"That's usually where blood comes from, Rayne."

"But you know I don't drink it. How could you trick me like that?" I throw the bottle across the cabin in disgust.

"You're going to have to get over your aversion sooner or later. I thought now might be a good time to try."

"Thanks, but no thanks. Maybe they have some synthetic at the coven. I'm so not ready to be downing someone's vital bodily fluids."

"Rayne, you're a vampire," Jareth says. "That's what vampires do. You knew that before you turned. If you don't start drinking blood, you're going to waste away to nothing. And I'm sure the lack of sustenance has been one of the factors affecting your moods."

"No, you're one of the factors affecting my moods," I retort, annoyed as all h.e.l.l that he tried to trick me like that. "Always being so pushy. I'll get there in my own time and I don't need to be rushed into something I'm not ready for."

Jareth sighs wearily, as if I'm the one being unreasonable.

"Fine. I won't bother you again," he says stiffly. "Just go get ready. We're due to be at the English coven in a half hour and I don't want to be late."

"Fine, I'll-" I stop short when I take a good look at him. "Hang on a second. You're going in that?" I ask, incredulous. "To the English coven?"

My vampire boyfriend, the once coolest Goth in the known universe, is currently dressed in an old faded Batman T-s.h.i.+rt and a pair of ripped jeans.

He shrugs. "Batman," he says, pointing to his chest. "Like me." He does a little flying imitation with his hands and grins. "I thought it was ironic."

Ironic? Ironic? "Dude! You can't show up to the coven looking like that!" I cry, panicked, my dreams of making a grand entrance going up in smoke. They'll laugh at us. They'll think I'm crazy for being at his side. They'll wonder why I didn't insist he change clothes.

"Why not?"

" 'Cause, well, 'cause," What am I supposed to say? 'Cause I'll be embarra.s.sed to be seen with him? 'Cause the other vampires will think he's a total nerd and a half?

"Look, Rayne. It's not a big deal," Jareth reasons. "They're just vampires. Like the ones from our own coven. They won't care what we're wearing."

"They may not say they care, but they're going to judge us by what we look like. That's what people do. Do you want them to think you're some dork who just stepped out of Comic Con?"

"Frankly, my dear, I don't really care what they think. Rayne, we're not attending a fas.h.i.+on show. It's going to be a long night and I for one would like to be comfortable. What's the big deal?"

Argh! Did the blood virus somehow rob him of all coolness points along with his superpowers? First the beach, now stupid outfits. What's next? A sudden love for watching sports with his buddies while chugging beer and chowing on chips?

"What's wrong with you?" I demand, furious. "I mean, you used to be cool! You used to wear Armani and be all brooding and dark and stuff. Ever since we became blood mates it's like you've undergone a personality transplant. You've totally changed.

Become a whole new person. In fact, half the time I feel like I don't even know you anymore."

Jareth's grin fades, replaced by a hurt expression, and I instantly regret what I said. "Well you certainly haven't changed."

He sniffs. "You're your same nasty, bitter, angry old self who thinks the world owes her a favor. Sometimes I don't know why I bother."

I stare at him, my face hot with fury. I want to slap him, hurt him in some way. Make him feel as unhappy as I feel inside.

But I force myself to suck in a breath before reacting. After all, this is my boyfriend. My blood mate. The one I love more than anyone in the world. Why am I so torn up inside? What's wrong with me?

"I know you're p.i.s.sed off at the world, but I don't see why that means I have to bear the brunt of it. You've been nasty to me since school started," Jareth retorts. "And I'm sick of it. I'm not some doormat for you to walk over and ridicule and abuse because you've had a bad day. I'm sorry if me being happy for once in my life offends you so greatly."

"It's not that," I start, then stop. Is it that? Is that why I'm so mad at him? 'Cause he's happy and I'm not?

I burst into tears, furious at myself for being so messed up. Why can't I be a normal person? Like Sunny or someone. Why am I so angry and hateful? It's like I have this blackness in me. A burning pit of hatred that can't help but bubble up to the surface and lash out at those I love for no reason. I love Jareth. So much. And yet he's the one I'm most mean to.

You always hurt the ones you love . .. "I just . . ." My voice cracks. "I just want them to like me," I admit, remembering the promise we made each other when we first got together. To share things. Even painful, hurtful things. "The other vampires. I want them to accept me as one of them."

Jareth's expression softens. He reaches over and puts a hand on my shoulder. "Raynie, luv," he says, "of course they'll like you. And acceptance has nothing to do with wardrobe, I swear." He pulls me close and strokes my head. "Sweetie, outside appearance doesn't matter. It's what's inside that counts," he says, again spouting self-helpisms.

"I know," I say, relenting. "You're right. I'm sorry."

But deep inside, I hope he's wrong. Because if what's inside is what really counts, I'm not sure I have much of a chance of impressing anyone.

16

We hop in a waiting limo and speed down the wrong side of the street to our destination. The bright lights of the big city of Manchester fall away and the darkness of the English moors provides an eerie backdrop to our nocturnal adventure. I peer out the window at the dark landscape unfolding in front of me as we race through the night.

"I wish we weren't just here on some mission," I comment to Jareth. "I'd love to check out the country someday."

"Well, we have all eternity," Jareth says, reaching over to take my hand in his. "We can definitely come back."

I smile, leaving the window and crawling over to his side of the limo. I put my head on his shoulder and snuggle close. He strokes my hand with his thumb in a way that gives me s.h.i.+vers.

"I'm sorry about before, Jareth," I murmur, feeling extremely comfy-cozy in his arms. "I don't know what came over me.

I've just been getting so angry lately. It's kind of scary, really. When I get into these rages it's like I can't control my actions or what comes out of my mouth."

He kisses me on the top of my head. "You've gone through a tremendous amount of change in a short period of time. The stresses on you now are off the charts. It's enough to make anyone feel unsettled."

"It's just. . . and this sounds ridiculous when I say it out loud ... I just thought once I became a vampire all my problems would ... I don't know, go away." I shrug against him. "Stupid, huh?"

"Oh little one, you have much to learn," Jareth says. "But I promise to be there for you every step of the way."

"Really? You won't leave me?" I ask. "No matter what?"

"We're blood mates. I'm yours for eternity," he a.s.sures, s.h.i.+fting in his seat so we're face-to-face. He cups my chin in his hand, meeting my eyes with his own brilliant green ones. "I love you, Rayne McDonald."

I drop my eyes, unable to look at him. I feel so unworthy. His love is so strong and yet I'm so weak and pathetic. He gave up everything for me and I treat him like dirt. "I don't deserve you to love me," I whisper.

"What was that?" he asks, not catching my words.

"Um, nothing. Forget it." I look back up at him and force a smile. "I love you, too, Jareth. Always and forever."

He smiles and leans in to press his lips against mine. Slowly he caresses my mouth, coaxing me to open to him so he can ex- plore me more thoroughly. Electricity tingles through my fingers and toes as we kiss, losing ourselves in one another, allowing all the stresses and problems to fade away. For this moment there are no werewolves or life-altering events that I must stop before it's too late. At this moment it is just me and my blood mate, giving, taking, comforting, loving.

We kiss for what seems like hours, exploring one another and discovering new depths of emotion and pleasure. And when the limo pulls to the side of the road and slows to a stop, it's way too early for me to want to part company.

We reluctantly stop kissing, pulling away slowly, as if industrial-strength magnets objected to us being apart. Jareth looks dazed and pleased. I'm sure I'm the same.

"Are you ready, my dear," he asks, "to meet the vampires?"

"Oh yes!" I say, excitement reverberating through me. "So ready!"

I jump out of the limo. We're parked in a circular driveway in front of the hugest mansion I've ever laid eyes on. It looks exactly like what you might imagine Madonna and Guy Ritchie living in. A vast English estate with miles and miles (or as they say, kilometers and kilometers) of gra.s.sy lawn. I bet there're even stables here, filled with horses. Of course, they can only go night riding . . .

Jareth takes my hand in his and we walk up to the front doors, which sit between two pillars. He lifts up the large bra.s.s knocker (in the shape of a dragon) and lets it drop. It echoes a bang loud enough to wake the dead, which I guess is essentially what we're doing.

I squirm with excitement, hopping from one foot to the other, dying to see what the English vampires are like. I mean, these are my people. My blood relatives. These are the ones who will truly understand the real me. Who won't judge me because of what I look like or who I am. We'll have long talks and share laughs about pathetic mortals and their silly ways and maybe they'll even let me borrow some of their clothes. I bet they have marvelous- Oh my G.o.d.

The door has swung open and on the other side stands Reese Witherspoon. Okay, not really Reese Witherspoon, but someone who looks a heck of a lot like Miss Legally Blonde. She looks about eighteen and is dressed like she's ready for her first day of prep school. White polo s.h.i.+rt, khaki pants with pleats in the front, even a pastel pink sweater tied around her neck.

This has to be the mortal the vampires are drinking from at dinner, right? There's no way this could be an actual- "Jareth!" the girl cries, throwing her arms around my boyfriend. I notice she has a perfectly painted French manicure and a diamond tennis bracelet around her left wrist. "It's b.l.o.o.d.y good to see you, luv."

"Katie!" Jareth greets Miss Prep, hugging her back. "It's b.l.o.o.d.y good to be seen. How long has it been?" he asks, his English accent coming out in full force around another Brit.

"At least two hundred years," she says, pulling away from the hug and shaking a scolding finger. "Way too long."

My heart sinks. Two hundred years? There's no other explanation. She's a vampire. One of the English coven I'd been so looking forward to meeting. I can't believe it. I thought if anywhere there'd be cool, Gothy vamps, it would be in England.

Evidently not so much.

Once again, I don't fit in.

Two more vampires, both looking like teen characters from a Gossip Girls novel, burst from the door. "Jareth!" they cry in unison.

"Ladies," my boyfriend says, debonairly. He bows to both of them. They giggle in response.

I narrow my eyes. Are they flirting with him? Don't they see me standing here, obviously his girlfriend? I glance down at myself, making sure I haven't somehow turned invisible or something. After all, not one of them has yet acknowledged my presence.

"You look great, Jareth," the blonde dressed in skinny-jeans, slouchy boots, and a long cashmere sweater gushes, batting her obviously fake eyelashes at him. "As always."

"And what a funny s.h.i.+rt," adds the Lindsay Lohan redhead, currently dressed in a lacy, baby blue camisole top and low-rise capris. "Batman! How utterly clever!"

Oh come on! You have got to be kidding me.

"Thank you," Jareth says, beaming. "I've always been quite fond of this s.h.i.+rt." He turns to me. "Rayne, here, on the other hand, thinks it could be a bit of a fas.h.i.+on faux pas."

Three pairs of eyes turn to stare at me. I'm given a complete once-over by each of them.

"She thinks it could be a fas.h.i.+on faux pas?" sniffs Katie. "The girl wearing black legwarmers with fishnets?"

I flush, suddenly wis.h.i.+ng I could crawl under the pavement and die. I'd picked out this outfit especially to impress the English vamps and now it looked like it was going to be the object of ridicule.

"Is it Halloween already?" asks the blonde. "And here I thought that wasn't 'til October."

"Maybe she can't afford nice clothes," says the redhead. "I mean, look at that sweater she's wearing. Lots of rips and tears.

In fact, I think it's only held together by safety pins."

"That's intentional," I mutter, looking down at the porch and kicking a floorboard with my toe. If only the porch would somehow magically open up and swallow me now.

"Ah! She's a Yank!" Katie squeals. "That explains it then."

"A vampire Yank. How utterly plebeian," sniffs Blondie.

I glance over at Jareth, waiting for him to defend me. But all he comes up with is "Katie, Susan, Elizabeth, this is Rayne.

Rayne has only recently been reborn."

Recently reborn? Jeez. Why doesn't he just come right out and call me a vampire newbie or something?

The girls giggle, using his words as an excuse to bat their eyelashes at him a few more times. They are so transparent it's not even funny. No wonder Jareth moved to America and hasn't been back for a visit in two hundred years. I'd have stayed away for at least a thousand.

"Ah," says Elizabeth, the redhead. "She's young. That explains it then."

"Yes, the new ones always have this inexplicable urge to cater to Hollywood stereotypes," adds Katie. "I find it so amusing."

I glare at her. Amusing indeed. Well, maybe I find it so amusing that you all still have such sucky fas.h.i.+on sense even after a thousand years of practice.

I think this, but don't say it aloud. After all, I haven't forgotten Jareth's lecture on being on my best behavior. I've already let him down way too much. Got to prove I'm worthy of his trust. That he didn't make a mistake by not turning the plane around.

So I bite my tongue, even when Susan chimes in, "Imagine if all vampires wandered around dressed like they were dead.

How utterly gloomy a way that would be to spend eternity."

"Too right." The girls nod in sync.

G.o.d, how long will we be roasting Rayne tonight? Don't you guys have coffins to climb into before sunrise? Maybe we could at least move off the porch and make fun of me inside the crypt?

I glance over at Jareth, who in turn avoids my stare. I've no doubt what he's probably thinking. Here I went on and on about his wardrobe not being cool enough. And it turns out it's me who ends up being the dork in this situation. He's probably laughing like crazy on the inside.

Not to mention he can't defend me in this case. As he said on the plane, we're guests here and we need to be on our best behaviors. Coven amba.s.sadors from America. Besides, these vampires may be able to help us find the Lycans. And that's more important than my dignity at this juncture.

Just think of them like the cheerleaders, I tell myself. They're stupid and they don't know any better. But even the Wolves are cooler than these vampires. And way more open-minded. In fact, now that I think of it, once I made the team, not one of them had a snide comment about my wardrobe. Even that day I forgot and wore fishnets under my uniform. And when I wore that skull belt to keep up my shorts, Shantel actually told me she thought it looked kind of cool. And Nancy asked if she could borrow my Manic Panic blue dye to paint streaks in her hair for spirit week.

I can't believe I'm standing at the entrance of one of the oldest vampire covens in the world and I'm missing the Oakridge High cheerleading squad.

"Shall we go in?" Jareth questions. Of course his suggestion is met with more giggles and gus.h.i.+ng agreement. We step over the threshold and into a large, high-ceiled entryway, complete with a Cone With the Wind sweeping staircase and elaborate chandelier. I twirl around, forgetting the rude vampires for a moment, just taking it all in. The rich, jewel-toned walls, the elaborate gilded portraits of unidentified vampires. There are doors leading off in seemingly every direction, but not a single window. Guess they need to keep the place light-proof.

"This way," Katie says, ushering us to an elevator. She presses her thumb against a small gray pad and an LCD light beeps a green glow. Evidently this place has a pretty high-tech security system just like the coven back home. Don't want mortals breaking in during the day when everyone's asleep, I suppose. Stealing all their stupid designer clothes or something.

We step into the elevator and after Katie presses a b.u.t.ton we shoot down underground. Deep underground. I feel a little like the mouse Mrs. Brisby in the Secret of NIMH. And, now that I think about it, these girls definitely remind me of rats.