Home > Stake That (Blood Coven Vampire #2)(3)

Stake That (Blood Coven Vampire #2)(3)
Author: Mari Mancusi

Mr. Teifert sighs, running a hand through his wild black hair. “Actually, you do, Rayne.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’ll tell you, if you’ll sit.”

Grr. I mean, what am I, a dog or something? I reluctantly turn back and head toward center stage. I plop down in the nearest chair, which is way more uncomfortable than it looks. The springs dig into my butt and I hope this big revelation of my destiny isn’t going to take too long.

“So tell me already,” I say.

Mr. Teifert takes the seat across from me. He leans forward, hands on his knees. “You know me as a high school teacher. But I am also senior vice president of Slayer Inc. We’re a human-run organization that tracks the vampire community and makes sure they stay in line.”

“And if they don’t, you dust them. Very diplomatic.”

Mr. Teifert sighs. “Yes. There are times when that becomes our only option. But we do try to use other, more civilized methods first.”

“Um-hm.”

“But if all else fails, if the vampire in question refuses to follow the code, then we must remove him.”

“Like you did with Lucifent?” I accuse, remembering how Bertha the Vampire Slayer recently took down the former master. “What did he ever do to you?”

Teifert shifts, as if his seat is suddenly uncomfortable. “That’s confidential,” he says. “But trust me, we had our reasons.”

“Okay, fine,” I say. Obviously this was going nowhere. “Not that I agree with your methods, but let’s move on. So if, like, once a generation there’s a slayer born and Bertha is that slayer in mine, how come you’re picking on me?”

Teifert snorts. “Please. This is the twenty-first century. You don’t think we’d have a backup?” He shakes his head. “Sure, in the old days they only chose one. But then when that one was killed by a vampire or something they had to wait a whole other generation before they could start policing the covens again. Completely impractical. So nowadays we select several girls at birth.”

“So if I die in my duties, you just swap me out? Kind of harsh.” Suddenly I have sympathy for Bertha.

“Our goal is, of course, to keep you alive. And we will do everything in our power to do that.”

“You’re talking like I’ve already agreed to do this,” I point out. “I haven’t. And I won’t, actually. I’m on a waiting list to become a vampire and I’m thinking that becoming an official slayer would definitely put me at the back of the line.”

“I’m sorry, Rayne,” Mr. Teifert says, in actuality not sounding the least bit apologetic. “But you don’t have a choice.”

I narrow my eyes. “What do you mean ‘I don’t have a choice’? Of course I have a choice. I can just, like, choose. To slay vampires or to let them live. And I choose life. Well, not life exactly, seeing as they’re technically already dead. Undead, I guess, but—”

“When you were born, you were injected with a dormant nanovirus by a Slayer Inc. operative working in Mercy Hospital,” Mr. Teifert interrupts in an oddly calm voice. “If you refuse to fulfill your destiny, we will be forced to activate the virus and you will, I’m afraid, suffer a very painful death.”

I’m sure my eyes are totally bugging out of my head now as I stare at him. Nanovirus? WTF is a nanovirus? He’s gotta be kidding, right? I glance around the auditorium, looking for Ashton Kutchner telling me I’m being Punk’d. This has got to be a joke, right?

I realize my palms are totally sweaty all of a sudden. And my fingers have become real trembly. Fear pokes at my heart. Has Teifert already activated the virus? Am I dying as we speak? OMG, I could be literally dying. Right here, right now!

Or am I just being all Hypochondriac Girl? Like the time I swore I had come down with Ebola after reading about it in Social Studies. I mean, I had all the symptoms. Headache, muscle ache, red eyes, fatigue, stomach pain . . .

The school nurse had not been impressed, informing me that those were also symptoms of a hangover. As was the distinct smell of vodka on my breath. Guess I should have brushed my teeth a few more times after Spider and I embarked on our “do these fake IDs work” adventure the night before.

But I’m not taking any chances. Especially since it feels like my throat is starting to close up. My vision is getting spotty. “Please!” I beg. “I want to live. Turn it off! Please, turn it off!”

Mr. Teifert rolls his eyes. “I haven’t turned it on, Rayne. But I must say I am quite impressed by your dramatic prowess. Ever consider the theater?”

Oh.

Vision returns. Throat loosens. I no longer feel the urge to go toward the light. Phew.

“Come with me.” Mr. Teifert rises from his chair and beckons me to follow. I reluctantly stand up and trail behind him as he heads to the back of the stage, behind the cheerily painted background flats, behind the interior curtain, behind the cage that holds all the lighting controls. Just when I think we can’t go back any farther, we come to a small, nondescript door I’d never noticed before.

Mr. Teifert pulls out a large old-fashioned golden key and slips it into the lock. Before opening the door, he glances from left to right. To see if we’re alone, I guess. Then he turns the key. The door creaks open.

I can practically feel my heart pounding against my chest cavity as I follow him inside. At this point I’m thinking, what if the guy just made up the whole Slayer Inc. thing? What if he’s really some psycho axe-wielding teacher who likes to chop up teenagers and then eat them in the back room? Have any other students gone missing from Oakridge lately? Hm. When was the last time I saw Tubby Toby? He had a lot of meat on his bones . . .

   
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