Bad Blood (17 page)

Half of me wants to deny it, but instead I nod miserably.

“It’s okay,” he says, giving me a quirked smile. “Really.”

Argh! Why does he have to be so sweet about everything? It only makes it harder. I’d rather he were some lusty horn dog who only wants to jump me and then never call the next day. But instead, he’s classy. A perfect gentleman. Just the kind of guy I always imagined myself with. The kind of guy I thought Magnus was when we first started dating.

“Thanks,” I say, dropping my gaze to my feet, where I don’t have to contend with his unfairly alluring eyes. “It’s complicated.” If only I could explain exactly how complicated.

“Come on, Sun,” he says, nodding his head to the restaurant exit. “Let me take you home.”

I follow him out of the taqueria and onto the street. “Do you want to take a cab or walk?” he asks.

“Walk.” I’m not ready to say good-bye just yet.

So he leads me through the streets, back toward the Strip. He doesn’t talk much, but it’s not awkward. If anything the situation feels kind of desperately romantic. Like a funeral procession for our new friendship. I don’t know his phone number or have any idea where he lives. I don’t even know his last name. And in the long run, that’s probably for the best. We’ll say our good-byes and make them stick, instead of torturing ourselves with a temptation I cannot submit to. I’m going home to Massachusetts on Sunday and that is that. I mean, what am I going to do, Facebook friend him? No. It’s better this way.

I involuntarily find myself slowing my step, my heart feeling as if it’s being torn in two. I try to think of Magnus. Of all we’ve shared over the last six months. But all I can think about is our last conversation on the phone. When he called me jealous and childish and didn’t believe a word I said. Is this how he shows his love for me? Will it change, once I have proof that I was right?

“We’re here,” Jayden says, a few moments later as we turn off the Strip and I see the apartment looming in front of me. “This is where you said, right?”

I nod, wishing suddenly that Dad lived a lot farther away. Or that I could at least say he did, to prolong our walk. You know, like to Massachusetts or something.

Jayden turns to me, taking my hands in his, and the chills electrify me all over again. “Good-bye, Sunshine,” he murmurs. “I’m really happy I got to spend the day with you. You’re special. Very special. And I’m honored to have met you.”

I find I can’t speak. I just stare at him, forcing the tears not to fall. He leans forward and kisses me gently on the cheek, just a whisper of a butterfly’s wing against my skin, but it scorches all the same. He smells of Old Spice, an oldfashioned cologne that my grandfather used to wear that has no business being worn by an eighteen-year-old boy and yet smells perfect on him. And then, before I even realize it’s happening, he turns and walks off back toward the Strip.

“Good-bye, Jayden,” I whisper to his retreating figure, my words falling into the night desert winds, whisked away, unheard. “I’ll miss you.”

14

Not shockingly, I suppose, everyone’s awake when I enter the apartment, even though it’s nearly eleven. This is definitely a household of Vegas night owls. Heather’s doing some Pilates on the floor while Crystal watches some kind of MTV reality show on the big-screen TV. Stormy’s next to her on the couch, cross-legged and lost in the world of Nintendo DS. Rayne’s the only one missing—shock, surprise, and all that.

Heather looks up when I close the door. “Hey, girl,” she says. “Did you have a good night?”

“Actually I did,” I’m able to answer truthfully. My cheek still burns from Jayden’s kiss and I involuntarily reach up to touch the spot. “It was a good night.” Maybe too good.

She smiles. “Awesome. Well, please help yourself to any food in the fridge,”

she says.

“Yeah,” Stormy remarks. “There might even be a rotten banana left over from Fourth of July if you’re lucky.”

“Or we can order you something if there’s nothing you like,” Heather adds, throwing a pillow at her daughter. Stormy dodges it easily and then throws it back.

“It’s okay.” I laugh. “I actually just came from dinner.”

“Want to play Dance Dance Revolution?” Stormy asks hopefully.

“No freaking way,” Crystal interjects. “I’m watching TV here.”

Stormy looks disappointed. It’s then I remember what I was going to ask her. “I actually could use some help with my computer homework,” I tell her. “There’s this problem I’ve been having and . . .”

Stormy’s already off the couch and bouncing toward me. “I can help you!” she squeals. “Come to my room. My computer’s the best in the house by far. I’ve totally souped it up with a custom processor and, like, two terabytes of RAM.”

I have no idea what that even means, which, I guess, is why I need her help in the first place. It’s time for a lesson in Hacking 101 from the little prodigy I call sister.

I follow her to her room. Unlike the rest of the apartment with its sleek allwhite modern décor, her room is a riot of color, as if a rainbow exploded everywhere and no one bothered to pick up the mess. Her walls are plastered with manga of every type and her bed is so covered with books that I wonder where she even sleeps. But the center of her room, the shrine, is obviously her computer, which sits next to the window and is covered with glittery stickers.

“So what do you need help with?” she asks, pulling up two chairs to the computer and sitting down in the command seat.

“I’m trying to get information from someone’s computer,” I explain. “An address from their address book.”

“Hmm.” Stormy considers this and I cross my fingers that this isn’t a crazy, impossible request. Then I remind myself that, glitter stickers or no, this little girl can break into real-life casinos in her spare time. Of course she can find one teensy little address. “Do you have this person’s e-mail by any chance?”

It’s then I remember the show schedule I got from the stage-hand at the theater. Reaching into my pocket, I pull it out and hand it to her. “It’s the guy at the top,” I tell her. “Cornelius.”

Stormy nods and sets the paper down on the desk. “Okay,” she says, “so the easiest way to snoop into someone’s computer remotely without them knowing is to send in a Trojan.”

“A Trojan?” Wasn’t that some old Greek horse? Or a condom company?

“It’s like installing a secret back door into their computer. So we can go in and out and access whatever we want to on their computer.”

“And you can do this? What about . . . firewalls?” I really needed to start paying attention in computer class.

“Well, if we can get them to open a certain e-mail attachment themselves then it’ll launch an auto-install and bypass the firewalls, because the computer will assume it’s an authorized install.”

“But who opens attachments these days?” I ask, leaning back in my chair. “I mean, we’ve been warned about that kind of thing since birth.”

“We have, but older people aren’t always as computer savvy as we are,”

Stormy reminds me. “Is this guy older?”

Good point. From the way he favors clothing from the Old West, I’d guess Cornelius is at least a couple hundred years old. Definitely born before the age of Google. Maybe this could work.

“The key is to play on their curiosity and vanity,” Stormy tells me. “Like, sending an e-mail that says, ‘Check out this video of you and me.’ That was a Facebook virus a while back and sooo many people got infected.” She shakes her head. “In fact, Crystal got the virus four times before I finally had to disable her downloading ability.”

I laugh appreciatively. “Okay. Well, let’s write Cornelius an e-mail he can’t refuse.”

Stormy grins. “Cool. What do you know about this guy?”

He’s an evil vampire, possibly vying for the Blood Coven’s demise? Hmm. Probably something else.

“He’s an actor of this really low-rent play. Fancies himself a vampire.”

“Okay,” Stormy says, head down and typing furiously. A few minutes later, she looks up. “Got it,” she informs me. “I’m sending an e-mail that will appear to be from the Stratosphere Hotel, inquiring about his show. Turns out they’re sick of their current vampire revue,
Bite
, and are looking for a new act. They’ve attached a formal proposal to this e-mail, of course.” She winks at me.

“Are you sure you’re only eleven?”

She giggles. “I take it you like my idea?”

“It’s brilliant. I bet he’ll totally fall for that.”

“Okay, then I’m hitting SEND.” She clicks the mouse. “Done.”

I’m impressed. “Brilliant!” I cry. I give her a high five. “You rock, Stormy,” I tell her. “Thank you so much.” I stare at the computer screen. “So now what?”

“Now we have to wait until he accesses his e-mail and hopefully downloads the file.”

“Okay.” Darn, I was sort of hoping for instant feedback. Not that I can go find her trailer tonight anyway, but still. It’d be nice to know I have something to look into tomorrow. After all, it’s my last day to investigate before the biting ceremony at midnight. The night Jane/Sasha will become one with Magnus forever. And no matter what ends up happening between Magnus and me personally, I would never, ever want to see him hurt.

“So why do you need this address?” Stormy asks, curiously. “I mean, not that I mind doing it, but why can’t you just ask the guy himself?”

I sigh. Even though she’s precocious, she’s still only a little kid and I don’t want to drag her into this mess any more than I have to. “I’m trying to find a girl who used to work on the show,” I say, purposefully vague. “She’s gone missing and I want to make sure she’s okay.”

“Cool. You’re like Veronica Mars or something.”

“Or something.” I snort. My detective skills so far have been decidedly amateur. “I think if anyone’s Girl Detective around here, it’s you, Ms. Hacker.”

She looks pleased. “I like doing it. It’s fun.”

“So’s Hannah Montana to most kids your age.”

“Ugh. Don’t even go there,” she cries, swatting me playfully. I grab a pillow off her bed and get her back. Squealing, she dives for cover, retrieving a large stuffed bear as her weapon. Soon we’re in a full-fledged pillow fight, screaming and laughing.

“Having fun?”

A voice at the door makes me pause. Stormy takes advantage and whacks me good one last time, still giggling. Then she sees who’s watching and her arms drop, the stuffed bear falling to the floor. The smile fading from her face. Rayne’s standing at the door, arms crossed over her chest and a sour, disapproving look on her face. She’s wearing a long black dress, complete with black gloves that go up to her elbows. An elegant look, save for her mussed-up hair and the black raccoon makeup bleeding from her eyes.

“We were just playing around,” I say, feeling my face heat as I replace the pillow on the bed. I suddenly feel super guilty, even though I know I did nothing wrong. My twin has a knack for making me feel like that.

“Can I talk to you for a moment?” Rayne says. Then she adds, “Alone?”

I turn to Stormy, who’s glaring at Rayne. “Thanks for your help,” I say, ruffling her head. “I really appreciate it.” Then I turn to my twin. “Sure. Let’s go take a walk.”

I tell Heather where we’re going and then we leave the apartment and head downstairs to the lobby and out the door. Only when we’re well clear of the building does Rayne finally speak.

“You’re looking pretty cozy up there,” she snarls. “All adopted by the new family.”

“They’re nice,” I defend, not liking her tone. “I like them.”

“How sweet.”

“You just hate them because of the Dad situation. You haven’t even given them a chance.”

“Why should I give them a chance?” Rayne demands. “She hooked up with Dad when he was married to Mom and had a baby with him. The girl in there you were pillow fighting with is an evil spawn of Satan as far as I’m concerned.”

“Give me a freaking break, Rayne,” I growl back at her, no longer content to let her bash the people I’m really starting to care about. “You have no idea what the deal was between Mom and Dad back then. Maybe they had an open marriage. I mean, they were both hippies, right? Or maybe their marriage was already over by that point and they were just staying together for us kids. You don’t know. You’re just guessing. And you’re making these people out to be monsters. Even Stormy. I mean, my God, it’s not as if she asked to be born.” I shake my head in disgust.

Rayne looks upset. I guess she’s not used to me fighting back. Well, tough luck

’cause I’m not done. Not by a long shot.

“Look, I know all of this has been a pretty big shock. Coming here and finding out Dad’s not even around and that we have a sister we didn’t know about. It sucks. But you can’t just keep hiding from it all, in the casinos all day and night, just to avoid them. These people are in your family, whether you like it or not, and someday you’re going to have to accept this and start dealing with it.” I reach over and touch her arm, trying to comfort her. It’s then that I realize she’s trembling.

“How come it’s so easy for you?” she asks, her voice choked. “It’s not like I want to feel like this—all knotted up inside, being eaten away by my hate.”

“You just have to let it go,” I tell her. “Stop being so proud. Stop walling yourself off in fear of getting hurt. Let them in. I promise they won’t hurt you. They’re not evil. They’re not out to destroy you. In fact, Heather has been bending over backward to make sure we’re okay. She’s really nice. I know it’d be easier if she really was a home-wrecking bitch, but she’s not.”

“But what she did . . .”

“You don’t know what she did. You really don’t.” I stroke her hair, trying to soothe her. “When we get home we can sit down with Mom and ask her to tell us the whole story. Then we’ll know. Heather says there’s more to it and I believe her. We’ll find out the truth and then you can make a decision on how you want this stepfamily to fit into your life. And if you never want to talk to them again, that’s your decision to make. But I’ve made mine and I’m not going to let you make me feel like a traitor for doing so.”

Rayne lets out a sob and I pull her close, wrapping her in my arms and comforting her as best I can. She’s so sensitive under all her bravado, all her hate. I really wish she could let down the walls she’s built up, just a tiny bit. Because by seeking to protect herself, she’s actually trapped herself inside.