He just looks . . . a bit sad.
“What’s wrong, Frannie?” I ask. “No offense or anything, but you look like someone just ran over your pet bat.”
Francis rubs his bald head with the palm of his hand. He really is a big oafy looking dude for a vampire. “My blood mate is missing,” he confesses. “If you must know. And I’m worried sick about her.”
I’ve explained the blood mate thing, right? Well to recap real quick, each vamp, once they hit a thousand years old, gets to turn one willing human into a vampire. They do all this complex DNA testing beforehand to make sure the human and vamp will be compatible. ’Cause after all, they’re destined to be together for all eternity, so you want to make sure it’s a good match. For example, I was matched up with Magnus originally, before he bit Sunny by mistake. Luckily twins share DNA so those two were still compatible.
Bottom line, a blood mate is sort of like a soul mate, except without that whole messy soul part. So needless to say, the two vamps are usually attached at the hip. Like an immortal BF/GF with no way to ever divorce.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I say, genuinely feeling bad for the guy. I mean, that sucks, right? What if his blood mate met a new vamp and took off to Vegas, like Dad did? Leaving poor Frannie here all alone in the world with major trust issues.
Francis kicks the ground with his toe. Let me tell you, the guy’s feet make Michael Jordan look like a midget. I’d hate to meet him in a back alleyway.
Oh, wait, we’re in a back alleyway. Uh, never mind.
“Her name is Dana. She works here as a biter,” Francis explains.
Of course, I’m all wondering if a bouncer dating a biter is as cliché as a bouncer dating a stripper. But Frannie looks so upset, I decide not to ask. And really, who am I to judge?
“Three days ago, she called in sick. And she hasn’t shown up since. She’s not been back to the crypt. In fact, I’ve searched everywhere for her. It’s like she’s dropped off the face of the earth.”
“I’m sure she’ll turn up,” I say, trying to sound comforting. I pat him on his big hairy forearm. “Don’t worry.”
He grins ruefully and pats me on the head. “Thanks,” he says. “You’re probably right. Nothing to be concerned over.” He gestures to the door. “Would you like to go in?”
“Please.”
I walk inside, once again enveloped by the dim lighting, smoky air, and crimson interiors, this time soundtracked by the band She Wants Revenge, crooning from some hidden overhead speakers. I can’t say I’m surprised to learn that vamps dig Emo.
I enter the lounge and approach the hostess.
“Hey, I’m back,” I say, trying to act as nonchalant as possible. “Can I get the same biter as yesterday? Jareth, I think his name was? He was uber hot.”
I giggle to myself as she checks the list. Jareth’s going to be so annoyed when he sees me again. But, hey, I’m just simply following orders. If he has a problem with me, he’ll have to take it up with Magnus.
“Sure. He’s not with anyone at the moment,” the hostess says. “Go ahead to room six and I’ll send him in.”
Perfect. I thank the woman and head behind the curtain to room six, praying that Jareth doesn’t take forty-five minutes to show up this time. I forgot my Game Boy DS and I’m so not the type of girl who can just sit around and twiddle her thumbs contentedly. Besides, we’ve got a mission to accomplish here. No time for goofing around.
Luckily it only takes about five minutes for the door to open and “Hotness” to walk through.
“Hi, my name is Jareth, and I’ll be your—God!” He curses as he lays his eyes on me.
I raise an eyebrow. “You’ll be my god? Hm . . . Well, we’ll have to see about that. I mean, it takes a lot to rock my world these days.”
His powder-white face pinkens and he quickly changes the subject. Heh. “What the hell are you doing here?” he growls. “I thought I told you I work alone.”
“And I thought I told you I don’t listen to stupid, pigheaded vampires. And if I didn’t, well consider this fair warning.”
“Watch out, little girl,” Jareth says, looming over me, raising his arms in what I assume he means to be a threatening, evil gesture. “I am a creature of the night. I am not to be toyed with.”
I roll my eyes. “Ooh. I’m scared.”
He lowers his hands and huffs in annoyance. “Well, you bloody well should be. I could bite you, you know.”
“And I could stake you,” I say, rummaging through my messenger bag to pull out the chunk of wood Teifert gave me. I stand up and wave it at Jareth’s face. “One false move and . . . POW!”
Jareth stares at the stake, then at me, then back to the stake. Then, to my surprise, he bursts out laughing.
“What?” I scowl, so not appreciating his reaction. After all, I am a vampire slayer, right? He should be shaking in his boots just at the mere sight of me.
“What . . . the hell . . . is that?” he asks, between chortles. He’s laughing so hard he’s holding his stomach.
“A stake.”
“That’s not a stake. It’s a chunk of wood.”
“Well, it’s . . . not . . . finished yet,” I say, defensively, lowering the weapon. “I need to carve it. Embed it with my own essence.” Wow, that sounds a lot dumber when it comes out of my mouth.