I open my mouth to protest, but he places a finger to my lips. “I don’t want to talk any more about the past,” he whispers. “I just want you to listen to me now.”
I nod slowly, meeting his beautiful eyes with my own.
“I love you,” he says. “And I trust you more than anyone in the world. If you say Slayer Inc. can help us—well, then I will respect your judgment and not interfere.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, knowing how hard it must be for him to make such a promise.
“And I will do anything I can—within my limited capacity—to help you keep your sister safe.” He pauses, then adds, “No matter what it takes.”
A chill trips down my spine at his words and I throw my arms around him, not wanting to let go. “I love you, Jareth,” I murmur as I cover his face with kisses before finding his lips with my own. “And I won’t let you down.”
4
“Take that, you putrid jumble-gutted zombie!” I cry, mashing my PS3 button as fast as I can, letting loose a stream of deadly bullets from my AK-47 and splattering zombie brains, blood, and other assorted bodily fluids all over my bedroom television screen. The game dings as I beat my own high score once again and I lean back in my chair, feeling oh-so-satisfied. Yeah, baby! No one’s better at Vampires vs. Zombies than me. I should enter a tournament. I’d blast all those wannabe zombie slaying nerds out there from here to kingdom come without even trying.
I’m about to start the bonus round when there’s a knock on my door.
“Come in!” I call, hoping it’s my half sister, Stormy. She’s the only one who can come even close to beating me at the game and I’d love another chance to kick her ten-year-old video game–addicted butt.
Sure enough, the door opens and Stormy pokes a blond head into my room. “Hey, Rayne,” she says. “There’s some girl here to see you.”
“A girl?” My mind races for possibilities but comes up blank. I’ve never really been good with making girlfriends in general, and I’m almost positive I haven’t given my home address to any mortal ones here in Vegas. (Unlike my much more social twin, Sunny, who made like ten friends in two days just by breathing the air at Las Vegas High School.) And, of course, no self-respecting vampire would be swinging by for a chat on a Saturday afternoon while the sun is still high in the sky. “Who?”
Stormy shrugs. “I’ve never seen her before,” she confesses. “Though she looks a lot like the girl from Resident Evil.”
“Video game or movie?”
“The movie. Definitely the movie.”
Hmm. I’m pretty sure I’d remember making friends and influencing people who looked like Milla Jovovich….
“Well, send her in, I guess,” I tell my sister. What the heck, right?
Stormy nods and disappears. While I’m waiting I go and save my game. It’s a little embarrassing to see the game clock pop up and realize how many hours I’ve been sitting in front of a television set. But it’s for a good cause, I remind myself. After all, if Pyrus received reports of me hitting the slot machines or dancing up a storm in downtown Vegas he might decide I’m not taking my whole mission to bring down my sister and her boyfriend as seriously as he’d like. Out of sight, out of mind, that’s what I say. As far as he knows, I’m scouring the world, one step away from my bounty.
I hear the door creak open and turn around to greet my strange visitor. Stormy isn’t wrong—the girl does bear a remarkable resemblance to the famed zombie-slaughtering film star. Not only does she kind of look like her, but she dresses like her, too. I mean, it’s not every day you see someone sporting a tight white tank top under a green army vest, tucked into little black shorts with garters that cling to ripped thigh-high stockings—even in Vegas. (Unless, of course, Taylor Momsen’s in town…) The girl tops off the outfit with an amazing pair of knee-high, stack-heeled, black leather boots and two matching black leather holsters strapped to her perfectly toned and tanned thighs.
But unlike the zombie killer of the 3-D silver screen, these holsters aren’t slotted with guns. They contain stakes.
A vampire slayer. I let out a low whistle, wondering where on Earth she scored an outfit like that. Is there some kind of secret online Slayer Inc. uniform shop that no one told me about? I mean, I’m not all about the army vest. But those boots, man! I’d pretty much sell my soul to slip my feet into those beauties—if I hadn’t already given it away when I first became a vampire.
Of course, I’m not entirely sure my current not-so-tanned, not-so-perfectly sculptured thighs could carry the rest of the outfit as well she does. After all, I’m still recovering from all those high-calorie blood milkshakes they force-feed you at the vampire rehab I was made to attend after having an eensy-weensy little blood-drinking issue….
“Rayne?” the girl asks, looking down at me and removing her mirrored aviator shades. She wears a slightly disdainful look on her otherwise flawless face and I suddenly get a weird feeling I’ve seen her somewhere before, though for the life of me, I can’t figure out where that could possibly be. “Rayne McDonald?”
“That’s my name, don’t wear it out,” I reply automatically, feeling a little defensive. After all, she showed up at my house out of nowhere, giving me dirty looks like that. Even if she is the hottest thing known to slayerkind and I’m three days overdue for a shower and wearing vampire bunny slippers instead of kick-ass boots.