Vamps - Vamps Part 8

Listening to the mystery lovers was starting to arouse her. After she was .nished looking in the mirror, she would go . nd Jules and see if he was as adventurous as the owner of the black leather pants.

The stall began to violently vibrate, as if the couple on the other side was trying to knock the door off its hinges. The female's cries suddenly became feverish, while the male groaned. A moment later, a second pair of legs, these decidedly feminine, dropped into sight, and the stall door swung open.

Lilith wondered if she should duck into the other stall, for modesty's sake, but decided not to bother. Her curiosity was piqued and she was dying to discover the ident.i.ties of the mystery lovers. Besides, how much privacy could you possibly expect while f.u.c.king in a public restroom?

A tall, thin girl with long, black hair tottered out of the stall on a pair of wedges as she yanked the bodice of her dress back up over her exposed b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Lilith instantly recognized her as Samara Bleak, one of her cla.s.smates at Bathory. Samara froze the moment she saw Lilith, a look of stunned surprise on her face. A second later Samara's partner exited the stall, still pulling up his leather trousers.

"Sergei-! What the h.e.l.l?" Lilith exclaimed.

"Oh, hi, Lilith," Sergei said with a hazy, post-coital smile. "You know Samara, right?"

"I best be going," Samara said, scurrying out the door.

"Sergei-what are you doing?" Lilith stared in disbelief as he zipped up his .y. "Tanith hasn't been dead forty-eight hours and you're already fooling around with someone else?"

"I was fond of Tanith." Sergei shrugged. "But it was never serious. She would not expect me to stay brokenhearted."

"You'd have to be brokenhearted .rst in order to stay brokenhearted!" Lilith snapped.

"What I had with Tanith was fun," Sergei said. "But now it is over, never to return. There will be others who will make me feel the same way she did. You need to get with the spirit of the totentanz, Lili."

"You're such a pig, Sergei!" Lilith spat as she exited the ladies' room, slamming the door behind her.

She strode angrily across the salon, motioning for the bartender to set her up with another drink.

She took a deep draught of the laced blood, only to grimace in distaste. She pushed the drink aside and turned back to rejoin the others, nearly colliding with Jules. His smile quickly disappeared as he saw the look on her face.

"Is something wrong?"

"You mean besides Tanith being dead and never, ever coming back again?" she replied, loudly enough that those closest to them fell silent and stared at her. "Oh, I'm sorry," Lilith said to the sea of vaguely familiar faces gawking at her. "I didn't mean to inter-rupt the party."

"They're just doing what she would have done," Jules said. "Tanith loved partying more than anyone. You know that. She would have wanted it this way. None of us can change what happened. All we can do is just keep on like we did before and not let it change us."

"I know." Lilith sighed. "I guess I'm still upset, that's all."

"Jules! My man! How's it hanging?"

"Huh? Oh, hey, Sergei," Jules replied, momentarily distracted by his friend's arrival.

"Forget it, then," Lilith snarled, .ashing Sergei a look as black and sharp as volcanic gla.s.s. "I'm going home."

"What's up with her?" Sergei asked. "Was it something I said?"

Sunday was laundry night in the Monture household. While stripping the bedclothes from her mother's bed earlier that evening, Cally had found yet another shut-off notice from Con Ed stuffed under the mattress, where Sheila habitually hid things she didn't want to deal with. The laundry would have to wait.

Cally didn't have the money she'd planned on from the park and needed to make up the difference if she wanted to keep the lights on. Since the Van Helsings had made the park too hot for comfort, she would have to stick closer to home. And there was only one place in Billyburg where she could .nd the type of prey she needed: Underbelly.

Cally went to her room and rummaged through her closet in search of something s.e.xy to wear. She .nally settled on a yellow satin miniskirt with a green corset bodice that she knew showed off her alabaster shoulders and shapely legs to their best advantage. She then slipped on the new pair of Miu Miu heels she'd snapped up last week at the consignment store off Bedford Avenue.

Once she was dressed, she put on eyeliner and lipstick like her grandmother had taught her, using only her delicate .ngers as a guide. Once she was . nished, she sneaked a quick peek in the compact she kept in her vintage clutch purse, just to make sure everything was on straight.

As she walked through the living room, she saw that her mother was engrossed in yet another movie. This time she was watching The Brides of Dracula.

"I need to go out. I'll be back in a few hours, Mom," Cally said, trying to make herself heard over the 5.1 Dolby.

"Be careful, sweetheart," Sheila Monture replied, waving good-bye without bothering to look away from the . at screen.

Located in the bas.e.m.e.nt of a converted mayonnaise factory, Underbelly was the kind of club where identi. -cation was rarely checked, the drinks were poured strong, and drugs freely pa.s.sed hands-in short, it was a good place to prey.

The doorman barely gave her a second look as she entered the club. She ordered a drink at the bar, then pretended to sip it as she scanned the room.

Even on a Sunday, it was crammed with interna-tional scenesters, young models, and Williamsburg hipsters with paint-speckled pants and arms swarming with tattoos.

"Cally! Where have you been keeping yourself?"

She turned to smile at Simon Magi, an old school friend from Varney Hall. He squeezed her arm in his friendly way, pointing to Cindy Darko, who was calling them over to one of the dimly lit booths that lined the walls of the bar.

"We haven't heard from you all weekend," Cindy said. "How come you're not answering messages?"

"Oh, I've been around," Cally said, sliding into the booth opposite them. "I ran into trouble across the river the other night. Washington Square Park is crawling with Van Helsings."

"Are you okay?" Simon asked, his face showing concern.

"Yeah. I got away clean. But I did see someone else get staked while I was there."

"Founders have mercy!" Cindy gasped, covering her mouth in surprise. "Was it anyone we know?"

"No," Cally replied, shaking her head. "It was some oldie."

Simon and Cindy exchanged a relieved look. "Praise the Founders for that, at least." Cindy sighed.

"So, are you ready for that big test in Mr. Dirge's luring cla.s.s this week?" Simon asked.

"Yeahhh. About that." Knowing how intense the rivalry was between dear old Varney Hall and Bathory Academy, Cally knew she was heading into rough waters. "I've been going through changes the last couple of nights. . . ."

"How so?"

"It seems my a.s.shole dad has made big plans for me."

"Your dad?" Simon frowned. "The one you've never met?"

"That's the one." Cally took a deep breath. She knew there was no putting it off. She might as well tell them and get it over with. "He's decided to 'better my education' by sending me to Bathory Academy."

"You've gotta be s.h.i.tting me!" Simon's face suddenly drew itself tight.

"I wish I was. Tomorrow's my .rst night. I've got to wear a school uniform and everything. This after-noon he had the uniforms delivered to the apart-ment. I hope you never see me in it." Cally grimaced in distaste.

"But Bathory's an Old Blood school!" Cindy exclaimed, stating the obvious.

"It was tough enough at Varney Hall-I can only imagine how welcome I'm going to be at Bathory. But I've got to do it."

"Yeah, well, good luck with that," Simon said, already a former friend. "Speaking of school, Cindy and I better get going."

"Huh?" Cindy said, surprised by Simon's sudden announcement. "Going where? It's still early. . . ."

"You remember, Cindy," Simon said, dragging her out of the booth by her elbow. "We've got that exam in undead management tomorrow."

"We do? Oh! Right! We do!"

"That's okay. I understand," Cally said as they hurried off.

She'd dared to hope for more support from Simon and Cindy and was hurt and disappointed by their response. But even Cally felt like a traitor to the New Bloods, who had once been her closest friends.

"Do you mind if I have a seat?"

Cally looked up from her dark thoughts and was surprised to see a familiar face smiling down at her.

"What are you doing here?" she gasped as Peter slid into the booth.

"Waiting for you to show up."

"Are you stalking me?" Cally asked, not sure whether to be pleased or alarmed. "How did you know I'd be here?"

"I have my ways of getting information," he replied, .ashing her a look that suggested it wasn't a joke.

Cally c.o.c.ked her head in disbelief. "You've been lounging around expecting me to show up? Why would you do that?"

"So I could thank you for saving my life."

"You did that the other night."

"Would you rather I leave?" he asked.

Cally looked into Peter's eyes and felt a pull of attraction even stronger than the .rst time their gazes locked. "No," she admitted. It was kind of ironic that he'd shown up just as Simon and Cindy had gone away. "To tell you the truth," she said with a crooked smile, "I'm actually kind of glad to see you."

"I was hoping you'd say that." Peter smiled, tak-ing her hands in his own. "Cally-I have a confes-sion to make. Ever since I met you, I can't get you out of my head. I don't understand what I'm feeling. But do you feel it too?"

"You don't know who I am," Cally whispered, not wanting it to end.

Peter's smile faltered and he quickly looked away, unable to meet her eyes.

"I know more than you think I do. . . . I never told you my full name, Cally. I was afraid to."

"Afraid?" Cally's heart began to beat like a humming-bird caught in a spider's web. "Why would you be afraid of me?"

"Because I thought you would kill me if you knew who I really was."

As she listened to Peter's words, Cally knew she didn't want to hear what he had to say. She glanced about uneasily as she tried to regain her composure and force her lips back into a smile. "Why would I want to kill you? That's crazy talk."

"Cally, my name is Peter Van Helsing."

Cally sat there for a long moment.

"I have to leave," she said numbly, pulling her hands free.

As she began to get up, he grabbed at her, snaring her by the wrist. "Cally, it's not what you think! You're in no danger! I'm not going to hurt you!"

"Leave me alone!" she snapped, jerking free of his grasp. "Stay away from me, Peter! I don't want to hurt you, but I will if I have to!"

Then she was gone.