove my stake back into my boot and pull out my phone to call Michael. Or even Rachel. But there's no signal.
Dammit. With only one tower, service is sporadic, even more so this far from the city's center. I think about walking a short distance away to try to find a signal, but I don't want to leave Vivi by herself. The trolley should be here soon. It can get us downtown, and from there we can catch another one to the emergency clinic.
The streetlight above me flickers, and I pray it doesn't go out. I'm beginning to realize how alone we are out here. Not a single soul around, every shop closed or abandoned. The few row houses surrounding us are blacked out, the families either asleep or not even in.
I stifle a yawn. All I want is to lie down on the bench and go to sleep. Drinking two beers so fast was a bad idea. Coming out to this part of town with Vivi was an even worse idea. What were we thinking? That we'd stay at the party until sunrise? That we wouldn't be caught out on the streets alone at night when the monsters come out to play?
The hairs on the back of my neck rise and I twist around, reaching down for my stake, but no one's there. No one could be; it's just a wall with a tattered Agency poster begging for blood donations covered in graffiti: Suck on this! and No more blood! and Stakes, not blood! Fangs have been drawn on the calm woman's soft smile, and a crude imitation of a stake is piercing her chest. Not everyone appreciates what the Agency is doing. Looking around this run-down part of town, I guess I can't blame them.
Ding, ding, ding.
I turn back gratefully as the trolley rides up to us. When I put Vivi's arm around my shoulders and lift her, she makes a barely audible protest. The trolley glides to a stop. I drag her to the rear door and struggle to get her on board. Once inside I shove her into the corner seat. The trolley starts moving forward with a jerk. I lose my balance, toppling beside her.
Straightening, I glance around. The conductor doesn't look back at us, just stares ahead at the tracks like they might suddenly make a break for it and he'll have to catch them. Three other guys sit in the trolley, with their heads bent forward, obviously asleep. Probably tramps hoping to ride the entire line before getting kicked off. It's safer to sleep on the trolley than on the street.
We pass through an area with all the lights turned off, and, with the clouds hiding the moon, it's like we're going through a tunnel.
When we emerge into a better-lit district, one of the men seems closer to me. Surely it's just my imagination. Or maybe my perception is skewed since I had the beer. The entire car seems smaller.
Pulling up the collar on my jacket, I slump further down on the seat. I nudge Vivi. Her eyes are closed; her head has listed to one side. She looks like a rag doll, totally relaxed. Too relaxed.
I nudge her again. "Vivi?"
She doesn't react. I'm trying not to panic. Hopefully I can get a signal now. I reach into my pocket for my cell phone just as we pass between two tall warehouses, the passage so narrow it seems like it was once a single building, but the track was laid down and sliced it in two. The only light comes from a series of bulbs on a single line, crisscrossing from one wall to the next like festival lights put up at the last minute.
We slow down. I remember there's a sharp turn at the end of this. The conductor must be preparing for it.
But then we stop.
The three men snap their heads up at once, instantly alert, twist around, and stare straight at me. I start to shout at the conductor to get us moving again, but as I watch, his head slowly turns until I think it's going to do a full one-eighty. As if on cue, they all smile. Their huge fangs glisten with saliva.